Hi everyone! Hope all is well! We are battling the flu here, but other then that we're great!
Sometimes God tells you to do things. Things that confuse you and you don’t understand at first. I ran into this while packing to come here. I was packing and going through a bag of little jackets that Liz Pfeil gave me from the Bargain Box. At the bottom was a little red sweater, girls’, size 6-12 mos. I knew that there wasn’t a child at this children’s home that size, and it would probably end up in the pile of clothes for a baby that might eventually, but not likely, call this place home. But for some reason God told me to make sure this little jacket got to Uganda . And you can’t argue with God…
Here, obviously, there is no racism. But there is tribalism. I don’t know the names of the tribes nor do I care to know them for it's of no importance to me, but the locals can tell by the way you dress, the way you talk, your body type, and skin complexion. Most employers even make you put your tribe’s name on an application, which will inevitably define your position with that company. At AFTC, they don’t do that.
We have a small field here that Deidrah is trying to start a little farm for the home to be self sufficient agriculturally and not have to spend so much money on sweet potatoes, cassava, and corn (maize). To help start with the digging and cultivating, Deidrah hired a man and his young wife. Again, I don’t know much about tribalism, but I know that these two are right along the bottom. I can tell by the way the others treat them and how they don’t come around others here or talk to the children. The wife, who can’t be any older than me, has a little baby who sits in a sling on the mother's back or sits in the dirt while her parents dig all day long. The baby is no more then 7 months old and very fat. Here, a fat baby isn’t always healthy and could be the result of many different health and malnutrution problems.
Weather is tricky here in Uganda, especially in the winter . Some days it’s hot and in the 80s or 90s. Other days, like today it's cold, wet, and rainy. Today was one of those cold rainy days and all the kids were ordered to put on their “new” jackets I brough for them and stay inside. The couple working and their baby outside couldn’t just "stay inside." They need the little money that they are getting paid and put in a regular work day. At the end of the day, the mother and her baby always come sit in the grass while the father ties up the work. Because of the weather, they came and hesitantly sat on the cold cement steps of our front porch. As I was reading and doing homework, I peaked out the window and saw them sitting there. Like every other day, the baby was in nothing but a little tee shirt. I knew her little body had to be freezing. I tried to just turn away as I’ve had to do so many other times in this country because there was nothing I could do. But then I remembered; The little red sweater! I scrambled to find it, and finally pulled it out. I started out to the front porch. I saw little Joelle looking at the little baby through the window, so I asked her to come with me. With Joelle in one hand and the sweater in the other I knelt down next to the mother. I knew she didn’t know English, so I said what every language knows well, a warm smile. I handed her the sweater and pointed to the baby. “Thank you,” she said hesitantly with a thick accent and with no second thought wrapped her beautiful baby girl up in warm red.
One of our Aunties, Auntie Agnes, came to me a few minutes later and asked if I’d “given the cold baby clothes.” I said yes. She went out and talked to the young mother who explained to Auntie Agnes to tell me thank you, and that it is such a blessing because her baby has no clothes except the dingy t-shirt she always wore. Through tears, I ripped through the pile of clothes that were too small to fit anyone here. I packed the few outfits in a plastic Dollar Tree bag and took them back out to her. I touched the baby whose little chapped legs had a rash up and down them, maybe bug bites from sitting in the dirt. I then shook the mother’s hand. I went back in the house and watched through the window as her husband approached and she proudly showed off the new sweater and the small bag of new clothes. He smiled and kissed his baby girl and then they were on their way home. It reminded me that even when things aren't clear, God has a plan and purpose for every one and every thing… even a little red sweater.
Sometimes God tells you to do things. Things that confuse you and you don’t understand at first. I ran into this while packing to come here. I was packing and going through a bag of little jackets that Liz Pfeil gave me from the Bargain Box. At the bottom was a little red sweater, girls’, size 6-12 mos. I knew that there wasn’t a child at this children’s home that size, and it would probably end up in the pile of clothes for a baby that might eventually, but not likely, call this place home. But for some reason God told me to make sure this little jacket got to Uganda . And you can’t argue with God…
Here, obviously, there is no racism. But there is tribalism. I don’t know the names of the tribes nor do I care to know them for it's of no importance to me, but the locals can tell by the way you dress, the way you talk, your body type, and skin complexion. Most employers even make you put your tribe’s name on an application, which will inevitably define your position with that company. At AFTC, they don’t do that.
We have a small field here that Deidrah is trying to start a little farm for the home to be self sufficient agriculturally and not have to spend so much money on sweet potatoes, cassava, and corn (maize). To help start with the digging and cultivating, Deidrah hired a man and his young wife. Again, I don’t know much about tribalism, but I know that these two are right along the bottom. I can tell by the way the others treat them and how they don’t come around others here or talk to the children. The wife, who can’t be any older than me, has a little baby who sits in a sling on the mother's back or sits in the dirt while her parents dig all day long. The baby is no more then 7 months old and very fat. Here, a fat baby isn’t always healthy and could be the result of many different health and malnutrution problems.
Weather is tricky here in Uganda, especially in the winter . Some days it’s hot and in the 80s or 90s. Other days, like today it's cold, wet, and rainy. Today was one of those cold rainy days and all the kids were ordered to put on their “new” jackets I brough for them and stay inside. The couple working and their baby outside couldn’t just "stay inside." They need the little money that they are getting paid and put in a regular work day. At the end of the day, the mother and her baby always come sit in the grass while the father ties up the work. Because of the weather, they came and hesitantly sat on the cold cement steps of our front porch. As I was reading and doing homework, I peaked out the window and saw them sitting there. Like every other day, the baby was in nothing but a little tee shirt. I knew her little body had to be freezing. I tried to just turn away as I’ve had to do so many other times in this country because there was nothing I could do. But then I remembered; The little red sweater! I scrambled to find it, and finally pulled it out. I started out to the front porch. I saw little Joelle looking at the little baby through the window, so I asked her to come with me. With Joelle in one hand and the sweater in the other I knelt down next to the mother. I knew she didn’t know English, so I said what every language knows well, a warm smile. I handed her the sweater and pointed to the baby. “Thank you,” she said hesitantly with a thick accent and with no second thought wrapped her beautiful baby girl up in warm red.
One of our Aunties, Auntie Agnes, came to me a few minutes later and asked if I’d “given the cold baby clothes.” I said yes. She went out and talked to the young mother who explained to Auntie Agnes to tell me thank you, and that it is such a blessing because her baby has no clothes except the dingy t-shirt she always wore. Through tears, I ripped through the pile of clothes that were too small to fit anyone here. I packed the few outfits in a plastic Dollar Tree bag and took them back out to her. I touched the baby whose little chapped legs had a rash up and down them, maybe bug bites from sitting in the dirt. I then shook the mother’s hand. I went back in the house and watched through the window as her husband approached and she proudly showed off the new sweater and the small bag of new clothes. He smiled and kissed his baby girl and then they were on their way home. It reminded me that even when things aren't clear, God has a plan and purpose for every one and every thing… even a little red sweater.
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