Agandi, basebo na banyabo (how are you, ladies and gentlemen)

At the moment, I am sitting at the Boyett's house, watching the green, green trees waving in the sunshine as Susan makes lunch. I've been here a week and feel like it's already been a month.

The schedule's been pretty busy so far, so I'll only give you some snapshots.

On the way to church last Sunday (which, ps, was very lively and long) we drove past a boy who looked lost and was only wearing one shoe. The other foot was bandaged and he was carrying around a plastic blue bin. When Dale (Hollenbeck, the missionary team leader) took him to the hospital later, he discovered that the boy had escaped from the surgical ward around two in the morning. This boy had been out in the rain for eight hours. When Dale asked the nurse to clean him up, all she said was, "he knows where his bed is". Scariest part of this story: people knew this was going on. They saw him escape, he was in a public place--but nobody did anything about it. He could've died.

Another snapshot: on Monday, a few of us actually went to the surgical ward, mainly to work with the kids that were stuck in with the adults. When I first got there, I didn't think I could do it. I am AWFUL with hospitals, needles, whatever, and I was scared to death. But when I sat down on a hospital bed with some people to show them picture books, a crowd soon gathered. Many people there did not speak English, but were trying to teach us orunya kore. They were laughing, people were crowding at the windows to watch us. A woman howled in the background as she had open wounds cleaned, and we kept going.

The people here LOVE it when we speak to them in their own language, and our group is progressing quickly. I have the Ugandan kids and workers in our compound teach me words. Yesterday, two of the girls helped me read a children's book about a monkey in orunya kore. Oh, and they laughed...

I rode my first boda/motorcycle taxi yesterday. And yes, I wore a giant helmet. It was fun.

There is a boy on our compound named Happy. He is tiny--looks like he's four or five but he's really about eleven or twelve. He doesn't actually live there, but he lives close by. He's really smart and likes to put things together, but his family never sent him to school because they thought he was going to die--so what was the point? Therefore, the Hollenbecks pay his school fees. He's precious. Speaking of school, it's a HUGE deal here. A child = a retirement fund for parents. Mothers will even prostitute themselves to pay for their children to go to school.

Uganda is supposedly over 80% Christian, but has the highest rate of domestic violence in the world.

Wow.

I'm acclimating slowly. It's really starting to feel like home, especially as I get to know more kids. Tomorrow we're going to go visit a more rustic village outside the city. On Friday and Saturday, we're going to a gamepark. Woohoo!

Lunch is about ready, and I think Susan may be getting lonely....