Today encapsulated in a microcosm our Ugandan experience thus far.  The day began with the figurative becoming the literal, and ended with an inspiring example of someone who jumped well before we did and dove much deeper.

It took my colleague Jay Milbrandt the better part of a year to convince me to join a Pepperdine Global Justice trip to Uganda.  I have never been good at delving into the unknown.  But since it was only for two weeks, the short- and long-term risks seemed minimal.  Over the next eighteen months of short visits, God opened my heart to the idea of a longer stay.  He did the same for my family, and so after much prayer and deliberation, we made the leap.

Those who know me know how deathly afraid of heights I am.  Like many of my phobias and weaknesses, I can trace my fear back to a single event.  In 1986, I went with my friend Seneca to Austin to watch my older brother John Pole Vault in the Texas Relays.  While we were there, we ventured over to San Antonio and went to the top of the Space Needle.  Up to that point, I had never been afraid of heights.  So I walked over to the edge and looked down.  Instantly, the ground seemed to rush up at me and I turned into pudding.  I slinked back and sat on the floor against the wall shaking and sweating.  Since then, I get weak and anxious even when I see someone else up high.  I can’t even look down from a fourth-story window without growing faint.  This, of course, provides numerous opportunities for jokes at my expense and stunts aimed at freaking me out.  I am an easy mark.

Yesterday, the Gashes and the Gregstons (our Twin Family) drove to Jinja, the source of the Nile River.  The plan was for all of us to go white water rafting, swim at the pool, and hang out with Katie Davis and her family.  (Thursday was a national holiday in Uganda, so we decided to make it a four-day weekend).  After we arrived at our hotel yesterday, we tracked down a brochure for a rafting company to look into making reservations for the next day.  The brochure also indicated that the same company offered bungee jumping over the Nile from a 145-foot platform.  When we called, we learned that the ten of us could go rafting at 10:00 a.m., and those who wanted to do so, could bungee jump before we set adrift on the Nile.

My impulse to directly confront, and try to conquer, my fear of heights came and went like a flash of lightning – big and brilliant when it hits, then immediately gone.  My impulse didn’t even have the delayed thunder.  What did come were the taunts and jeers from my family.  “Dad won’t do it – he’s too scared.”  My comeback reply was devastating.  “No I’m not, I just don’t wanna do it.”  Simply devastating.  Not.

Over the course of the evening and into this morning, I did some thinking and reflecting.  Prior to coming to Africa, Jessica was deathly afraid of needles.  Yet she now draws blood from HIV- and Malaria-positive patients.  I swore (for fear) I would never drive in Uganda, but now I drive all over the city and drove the 80 miles to Jinja.  Prior to leaving our hotel this morning, I decided that it was time to face my fears, but I didn’t tell anyone.  Instead, I let Joshua and Jessica continue to taunt me.  When we arrived and saw how high the platform was, Joshua’s taunting ceased and Jessica backed off some, I think because she saw me get weak again.  When it came to time to pay, Joshua told me that he didn’t want to do it anymore, but I bought three tickets anyway.  (Jennifer is too young, and Joline is still dealing with some vertigo issues).  The Gregstons got four (Jayne was too young).

Joshua was still pretty convinced that I couldn’t go through with it, and I think he assumed that he could back out if I did, so he didn’t protest too much . . . until we climbed the scrillion stairs to the top of the platform.  The plan was for Jay (41) and Jared (12) to go first on a tandem jump, then Jill (41) would go solo, then I would go solo, then Joshua (14) would go solo, then Jessica and Jake (both 16) would tandem.  After Jay and Jared jumped first (with no small amount of consternation on Jared’s part) and didn’t die (though they hit the water pretty hard before bouncing back up), I relaxed a bit.  Joshua reacted differently, though I think he still thought I would wuss out.

Jill’s solo jump was a thing of beauty (though she was quite nervous before takeoff), and it convinced me that I could actually do it.  It convinced Joshua, however, that he couldn’t.  Accordingly, we shifted gears and I decided that Joshua and I would tandem.  As we got strapped to the bungees, I had numerous flashes of panic, but maintained full bladder and bowel control.  But when we hopped and scooted to the edge (ankles bound pretty tightly), the internal muscles threatened to relax in ways that would prove quite fragrant and embarrassing.  Fortunately, I had evacuated my storage tanks (twice) between the time I decided to jump and climbing the tower.

Letting go of the bar above our heads was one of the most psychologically difficult things I have ever done.  We just stood there on the edge of the platform in a tight father-son embrace and listened as they counted us down.  “Three . . . two . . . one.”

Hanging On

Fall.

Free Falling

Touch.

Touching the Nile

Rebound.

If we had time before rafting, I would have jumped again.  Alone.  At least I think I would have.

As alluded to earlier, this mirrors our decision to walk out to the edge, let go of any safety supports, cling tightly to each other (and to God), and then fall.  We feel like we have done lots of touching.  And we are ready for another rebound.

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we keep jumping back into Uganda in the coming years.  It is exhilarating and teaching us in whole new ways to embrace each other and to embrace the One who protects and sustains us.

Tomorrow, I will write about our wonderful afternoon today with Katie Davis – an impressive young woman whose life (and book) is inspiring tens of thousands around the world.  We are thrilled to have the chance to participate in her ministry tomorrow.  Here is a picture of our kids with hers after an afternoon of swimming together.

Gashes, Gregstons, and Davises

The Gregston family and I left mid-afternoon on last Tuesday and drove about 3 hours to Mubende. After the first night, we fell into a routine of getting up early, doing a devotional, eating breakfast, working at a “clinic,” going back to the hotel and showering, eating dinner, and going to bed a few hours later. Thankfully, one of the nurses that came with us turned out to be a lab technician, so Jake, Jared, and I unearthed our inner pharmacist and no helpless Ugandans were subjected to a blood lab run by children (yet).

The first day, Jake and I helped out with registration. Big mistake. Not only could we not speak the language, we couldn’t even read the Acholi names that our translator wrote out for us to copy onto forms. Then we would take their weight, hand out a de-worming pill, and write down the patient number. Did I mention Jake and I can’t count? Several hours and many butchered names and misnumbered patients later, Jake and I swore to avoid registration at all costs.

On days three, four, and five, Jake, Jared, and I worked in the pharmacy. It’s a pretty fast paced job and we’ve had to learn multiple names in several varieties of short hand for each medicine prescribed. We also learned how to read short hand dosages and decide a dose based on weight and age. It was a job that was sometimes challenging and overwhelming, but one that I really enjoyed. I’m discovering that while my deficiency in simple math makes a lot of pharmacy work difficult, I’m becoming increasingly interested in medicine—a door I shut years ago and I’m now wondering if God has reopened.

On the second day, we faced a loss. A three year old girl came to the clinic very sick and was instructed to go home and eat and come back in a couple hours to be taken to the hospital to be given medicines that we didn’t have with us. David, our main driver, took her to the hospital and when he got there, there was not a doctor or nurse to be found. She died within the hour. In Jake’s words “we lost and we didn’t even know we were losing.” But as David told us, only God can see what could have happened. We can only see what did. And we saw the very next day a pastor sick with what had killed the little girl the day before—only this time we had the right medications for Dr. Jay and the nurses to save his life. Even so, it’s so hard to see how easily the little girl could have been saved if only given the right medications. It makes me think of how many people we’ll go by in life who might have so easily been saved from spiritual death but no one ever gave them the right opportunities. Our God is a just God, but I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize that someone only got half a chance at life to the full because they were lacking something I could have given them.

But before we found out what had happened to the little girl, I spent some time with the local children. The girls especially wanted to talk to me and ask me questions. They wanted me to tell them two names so I told them “Jessica Mae” which they changed to “Jesca Mary.” They told me things like how old they were and how many brothers and sisters they had. Then all the children sat me down on a bench and showed me their traditional dancing and sang songs that they had learned in school while they drummed on large drums that I think were made from goat skin. They sang about how Jesus loved them and it was amazing to hear the incredible purity and beauty in their voices.

The next day, our last day in Little Orange, I was talking to Jackson, who is 18 and speaks pretty good English. We had all been feeling a little off because of the little girl’s death and a little overwhelmed from the scores of patients and still having to turn some away. But then Jackson turned to me and said “Actually, we will not be forgetting you.” Fiona (one of the little girls from the day before) walked up to me then and handed me a slip of paper with her name and grade on it. She said something to Jackson and he translated for me, “She is saying she is loving you.” That really really got to me. I’m not sure why, but it was something about knowing we had made a difference to that one. I might have served hundreds of patients, but I made a difference to Jackson and Fiona. I think sometimes I can’t see the trees for the forest, and I’m guessing that’s how a lot of us are when it comes to doing God’s work. We get so caught up in throwing as many starfish in as we can that we forget to admire the beauty of each one.

This is going to be a big week for me in Uganda.  I have been purposefully keeping an internet lid on the biggest part of my substantive work; I hope I can lift that lid this week.  I am meeting with the judges in the Criminal Division of the High Court on Tuesday as they are considering the proposal that my colleague (and former student, Shane Michael) and I have pitched to them.  I hope to be able provide the full details by the end of the week.  I would be grateful for your prayers on this.  If the proposal is granted, it would mean a bit of a paradigm shift in the juvenile justice process here in Uganda, and much for the better.

Henry’s first week of school came to an end this week and things are continuing to go very well.  In fact, I drove out to see him for a few minutes today to deliver some additional clothes he learned he needs and some additional school supplies.  Not only was it a good week for Henry, but it was a good week for his school – the final S6 national exam results (the test Henry will take in two years – he is just starting S5) were released, and his school finished first in the entire country.  While this school has enjoyed the reputation for the being the strongest in Science, the first place overall finish was a huge boost.  We continue to be thankful that God opened this door for Henry.

And speaking of Henry, we got an unexpected bit of surprise news when we learned that my little brother’s wife’s father (Jerry’s father-in-law, Kelly’s dad) has requested that we purchase two piglets for Henry’s family and name them Bryan (for Kelly’s dad) and Brent (Bryan’s brother).  We notified both Henry and his sister, and they were thrilled. I am going to add some Mobile Money to my phone and send them the money to buy the pigs.  (If you don’t know what Mobile Money is, then read my previous post on the subject).

This past week also brought a couple of long-overdue reunions.  I had gotten to know Jesse Rudy, the Kampala director of IJM, Uganda, during several prior trips to Uganda, and we hadn’t yet reconnected.  This reunion happened at a really cool restaurant as we discussed a really cool opportunity with other really cool people.  I had met the Dean of Regent Law School a few times previously at Christian Legal Society gatherings, but we had never really had a chance to talk on a deeper level.  That changed on Thursday night.  Dean Brauch, his wife, and another Regent Law Professor came to Kampala to meet with another one of my friends, Brian Dennison, an American lawyer who works with Uganda Christian University.  The purpose of the trip was to explore the possibility of a Regent/UCU partnership the result of which would be that Regent students (and likely students from other schools) would come to Uganda beginning next summer to study and do internships.

We met at a restaurant that had some serious game.  Serious game.  I ordered the platter with Kob (antelope), Wildebeest (beat’s me), crocodile, and ostrich.  Unfortunately, there had been a run on crocodile and ostrich that evening, so they were substituted out for some other leftovers from a lion kill of some sort.  All of it was excellent.  The conversation and discussion about connecting American law students with opportunities to serve Uganda’s legal system was outstanding.  I will be praying that this partnership comes to pass.  I am confident that if it does, there will be an opportunity for Pepperdine students to join in the fun.

This next week will also bring another reunion with someone I have only met once, but who our family (and Twin Family) are eager to meet – Katie Davis.  More on this amazing young woman later in the week.

Finally, I have been growing increasingly comfortable driving here.  So much so, that yesterday I relaxed a bit too much.  As I was traveling down a one-way street, I turned right onto a two-way street.  I hugged the sad-excuse-for-a-curb and continued up the right side of the street.  Unfortunately, a matatu (local mini-van taxi) also preferred that side of the street from the other direction.  We both slammed on the brakes and disaster was narrowly averted.  On the bright side, I think I now know how to say “Great American Satan” in Luganda.  All in all, I consider this to be a net positive.

Lots of chicks.  Lots and lots of chicks.  Overrunning the house.  They barely sleep.  All they do is eat.  And they are pooping everywhere.  Next week, they will be kicked out of the house and made to fend for themselves in the small barn behind the house.

Last week, Henry’s family had 240 three-day-old chickens delivered to their house.  They bought these chickens with the remainder of the cow money that we left with them the prior week.  If you have no idea what I am talking about, click here.

This past weekend, Henry told me about the delivery and how excited his family was.  We have been quite heartened to hear that the reaction of their neighbors has been uniformly positive.  We had been concerned that resentment or jealously would arise, but the fact that Henry’s family had (and then unjustly lost) the cows and chickens has completely mitigated this risk.

Here is a video Henry took with his phone of the chickens, which are living in their house for their first week.

Unrelatedly, I got some really cool business cards this week.  My good friend Bob would call them “bitchin’,” but I don’t use that kind of language.  At least as far as my mom knows.

New Business Card