Village Profile: John Ntenderi

There is someone very special that I would like to introduce you to. His name is John Ntenderi. He is 16 years old and has one of the sweetest spirits in the village.  His dad died when he was 9 years old and so he is left with his mom, step dad and from what I can figure, 8 siblings. He is a hard worker and just finished Primary 7, which is basically like 8th grade. He will begin secondary school in February. John is a smart kid who loves Jesus and is kind to everyone he comes in contact with.

This is the look that stays on John's face most of the time.

Unfortunately, John doesn't get to enjoy most of the things that the other kids his age get to enjoy. He can't play soccer, he can't run around with the other kids, and he has to take it pretty easy when it comes to walking around standing up for too long. John has a swollen right leg that prevents him from doing any of these things and more. It has progressively gotten worse since birth, and because he family doesn't have much money at all, he hasn't been able to have it treated. 

John was one of the first people that I met when I moved here to Uganda in September. He was one of the first people at church in the morning, and came right up to introduce himself to me and ask my name. I couldn't forget the smile of this sweet kid. Later I was told by my housemate that he was in her Sunday School class and was a sweet, faithful kid. Then I noticed that he didn't really go out and play with the other kids and when I asked why they showed me his swollen leg.

It wasn't until one night I was at my house getting ready for dinner, and I heard John outside my door saying that he was hurt. When I went outside he told me that he had fallen off his bike and his arm was pretty bloody. So, like the gifted nurse that I am (sarcasm) I grabbed the medical supplies and cleaned the guy up. It wasn't a horrible cut, but it did need some attention. But, even after I bandaged it up, John was still saying that he was in pain. I asked him what was bothering him and he explained that the compression sock that he had been wearing on his leg in order to help with the swelling had lost its elasticity and wasn't doing anything anymore. So, after checking it out I told him that the next time I was in town I could pick him up a new one. But, I realized that it was only a temporary fix to his problem so I began to do a little research on his problem. 

John after his baptism. He was so excited to finally be baptized.

After Googling his symptoms and checking out what I could on WebMD, which is about the extent of my medical expertise, I figured out that John had a circulation problem and that we should have him go see a doctor so that we could get a proper diagnosis that didn't come from the internet. So off to Kampala we went. This was John's second time to the capitol, and I'm pretty sure that he was thrilled to get to go, even if it was to be poked and prodded by doctors. We spent the day running from one doctor to the next, getting everything from a general check up, to a heart echo, to ultrasounds on his leg. Eventually, we were able to figure out that he has something called Arteriovenous Malformation. Which basically means that when he was born the capillaries in his right leg weren't formed correctly so his veins and arteries aren't connected properly which causes the swelling because the blood isn't being distributed correctly. 

The doctor that diagnosed him gave us a referral to see the top vascular surgeon in Uganda to have a final test run in order to see if it is operable. Since we had just spent about 6 hours going from one doctor to the next, we didn't have time to go and see him that day, but we are going to be able to go in hopefully before Christmas sometime and see if we can get John's leg fixed. Unfortunately, the doctor said that he doesn't think that the swelling will go down all the way even if he can have the surgery because of all the damaged tissue from 16 years of swelling, but some of the swelling with go away and he won't have to deal with the pain anymore. 

He's definitely Ugandan, refusing the fork at all times.

 The hope is that John can have the surgery and be able to walk to and from school without being in severe pain, and maybe even play some soccer with his friends. He is such a sweet boy and doesn't let this thorn in the flesh hinder him from loving others and loving God. He has been to my house about 3 times since we returned from the doctors' appointments to thank me for loving him and trying to help his leg. Today he told me that even if his leg can't be fixed he will still be thankful that I took the time to try. I have learned so much from his perspective on life. John has challenged me to see all the ways that I can serve others even if there are ways that they can be serving me. John could sit around and use the fact that it's hard for him to walk as a reason that he shouldn't give of himself to those who could use a little love. There are so many smaller hurdles in my life that I am not willing to jump over in order to love others around me. Some days I wish that I didn't have to walk to bible study because it's hot, or I had a long day teaching. I can say now that when I am tempted to grumble or complain I will remember mine and John's long day in Kampala sitting and waiting all day, and how John never once showed that he was frustrated with the fact that we were not being seen right at our appointment time even if I was struggling to hold my tongue to the assistants working in the office. 

Please be in prayer for John as I continue to figure out how to best help him and get his leg healed. Pray that I would persevere as I figure out how to navigate the medical scene here in Uganda. Pray that John's doctors and surgeon would have wisdom and guidance as we move forward, and that there would be a solution to the problem. And pray that I would learn to never grumble or complain, that I would remember that every day is a gift and a blessing from the Lord.

Color Me Uganda

When I graduated college this past May I was sure that I would never want to complete another assignment as long as I lived. Five months later that doesn't seem to be the case. I miss writing. I have always enjoyed it, and I miss going to the coffee shop and putting in my earbuds, drinking an Iced Chai with 2 shots of espresso, and writing for as long as I needed to in order to get out my thoughts and complete the assignment. So, to fill this surprising void in my life, my super talented and imaginative friend Jackie Knapp (check her out at Paper + Sky) has agreed to give me creative writing assignments while I am here in Uganda so I will have an outlet for my unusual desire to type it out. The one that she gave me first was to write about my experience in Uganda thus far using color. So, here is the first of many creative writing posts that I will be putting on here. Thank you for indulging me while I work through these post-grad dilemmas.

Photo Credit: Jackie Knapp

Color evokes emotion. Color reminds us of things that have since passed. Color associates, clarifies, defines, and binds experiences with feelings that otherwise wouldn’t be expressed. Color captivates. Experiences wouldn’t be as vivid and enriching if they were isolated to a canvas limited to black and white. They would lack imagination and beauty, longing for expression found only in the shades and hues provided through an endless chromatic spectrum.

The world was not created void of color. From the beginning of creation the Great Artist gave richness and intensity to the universe. He molded. He sculpted. He painted.  He crafted Uganda, a country rich with color. Every small experience is engulfed with the richness of the palette of its Master. Imagining the jungles of Rwenzori, the plains of Gulu, or the muddy huts of Moyo would fall short of reality without the influence of the many colors that paint the pictures stamped on the minds of their visitors.
 

Photo Credit: Jackie Knapp

 Red is the dirt packed down by the feet it has carried from hut to hut as it traces its way through its country, marking the paths of the lives that depend on its guidance. That red dirt is carried on the hands of the men who build, the children who play, and the women who dig. White pants are no friend to this red dirt, as soon as it makes its impression and transfers the color onto the fabric, the connection is as permanent as the one between the two people that have made the transaction. The stain runs deep, just like the relationships; never ending, trust enduring, necessity mutual. The red in the dirt represents hard work; it has seen pain and toil, heartache and trouble, tyranny and disaster. It has also seen joy and laughter, introductions and wedding ceremonies, family meetings, and the births of children. Life takes place on this red dirt.

Green is the land that defines Uganda; the land that earned the title “Pearl of Africa”, the land that changes from one district to the next. From the jungles that surround Bwindi, that give home to the gorillas and the chimpanzees, the bush that conceals the villages of Kubamitwe, Swanta, and Busuku to the plains of Murchison and Kibale that hold the beautiful beasts that find rest in Uganda. This fertile, green land provides sustenance for its people. It provides matoke, maize, cassava, and avocado, producing trees for building, and reeds for weaving. This land works as hard at the people who dig it, returning the effort with reward, giving confidence that their work will not be in vain. Life grows out of this land.  

Photo Credit: Jackie Knapp

Brown is the skin that covers the people I love. Dark brown skin that walks the red dirt, digs the green earth, drinks in the orange sun, bathes with the muddy water, and cooks with the yellow fire. Dark brown that flashes by while riding the boda, only for a moment in plain sight, waving, staring, smiling, yelling, “Bye Mzungu!”, and then gone again, maybe never to be seen again. This is the skin that defines the person, that places them in categories of race; the color that has limited and challenged. It’s a powerful color that carries assumptions of intelligence, ability, lifestyle, and deservedness. It’s a color that has taught me more than I thought I could learn; a color that has shattered prejudices and preconceived notions. It’s a color that brings joy in a way that only those who are blessed enough to experience it can truly understand. Life is enhanced by this color.

Red is the blood that flows through the bodies of the people who call Uganda their home, who know no other home. Who fight and struggle to make their home one that they can grow and flourish and provide for the children that God has given them. Their deep red blood is thick and strong. It survives when most would collapse, claiming victory at the end of each day, rejoicing upon waking each morning. This red blood is rich in culture and customs; rituals that have withstood the test of time, corrupt government rule, war, and tribal rituals. Customs that expect you kneel when addressing an elder, that offer food even when it’s the last of your food, customs that require elaborate weddings, and burials attended by the entire village. This blood makes up these people, people loved by God, people who survive against evil, people who have a way of taking ownership of a person’s heart in a way that is unrivaled by most. Life flows out of this blood.

Uganda is a country rich with color that touches the soul and enlivens the spirit.
 

Source of the Nile in Jinja