Words in Uganda: “I am not a white man; I am a son of God.”

(It would take a 600-page book to describe the emotions encountered in merely our first six hours today. It all came so fast I could not pause to cry until now. Let this brief post serve as a tiny glimpse into one significant encounter amid many on day one in Jinja, Uganda, East Africa. Today though March 20th I am here visiting friends and missionaries with Next Generation Ministries » see NGM Facebook page.)

Met so many wonderful people today (3/10), day one on the ground in Uganda. And they each invited me into their daily adventure of embodying beauty and embracing brokenness.

Sometime in the middle of today, amidst many errands and meeting with a number of people, we were delayed on return from a newer “modern hospital,” the conditions of which could not possibly pass inspection for a makeshift day clinic for the homeless in America.

But we are not in the States, and this is the best care poverty can buy in Uganda. I’m told it is a vast improvement from government-funded healthcare (a statement validated as an understatement by a later evening visit to Jinja Main Hospital; more on that in a future post, I hope).

Today, at Al Shafa Modern Hospital Limited a lady named Jennifer walked up with her under-nourished, famished, and deeply ill daughter, Saluwa, who I think is five years old. We encouraged her to enter the clinic and admit her child, to which she replied in Lugandan that she has no money and has lost all hope. This child clearly needed a blood transfusion and it seems malaria wants to steal the life of another beautiful child.

Against all hope Jennifer knew she had to daily decide between one small shared meal for the family or getting life-saving medical help.

If only someone cared for her and pleaded her case. Continue reading

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