Bus Rides, the Nile, and Chickens

And the adventure continues…

We left the orphanage Sunday morning to head to Kampala. Patrick, the assistant director at HCCP, drove us about an hour to a bus stop. We were a little hesitant about taking public transportation all the way to Kampala but were reassured that we would be safe. Patrick talked to the driver and exchanged numbers with him. He also told us how much to pay, so we wouldn’t get ripped off later. He left, and we began to wait. We sat there on the bus for about an hour waiting for it to be overfilled. The bus held around 20 people, but was packed with around 30 to 40. The aisles turned into seats, and there was no space left unoccupied. I couldn’t help but laugh when a lady boarded with a live chicken. I began the trip sitting (when I say sitting, I mean squished) next to a woman who proceeded to breastfeed. She ended up being able to speak a little English and would try to explain to me why we kept stopping and how the bus driver was being a jerk. After she got off, a large man sat next to me and even fell asleep on me. I couldn’t feel my leg after awhile and could really only move my neck freely. The bus kept stopping to drop off and pick up more passengers. I was beginning to think we’d never get to Kampala. At one point, the bus stopped, and suddenly our window was open and meat on a stick, matoke, and drinks were being shoved at us. Once the vendors realized we were muzungos, our window was quickly surrounded by young men. After saying no to everything they were selling, they began asking our names and for our phone number. Luckily, I didn’t have the window seat. The boys quickly fell in love with Kristin (as usual haha), and one even proposed. He was so serious.

When we finally reached Kampala after the six-hour journey, we had no idea what stop to get off at. Fortunately for us, Fred had been communicating with the driver, so at one point, he pointed to us and said, “Come”. We got off the bus to be greeted by Fred. We were beyond happy to have our own seat in an air-conditioned car. All week we had been looking forward to staying at the hotel that we had stayed at our first night in Uganda. We knew we would get as many showers as we’d like. Fred, however, began telling us that we would be staying at a condo of his priest friend. When we got there, we quickly noticed there was no shower, and since we hadn’t showered for five days and just shared sweat with everyone on the bus, we were a little upset. The night-guard was very nice though and brought us buckets for showering. The condo has been way better than the hotel. It’s like having our own apartment. We have running water, electricity, a kitchen, and even a fridge. Having cold water and soda isn’t something we are use to. Taking the bucket shower was phenomenal. I can’t even begin to explain how nice it felt. My feet are now a few shades lighter after scrubbing the dirt off, and I even got to shave. The kids will be so confused when we get back. They always touch my legs and ask why they are so prickly. The power went out while Kristin was showering which was so funny. The night-guard brought us a flashlight though.

The next morning we woke up at 4:45 to leave for Lira to meet the kids that Kristin and her family sponsor through Compassion. It takes around six hours to get there, so we were only going to get around three in Lira. We were supposed to be picked up by our driver at 5:30, but he ended up being an hour late. The drive there went pretty quick because we slept most of the way. We stopped at a gas station in the middle of no where to use the bathroom, which ended up being a hole in the ground- for toilet paper, we used a leaf. We got to drive over the Nile River, and it was more beautiful than I can describe.

When we got to Lira, our driver got lost. We just kept laughing at the situations we were finding ourselves in. We finally made it to the “project”, which is where Compassion is located. We met the girls and headed to their houses. They were both so shy but really happy. The mother of one of the girls was dressed in her best outfit, hugged us, and kept saying how grateful she was. Her house was just a room in an area that resembled the slums. It was so humbling to be welcomed into her home, and she and the girls kept bowing to us. The girl presented Kristin with a wrapped box, which ended up being mangoes and oranges that I can’t wait to eat. Then we headed to the other girl’s house. It was bigger and in a different area. We met her stepdad and learned that she was conceived out of wedlock and didn’t know her father. The stepdad spoke English pretty well and prayed for us. After the short visit, he said they wanted to give us a chicken. I got really excited because by that point, it was around 2pm, and we hadn’t eaten. I thought they had cooked a meal for us, and we would all eat together. I quickly found out I was wrong though when the three of them got up and began running around in the yard chasing chickens. Kristin and I were laughing so hard. After about five minutes, a neighbor boy finally caught the chicken. They tied its legs and presented it to Kristin. We named him Cluckster. We said goodbye to the girls and headed back to the project for lunch- rice, beans, potatoes, fish, chicken (ironic), and cold Coke.

The drive back was very entertaining with Cluckster. He pooped everywhere, which I made Kristin clean, and kept squawking. We saw two baboons and a smaller monkey on the side of the road near the Nile. We ended up driving at night for about an hour, which was not our intention. It wasn’t bad though. We got back around 8:30pm and unloaded the van. Our driver handed the night-guard (who doesn’t speak English) Cluckster. I asked him if Cluckster could stay in the gated area for the night since we intended on bringing him back to HCCP. He said, “Yes, that’s fine”, which is what everyone usually replies to me. I can ask someone how old they are and that would be the response I’d get. About a half hour later, there is a knock on the door. I open it to find the night-guard holding a knife in one hand and a headless chicken in the other. I started crying out of shock, laughter, and sadness. I frantically searched for a pot to put Cluckster in. The night-guard was so proud to have killed our chicken for us. We left him in the sink, but then we started to get nauseous looking at him. So now, Cluckster is in the pot in our fridge. I have no idea how to cook him nor do I want to. We were so excited to have a pet chicken. Kristin even began training him during the van ride. So much for that.

Today we have the day to rest at the condo and maybe some exploring in Kampala. Who knows what’s next…

“I think my stomach is nauseous because it’s mourning Cluckster’s death.” –Kristin Klein two seconds ago.

I Can't.

“And I’ll find strength in pain.”

This experience has been incredible. Each day there are new joys, pains, frustrations and struggles.

We are now teaching in the school. Our first class wasn’t well behaved at all. They wouldn’t stay quiet and kept fighting. During our break, we were told they take advantage of us being white because they know we won’t beat them, so for our next class we took a stick with us. Obviously we would never use it, but the intimidation factor seemed to work because the class was more behaved. We learned how to say, “I’ll beat you” in Luganda, but every time we try to threaten a kid we just start laughing. I hate seeing the kids get whipped. The younger kids got beat the other day. That was the first time I’ve seen Benita truly cry. Kristin and I do everything we can to make sure the girls don't get beat.

The older kids have been so helpful and sweet to us. Everyday they want to share their poscho and beans with us. We usually decline, but occasionally they talk us into it. They love giving us different things to try and get so proud when we share a meal with them. We took three of the older girls into the guest area away from everyone to make bracelets and color. One of the girls, Florence, was so happy. She acts very tough and serious, but she is really shy and sweet. I can tell she has never gotten much attention from visitors, so this was a big deal for her. She just kept looking at her new bracelet smiling. It’s the most I’ve seen her smile. Since then, she sits with us every night during worship.


The need here is… overwhelming. The well is still broken, and the kids are walking to the river everyday. Most of the village kids walk to school, which can take up to two hours, and most don’t have shoes. Because of miscommunication, there are still kids sleeping on the floor. One of the little girls sleeping on the floor, Ruth, has malaria. She won’t talk or eat much. The other day she was sleeping on my lap and started throwing up. After getting no help from the house-mom, I carried her to the clinic. Yesterday Favour was burning up. Her whole body was hot, and she wouldn’t eat. Benita was having stomach issues, and another girl, Joan, wouldn’t eat because of a toothache or sore in her mouth. Sickness is all around me. The kids take care of themselves. The clinic doesn’t seem to do much, and they are low on medicine. We have been giving the kids the medicine we have like half of a Tylenol for fevers. Last night a girl showed us a third degree burn across her arm. Her skin was hanging off and the clinic just stuck gauze on it. We put Neosporin and bandages on it, and quickly all the kids were showing us their wounds to get medicine. So there we were- sitting on the floor in the dark surrounded by kids who were hurting and wanting to be healed.

I’m quickly learning how incapable I am. Each night we sit with the girls in the dark as they eat and worship together. Then we tuck them in and say goodnight. During worship, they take a moment for prayer. Last night when it was time to pray, Benita scooted closer on my lap and rested her head on my chest. I began praying over her and crying. “Love her- I can’t. Protect her- I can’t. Provide for her- I can’t. Bless her- I can’t. Take care of her- I can’t. Be with her always- I can’t.” I’m learning that I can’t, but to trust that God can. I’m unable to give these kids everything they need and deserve. All I can do it let God use me in any way He sees fit. I’m searching for Him here and continually find Him in the simplest things like a child waving goodbye before their long walk home, the sound of laughter as we play, a child who just wants to sit beside me and hold my hand, and the sharing of a meal together. He is all around me. He can.