Past few weeks in Uganda

Hello everyone sorry about how long it has taken me to get this last post out. The past few weeks I have been back home have been just as much of a learning experience as being in Uganda. When I got back I was greeted by my family, my girlfriend and my best friend, after they realized they were at the wrong terminal! I was sitting on my own, super confused, but just glad to be able to understand all of the language around me. My thoughts on being back in the U.S. are varied. Part of me feels at home, and another part feels like I am wasting my time and talents trying to conform back into a normal life. I have decided to change what I want to major in to philanthropy. I want to be able to make a difference and be a missionary. I will be starting that non-profit and, God willing, that will be my career for the rest of my life. I will need a lot of support, both time and prayers, but I know with Gods help I can make a difference. While I was in Uganda I felt like I was where God needed and wanted me. I just have not had that fulfillment in anything I have done in America since then. I know I will be going back overseas for a more extended mission but I am not 100% sure where. I will be praying about it and I beg you all to pray for me too. The only reason I made it through Uganda was the prayers sent by all of you. I am lucky with the people I am surrounded by and their support, it is so much more than many people get. The culture here is upsetting after Uganda though; while I was there I wanted America and now that I'm back I am not sure if I do. Don't get me wrong our country is amazing and wonderful. Our tolerance of other religions and cultures is amazing. Our want of things we do not need is not wonderful. We feel we are entitled to things that are not necessary, myself included. I am one of the worst about it. Things I think are "necessary" are merely luxuries. The realization that by living a "normal" life I will not touch peoples lives the way I could by a missionary lifestyle, is a scary one. This lifestyle is not supported much by society, it is thought of as a noble idea but not one that can be actually done. People will always recommend a real job or to live a life that is less in Gods hands, and more "realistic".  I will pray for the strength for me, and my family, to accept this lifestyle I have been contemplating. I can do it with the help of God. I need your prayers.

Yours in Christ,
Brian Kearney

Nearing the end of the trek...

My last few days are wrapping up in Uganda. I will be heading to Kampala on Friday and staying until I leave Saturday night. This last week has been very busy. I visited a parish very far away in a town called Chigerama. The people in this village, because it is so deep in rural Uganda, have rarely (and a few never) seen a white person. They were overjoyed to see me. An elderly lady came up to me and gave me three paw paws, what were her supper for that night. She wanted to give a gift to the visitor. The people here know how to love; it is something I think we tend to lack in the U.S. How many Americans do you know who would give all they have to eat to someone, who they KNEW had more than they did?  I sure wouldn’t. I am too selfish, and sometimes towards those who have more, I'm jealous. This lady is a much better witness to God then I am and probably ever will be. I will try to do my best to always remember that moment. 

After that we had Mass, and there were around 400 people in attendance. This seems small to African standards, and to American ones! When I asked Father why there were so few, he said the ones in the church now are the Legionaries of Mary (a type of total consecration) and they were praying at the church Monday till Thursday, the Feast of the Assumption. That’s hardcore. They would sleep outside, under trees, on straw. They are some of the most faith-filled people I have ever met. Not one of them spoke English, but through Father translating we talked a little; they were sad we couldn’t speak in the same language. Another elderly lady, they are called muzei (old person) here, told Father to tell me I was handsome. Most people in that area have only seen white people who are movie stars in pictures, so they think we all resemble them; it is hilarious. 

Then, I drove myself back to the parish. This was not a pleasurable experience! Driving in Uganda would be scary on good roads due to the skill level of other drivers. They do not have good roads though, many are just enlarged walking trails that will barely let two cars squeeze by. The left side is a mountain and the right side is a 100ft drop off with no guard rail. Talk about white-knuckle driving. To top it all off I had no clue where I was going and had to follow a map drawn by hand in 2 minutes. I made it, but I was worried for a while. I had to get back to be with my class before they left. They had a Mass and then said goodbye to me.

 My class has been wonderful to me; they made me in art a plate and fruits from natural materials around to thank me for being their teacher. Our school is one of very few in the district who did not strike, and it shows in the quality of the students. Next time I go, and I advise anyone who does go to also do this, I will not allow begging. It is something very prevalent here, and my students never did outright, which was good, but they hinted at it. I ignored it when I should have used it as a teaching opportunity. I want to start a couple schools and this school to be pen pals, I think it would be great for both to learn about another culture by writing letters or through email. I will tell them before I leave though that if they beg, we cannot continue as pen pals. I do not want it to be about that; I want it to be solely learning about other cultures.

I have also visited the orphanage called the House of Love again. The conditions leave something to be desired, but they do what they can as a staff. Only 6 of the 26 kids were there, the others still had exams. I brought some tootsie rolls and cookies to them and they were the most polite kids I have ever met. The girls all curtsied and said thank you and the boys said thank you, sir. It was adorable. I talked to one little girl, Grace. She is 8 and in her second of three years of nursery.  She was an adorable child, but her chances of being adopted are very slim. Not many people adopt children older than toddler age from Africa. I will be praying for her to find a family.

Today I went on a chimp trek. We hiked for about 3 hours in a Rainforest, and finally found some chimps. I spotted a big shadow moving in the forest and asked our guide what it was. She said, "it’s a chimp!" Then we were off, we went on a light jog through the bush, which had no trail. I was tired, but a muzei that is also here from Belgium is 68! I have no clue how he did it. He is a tough man. We followed the chimps for about a mile and a half and then they started climbing. We stood underneath and tried to get photos, which did not all turn out well, but just generally watched the chimps jump around, swing on vines, and eat figs. 

Another group came to watch so we started back to the car to give them room to see. It was a 1-hour walk back to the car and by this time the muzei was not doing well. He was breathing heavily and sweating profusely. The seminarian and I decided to hike ahead at a faster pace and bring the car back for them. We had a 2 or 3 mile hike on the road, after going up a quarter mile through thick forest. TIA. We emerged from the bush onto the main road and a man herding a cow gave us a very strange look. I bet he had never seen two muzungu come out of the forest looking half dead before! He told us the way to the car and we started hiking. We made it to the car and drove back to get the rest of the group. Driving to the parish we pulled over to cram two more people into the car. In Africa if there is any possible way, you let people you know ride with you in the car. Few people have cars, so there is seldom one or 2 people in a car. Usually its 8 or 9.

I have also visited the house of one of the teachers of English at my Uganda School. He is 21 and brought me to his parents to see them and say hello. His mom said in the local dialect, "I can't believe a white person is in my house!" She was so joyful and welcoming. The teacher went to show me some of the local foods growing in their garden and when I had gotten back they had set a table with rice and a mix of cabbage and tomatoes for me. They had also gone out and bought two sodas, which are very expensive to these families. This is a family that cannot afford electricity even though most of the village has it. When I was leaving they loaded me down with sugar cane, mangos, bananas and a bottle of water. TIA.

I am running out of time for typing this. I have to meet some teachers at the school very soon. This will most likely be my last post before heading back to the States, but I will have one or two more in the U.S. Thank you all for the prayers and being on this journey with me in spirit!

I'm learning as I go...

I apologize for my last post being a tad bit depressing. I was a little in shock after seeing what had happened. I have learned since that the man was drunk; please pray for his soul. This post will not be as depressing, but more informative than the last ones. My eyes have been opened to Uganda more so than it perhaps is to most tourists or missionaries. I am not in the structured format of most missionaries, I travel more and have gotten to know the locals pretty well.

One thing I have learned is that aid from the U.S. and Europe has been pulled due to the culture here not accepting some things they deem as immoral. These are things fundamentally against their religion. They cannot in good conscience make them legal. When they were told they had to make certain things legal that are lawful in Europe and now the U.S. -- and refused -- they were cut off from aid. This is a travesty. I do not care what your morals are about something, we can all agree that taking food out of the mouths of orphans and medical aid away from the dying is wrong. That has been happening here; it is one way we have harmed these people.

Another problem is non-profits that do not give money to trustworthy sources. A lot of money gets pumped into this country from developed countries; most does not reach the poor. The money just disappears; the locals call it "eating the money."  I have heard a lot of stories about people eating the money from schools and in other aid projects like orphanages. Please do not trust your money to non-profits that you do not know. Learn about the area and the people who are trustworthy. Many people here seem trustworthy but cannot be trusted with large, or small, amounts of money.  

Another problem here that is difficult to solve is that the average person has become dependent on the developed world. They see a white person and think they will get free stuff. I am guilty of fostering this idea. I gave out what I could when I came, and it was the wrong choice. The best thing we can do is bring money for projects, and stay to make sure the projects get on track. Unless we have specialization in construction or civil engineering we should pay the locals to do the work. It gives them a job and makes them feel more responsible for the project being done. They are VERY proud of things made in Uganda, but few things are because they get them from other countries. We cannot stop corruption in their country (We can’t even stop it in ours!) or bail them out of poverty by throwing money at them. We have to teach them and then step back and let them do it. They have to be the ones to do it. This is not something most people will agree with, I know that. I am just giving my personal opinion and first-hand account. There are things we should help pay for, I believe. It just needs to be more structured, and we need to take the trouble to follow up on it to make sure the projects are done. I mentioned a few things in prior posts that I want to help students pay for, and I am sticking by those particular things. I believe more in giving money to trustworthy Ugandans than the government, though. Anything that goes into the hands of the government doesn’t reach the people.

That goes into my next point. What we should focus our philanthropic efforts on are the school system and the medical field. They do not have a good education system here. The supplies are limited and the style of teaching is not modern. When students misbehave they get caned, which many teachers in the U.S. might think isn’t a bad idea, but if I said the students misbehaved more would you believe me? They seem to behave in school, but once they get out of school they are free. They are much worse behaved than most high schoolers in the U.S. or Europe. It also does not allow trust. The students are afraid to answer questions or participate in class because they fear getting caned. This is not a healthy way to form minds. It is not working. The medical field is also lacking training and supplies. They need teachers for nurses and for doctors badly. They also need help learning how to use the limited equipment they have.

Another way they could use some help is training in the tourism field. The land here is beautiful, there are exotic animals and plants. It could be THE tourism spot, but the people do not know how to market to Americans or Europeans. There is a camp spot here that is very beautiful but does not get any national recognition. It is called the cave, and it is a cave by a huge lake. It is serene and gorgeous, but you would never know it is there from the main road. They need to have restaurants that are muzungu friendly also. I don’t eat out unless it is with a muzungu who knows the area because I am afraid the food will not be prepared safely. They have to be more punctual also, the culture here is slower paced. It's OK to natives if a meal takes 2 1/2 hours, but that will drive most people from the U.S. insane. Trust me.

Having said all that, it really is a joy to be here. Every time I say something in the local dialect the face of the person lighting up makes all the frustrations more than worth it. Oh and the kids. They are wonderful. I forgot to add in that a Dutch lady named Sophie, her husband (whose name I cannot spell or pronounce) and I taught the children a game with a tarp and beach balls. It’s a common game for grade schools with a parachute and large volleyballs but we improvised. You set kids on all of the sides of the tarp and get them to shake it while you throw the volleyball in the middle. The object is to keep the balls inside without touching them with your hands. The children LOVED it. They were jumping up and down with excitement. They couldn’t control their giggles. They were playing with THREE muzungu! They could not wait to tell their parents. It was a wonderful afternoon.

That will be all for this post, the next one may be in 6 or 7 days. I am going to a less developed part of Uganda that does not have the capabilities for posting this blog. It may only be 3 or 4 days though, you never know the plans they have here, and neither do they. Let go and let God, right?

Brian Kearney

Need prayers

This trip has been hard. I do not want to give you the false impression that this has been all fun and games. I have only made it this far through the strength of God.  I don’t say that to sound pious, it is just the truth. When it becomes too much God sends something or someone to help me through it. The moment I stop praying here I can’t be the witness God made me to be. This post will be a bit shorter. I don’t have as much to say.

Today, while coming back from visiting a Peace Corps member, Father and I saw 5 men on motorcycles on the side of the road. He stopped to see if they needed help and we saw a man lying on the ground not moving. Father could not see well, but I could. I knew the man was gravely wounded. He had crashed on the motorcycle and flew over the handlebars, with no helmet on.  I will not go into detail but we knew it was serious. The men threw him in the back of Fathers car and we sped towards the hospital.

The doctors here are not trained as well as in America, they have the equivalent of a nursing degree. They do not have the knowledge or equipment to be able to handle most severe cases.  The man had what looked like severe head trauma and internal bleeding. His breathing was labored and sounded filled with blood. They do not think he will make it. Pray for him and his loved ones.

The U.S. and most developed countries have made everything sterilized. We do not come into contact with these types of things. We do not embrace death. We don’t see death in that way often. There are people in the U.S. who get mad over the killing of animals for food. This man had no one. No one besides one passer by, Father, and I even cared enough to bring him to the hospital. Cars flew by, some slowed down then drove away. At the hospital we pulled up and the one nurse who came out to see looked inside the car and went inside to get gauze. Father yelled at him to get the doctors to help and he slowly walked to get them. It was infuriating. Typing this I am almost in tears for this man. His family, at this very moment, has no clue. They do not know their daddy and husband is not coming home.

Death is hard to handle. I do not want to make this post about me. I want it to be a way for this man to be remembered. Having said that, though, it was hard to take in. Pray for me also, and I will be praying for you and that man. The only thing keeping me going this time is I have to pray for that man. Please help me, and pray for me.

Brian Kearney

Images of Uganda

Mass in the village, people wait for hours and it is a huge party. They process about 2 miles from where we leave the car and the church, singing into a shoulder-style P.A. system the whole way.

Some of the children at Mary Seat of Wisdom kindergarten and primary school

 This is an orphan boy at the House of Love. He is walking through their garden that is strewn with trash, like most of Uganda.

 That is the girl who treats me like my nephew does - copying and teasing me. She is probably the sweetest kindergartener I have met. They are modeling their new EPG T-shirts that were donated for them.

 This is how they hang their meat, and yes I did eat it. This was at the funeral and I could not say no to a grieving woman happy to cook for a muzungu. I am fine so far, I’ll let you all know.

 This is one of the unfinished classrooms at Mary Seat of Wisdom. My town's VBS and donors from the area have donated enough to cement the floors, put glass in the windows and plaster it.

Great joy and great need in Uganda...

I have finally got some time to put this blog up. Hopefully the next one is posted more quickly! I am borrowing a different laptop so this post will have a couple pictures attached but they take a long time to load on the Internet that is used here so I won’t post many. (Edited to add: The photos will be in a separate post. Each time I tried to insert them I was bumped out of blogger and had to redo this blog post, so I'll try them separately.)

This week has been busy already! I have gone to a 4-hour Mass and afterwards ate with a few politicians and some priests. We ate the food we went to town to buy yesterday. We bought a chicken, beef, goat, and pig. This all was just hanging from the ceiling. Without air conditioning! I did not eat any of that meat. The other muzungu here, Sander, and I decided to eat instant noodles, rice, and fruit. The fruit here is wonderful and they have many kinds that are not easy to get in the States. After the meal, two men from here and I drove 2 hours to a city called Fort Portal. There we went to a hotel called the Dutchess. The food there was wonderful and it had real coffee! That is a rarity here in Uganda. They grow wonderful coffee, I see it everywhere, but very few drink it. They drink mostly tea and water.

The Mass, which included Confirmation, was incredible. It was a little longer than I am used to (71 minute homily!!... not that I counted) but it was beautiful. The people were incredibly joyful to be adults in the eyes of the Church. The sad part was though it was supposed to be 600, only around 300 could be confirmed. The church here has to ask a fee of the people being confirmed because it cannot support itself. The offering they usually get on Sundays is less than $20. That is not an amount they can support a priest on; the priests have to drive many miles to get to Masses for the villages, and they cannot even get the money for gas. Since the church has to ask a fee of about $4, there are some people who cannot partake in the sacrament. While understandable on the part of the diocese here, it needs to be helped. Many individuals try to sponsor as many students as they can, but there is no money. I hope to be able to send money for just that purpose to the parish. I do not want any of God's children to miss out on being confirmed due to lack of $4. It is sad.

I will tell you a bit about my trip to get the food. We traveled about 20 minutes to their big town. Before we got there, we saw a small group of people selling produce, so we got some potatoes that they put in the trunk of the car. We went to the store, as they called it, their Wal-Mart. It was about 20ft by 20ft. There we got items to make the millet (it has the texture of Play-Doh when fully cooked) some tea, and a bottle of wine for the Vicar General and the politicians. We put all of this in the trunk then proceeded to the market. We got there and went straight for the live chickens. The priest I was with and the vendor haggled over price and then exchanged money. The vendor took the chicken away, and I remember thinking, “Hmmm, I wonder where she is going with our chicken?” but I decided not to ask because the language barrier can be almost impossible to overcome with some Ugandans. We then got some melons and peas and walked to the car. I went to put the melons in the car, opened the trunk, and boom! The chicken starts squawking and flapping its wings. In the trunk! They cannot buy frozen chicken so some things they put in the trunk live.

I also have visited a village that is off of the main road here. It is about a 1-hour drive from the road over some rocky terrain. The cars have to be 4-wheel-drive to reach it! I visited two nuns who have a health center they maintain and run for the diocese. They were very kind people and let me stay at their house. I had a huge room with a sink and we had running water, until their water tank ran out. It has not rained, besides a 10-minute shower yesterday, since March! I taught one sister, Sr. Edwig, how to make rosaries, and she was by far the best pupil I have had. She had it down and made a rosary that was nearly perfect on the first try. While here I learned how to use a Ugandan latrine. It is different from our outhouses because it has no seat. It is just a hole in the ground! It was ... interesting. This one was a private latrine so it was clean, a luxury many here do not get.

 I visited two schools. The thing that struck me the most was the two schools that have had financial help from my hometown, St. Thomas and Mary Seat of Wisdom, are so much better off than most schools in the area. I would even go as far as to say they have the best facilities of any of the other schools in the area. The floors at the other schools are dirt, and when it rains they become just mud. They have no glass in the windows. If they have wooden shutters they are lucky. The meals are maize flour and water that make a type of porridge that is a gelatin-like thing (not as bad as it sounds, but it would get old) and beans. They eat this every day for lunch and dinner.

I was also an attendant at a funeral and they are also much different from American ones. There were probably around 600 people in attendance coming from all over the village and surrounding area. They do not have undertakers in Uganda, they leave the body at the house and bring a coffin there. They have Mass right outside the front door, with all the friends, relatives, and acquaintances in attendance.  After the Mass they carry the coffin to a grave dug on the property (usually in the middle of a banana tree grove) and fill it in themselves. They do not leave till the coffin is fully covered, because they say that people will steal the body and use parts for black magic. I have not come across people practicing black magic here and I hope I do not, but it is apparently a very big problem.

This village was beautiful, and hideous. It was beautiful because the land around it is gorgeous. When this country becomes developed people will pay big money to stay here, like they already do at safari resorts! The mountains are beyond description; green foliage and orange soil mix together and make a beautiful picture. The tea and coffee plantations are breathtaking. They are ordered and straight like our farms, then next to them is the rest of Uganda, confusing and real. It is hideous because the living conditions are horrible. The houses are made of mud and sticks in the back country, and the toilets are a hole in the ground with walls. They have to be a breeding ground for disease, the stench is almost overwhelming. They eat meat that is hanging off of the side of the house, flies flying all around them, landing and spreading their fecal matter at will. The water is yellowish and not drinkable for Americans. I have to drink water out of bottles. I could not ever get used to that part of this country. The intense beauty next to the hideous living conditions is more than I can take in at times. My Ugandan friends can tell, they ask many times if I am OK. They are the most selfless people I know.

  I truly want to help these people. In spite of their living conditions that would leave me and most I know at the very least melancholy, these people are joyful. I don’t want to just throw money around because it gets misused, but I want to coordinate with the people I know here who are not corrupt and do projects for schools and families. That is my dream. It is one that people say a 17-year-old boy cannot do ... and they are correct. I cannot do it, but God can. I will do my best, He will do the rest.

Muzungu!

“Muzungu!” That is the word I here most often in Uganda. One other phrase I hear often is, “Good morning Brian! How are you?” To clear things up muzungu means white person. In this village, in Uganda, there are never many white people hanging around visiting with the people. I have seen a few tourists but they are always driving by, at a very high speed, to the resorts or heading to a safari. They drive by, most likely, without giving more than a passing thought about the people and the poverty they are seeing.

Uganda is not what I had expected. The poverty is very real. The faith and joy is even more real. I have not gone 50 steps since I have come here and not had someone say hello with a huge smile.  These people are much slower paced and are never too busy to stop and chat, which happens often, they never forget a face or a name. They also love to talk, time is not something they are lacking in. They have all the time in the world.

                The children here are incredible. Some are very frightened of me, because they have never seen someone of my age that is my color. Most, though, are a little confused at first, until you smile. When you smile they light up and yell how are you! They do not know what I say back, because my accent is hard for them to understand (the misunderstanding is mutual it is hard to understand what people say here), but they are overjoyed to be speaking English with a muzungu. When I visited the kindergarten the first time they all had a huge smile and giggled when I talked. When I visit now they yell “Brian!” or “Muzungu!” and sprint as fast as their little legs can take them to hang off my arms and back. They have a fascination with my skin. They will rub my skin or hair for 10 minutes straight while smiling at me.

The conditions of this school are sad. The children are all very dirty from all the dust, they do not have electricity and have no posters for helping learn, unless they make them. Entering this kindergarten and comparing it to one in America is sad. It is dark, no bright colors, open to the environment and very very dusty.

The room they are letting me stay in at the parish is very nice. It has a good sized bed, clean sheets, electricity and a mosquito net. I also have a bathroom with running water. The women who take care of the parish are very kind. They spoil me! They do my laundry and make my food, muzungu friendly I might add! Which means  less matoke, or cooked bananas that have zero flavor and are somehow bitter, and more potatoes and rice.

In spite of all of that these children are joyful. They have an intense joy that they just can’t contain. They jump up and down and yell and play just like any kindergartener in America, maybe even more so. Two children have really stuck out here, one girl who treats me just like my nephew does and one boy who I could be a comfort to. The girl will copy everything I do then run away laughing, I act annoyed but it is actually kind of adorable. I first noticed it when I was leaning against the van with one hand in my pocket, I looked over and she was doing the same! I then began to notice she would copy everything I said and say it to her friends giggling. This shows me kids are the same everywhere. The other child is named Precious. When we were all lining up for the ride home in the van I could see he was about to cry. Here children are taught early not to cry. It is not something you see much, the only emotion shown often is joy. I could tell he was close. He is much smaller than the other children and they were pushing him out of the way. He could not get to his spot in the front seat very easily. He did get there eventually though and was forced to stand because he was younger. I saw that and plopped him in my lap and just cuddled him. He looked into my eyes, smiled, and then put his head on my chest and fell asleep. He had had a very long day and was just tired. It is moments like that that make this whole trip worth it. I had been missing my family, friends and girlfriend. Thoughts had been going through my head like why did I do this? Why did I come alone? Maybe I can cut the month to two weeks? That boy made me feel at home. I still miss home very much, but there is so much need here. These children need financial help yes, but even more so they need love. Unconditional agape love.

Mass here is way different then at home. At home most church services are very solemn and reverent and quiet. Here it is still very reverent, but in a very African way. There is loud singing, dancing, drums and clapping. When they clap though there is no looking at each other laughing and treating it as a joke, it is incredibly pious. For them the only two people in the room is them and Jesus. It is beautiful.  The other thing that struck me was that the average person here makes next to no money. Whatever they can get from the fruits and vegetables they sell is about it. Every single family brought up something. If the family had any money they put it in the basket, if they did not they put mangos, sugar canes, potatoes or bananas on the altar. They give everything they can possibly afford, and I think, even some they can’t. Jesus digs that.

That is all for this blog I hope you enjoy! And I apologize in advance for any mistakes made, my sister is not here with me to proof it, but I am sure she will tell me all the times I made a grammatical error! Until next time!

                                With Love from Uganda,

                                Brian Kearney

P.S.  No Pictures this time but I will find someone here with technical know how and hopefully can get them up by the next post!