This last week has been so incredibly full, and I would not have it any other way! I have loved every minute of it. It all started on Tuesday, though I have a hard time believing that it has been less than a week, when we began our street ministry.

                I guess I should back up a little bit and explain things a bit better. There are five districts to Watoto, North, East, South , West , and Central, and our class has been broken into district groups so that each week we serve in the church at our district. Those large district groups are broken in half to make it easier to do some of the ministry’s. I was very blessed in my group, and in my small group (North district group B) I have been put with some wonderful friends. There are five of us Brian, Saul, Debbie (makes me think of you Mum) Vicky, and I.  I know I have already said it but I am so thankful to God for putting me in a group with these four!  Anyways, on Tuesday when we had all been divided into our small district groups we were driven to various slums throughout Kampala and told to walk until we found a family that we felt God has called us to who will become “our family” for the next five months.  Well after some initial confusion about where we were supposed to be my group got going and as we wandered we ended up in a back ally, when we turned  a corner to get out we found  a beautiful young woman, very pregnant, sitting there. She has become our family. Rashidah is 19 and due to give birth to her first child any day. That first day was hard for me as I really don’t know any of the language and am still finding my way in a culture that is largely the same but then wildly different from the one I am used to. For the most part I just sat and listened, though I really did not know what was really being said, as I had asked Vicky to translate for me when we got back to the bus.  What I found out was incredibly sad, but I found that though I fought tears I was not as moved as I would have expected. The only way I can explain why is that I never actually talked to her and it was like hearing a story told to you about a friend’s friend, if that makes any sense.  I did care about her but not with the crushing sadness and emotion that I had expected.

                Wednesday we again went back to visit, Rashidah, and I am so glad to say that this experience I felt much more comfortable getting to know her and the others she lives with. I managed to talk to her a bit, she understands English but does not speak it well, and then spent a large amount of time playing with the children of a friend that she lives with. During the playing they discovered my hair and I quickly found that the attention had turned from the game we were playing to feeling my hair and moving it all directions trying to get it to stay rather than fall back into place.  The next day we spent the afternoon buying things for our families that we had identified as needs, and boy was that an experience!!!

                 Our list was extensive; Rashidah has next to nothing for herself or the baby. What she was able to purchase near the beginning of her pregnancy is for the stay at the hospital. So Thursday afternoon my group and I headed downtown to the market.  Some of my other classmates were a bit shocked that I would be taken there but I loved the experience! Very few white people venture there so I found myself being constantly called to, and touched. There is no way I would ever go there on my own, I would be lost in the maze of vendors in a matter of seconds! Going with my group however had the effect of building my trust in them by leaps and bounds. When we were finished at the outdoor market we went to the supermarket to buy the rest of the things on our list. Never before have I weaved through traffic the way it is done here.  In the three weeks that I have been in Uganda I have yet to see more than one cross walk, everyone just walks where they please when they please. Car jams are common place and we had fun squeezing between many taxi busses all squished together in order to cross the road. I am just thankful for the jam otherwise I doubt we would have crossed so quickly. In the end it was a rush to be back at the church on time but I truly enjoyed my day.

                Friday we got to return to our families and give them all that we had bought and again, though I was not moved in the way I expected to be, I was deeply moved.  Rashidah did not have the words to express her thanks but from where I sat she didn’t need the words. Her smile lit up the small poorly lit room and there were tears shimmering in her eyes. When we left, though she is very malnourished, she found the strength to stand and walk us back out to the bus where we all stood chatting until we had to leave.  In the moment when we hugged goodbye I knew that I loved this dear woman as I would any of my friends back home and her baby is like one of my own family even though she ( I think it is a girl) is not yet born. I find myself thinking of them throughout every day, wondering how they are doing and praying that when the time comes for this precious little one to come into the world all will go well and Momma and baby will be safe and healthy.