It was the night before...

This is it... The suitcases are out again, only now there's a space limit of most of a car rather than the 23kg weight limit of British Airways. In a way, I've been dreading writing this, as I know it means that it's actually happening, that the big move is upon me, just a day away. I'm off to uni, to a new city, to new people, to a new church and to a new culture.

So many people have asked me if I'm excited, and I always pause before responding, unsure of what to say. Occasionally I would say 'yes' because I just didn't have the energy to explain to someone why on earth a 19 year old isn't raring to move away, party all the time, be with new people, 'barely' study (yes, someone had the nerve to say that!) and get in large amounts of debt regardless of the fact that she still was suffering culture shock from coming home and dreading going through it all over again. Occasionally I said 'no' and broke down (thankfully a rarity saved for only the closest people). The honest answer? I have no idea! I have a lot of anxieties about this next chapter of life and doubts as to my suitability, but I am excited, regardless. Perhaps expectant is a better way of putting it. I am expectant as I will be in new, testing situations, academically and socially, in an alien environment. But looking back on this last year, that's a beautiful place to be because it's where the extraordinary happens and where you're chiseled and refined. 

I haven't always been this coherent. Just on Monday I was on the tube in London desperately wondering why I am in this situation?! I fully believe I am in the centre of God's will in my going to uni, He's even been gracious enough to confirm it to me several times in my severely wobbly moments. But knowing God's will doesn't make it much easier to follow through, as many would assume. Oftentimes, I thought that if I just knew what I should do and where I should go, life would be so much easier. What if your will and God's don't line up? He's called me to uni, but in my humble opinion, I would prefer it if He'd called me back to Africa, back to missions, because that's where my heart is, with the completely gorgeous Stuarts and Nicos of Uganda. 

But. But I love Uganda. But I've had a year off. But I can't dance. But I'm scared. But, but, but. I've found these phrases clouding my mind so often recently, pleading with God, showing Him that really, He's in the wrong place. Basically telling Him my way is better and that He's made a mistake. Yep, I am guilty of telling the one who made everything, who knows all the hairs on my head and on your right arm, I'm telling Him that He's wrong. The loving Father who gave up His Son to win you and I back into His embrace, the One who over and over has told me this is the right thing to do, who promises that He is there every step... 

It's at times like these we should take a step back and take off our self-centred blinkers. Who am I to tell the Creator that He's in the wrong? Since when has that ever been the case? He works all for the good of those who love Him, so how can I think I know better? I don't even know what to wear tomorrow, what to eat for breakfast. I can only see one very small stitch of the huge and beautiful tapestry that God's weaving. 

But. Jesus has the most beautiful 'but' of all time (read this how you like; it's late and I've been in the depths of packing!): "Yet not my will but yours be done". If Jesus can pray that on the eve of his humiliating and painful murder, then I can certainly pray it on the eve of my move. I can, and I choose to, give up my desires and to fully embrace God's infinitely superior plan for my life. Freshers week here I come!

P.S. I will endeavour (no pun intended, Morse fans) to keep you up to date with how life as a student really is, but forgive me if I'm not regular or frequent in these insights as, contrary to some people's thoughts, I will have a lot of other studious things to do. Love you all.

An ethical opportunity for you all!

Exciting (and late notice) news for you all: I have an opportunity for you to do some ethical shopping! I knew you'd be excited by this; I am at least.

Tomorrow evening (Monday) I am sharing some of my gap year experiences and you are all invited! It's at Thornbury Baptist Church at 7.15pm in the Youth Block/ Upper Lounge. As much as I want to tell you some of what the ten months I spent away from home entailed, I'm also giving you an opportunity to get involved in two of the projects that I love deeply.

We've been away on holiday this week in Cornwall and got home Friday evening. In typical delivery style, my package full of Sak Saum beauties was delivered Friday morning. Fear not, as it is now here and ready for you to buy tomorrow evening. Sak Saum is based in Cambodia and do such wonderful work with local men and women, giving them hope, skills and a future. These products (bags, purses, hair accessories, scarves and the like) are a way for them to achieve those things, giving them dignity and freedom. I am so very excited to be able to show off these beautiful things to you and for you to be able to spread the news further through your purchases. Here's a taster:

The other ethical delight available tomorrow comes from Uganda, from the Acholi Quarters where I spent a couple of months this spring. Many of the women there now make paper beads as a safer means of income than breaking rocks in the quarries, and these beads make gorgeous products! I don't want to give it all away now or I'll bore you if you come along tomorrow, but they are all made from reclaimed, re-used paper and it's a brilliant example of restoration of the unwanted. Another sneak peak for you:

I really hope you can make it tomorrow: 7.15pm (for a 7.30pm start) at Thornbury Baptist Church. Let me know if you need directions, or if you can't make it but are interested in these products. It would be lovely to see you there. And, if none of this is tempting enough, there will be home-made and Indian-made Indian delicacies!

A week ago today

I've been meaning to write this for a week, but reading lists, packing, holiday and other bits and bobs have gotten in the way, so I'm afraid it's a bit late. However, my lack of organisation has actually paid off for once as this post about my attempt at ethical shopping is nicely coinciding with the end of Organic Textiles Week! How (almost) topical am I?

Last Wednesday, I braved The Mall again with a focused mission. Rozzie and I had a film to watch (If I Stay - thoroughly recommend it. I was an emotional wreck for the majority of it, but a good cry always does the soul good, and it's a pretty challenging story which I got some deep metaphors for life from) and I had an outfit to buy. In just two and a half weeks I'm off to uni. It's all quite daunting as life back in England is still hard to adjust to, without another culture shock of living in Oxford on top of it. Anyhow, alongside all the standard 'new student shopping' I'm slowly doing, I have an added extra of needing 'subfusc'. Don't worry, I had to Google it too! Subfusc is Oxford lingo for what I have to wear under my gown for matriculation and exams etc. - essentially black skirt/ trousers, black shoes and white shirt (who knows how that became subfusc!). With how my last window shopping experience turned out, I was not looking forward to tackling this required shopping spree, but armed with research and my wonderful sister, I tackled it. And I succeeded!

Two days before taking on The Mall, I did a sweep of our numerous charity shops in Thornbury, checking for black skirts and white shirts. I must admit, I have always been a charity shopper, but since my ethical dilemma, they have taken on a whole new necessity. How can you beat buying a second hand item of clothing?! The shops never put out tatty, poor quality rags; they check them and only sell the ones which are decent. You can even find clothes with their original tags still in! It's one up from recycling, you're sparing land fill and you spare your wallet too. The profits go to good causes, you get a good quality, almost-new top and you didn't have to go near the consumer trap of shopping centres. It's perfect! St Peter's Hospice came out on top with a black skirt in my size (which wasn't too hideous either), so I could check one thing off my list before even leaving town. From now on, when I know I need something specific, I will always check the charity shops before I head to any other retailer.

Having a set list of what I needed when I faced shop after shop after shop helped no end! In the little research into ethical shopping that I've done to make my own rules of shopping, I found that Marks and Spencers, Zara and H&M are the top of the high street brands according to the much trusted people at Ethical Consumer (http://www.theguardian.com/sustainable-business/sustainable-fashion-blog/how-ethical-high-street-clothes) so they are on my OK list. My general order to buying clothes goes: charity shops first, then ethical brands and then M&S, Zara or H&M as needed. In my subfusc needs, charity shops helped for some, I tried my favourite ethical sites but didn't have any luck, so then went to the better ones on the high street. Suffice to say that M&S has white shirts and black tights so my conscience is reasonably content.

And now for my favourite ethical sites! People Tree is heavenly and I love when I can justify a buy (which on my student budget is rare, very sadly; www.peopletree.co.uk). In fact, last night, as we watched a mediocre play at the amazing Minack Theatre (an outdoors theatre set into the cliffs in south west Cornwall with the sea as the back drop where a pod of dolphins totally stole the show!!), a People Tree hat was protecting my head from the chilly gale-like winds. I found black skirts and white shirts but being 'tiny' (as Rozzie frequently describes me) it's hard to find ones which properly fit. There is also Annie Greenabelle who is great for more teenager-y clothes, especially dresses (www.anniegreenabelle.com), and they're British! Finally, to warm your toes, Toms are just gorgeous (www.toms.co.uk). They do this great thing where for every pair of shoes you buy, they give a pair to a child in an impoverished place who doesn't have any shoes. Walking around in the African sun and seeing a child with a pair of Toms is just beautiful and makes me even more excited about their shoes! Thanks to them, I have black shoes to finish my subfusc outfit, which is all within my ethical shopping criteria.

So there you go. Now, I'd be the first to say that my ethical criteria aren't perfect! I know that. But, I'm also exploring how to live ethically and it is not easy! This is the best I can do at the moment, and it is a lot better than Primark and Asda.

The Mall has changed my life!

I know it's been a while since I've written anything here... over a month, I guess, as I haven't done anything new since being in Africa. Has it really gone so fast? My first month of being back in England has been a mixed bag - of course I love being back with my family and friends and I must say I am enjoying hot proper showers and having decent cakes to eat! But it has been a struggle living in the West again. It still is; I thought it would get easier, but in a way it's getting harder. The guilt of enjoying hot showers and using a washing machine has reduced; other things keeping confusing me daily!

On Monday, I went to The Mall for the first time since coming home (our local out-of-town shopping mall). Ironically, on my first day back I was in one at least three times the size when we went to meet up with Rozzie in Manchester, but it didn't hit me then. On Monday, it was like someone had punched me in the stomach. And that's why I'm writing this, because I can't get it off my mind and it is still making me so angry and so sad whenever I think too deeply about it. 

The first thing I noticed was how rushed everyone was - running from shop to shop, mums trying to get back to school stuff for uncooperative kids, gangs of teenagers seeking out the newest trend at the lowest price, dads trudging behind whichever female relative was forcing him through his very own hell on earth. When did we all get so busy? Why are we so busy? No one noticed me, no one made eye contact with me. I have struggled a load with this unsociable and self-centred culture since returning from the warm, relaxed, extreme friendliness of Uganda. I miss people talking to you out of the blue for no reason, I miss kids holding my hands when I walk even though I've never seen them before, and I miss how everyone smiles at everyone. And I hate it because I'm so easily falling back into the English way of 'don't make eye contact'! I can walk around my town and not smile at anyone; I'm doing my best not to, but if people don't look at me, I don't make the effort. Why are we like this? We're so bundled up in ourselves and our problems and our schedules and our to-do lists that we forget everything around us, even though there is so much to smile at, be thankful of, and bring joy to. I challenge you to think about it. I'm sure some of you can't relate at all, because you're so extroverted and friendly, and good for you, keep it up! But can we all please slow down a few notches and look up a bit more? I promise, it's good for the soul.

For university, I have to buy a specific outfit for certain occasions, so I was on the search for a white shirt and black skirt, figuring I would have to do this someday, so why not today? Because I am so not the same girl that I used to be! I've always thought I was quite ethically conscious and all, but Monday was a wake up call. I was in Next and as I walked down the stairs and looked over the sea of clothes covering their shop floor, all I could see were the men, women and children who made these clothes in less that adequate conditions (this isn't specific to Next, but to the whole generalised fashion industry). And I couldn't do it, I couldn't bring myself to buy something which will make their lives worse by keeping them in those sweat shops. 

This is what I can't get my head around: on the one hand, how do you know that anything is 'ethical' and doing good instead of bad? But on the other hand, how can we flippantly buy things for just a few pounds when someone half my age could have made it? Too many times I've heard the argument that 'at least they're getting some money as they have a job. If we didn't buy the clothes then they'd have no job at all'. I disagree. Surely, if we buy more and more ethical clothes, then demand for them will increase and these ethical companies will expand, creating more jobs to make up for the ones which are being cut by the cheap, non-ethical companies who are having to downsize because demand has decreased. I admit, I haven't done a whole load of research on this, but doesn't that make basic sense? I cannot bring myself to buy a Topshop t-shirt for £10 because I know that it will keep the person who made it in their horrendous job. 

Driving home I was despairing at our world! It's so globalised that you can never completely know where your clothes have come from - where the raw materials were grown, what environmental regulations are/ aren't enforced there, who made the material, who shipped it from place to place, on what pay, under what conditions was it stitched, how old was the man or woman sewing it, how did it get to that shop floor? You can never fully know. I felt lost and helpless and confused! But I've spent the last couple of days doing a bit of research into ethical brands and my hope for humanity is being restored. Seeing all the alternative ways to positively use your consumer power (and it is powerful!) has made me so excited (as well as wince at the thought of how small my bank account already is and the dent ethical shopping will make in it). Yes, you can probably never know everything about your clothes, but isn't it great if you know it's got a positive part to it at least?

And so, I've made a deal with myself about my shopping habits (for clothes to start with) from now on: I will only shop in charity shops or from ethically certified companies. I'm determined. Even though I have never seen a sweatshop or children missing school to sew sequins on a dress, God has awakened something. Maybe having met victims of south east Asia's sex trade, it's easier to imagine a victim of the fashion industry. I don't know. But I do know that whoever made my jumper, or jeans, or whatever, that their life is as equally valuable as mine and yours. It would never be acceptable for sweat shops to exist here, 'employing' teenagers to make garments for wages under the legal minimum. So why do we accept and support it when it's happening in another country? Aren't we all equal? Fully believing that every single human is equal to the next and that we all have worth and value, I can't support the belittling and devaluing exploitations which occur all over our world to provide me with a £4 t-shirt. Can you?

P.S. As I continue to research and explore the alternative and more ethical options out there, I am planning on sharing it all with you, so you can try to shop in a way which will make the world a better place too, if you like!

The final days

I'm sat in my room at Joy's in Maya as I write the first part of this blog. It's Thursday evening and tomorrow I leave this beautiful village and head back to Kampala. Today I finished the mural and the two posters I had left to do, cleaned the house and sorted things so packing will be easier when I can be bothered to do it. Tonight, we're having a 'final conversation' as Joy calls it or 'the last supper'. It will be lovely as we actually never eat dinner all together. On the menu is chapati and pineapple - perfect! My leaving hasn't really sunk in yet, but now that my room is empty, I have nothing to do and I'm just waiting for our final gathering, it's starting to settle. 

I had a moment on Saturday when I told one of the girls I walk home with from the clinic I only had one day left there, and she looked so sad. She's called Lillian and I am her best friend! She's beautiful, as you can see, and I will really miss her. But when my final day at the clinic came, its wasn't as epic as I had built it up to be in my mind. The kids were actually crazy so I spent a lot of energy trying to control them, stop them running havoc in the clinic and stop them attacking me. One boy, who until a week ago was too scared to come near me, made my nose bleed! I explained it was my last day, but the three little ones I've come to adore are too young to really get it. The older group who I walk home from school understood more, but it was such a beautiful day I couldn't feel too sad, I just felt blessed to have such great little friends! 

Now, as all I have to do is pack here, I'm getting sentimental. I feel so deeply blessed that I have been able to call Maya, especially this family, home for the last ten weeks or so. I have been blessed to witness the clinic slowly blossom (we have treated over 115 patients!) and to be a tiny part of a dream becoming reality. These ten weeks have really impacted me in ways I can't quite express yet as I'm still processing them. I pray I will be back one day! But now I need to steel myself for tonight, for awkward forced questions, great Ugandan food, beautiful family and for holding back the tears which I can feel building. 

It's now Sunday night and I've given up trying to pack so am finishing this instead. Thursday night was a lovely close to Maya and there were no tears! Apart from that moment in my room, it hasn't hit me that I'm actually leaving all of this so I'm not getting too emotional. Joy took me out for lunch to the poshest hotel in Uganda (the Queen stayed there when she came on her royal visit here). It was lovely but I felt so out of place coming from Maya to that! I had delicious Indian, so went all the way back to the start of my trip. When I was much too full, Joy brought me back to John's and that was my ten weeks with her finished.

There was a team here from Brimsham Green (half an hour from my home!) for most of this weekend; they left this afternoon. But that was really nice, being able to chat to people my age as we shared our experiences and processed going home together a bit. I tied in my final visit to the Acholi Quarters with their going to see the community and buy beads which worked well so I did my final bit of shopping there too. I stayed on to say my goodbyes to all the ladies there. Once again, I was so amazed by them! They are so so generous, selfless and joyful despite their circumstances. I am blessed to have been able to spend this time with them! Aren't they so lush?

And so this is it. I have just had my final dinner in Uganda - matoke (green banana) with groundnut sauce followed by pineapple and yoghurt for pudding, perfect! All I have left to do is shower, work out how to complete the puzzle of packing my rucksack and try and actually sleep. Tomorrow, I'm going out for breakfast with the John, Sophie and Patience before going to the airport around noon. I'm flying to Nairobi mid afternoon and then after seven hours of nothing in the airport I will fly back home overnight. This doesn't seem real! I'm really torn right now, the fact that this is my final night is making me really sad - I love Uganda, I love John and Sophie and Patience, I love that I feel so at home in the incredible country. And yet I know it's time to come home, I know this time was always coming and I am really looking forward to being back with my family again, and seeing everyone that I haven't seen for months! I think right now, at this exact moment, the wish to stay a little longer here and sadness that I have to leave are the strongest feelings in me. Please don't take this personally anyone, it's just where I'm currently at. But I'm sure that once the final goodbyes are said, and I'm sitting on that plane to England, I will be ready to come home. And in all of this, I have that deep peace of God which is making the whole thing of leaving so much easier.

Right then, the next word from me will be from Rose Cottage. This is the end of my gap year, and what a journey it's been! Love you all.

Full circle

I expect this is going to be my penultimate blog, or even final one, before I leave Africa. Wow! I feel like I'm right back in that last week in England again, seeing everything as a 'this is the last time...'

Two weeks have almost passed since coming back to Joy's and its the same as always, in a lovely, yet slightly monotonous, way. Last week was quite hard at times as I had plenty of time to think about home and to miss stuff about it whilst mindlessly colouring posters all day. However, I came through stronger as always when I rely on God and seek comfort in Him. My poster count is now up to seven completed with the eighth in progress, but due to little data I'm afraid you won't get to see it this time.

The days are very hot as we are firmly in the dry season here. Rain would be welcomed by most, I think, myself included as its getting to the stage where I'm having to ration my showers, and then use my shower water to flush the toilet as the cistern takes over 20 hours to actually fill up again. And when I turn the tap on which bris water in from the tank, its full of bits of dirt which have settled over night. It's kind of gross, I know, but you all have a never ending water supply! I'm just saving our limited resources. There is thankfully still enough water to shower every few days (I just try to ignore the colour of the water!), and to wash clothes - I did my penultimate hand washing of clothes this morning! Evenings are mainly consisting of colouring and labelling a body, killing the swarms of mosquitos (my reflexes are getting so good because of killing them by clapping) and reading a bit of my geography book which I started in India but have only read 120 pages of! 

This week has been much busier, so I'm back to loving everything about life here! I have started my mural in the kindergarten too, which I am loving. Sketched it out at the beginning of the week and started painting it yesterday. It's the biggest piece of art I've done, and it is so much fun! It's also much more tiring than colouring an A1 poster, but hey ho. I will eventually put a photo up so you can see it, but it is just as well you wait a while until its finished. I reckon Tuesday should be the day of final touches, which is just as well as I will be heading back to Kampala on Friday so will need those couple of days after to wrap up the posters and clean and all. Oh, and sometime in my last week here I am also hoping to find time to start reflecting on and processing the last few months and preparing myself for going home. No time to miss you all anymore!

One week left here in Maya - two clinics, four beautiful walks, one walk with beautiful children, two posters still to do, one Sunday school and a mural to finish. By Friday evening I should hopefully to back at John's which I am really looking forward to; John, Sophie and Patience are like my family and I can't wait to have another few days with them before I leave. Sadly, the timing isn't so great as for the most part of my three days back there, John is hosting another team so I can't have the family all to myself. But I will be back someday, so it's all good. In those three days I will continue to to reflecting, processing and a lot of praying as well as getting the final bits I need to buy, errands to run, packing to do and friends to say goodbye to (including an afternoon at the Acholi Quarters). So there you go, the run down of my final ten days in Uganda! This week I am having an Internet free one which will help me focus on God and all that has happened, so don't worry about my silence. Have a lovely week or so until I next write. Love you all.

Culture shock

I have so much to share with you! That's the only sentence I remember from the two sides of A4 I spent an hour drafting today at the clinic for this blog. Typically, I left it inside my Geographical magazine in the second drawer in the clinic. By the time I'd remembered this, I was already ten minutes down the road with my regular Tuesday group of school kids who I walk home every week, and I'd endured a 'conversation' (more him talking at me in Lugandan and me looking very confused and slightly intimidated) with a drunk man who I'd had no desire to see again! So, I will start over, but I'm afraid that my forgotten draft will be so much more moving, beautifully written and succinct than is.

As you may know, I spent last week back at John's in Kampala with mum and the CRED team she was leading. The team were teaching a load of kids in the Acholi Quarters for five days who otherwise wouldn't have any schooling, and so I tagged along, eager to see old friends. The week didn't disappoint - the team did great, and I loved being back with the ladies and many of the kids I had taught for two months. I enjoyed it so much that my original plan of being in Kampala two days extended to the whole week. It was such a delight, seeing the kids with such happy smiles getting attention and love and education when they often get none. And the fact that I was remembered by so many was extremely touching! 

On the Thursday night, a Canadian woman who has been working in the Acholi Quarters for the last three years cam to John's house for dinner with us. She works in partnership with Ugandan there and they provide holistic trauma counselling, discipleship, job training, relocation and so on for the Acholi people. She came to share just why this community needed these things so much. I knew some of the history she shared with us - of the twenty year war in the north started in the '80s led by Joseph Koni, of the horrific things the Acholi people suffered which caused so many to flee, some ending here in Kampala. On my first Sunday at Joy's, one of the oldest boys sat down with me and shared some stories of what his people suffered. But last week, names and faces were put to these stories which always makes them so much more powerful, because they're personal.

One story we were told was the story of Bob (but I've changed his name). Bob and his brother had been sent to live in Kampala when Joseph Koni and the Lord's Resistance Army started their rebellion. However they had to travel back to their village in the north when they needed money and so forth. One day, they did this and on arriving home, their father told them that they could not sleep in the house tonight as it wasn't safe, they had to sleep in the bush. For the rest of the day they visited old friends and had a great time, so much so that they ended up staying at their friends house instead of doing as their father had told them. That night, the LRA came and abducted Bob, his brother and a group of their friends. They made them walk for miles in the dark, and hours later they stopped and split them into two groups - one of which would live whilst the other would die. Bob was in the group who were forced, for fear of their own death, to watch whilst Bob's brother and friends in the other half were hacked to death right in front of them. Horrendous right! It got worse. The rebels then got a huge cooking pot and started to boil the various pieces of the boys. Then, they told the surviving group that they would now be the murderers of their friends as they were going to eat them. Thankfully, the government soldiers turned up before this command could be forced into reality. As the fighting started, Bob ran. 

He is doing much better now after taking part in trauma counselling! Bob's is just one of four stories we heard that night, which reduced most of the team to tears, and these are a drop in the sea of Acholi people in the Quarters. The fact that people like Bob have lived through such harrowing things, and yet are being healed and are going on to live and love and smile and work and move on is quite extraordinary to me! I feel so privileged to call some of the people in that community friends, and to have spent time with such incredibly strong people.

Life is much safer now for the Acholi people, even in the north there is peace again, but many in the Acholi Quarters still have to struggle to make a living. One of the main sources of income in this shanty town is found in the three quarries surrounding it which is where so many of the women and children are found working. Harriet is the 'head' (if that is the right word) of the group of women in the bead making cooperative John works with, and so the teams work with. She used to work in the quarry (did so for 17 years or so, I think) and according to her she would earn 1000 shillings a day. To is the equivalent of 25p! To double her earnings, she would take all her children to work with her. But many of the women have found a safer (both financially and physically) way to make more than a few coins - through marking rolled paper beads. In contrast to the quarry, one single stranded bracelet sells for 1000; a broad bracelet costs 2000, which is equivalent to keeping a child away from the quarry for a day. After a lovely evening of shopping by the team and a few calculations, mum and I worked out that the total amount we had all purchased worked out at the amount one woman would earn working at the quarry for almost four years - we essentially had brought enough to keep one woman from this dangerous work for four years, or a woman and her family for two years! They are powerful beads! 

Sadly, one of the boys I used to teach, a wonderful boy called Maundy (the one in the blue top) didn't make it to all five sessions the team ran last week. When I asked why he hadn't come for a couple of days, he said he'd been in the quarry, and that he couldn't go that day either because he was babysitting (he was one of the ones I would teach who always had a tiny baby on their hip). It broke my heart! He should at least be allowed a week of being a child, he's only 10 years old. 

Thanks to all the beads being bought by various teams and other people who are buying them, there are going to be fewer Maundy's and more and more Dan's and Morgan's who's mums can now afford to send them to school. We just need to buy more beads I guess!

I told you I had a lot to say! I'm over halfway though. So I'm back at Joy's for the next two and a half weeks. My week in Kampala was wonderfully refreshing, despite being extremely full on compared to my rural way of life, but isn't that always the case when you change company and surroundings, especially when you're with family and the amazing Acholi people! As I was going to bed on Saturday night, I saw the baby bat was back, this time drowning in a bucket of water. The girl who stays in this house with me was just coming in, so I told her in a 'what should be do' sort of way. She got the bucked and threw the water with the bay outside and then shut and locked the door. What? Africans do not like bats apparently, and don't have the 'try and save a baby anything' thought process I thought was pretty common. So, sadly, after ten days of not being seen, the bat has probably met its end with some night hunter, or by the chickens who invade out compound during the day.

I got another culture shock on Sunday as I was about to go to church. Church allegedly starts at 9.30am (African time), but I don't go down until the main service starts at 11am. Joy called me over into the garden when I walked past on my way, and told me to stay with her a while. All very odd! We were basically hidden from sight with banana trees. It turns out that the kids (barely classed as kids - the youngest is 11, the oldest claims to be 17 but we think he's at least 19) were being beaten because they were late to church. They were very late, an hour and a half, but to be beaten for that?! I was so shocked! And troubled. This is one of the aspects of Ugandan culture which I cannot understand. I have heard a load about beatings in school, but never before in churches! Shouldn't the churches be the example, the light in the dark place? But Ugandans fully accept beatings as a form of discipline; it's not even questioned! It's their culture, and they don't even see that it's wrong. (I would like to say that this is the first time I have ever seen beating actually in this home, and Joy tries to discourage it as best as she can). One of the girls came home from school one day having been beaten on her elbow. When we asked why, she said they were beaten for every question they got wrong in a maths test... She got one wrong! Isn't that praised in our society, only dropping one mark, getting almost full marks. But she was beaten instead. She's in year 5! They all say that beatings are much more frequent in primary schools because the kids are stubborn, so of course they should be beaten. But one of the boys here goes to a private school nearby, he's 18 and in year 12 (equivalent). His whole class was beaten the other week because one boy was acting up. He's 18! 

I could go on and on about all the cultural differences I ave experienced here, but I think this is more than enough for now. I know it's not the cheeriest blog ever, but you are getting a very real insight into life here, as well as the hope and power of our actions in buying and in how we spend our time. But, the make it all a bit more jolly, here is one of my all time favourite kids who I love dearly, Innocent. If he can't make you smile, you're heartless! Love you all.