Akamina Ayong

Sorry for the lack of posting.  We have been unable to update due to a multitude of reasons.  We've learned never to depend on the internet.  We hope to get a few posts in tonight, but the pictures take FOREVER to load. (as in hours) Thanks for all your prayers.  Our hearts are broken, and honestly we both don't want to come back.  We know God has BIG plans for us and this is only the start.

Day 1:

Our day started off with devotion and a lovely Ugandan breakfast.

Us on the balcony of our guest house.

 Then we drove about an hour and a half to the first children’s prison, “M1”.  We are not allowed to mention the name of the prison due to the Ugandan Government.  On the way there, though, we had to stop along the side of the road for a little while to wait for some members of a ministry we were working with.  We got to get out of the bus, and we walked toward some of the people to meet them.  Here's us, and our beautiful friend Melissa on the porch of one of the houses.

Tiny, adorable children began to appear from behind the houses.

The team started pulling out headbands to crown them all with, and once they saw that, even more appeared.

Beautiful. And sooo much fun!  Oh, and check out this sassy little thing across the street.  She was so not charmed by us visitors and our sparkly headbands.  She jabbered away at us in loud, mouthy, Lugandan, pointing her finger, and strutting away.  Oh, if we could have understood what she was saying.

We said goodbye, and drove the rest of the way to the prison. As we pulled up, we heard screaming and shouting and about 50 Karamajong children came running towards us shouting and waving.  Our hearts just leaped for joy as we saw all of them SWARM around the bus waiting to touch us as soon as we stepped off.  

 The Karamojong tribe is the poorest of the tribes.  They are nomadic, and shunned by all the other tribes.  It wasn't till a few days later that we learned how these tiny children came to be at the prison.  The parents send their children to beg on the streets, but the government rounds them up like dog catchers, as they want to "clean up" their city, and they dump them off at the prison.  When the numbers of beggar kids there gets around 80-100, some are loaded on a truck again, and dumped off in a completely different location than where they were first picked up.  They can't speak to anyone there, as the kids only know their tribal language, and they can't find their parents. The soil is not fertile, and they are left completely helpless.  

The other kids there, besides the Karamojong, are up to age 18.  There are a variety of different things that get them put into this prison.  One boy is there because he was riding his bike, and ran over a man's chicken.  He knew that he could not afford to replace the chicken, and he was scared, so he threw it behind a bush, but someone saw him, and told, and so he was charged, and locked up.  Three girls are there because a neighbor lady had poisoned their father, and they were so distraught, and consulted the village witch doctor about what to do.  They were told to steal the neighbor lady's baby, and cook and eat him, which they did.  So they also ended up here.

 This is why people need Jesus.  Those girls had known nothing but witchcraft all their lives, and when the witch doctor told them to do something, they didn't even know to question it.  Not to mention how extremely emotionally distraught they were at the recent death of their father, the only one who could provide for them. 

When kids arrive here for their sentence, they go through a two to three week "initiation punishment".  They are locked in what are called Black Rooms.  These are bare, small jail cells, with a pot for the bathroom, which soon overflows all over their floor.  They are not given shots, as part of the punishment, which causes them to contract full-body rashes and other horrible diseases and viruses.  We walked through the corridor of those rooms, and the boys in one of the cells had climbed up to stick their hands out.  We held them as we passed, and talked to them a little, and told them we'd pray for them.  The sadness and despair in their eyes is indescribable.  

They are caged like animals.  So horrific.
These boys were so gentle and meek as we talked with them.

 After our tour, we went to worship time with all the kids, except for those confined to the Black Rooms.  Despite their circumstances, these kids worship the Lord wholeheartedly.  You can see such deep pain in their eyes, yet they clap, and sing.  Some of them, though, were so devoid of hope they just sat along the walls listening to the music. 

After that, we went outside, and lots of the kids, and VO team members played soccer and many other games together with new balls we brought.  Others of us got out nail polish, and it was a HUGE hit!  Kids flocked to get their nails painted, both girls and boys.  It was such an honor to serve them by making them feel beautiful and special.  

They played the drums and we danced with them, too.  There's nothing like Ugandan drumming, and these kids can break it downnnn!  If we ever figure out how to post a video, we will!

The reason we were able to come and be with these kids, (we were the first group EVER to have the privilege to do so!), and the reason why they are able to come and have worship time, and have the gospel preached to them, and why they now have flushing toilets, and running water, and medical care, and counselors and cleaning supplies for their rooms, and much much more, is because of an AMAZING ministry called 60 Feet.  You can check them out here: http://sixtyfeet.org/   There seriously aren't enough good things in every language to explain to you what this organization has done already in the lives of the kids at all the "M" facilities.  But there is so much more to be done, and they need HELP.  Lots.  That's where we come in. I know it's hard to feel attached to something you're only hearing about second hand, but let us tell you, when you contribute to their cause, it allows God to move through them here on the other side of the world.  Please, please consider doing anything you can to help out.  If you have any questions, please leave them in the comments, and we will help you.  

We each had some different experiences, and we'd like to share them individually with you, so here are some really special things about our day from each of us:

Lindsay's Heart:

Sorry, mine is going to be short, as I am extremely exhausted emotionally and physically.  Can you believe I've survived without Dr. Pepper for this long and with no headachessss!  The simplicity of life here is great.  I love it.  My brain can just go free.  It's amazing doing God's work with others who are on fire for God.  Loving others is one of my favorite things, and it has been an extreme blessing to be on this trip.  The team is absolutely amazing.  There are 27 of us from across he United States, but a majority are from Missouri.  I could only prepare my heart, so much for what I was going to see and do.  I couldn't prepare myself how deep love really can get and the bonds created with children.  I wrote in my journal, "Love does not need words or the same language, only a heart."  

My little Ochera was so sick, but oh so beautiful.  Not even her scabies all over could stop me from loving her.  She had long skinny legs and was extremely malnourished.  She wore a giant t-shirt with no panties underneath.  Her shirt was literally all she had.  Her giggle was infectious, and she had the cutest toothless gummy smile.  (Look at the picture earlier with the nails.)  She was so thrilled with her painted nails, and even took a nice long nap in my lap.  I am still in disbelief that this little girl was in a prison.  There is no way that she deserves to be there.  ABSOLUTELY NO REASON.  Sixty Feet is only allowed 2 days to visit this prison, and I honestly cannot tell you what the children do when we/ Sixty Feet are not present.  It's scary to think that the children that I've held and loved on could already not be alive.  Who is there to protect them at night?  Who is there to hold them when they cry or when they're sick?  How can I continue to live the life I live and not realize that GOD is the only person that has the answers and is the ONLY way.  He is the only person that can comfort me, and I must seek him to find what story he wants me to play in his story.  I can't imagine the pain, he felt when his son was dying on the cross.  He is good and faithful through all this.  I'm so glad the families that started Sixty Feet obeyed God.  If not, can you imagine all the children?  

Look how sickly she looks here.

 The children were absolutely amazed with the Flip I have.  They loved hearing themselves 

and seeing exactly what they had just played.  Numerous songs were sung and hand clapping games were played as well as adorable smiles and giggles.  I'm glad I could bring joy to their day, but I know that they brought an immense joy to my day.  God is prevalent through out everything and its amazing to listen to people here living wholeheartedly out for Christ.  HE IS WORTH LIVING FOR.  He alone is our comforter, healer, and Savior.  I'm ever greatful for his mercy, grace, and ever abounding love.  God is moving for sure.  Are you listening?  I'm trying to listen to what he's calling me to do next.  I've been forever changed.  I love you Ochera.  You'll forever be in my heart.

I took numerous videos of the children singing and doing different handclaps.  

Allison's Heart:

Ohhh my gosh, I don't even know where to start.  This trip has been everything I ever hoped for it to be, and much more.  The other day, I was walking down a winding red dirt road, with two girls on either side of me holding my hands.  We were walking up a big hill through a little village, and while I was with them, I was their mamma.  I felt God whisper that this is my home, and I felt it deep down in my soul.  I have developed the most profound love for the children I've met.  I ache to be with them, to hold them each minute.  I'm ashamed of the life I've led in the US.  The pettiness of it all. How can I go back?  My kids NEED me here with them.  I feel God's presence here so much.  My thoughts are in pieces, and I feel like I'm wildly grasping at all my memories, not wanting to forget a single second here as the plane flight that will soon take me "home" looms nearer and nearer, and I don't know how to stop it. When that plane takes of I know my heart will just rip out and stay in my Uganda.  Parts of it are already woven into hundreds of children here.  Right now, though, I need to share with you about my baby from this first day at M1.

I don't even know her name.  She spoke no English, and nobody I asked knew it.  God led us to each other the second I stepped off the bus.  I scooped my teeny angel up and held her all day.  She was clearly malnourished, and she was wearing the most pathetic little pink and cream striped dress that would fall off her little shoulders.  (Oh, and when I got off the bus, I was taking tonsss of pictures of the mass of kids around me, and I'd show them what they looked like on the screen and they were so happy!  I decided to teach a bunch of boys how to take pictures by themselves, and they had my camera all day!  I wouldn't have taken it for anything, though, because they I could see the rare, pure joy in their faces, and I now have the treasure of pictures taken through their eyes.)  I carried my little princess most of the day, because I did not want to let her thin bare, dust caked feet handle the big, uneven rocks while I was there to protect her.  I so wanted to take my baby girl somewhere where she can have a bath, and a fluffy towel, and some new pink "big girl" panties, and she can be with me forever.  I can't believe the life my pink baby has lived already.  I can't believe she's in PRISON.  The injustice of it all makes my insides burn with rage.  God will have His day, though.  All in His time, and not mine.  

 After worship time, which we mentioned earlier in the post, I hung back in the big building with a few older girls, two older boys listening to "Dynamite" on their radio and playing checkers in the corner, one other VO girl painting two kids' nails, and my pink baby on my lap.   I was painting the older girls' nails, and we were talking.  At one point in the conversation, the girl said, "I just wish I could find some hope."  I was speechless.  I mean, what was I supposed to say?  That if I could rip her, and every other kid out of there as fast as I could, and have them come live with me somewhere, where I would be their mom and love them, that I would?  Or that I'm literally bursting with rage at the circumstances that put her here, and that she lives in? (I think I may have said some other choice words when I was journaling about this...)  Or, I could tell her I get my hope from Jesus, even when things are hard, and to keep hanging on, which, to me, sounds like about the most insulting thing I could say, because WHEN have I EVER needed to get the kind of hope that she needs??? That would be never.  That last thing is what I said, though, and I felt like the biggest phony.  I mean, I have NEVER had to get my only shred of hope from Jesus Christ.  And those words are ugly to admit.  I mean, I came over from AMERICA, where I lead one of the cushiest lives known to man.  Something is wrong with this.  How can you convince someone to have hope when your life is worlds apart from theirs??  I have had all while these kids have had none.  It's not fair.  We were each crafted just as carefully by the Master.  There is no turning back now. My life is changing.  Another of the older girls then asked to paint my nails.  It was so sweet, and I felt undeserving of her service to me.  A bit later, a good song came on the boys' radio, and I picked my little angel up and danced with her, while they boys watched in amusement at my white girl moves.  At some point during the day, I asked the incredible man from 60 Feet, who was the only one able to speak Karamojong, how to say, "I love you", so I could tell my little girl.  It's "Akamina ayong."  I went and whispered it to her, holding her close.  At first, I think she was surprised I was speaking her language.  I said it again, and she smiled BIG and hugged me tight. She already knew I loved her, though, before I knew her words.  Too soon, we had to leave.  I hung back and started to cry as I held my pink baby.  She looked up at me when she noticed my sharp breathing.  I hugged her and kissed her over and over again, and told her akamina ayong.  Finally, I had to set my tiny angel in the dirt, and give her one last hug.  When I stood up, my heart ripped out, and will be with her forever.  Akamina ayong, my baby.  Forever and ever.  

Please continue to pray for all of the children in the prison as well as Sixty Feet to be allowed to work more in the prisons and everything else they need prayers for.

Romans 12:21 

Do not overcome good with evil, but overcome evil with good.    

Romans 15:13

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Love, Allison and LIndsay