Life in The Family International

Well. God certainly knows what He is doing and truly, “all things work together for good”. I know I was so upset earlier, but now I see His hand in everything and how he made a way where seemed to be none, and actually made things turn out better than we ever could have planned. Let me see if I can remember all the events that happened that led up to this conclusion:

We’d repacked al the goods back into the truck and went to sleep, right? In my mind, a whole day wasted. We started out the next day three hours later than the said time. When the politicians told us to be ready to leave by 7am, we knew that meant 10am…and we were so right. Outside, I got to meet the man who I blamed for this confusion…there he was, towering with his overbearing physique…big pot belly, wide-brimmed sun-hat, and spotless white suit. I smiled outwardly at him, but inside my head, I rolled my eyes.

The ride to the displacement camp was enjoyable, though. In the distance, bluish mountains framed the vast lands. It was nature at the peak of perfection, and it made the journey so worth it. I rode in the front of the truck again, to get the perfect view. In comparison to riding in a normal jeep or bus, it is the difference between watching a film on a small TV or big-screen at the theater. Breathtaking!

The people gathered under the shade of a tree which we chose for the distribution spot. When everyone was there, you could feel the excitement. They said it had been years since any donations of this quantity had ever come to them. (I don’t have space here to tell you of the background of the many refugees who were at this camp, but it is an amazing story.)

The politician came out and gave his speeches. And I was impressed, really. He said it simply and plainly and thanked us for coming all the way here to bring some happiness to people whose skin color was different than ours. There was no glory-basking, no hour-long droning like I’d expected. The women of the tribe then got up and sang a beautiful song in praise to God for providing for them, and everyone clapped and cheered.

Then Robin and Grace stood and explained to the large crowd about the donated goods, who the sponsors were, and that there would be plenty for everyone (important point!) Since most of the people were already converted to Christianity by the Catholics years ago, we felt led to just say a simple prayer of thanks to God with them. It was heartfelt and I was deeply moved at the sight of old men and tiny children humbly bowing their heads in reverence.

And now for the exciting part! (I was behind the camera taking video-footage this whole time). We wondered how in the world to organize the distribution in such a way that would be slightly calm and orderly. But little did we know what a feat that would be! We’re not taking about ordinary civilians here…we’re talking about gun-toting, bow-and-arrow-bearing warriors…and they’re used to the wild.

WILD is the only term I can define it. I climbed on top of the truck to get a better view of the distribution. In the beginning, we actually got the people to line up (with the help of one of the nuns and the big politician) and it seemed to be going smoothly. Then, people started getting itchy feet, started milling around, started disrupting the “peace”. In no time at all, chaos started breaking out! Those who had already received the donations became greedy for more, and those who had none yet were starting to become pushy, with everyone insisting on being served first.

I stepped off the truck to get better portrait shots for my future paintings while trying to preserve our Sony cam from the crowds gathered around me, begging for more goods. There was already a few people trying to take the lead in the distribution, calling the people out by families and making sure no one got more than anyone else. But it was tough. Just behind me, some women started shouting. I turned to see them fighting over the blankets, pulling and pushing…then there was more commotion on the other side of me, and I turned to see the crowd running in all directions! The big politician had a huge stick and was using it! I was horrified to see him (I won’t go into too many details) doing what I’d never seen up close in my life, knocking one man’s feet from under him in a swift kick.

I ran from the commotion back to the top of the truck (I’d worn native clothing for the trip and was afraid I might get lost in the crowd, the victim of violence!) Robin and Grace then explained to me that even though it was shocking to see, sometimes out here, the use of force was the only way to deal with people of violent nature. It would be the only way to keep things slightly under control. That made sense, and I could see the wisdom in having some of the local politicians there to keep things under such control. Now I look back and wonder what we would have ever done without them! I’d underestimated the necessity of their being there. Now, I was thankful, in fact, for their presence!

But three hours later, it was still chaos. I’d hopped on and off the truck, trying to get snapshots of the action without getting lost in the crowds. I kept my spirits up by laughing of the sights…humor in a place like this is the only thing that will keep you sane. Meanwhile, our truck driver from the city kept insisting, “These people are soooo primitive!” But he was a good man, burying himself in the job of offloading all the goods in the heat of the sun. He never left us to do it alone, but practically took charge of the distribution. We were so thankful for him!

As the sun blazed on and we realized we still had a long journey back to Kampala, it was decided to just leave with half the goods still in the truck for the other camp, Moroto. The people here had more than enough by now, and the fights weren’t stopping! So, following the others’ lead, I swiftly climbed back into my seat and we sped off, away from the bustling crowd.

Arriving at the convent, we came to the same dilemma. We didn’t have time to go to Moroto to drop the stuff, and yet we didn’t want to leave it all here, for fear of the nuns’ safety. We drove to an American missionary’s home who we’d heard about. They said he had a couple of containers for goods on his property. But when we got there, we discovered he was out of town and wouldn’t be back anytime soon. With no phone network or anything near such “modern” things out here, we felt like we were see-sawing endlessly between decisions. We needed a higher mind on the matter to help us sort this…and now, true to lovely Ugandan weather, the clouds were gathering into what we anticipated to be a strong outburst. So we shot up a desperate prayer and got quiet a minute to ask the Lord what to do.

Grace piped up: “Why hadn’t I thought about this before? My uncle (that politician) can give armed soldiers for security here at the convent! We can just ask him to send them and the sisters will be safe!”

Confirming with the Lord that this was a good plan, we proceeded to work out those details. She arranged for them to station security on the grounds in the evening, while Sister Mary (after being assured that no harm would come to them) opened one of the storage rooms for the goods.

Our truck driver said to us, “We’d better hurry before it rains!” He was also anxious to cross-country in the daylight. The road we would have to take (I told you before it was called the “road of death”) was indeed deadly come nightfall. So, in a race against time, we ran back and forth between the truck and the storeroom, hauling the piles of jackets, bedding and shoes. But the rain was faster than we could ever hope to be…and it poured down in torrents! What happened next was incredible: loads of people came to help us unload. It took almost half an hour, getting everything into dry safety. But what was even more impressive was who came. I grabbed my video cam again and started filming.

Prisoners who were on detention work next door, tilling the ground, came to our rescue. Under the orders of their supervisor, they ran to bring the boxes and piles. They trudged in the rain and, with smiles on their faces, stayed hauling until the truck was empty.

When all the work was done, everyone gathered under one roof, and we thanked them profusely for their help. There was no way just the four of us could have done all that! Robin felt led to talk to the imprisoned men about their current lives. She told them:

“Maybe you feel forgotten right now, like nobody cares. But there is Someone who cares about you very much—Jesus often had no roof over his own head, and he understands what it is like to be an outcast of society. He loves you very much.”

The men clung to every word. They listened in pure silence. I felt the spirit fall heavily and deeply on each one as I peered through the viewfinder of the camera, amazed at the chronology of events which had taken place in the last few hours. When she had finished speaking, Robin invited the 20-something men to receive the Lord as their personal friend and Savior. With heads bowed in reverence and sincere gratitude, they prayed. It was a moment that would melt even the hardest of hearts.

And all at once, I knew why God had brought us here; why we had to go through al the mix-ups, al the craziness of the day…even why the rain had poured when it did. He cared enough to bring these “forgotten” men a message of peace and hope that would remain in their hearts and spirits even as they served time in that wretched prison. Finally, they could have Someone to put their faith and trust in through the darkest night. It all made perfect sense. I pondered all this as our ten-ton truck chugged off to the road of death. We’d left behind jackets for the prisoners, as a token of our appreciation to them. The sun dipped down towards the west, leaving a sky of deep hues that gave me a sense of perfect peace as we sped over the dusty road.

This is what this life was all about—living adventures that thrill me in spirit as much as in flesh. With still hours to go till we reached the safety of home, I curled up in the back of the truck with a makeshift-blanket over my head. Our journey was coming to its end. Our experience in Karamoja had sealed timeless memories in all of our hearts.

And all the wildness was worth it!

Nyx is a vounteer Missionary Member of The Family International. Her missions have taken her through South East Asia, India, East Africa and South Africa. She currently runs charity projects for terminally-ill, indigent children in The Philippines and is also a child-education consultant, youth counsellor, freelance writer for TV, radio, magazines, a voice-talent, illustrator, artist, Events Host and Music Marketer. She is the eldest of 13 siblings, and a Taurean who enjoys spicy food, open-bar nights, long baths, photographing people, and throwing festive parties. Dislikes: Whiny women, bratty children, spoiled men. More about Nyx

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 11th, 2005 at 5:01 pm and is filed under Family Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.