We had a bunch of extra time this evening before bed time, so I asked my three girls that I am staying with to teach me one of our Luganda worship songs. I already know quite a few of them and enjoy singing what I can during our devotion time, but every time I join a new choir there are yet more new songs to learn. So Florence starts taking me through a song nice a slow so I can get all the different words, and as we are singing along all three of the girls start laughing till they are falling on the floor. They tell me between bursts of laughter that instead of singing "the name of the Lord shall be praised" I am singing about jackfruit. ...sooooo I guess I was not saying it quite right, but I got it in the end...I think. Florence says she is going to test me in the morning.
Salad Is Not Real Food
We go to buffets quite often. And a couple times now I have just gone for the salad bar and fixed myself a big, grand, salad. Twice now it has happened where I bring my salad back to my table, and the kids I am sitting with look at my heaping plate in amazement and ask me “But Auntie aren’t you going to get food?!” I look at my salad which is big enough to be my entire meal, and tell them that I have a huge plate full of food. But they insist that I have not taken any real food. They point to their plates filled with chicken, mashed potatoes, fries, and a variety of other such stuff and tell me that they have food but I do not. So at the end of a meal when I am completely full from my salad they are all still amazed because I did not eat any food for dinner. (can you tell how fond they are of salad!)
Jacky
Friday January 30, 2008 Jacky passed away.
She was one of my children from the children’s home I helped out at in Uganda. Yes she had AIDS but she was a healthy child for the most part. She was a happy, fun loving little girl. But a number of days ago she became sick and ended up in the hospital. There were complications with the blood transfusions she received, and her forth day in the hospital she went home to be with the Lord. Although I was only at the children’s home for a month and a half I still feel very attached to those children. There is something about spending all day every day with them, taking them to the clinic every day, giving them their medications, playing with them, holding the little ones as they fall asleep, taking them for walks, and giving them all the love possible because they do not receive it in the other parts of their lives. They called me Mummy and I felt like it. And now one of my children is gone. Gone for reasons I cannot explain, she was only 9 years old, and she lived and died from a sickness that was in no way her fault.
