Loaves and Chili

Patrick told me that the kids in Primary 7 took their exams and he is confident that all of them will get to go on to high school.

But this is going to get very expensive Patrick said.

Yes, so many kids in high school. It is going to get expensive, I said.

Patrick replied, God is a good big God. He has always provided.

I watched him provide on a November Tuesday in Waupun, Wisconsin.

Laura is my cousin and a board member of Beautiful Response. On Sunday morning, she overcame her phobia of public speaking with the help of her daughter. And together they pitched a chili supper on Tuesday night to raise money so that kids in Uganda could keep going to school.

That night, churches from the area came together around the topic of mission and I got to share the story of Raising Up Hope in Uganda. At the end of the night I shook people’s hands and said, see you Tuesday!

At 2:30 Tuesday morning, my uncle Henry woke up and began baking bread. He made 54 loaves.

I got to the church to help make chili at 9:30 Tuesday morning, only 7 hours after Henry had started working. By the time I got there, there were 9 crock pots the size of small cars on the kitchen counters already steaming with what would soon be Dorinne’s secret chili recipe. Dorinne spent 12 hours making and serving chili that day.

My aunt Diane and uncle Dave came out to Waupun to help. My aunt Joanie took her last day of vacation and hauled the 54 loaves of bread out to Waupun. My cousin’s husband’s mother helped out most of the day. People I can’t remember filtered in and out of the kitchen all day long.

The boy’s soccer team from my high school across the parking lot pushed carts of chili, crackers and dishes around.

            There were 9 huge tubs of chili, 54 loaves of bread, 1600 ounces of coffee, and gallons of ice cream with homemade toppings. All of it was given and prepared by people free of charge and expectation. All of it was given because the people of Waupun really do want to see those kids across an ocean keep going to school.

            It started to rain right when the supper was supposed to begin. And I thought that maybe the numbers would be low. But the rain didn’t stop anyone.

            Hundreds of people showed up, and we exceeded our expectations.

            And at the end of the chili supper we had two loaves of bread, one gallon of chili, some homemade chocolate-fudge sauce, and enough money raised for me to call Patrick and tell him that God had indeed provided.

Mr. William Bukenya

Mr. William Bukenya, our friend, is getting married. He will be marrying a beautiful woman and will be starting a new life.  I can't overstate his importance to Raising Up Hope in Uganda, and I can't overstate the encouragement he has been to me personally.  

William presided over Sonja and my Ugandan wedding

Marriage in Uganda is tricky. For the groom, there are expectations from the bride's family, from the bride's friends, from the groom's family, and from the groom's friends.  Everyone sits down to watch what the groom can provide.  Because the expectations are so unrealistic, men in Uganda go to their friends.  For months before the wedding they go to their friends and church and workplace and everyone chips in so that the groom can look good.  Everyone chips in to make their friend look good. 

William has been serving the kids at the orphanage for years, and now he is getting married.  And Sonja and I want to help him.  It is not charity, it is not tax-deductible-it is just our friend William getting married, and we want him to look good.

Charlie wrote this about William:

When William found out that I had been the Best Man at Caleb and Sonja's wedding, he clapped and said, "Yah yah yah." William's friend was getting married, and William was to be the Best Man.

So one of my days in Uganda last year, I rode with WIlliam out to the Introduction. We made a bunch of incredible passes on the narrow roads, zipping by slow cars, nearly knocking mirrors. One role, I guess, of the Best Man, is to pick up all the other "not-as-best-but-still-pretty-good-men." Our car filled up with Ugandan men, dressed in the traditional robe-like Kanzoo with a suit coat overtop. I was wearing the same. When we got stuck in traffic, I baked in the sun. William said to me, 

"Ah. You are so sweaty."

The Introduction was out at the bride's family home in the countryside. In front of the house, there were lots of chairs and a few tents forming a square where the Introduction would take place. The bride's family would sit on one side and the groom's on the other. And then I would be that one lone white guy sitting on the groom's side.

We pulled up, as part of one long caravan of the groom's family. We parked in a field off to the side. The whole family piled out of the cars. The women were wearing magnificent dresses. The men looked like they had spent one minute getting dressed. Everyone began unloading gifts from the bed of a large truck.

I wish I could remember everything that came off that truck. I do remember some caged roosters. A cow's leg, I think. A huge bag of sugar. The point of the gifts is to shower the bride's family. Forming one long line, the groom's family and I carried gifts in, setting them in one big pile in front of the bride's family.

Then we went back for seconds. It is an offering, really, and it is just really expensive to put that much at the bride's feet.

There is nothing like an Introduction here in the States. It is theater. It is at once incredibly old and serious and then also relaxed and for the enjoyment of all. 

The ceremony was long, very long, but extremely entertaining. At one point, the MC of sorts--a young man no older than 20--came out dressed as an old man with cane and grey-paint moustache. He chastised a few people. I have no idea why. And everyone laughed. 

On the phone on the way home from the Introduction, William handed me his cell. "Meet my girlfriend," he said. Then he made another incredible pass on the road. I spoke with her briefly and said goodbye. "Will you get married to her?" I asked William.

"Oh yes. I would like to," he said.

That was a year ago.

Now, I hear, the time has come. What I know about William is that his sacrifice, his offering to others, is immense. If we could somehow package those things--William's time and money and sweat and energy--and lay them as gifts at his bride's feet, it'd be far more than enough. It would pile high, because daily, William gives everything he has. 

But that is not how Introductions work.

So I think that because William gives everything he has, we can help him give some things that he doesn't have. William has certainly gained the treasures in heaven, sure where moth and rust don't destroy, but right now,

honestly,

our best man needs just a bit more here on earth.

Pretty Incredible

It would be pretty incredible if Carlos got to study in Turkey.

It would be incredible wouldn't it?

In the excel sheet where William breaks down the school expenses there is a column for school trips.  This particular excel sheet was breaking down the Secondary School fees for the 8 kids that are in the middle of their first year of high school.

The column was in Ugandan Shillings:
School Trips
80,000 (roughly $32)
80,000
80,000
80,000
80,000
80,000
80,000
5,000,000.00

Shillings often have a lot of zeros, but we thought William had made a typo with-5,000,000. Maybe the zero key had stuck.

It hadn't.

Carlos' school takes a study trip this summer to Istanbul, Turkey.

Istanbul, Turkey.

To study.

Carlos.

Carlos traveling around the world to study. Who could have seen that coming?

Five million Ugandan Shillings is $2,000.  And $2,000 is a lot of money. So when I got done laughing at the preposterousness of Carlos getting the opportunity to study in Turkey I started to think about where that money might come from.  His sponsors? Us?

For a couple of weeks now, Sonja and I have talked about it and we have no answers and no money. I am afraid that our lack of ideas will mean that Carlos will stay back at school while his friends go to Turkey.  And that is fine.  He doesn't have to go.  He is still in a great school.  He's still doing well.

But, wouldn't it be incredible?

Wouldn't it be incredible if Carlos go to study in Turkey?


I got an email from a sponsor recently who has pictures of the child she sponsors stuck to her refrigerator. Her niece was visiting, and she saw the pictures of another little girl stuck on her aunt's fridge.

She decided that she wanted to help this little girl on the fridge.

When she got back home, she started having lemonade stands so that she could send some money to her. She sets up shop on the corner, mixes the lemonade, and sells it to passers-by so she can help out her friend on her aunt's fridge. This summer, her lemonade stand proceeds are going to a little girl in Uganda.

That's how this works.
We do what we can.
Because if we sell enough lemonade, some pretty cool things can happen.

And Carlos, he gets to study in Turkey this summer.

 I just got a text saying someone sold enough lemonade.

Carlos will be studying in Turkey this summer.  That's pretty incredible.

the school or the six pack

          I went to Target today to pick up an overgrip for my garage sale tennis racket. 

          An overgrip is what you put over the original grip when the original grip has worn down too much. For all I know, I doubled the price of the racket by putting this $7.99 tape on the handle. But before I could enter Target, I was approached by a big, friendly man who works at the Washington Sports Club, the sports center on the 3^rd floor of the building.

          “We’re having a sale!” Tambe smiled. “Do you have two minutes? Want to see the gym?”

          I had two minutes.

          Tambe bounded up the stairs. I bounded after him. In the back of my mind I was thinking I had wanted to join for a while. Friends of mine from church went there. They lifted. They played basketball and volleyball. They’d participate in the “free” cycling and cross-fit classes. I could finally get my core in shape.

          He showed me around. Said that normally, it costs $280 to join, but today, it’d only be $78.80, then $80/month starting the next month.

          

          I looked at the paperwork. I could cancel after 15 days and still get my $78.80 back if I wanted.

          “Sure.”

          Tambe gave me a fist bump. I was sold.

          Getting home later that night, I saw that Caleb posted this on Facebook:

Last chance to sponsor one of the Safe House kids! We send the money this week, so now is a good time to say, "Yea, I have $40 (each month!!!) that is probably better spent on sending a child to school that otherwise WILL NOT get to go."

          I reconsidered my gym membership. What’s it going to be: a kid’s brain, or my abs?

          If I can afford an $80/month gym membership, then surely I can afford to send a kid to school for half that price.

          I just spent the past 6 weeks traveling around with Jim Wallis, who writes in the epilogue of his book on the common good, “If you are a father or mother, make your children the most important priority in your life and build your other commitments around them. If you are not a parent, look for children who could benefit from your investment in their lives.”

          Jim doesn’t say, “Look for kids who can benefit from your charitable donation.” That’s too easy, and in fact it’s probably hurts more than helps. Think of this as development: giving a kid the opportunity to be taught how to fish.

          Now onto other matters—who wants to do crunches with me in the park? 

Written By James Colten

You could be my grandchildren

This is a story about my family, my flesh and blood.

My brother-in-law is from Ghana.  He has dark rich West African skin. My sister has light Dutch-Wisconsin skin.  Their kids have creamy brown skin, dark curly hair, and long eye-lashes that get them compliments often.  My parents love that they have grandkids that don't look like them.  They love that their flesh and blood have dark rich skin.  

_____________________________________

My dad and I flew 14 hours, then 3 hours, and then drove a couple of hours to get to the orphanage. We were taken down to the house where we would be staying during our trip. It was a long day but we wanted to see the kids and beat the jet-lag so we walked up to the orphanage. 

We held and hugged each child as they came to the gate to welcome us. The little ones reached their strong brown arms up to us and smiled when we held them.  The older ones took our hand in theirs. They were all older, taller-they'd grown up again. The kids played with the veins in my dads hands-he held them and threw his head back, laughing with them.  

After dinner we all gathered in the house to worship.  The kids, 30 or so, stood together and sang loudly.  At times they used their hands to clap.  At times they used their hips to dance and Stuart sat behind the drum and his brown hands flew across its top.  They prayed with their bright eyes open, they prayed with their eyes pinched shut.

My dad stood in a corner of the room.  He swayed back and forth.  I saw him wiping tears off of his face.

At the end of worship, Patrick asked my dad to share some words with the kids.  All of the kids sat down.  My dad clasped his hands together in front of his chest.  He began to speak and his voice quaked. He closed his mouth, gained his composure and spoke,  

"When I look at you, I see the faces of the children of God." He paused and patrick translated.  The room waited quietly for him to continue.

My dad collected himself, "When I look at your faces, I see that, you could be my grandchildren." 

My dad paused Collected himself, waited for the translation. 

Patrick began translating the simple phrase, and as he translated the room began to erupt.  Some kids started clapping when they heard the English, others had to wait until Patrick translated what my dad had told them. But by the end of the translation the kids were clapping, some were cheering, Patrick jumped up and down in the middle of the room, William said Wow, Wow, Wow!  The cheering went on for a few seconds. My dad put his hands up to his lips. His eyes were wide. He smiled. Then he turned to Patrick, shook his head and said, "That's it." 

"Wow, wow, wow."

To see them as children of God was to see them as his own grandchildren.

And to be seen as someone's grandchild, well it's such good news that you can't help but jump up and down in the middle of the room.

Things Kids Say

When Saap is not wearing his bright orange St Mark school uniform, he is wearing the blue striped soccer jersey. He walks home from kindergarten with the other kids, takes a bucket bath in the courtyard, and puts on his evening garb.

We play a game where I say, what about pineapple, and he tells me the word for Pineapple in Luganda.

What about beans?
ebijanjalo.

I used to teach him English this way.  But now he says, what about leaf, grasshopper, tree, clouds, chin, elbow and I shake my head and try to remember the Lugandan he teaches me.

During worship, William asks the children if any of them have testimonies to share.  Saap stands in line and when it is his turn, he speaks, "I praise God for what I am and I praise God because I am alive."
______________________________________________________

We were walking in the dark to the Safe House for devotions.  Faridah came with us.  Faridah and I walked together and we talked. That alone is a beautiful thing.
The shadows showed us where the dips and puddles in the road were.  The candles in the shop windows provided the shadows.
Faridah?
Yes?
What do you want to be when you grow up?
Ahh.  She paused.
I want to be an accountant like daddy William.
Wow! I said, An accountant! Like daddy William! My voice trailed off-it is good to hear that she wants to be like her daddy. Are you good at math? I asked.
Yes, I like math.  I always want to be a singer too.  
I side-stepped a puddle, A singer, really? Are you a good singer?
I'm alright.  Even Becca, she wants to be a singer so much.  Many kids want to be singers.  I just love to sing.  If I could always be singing...
Yea, you are a good singer, I think. 
Do you know what I want to do someday?
No, what?
I want to start a house for children.  But for me, I think you need to care for little children so you can, so that you can grow them.  You know? Sometimes if they are too old...they need to be young so you can...
Teach them?
Yes.  Do you know what I want to call my house?
No, what do you want to call it?
Can you guess?
Guess the name?  Ummm, Faridah's House of Hope? I guessed.
Faridah paused and thought about the name. Hmmm, yes, maybe.  
I offered her a few other name options.  She liked them all.  Then the conversation switched and she took my hand.
Do you know which word I love so much? 
What word?
Mercy.  I really love it so much. I don't know why, but I love it so much.  I see it in the Bible. 
Yea, that is a good word.
But, what does it mean? She asked me.

Well, that's a really good question.  I'm not sure how to explain it.  
I didn't have to. Faridah started talking about a new topic and I kept watching the shadows so I wouldn't fall.
______________________________________________

Derek has only been at the orphanage for a little while.  He was a new boy last time we visited.  He did not have a sponsor yet.  While we were there, Charlie decided that he could sponsor someone, and so we told Derek that Charlie was going to be his sponsor.

On Thursday night-just a week ago-I said good bye to all of the kids.  I was walking out of the orphanage when Derek ran up to me.  All of the other kids had gone back inside. He grabbed my hand and I bent lower to hear him.

Tell Uncle Charlie that I love him so much. 
Derek gave me his message and waited for my response,
Ok, I will.  I'll tell him.  I gave Derek a hug and he ran back inside with the other kids.

There was so much urgency in Derek-it was so important to him.
Charlie must know, he must know that I love him.  So much.

From Uganda: Mama Faith

Each morning Mama Faith walked down the dirt road, through the path cut through the long grass, and up the cement to bring us our breakfast.  It was an unnecessary act of service-especially on the mornings that it rained. She saw my bed un-made and insisted on making it.  She saw our dirty clothes on the ground and she insisted on cleaning them. She bent low to sweep the dust out the door and to mop the cement floors. 

Mama Faith runs the orphanage-the 50 kids who are in school, eating well, playing hard, and praying harder. She is not educated and she doesn't know much English. Her daughter Pauline is one of the kids that goes off to school every morning.

She is glad to have the orphanage-but not as glad as the orphanage is to have her.  She gets paid, but not much, not much at all.  Pennies/hour considering how long and hard she works.  She has a room in the orphanage, a bed, and a TV that gets 2 channels when the electricity works.  At church she stands behind the other women who lead the songs.  She is the widow putting her pennies in the offering plate, the least, the servant of all. With all that she does, she is the servant of all.

I found out on this trip that 15 of the children rescued from the slums were able to go to school. We visited them.  They brought us their books and showed us how they could write english and do math.  They are behind for their age, but they are in school. They are boarding school students-their home is no longer the slums, it is a school.  On the ride home from the visit, Patrick was telling me how they were able to send them to school.  Generous outside donors and volunteers who came to the orphanage generously put together almost enough money for all of the kids.  

Then Patrick told me that Mama Faith sponsors one of the kids.  My jaw dropped.  Mama Faith sponsors one of the kids! I thought about her salary-thought about the cost of sponsoring-she gave away nearly everything. Mama Faith uses her salary-a salary she has earned a hundred times over-to send a boy from the slums to school. 

I watched fields pass by my open window and thought about Mama Faith sponsoring a child. It changed something for me-forever I think. Mama Faith redefined generosity.  I had set the bar comfortably low.  I was more generous than most.  But now she is the bar-she is the example.

The kids who were rescued from that slums that are now in school need sponsors who can give $40/month. Their next term starts in June and they don't have sponsors, so as of now, they will have to drop out of school.  We need 12 people committed to 12 kids. Shoot me an email: caleb@beautifulresponse.org  

Black Shoes

At the orphanage in Uganda the youngest kids wear bright orange uniforms and khaki shorts. They wear tube socks that they hand wash twice a week. They must have black shoes.  If they come to school without their black shoes they are sent home.  The youngest walk down the dirt roads together. Six women stand around the doors of two shabby red brick buildings.  They are the teachers.  They welcome the kids with smiles.

The elementary kids at the orphanage walk past St. Mark's elementary school down to Bulenga Light Primary School.  They wear green and white checkered shirts. The girls wear dresses and the boys wear shorts.  They all need black shoes, or they get sent home.  Light School goes up until 7th grade.  All of the kids at the orphanage are gauranteed school up through P7-as long as their sponors keep sending them.  As long as there is a little money, they can go through P7.  But after P7, things get more difficult.  After P7 things are not so certain. 

In Uganda, you must pass an exam to move on.  The national examinations are a Ugandan event. Every child in P7 takes the same exam.  The whole nation holds its breath, waiting for the exam results.  The newspapers reserve the front page for the biggest national exam headline.  Seven of the kids at the orphanage took the exam.  We held our breath with them.  

On a Monday in January, 70 kids from Light Primary School in Bulenga took the national exam. Some passed, some didn't.  We checked our emails for weeks, waiting to hear how the P7 students did.  Six of those seven are now at a secondary school where they wear green sweaters over white collared shirts.  Their socks have stripes, their shoes are black, and they are smiling in the picture that Patrick sent us.  

One of the students got the very highest score in the entire school-among the best scores in the nation!   He got in to a private school where he will continue studying.  He gets to be one of the best and the brightest.  All of the kids passed!

We are so proud of the 7 kids who studied so hard-who took nothing for granted.  School was never a given for any of these kids. At points in their lives, it was an unlikely prospect.  Passing their P7 exams seemed like an unknowable future.  Getting into one of the best private schools was an unrealistic dream.  

Now, sending 7 kids, plus next years kids, plus next years kids, plus next years kids through high school is an intimidating future for us.  Sometime we worry about where the money will come from. But when we are in Uganda, we tell the kids what our parents told us, "Your job is to study".  Work your hardest, do your best, study and learn-and have fun doing it.  That is their worry now.

These kids have carried more worry in their lives than any kids should.  Through the generosity of sponsors, the work of the staff at RUHU, and God's grace, their job can simply be to study, to play, and to keep track of their black shoes.

Global Citizen-By Carlos

(This blog was written by Carlos (15), one of the young men who lives at Raising Up Hope.  It was not edited in any way.) 

I am living in a nation with over 2 million orphans and street children.  Uganda is known as ‘Ground Zero’ for the HIV/AIDS Pandemic.  There is only 1 doctor for every 80,000 to 100,000 people with little to no medical supplies.  Yet, I have been blessed with an education so far by my guardians and sponsors who love to see change.  Thus, I am also eager to learn more and see my world improving each day.

I am growing in a society where kids like me do not have the opportunity to go to school, no hope of being successful people. I believe that if I had an international education, I would be able to gain the knowledge required to solve greater problems for the people of Uganda.

One of the reasons I want a better education in an international school is because traditional schools here in Uganda do not offer such better education due to low levels of academic standards and it’s because I want to affect other people’s lives and the world at large.  I want to finish high school well, and go to university, so that I may be involved in the world’s economic activities. I want to be part of changing that for all of Uganda.  I love technology, and I love studying software engineering and I look forward to using everything I learn to help more children like me live in a better place.

Africa is my home and I love it, but I also have great hopes for it being a better home.  Here in my community, insufficient healthcare and constant hunger are just some of the root causes of our oppression. In my developing world, people die of preventable diseases every day; we suffer extreme poverty and we have no access to quality education or employment. Now, all of us go to school at the RUHU orphanage. I know Education is the answer. I want to witness more of this growth in Uganda towards the first world. A chance to study at an international institution offers me that education that can help me change my community, because I believe the opportunity for a great education will allow me to change my own community even more. I want to see my continent become a better place to live both economically and socially.

I believe a true Global Citizen uses their education and advancement of new technology for the good of mankind.  Although I appreciate the concepts and discussion of ‘equality’, I know too well the effects of Inequality and Injustice as I witness the daily deaths of Malaria and all the curable diseases.  I see poverty and starvation within a fertile land where anything is able to grow and sustain its’ people.   Yet, the lack of education is our barrier.  The corruption in our hospitals limits progress and life expectancy.  What would the value of the title, ‘Global Citizen’ be if I did not use it to change these facts?

I don’t want to live a life of complaining about Africa!  I want to live a life of change and inspiration to the millions of orphans and abandoned children who come behind me.  I value the title ‘Global Citizen’.  I hope to proudly accept this title as I work hard and focus on the future in order to achieve my goals of becoming an entrepreneur.  I am confident the next fifteen years will bring big change in our world.

Thank you for taking part.