Grief, Fear and Driving...

I had a bit of a scary experience last week, the same day I was officially put in charge as both Emily’s were in Kampala. While taking a boda back from Bujagali Falls after dark with Chalice on a road that’s a bit sketchy at the best of times, we came upon something terrible. There were a lot of lights ahead; bodas, bikes and cars pulled over, bits of tree branches strewn across the road (still not sure where they came from), people milling around. Clearly something was going on. My first thought was accident, but after travelling slowly along, making our way through the commotion without seeing anything of the sort, I started to relax…right then something in the middle of the road caught my eye…a raised arm. As we neared the spot, we could clearly see a young man lying there, a puddle of deep red blood under his head. We yelled at our boda driver to stop, not sure of what we could do, but unwilling to just drive on past without, at least, offering. It was hectic; I was calling out and contemplating the logistics of getting him on our boda, Chalice was calling out to see if there was anyone taking responsibility for this man. As everyone was speaking in Lugandan, we had no idea if anyone was doing anything to help besides watch and speak frantically to each other. It seemed like longer, but it was probably only a minute or two before a boda came to a screeching halt beside him and a man, who we were informed was a friend, wrapped his arms around the injured man’s waist and hoisted him, moaning and crying onto the awaiting boda before heading off towards town and, most likely, Jinja Main Hospital. The sight of his limp body and the sound of his cry are still fresh in my mind and I cringe even now at the memory. Once he was on his way, we hopped back on our boda and informed our poor, confused boda driver that we could go home. Chalice put her hand on my shoulder and said a prayer for this man but it was little comfort to me then as I am unfortunately aware of the quality of care at any of the local hospitals; or lack thereof.

To be truthful, it wasn’t the blood or the experience itself that was so intense (it took hours for my hands to stop shaking), it was the fear that settled on my chest; it was the smack-in-the-face reality of the dangers of being here. Boda accidents are common due to the amount of bodas on the road and though most people get away with a few scratches and bruises, the results can be devastating and it’s not like home; no ambulance, no healthcare. That man on the road was completely dependent on the kindness of others as to whether or not he would get any medical care at all; and who knows what kind of internal injuries he may have had and how much damage was done by how he was so abruptly picked up from the ground and thrown on the boda.

The boda ride I took first thing the next morning to meet a friend for coffee was the most nail-biting ride I’ve had to date and it took a couple days to feel totally comfortable on a boda again…especially at night. I suppose that that night, and a number of times since, I have just felt a certain sinister nature to this place that I wasn’t fully conscious of before. As with any intense experience, I am certain my feelings will fade over time and Jinja will again be the harmless, quaint little town as I viewed it before.

Over the last few days, I read a book called “Choosing to See”, by Mary Beth Chapman (wife of Steven Curtis Chapman) written after and about the tragic death of their 5 year old daughter, Maria; she passed away after her brother accidently hit her with his car. This book ripped me apart and I sobbed through a good chunk of it. I finished it early Tuesday morning and proceeded to borrow Erika’s mp3 player to listen to the CD that Steven Curtis Chapman wrote and put out after her death as a way of healing. I listened to the whole thing while I helped the mommas do laundry which was a big mistake because there I was, hanging the kid’s laundry on the line, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. After I was done with the laundry, I just collapsed in my top bunk and listened to the few remaining songs and just cried my eyes out. Basically, I was a wreck all morning.

I can’t say that I've experienced a huge amount of death in my life (my grandma, my uncle Ralph, Selina…) so I was rather surprise as to which degree I was effected by this book, but what I came to realize is that there are other forms of grief and the things that we grieve are certainly not limited to the death of a loved one. This realization occurred as more and more past hurts crept up from somewhere deep and hidden. I suppose it was cleansing, but still painful. The other thing that hit me was just how unnatural death and suffering are; these things were not God’s intention for us. That is why it can be so crippling, but at the same time, the way that God shows Himself faithful and present during those times is just proof of His love for us. It is a book worth reading as you will most certainly be as staggered as I was by that family’s faith and the hope that they have clung to since that day; the hope of new life, the hope of seeing their daughter and sister in heaven. If nothing else, it will stir your heart to love better.

More firsts: On Monday, I drove the car twice to town without “Emily supervision”; once in the afternoon with George, and then again that night by myself. Actually, it only occurred to me when I got home that it was the first time that I’d driven at night with or without supervision…that truth had not occurred to Emily either until I mentioned it to her the next morning. To be honest, it meant a lot to me that Emily trusted me so quickly to go out on my own; little did I know that my desire to be trusted to run errands in town was just around the corner. George graciously held my camera the whole drive into town to document this life-changing moment: Click here (complete with the ever-so-triumphant Braveheart theme)  

A few pictures:

Nam, pretty excited about her little treat: nope, not vomit, cow intestines.

The leather factory where DeAnna and I had Aaron take us to see if we could purchase some leather; actually, it was so DeAnna could buy some leather…I had no intention of walking out with anything, yet I left with a beautiful piece of brown suede in my bag…just because the price was too right. Any ideas on what to do with it?

At the school for nursing & midwifery…just because…was there to look into taking some classes…

A few pictures of the stunning sunset at Bujagali Falls before we came upon the accident. Since the dam began functioning, there is no trace of the raging river it used to be; they should change the name to Bujagali Lake.