THE ELLIE PARTY !!

Ellie talking to Marie (in Africa!) on the phone.

For: Ellie and Carolyn----- Party Time!!

Yesterday, July 28, 2007 was not only the celebration of my dear friend Carolyn’s 50^th ( opps 40+ 10 ) Birthday . Actual date the 27^th, but Carolyn and her twin sister Terese needed a sat. night for this major event. Think about it, whether you add 50 + 50 or 40 + 10 x 2, ya still get 100 years old. Now that is something to celebrate!!

While those festivities were being planned in California, the “Ellie” party was already underway in Uganda.

For those of you who have been following my Blog site , this is old news but for the newcomers, let me tell you about Ellie Lambert: She first contacted me a couple of months ago with a desire to help the children in Africa. She had been saving her money (needing to hide it from her brothers-ha) and asked me how she might use it to help the children in Uganda, since she had been told by “Mrs. Carolyn” that I was here as a medical missionary. I consulted with my supervisor Sr. Justine, and gave Ellie several suggestions. She chose to purchase a 14 year old boy’s “best needs”, which consists of a mattress, sheets, a towel, one spoon, a cup and dish, as well as a trunk to put his belongings in, plus a few minor items like a basin to wash his clothes in, toothpaste and brush and soap. These are the items needed in order to go to boarding school, which Godfrey will start in the beginning of the year.

Godfrey lost his Dad to AIDS, so his mother struggles with school fees and feeding her children, making this quite an opportunity for Godfrey. Although he is the third of five children, he is the first to go to school, which in itself is something to brag about. But now an opportunity to attend Boarding School, gives him a real chance for a future his mother could only dream about for him a month ago.

Now Ellie and Godfrey (a 12 yr. old girl from America and a 14 year old boy from Uganda) have become pen pals and may be friends someday. In itself it is a happy story but there is more, as Ellie decided she wanted to do even more to help the AIDS Orphans.

So, she purchased a box full of party decorations and with that and enough money to buy each child “sweets” an “Ellie” Party was planned and executed yesterday, July 28^th

Not to give too much away, but it was a major success! I expected up to 90 children and 100 showed up. While the children were at lunch, I, my helper Grace and several male and female nursing students decorated the Public Health Building with crepe paper, balloons and decorations of every color and, of course, there were “Sweets”. Each child received one homemade cupcake(you can’t buy them here) and one bottle of soda pop. Then to the gift booth where each child received a small toy, jewelry or mechanical drawing box.

Now, that sounds pretty good all by itself, but in truth that is when the fun really started. Music, music, music supplied by a nursing student with a great set up and just the kind of music the children could (and did) dance to for hours .Calypso!!!! Unbelievable!

I have never seen anything like it---these children from age 2yrs (Justine’s little Olivia) to about 15 years had the time of their lives. There were three little 5 year old girls who never stopped, elbows raised, hips a swaying, too precious to believe.

I took a zillion picture, but will only include a few (perhaps more on a quiet week-ha). But what breaks my heart is not being able to send the mini-video’s for your viewing. I will make a CD for Ellie because she just has to see when they all yell in unison ”Thank you Ellie!”., and when they, again in unison yell CALYPSO!!!. I even taught them a Train Dance (Calypso style, of course). Truly, a good time was had by all!

As my helpers, the Nursing Students, assisted me in sweeping and cleaning up the party mess, I thought of all those 100 children walking several miles to get home and I am sure not one of them was complaining, as I was, about how tired they were-ha.

Thank you, dear Ellie, for your generosity and kind heart. You have given these children that have been orphaned by one and sometimes both parents from AIDS, a day to remember-- for always.

I think you, single handedly, have increased Americas status in Uganda immeasurably, while adding a smile to the face of over 100 of Gods’ precious children..

Until next time,

Marie.

Marie dancing with the Children!

Tears Of Hope

Maria’s Story Continues : July 29, 2007

I was not the only one facing such stories of inheritance. Many women had returned from Rwanda with no hope of ever going back because their husbands were either dead or missing. The authorities, I learnt had handled several similar cases before mine. Maria yawns and stretches her arms behind her head.

“Maria, you look tired. Do you need some rest?” I ask her. “Yes, I think I need to lie down for a short while, I feel sleepy. I told you I did not sleep very well last night. I hope you don’t mind.? ” No, I don’t I assured her ”We’ll take a break and continue later..

After sleeping for about an hour Maria calls out “Come, let us finish. I slept longer than I intended but I feel better now.” Slims is such a bad disease, it does not allow me to work much these days. I get tired easily, I depend more on the children to do most of the work. I used to have months of respite, sometimes as much as six months of respite, but not anymore. I suppose the disease is growing. Without TASO (The AIDS Support Organization) life would be very difficult.

“Tell me a little bit about TASO and what help do you get?” “TASO helps people suffering from Slim (AIDS). It employs good people who teach us how to look after ourselves, what to eat and how not to infect other people. I told you I did not breast feed my daughter. TASO people provided the milk I gave her for a long time. They taught me how to mix it and how to feed her. Even after I left the hospital, they continued to bring the milk and check on me at home. The got to understand the home situation and the problems I was facing. Besides giving me foodstuffs like sugar, beans, cooking oil and maize flour, TASO staff regularly bring me soap and some little money to buy paraffin and food. I sell the oil, some of the soap and some of the sugar .My children like bushera, a sweet drink made from sorghum, it does not need sugar. We do not need all the soap and as for cooking oil, we do not use much of it.

TASO also pays my medical bills and teaches us how to prepare out children to manage on their own when we die.

Even before this free education (referring to Universal Primary Education, known as UPE in short) was introduced, my children did not pay school fees. So you see why I am so grateful to TASO.

“You know with this disease I get hungry a lot. I need to eat a little but often. You are spoiling me with a flask of tea besides me like the wife of a chief. May I take some”

“Of course, it is all yours. You can continue the story as you take the tea. ”I tell her

“I was talking about my brother and the property before I slept. The property was divided, I got a piece of land and part of the banana plantation. I also got Maama’s house but as I told you, my brother had repaired it poorly and refused to repair it again when it collapsed. He was bitter that I had gotten some of the property. His wife’s attitude became even more hostile, but I ignored them as much as possible. Fortunately at the time, I was not very weak. I had enjoyed about two months of strength. I had even managed to work in people’s garden to earn some money. With this money I bought timber and paid men to repair the house. I made sure it was done well, not like the way my brother had done. I wanted to show him and his cruel wife that I was not living at their mercy.

The house stands strong even now. It has become another source of dispute between my brother’s family and me.

“The piece of land and plantation, I got as my share, continued to eat away at my brother and his wife. They continued to be nasty to me and this disturbed me a great deal I knew with this sickness, I could die at any time I did not want to leave the children with relatives full of hatred. I wanted so much to be friends with my brother and his family.

One day I called to him. We sat alone and talked. He is not really bad, he is only weak and allows himself to be controlled by his wife. She poisons his mind against me I said to him ”Child of my mother, you see I am sick and that my sickness is not the kind that gets cured. I am in and out of the hospital all the time. One time it will be my body that is brought home Tell me brother, when I die, will you take care of my orphans?”

“He did not hesitate, but answered straightway “I will never mix my children with children of foreign blood. I will not have Banyarwanda on my father’s land.

“What will you do, send them out into the cold?” I asked him. “They will go back to their country, their relatives”.

“But you know what happened in that country. They would not know where to go.

They would not find any of their people. They are either dead or scattered to other lands as refugees in other countries.”

“That is not my problem. I don’t want your son’s on my children’s property.” He concluded with finality.

“Then I asked him that supposing my children lived on another property, and not this one, would he care for them once I was gone?” “I am not asking you to feed or dress them”, I added. “Suffering has made them mature beyond their years. They are able to fend for themselves, but without me, they would need an adult to guide them. Would you be an uncle to them? Someone they could turn to for help and advice? Would you receive them as children?”

To be continued………..credits to Winnie Munyarugerero for compiling Maria’s story

..

Gifumbia & St. Francis "Campgrounds"

St. Francis "Campgrounds"

"

Outreach to Gifumbia

Dear Friends
Once a month we travel to an area called “Gifumbia” to give immunizations to the children and mothers, as well as examine the pregnant woman.. It takes forever, probably 1 and ½ hours, but it seems like 10 hrs as the road is difficult, with bumps and deep pot holes as the norm, not the exception.
I pack a lunch but the others stop on the way for local food, which looks like some kind of meat inside an enclosed sandwich which appears to have been deep fried.
Since one of the two travel vehicles is out of commission, we travel in the ambulance which I have never once seen used as an actual ambulance. There is no such thing as an Emergency Room, pts go to the area of the hospital that most suits their symptoms; all accidents go to the Theatre( Operating Room) and if pain is severe enough that a patient can not wait in the OPD (Outpatient Dept) to see a Clinician (Nurse Practitioner), then they go to the Surgical Ward. All women who have come to deliver their babies automatically go to the Maternity Ward, some come days early waiting, sleeping, eating outside until it is “time”. Everyone must have a caregiver with them to cook for them ( there is a Cook House separate from the hospital, as no food is prepared in the hospital), and care for all their needs. The nurses simply dispense medications and the midwives (which most nurses are) deliver the babies. The woman then stay overnight, coming by the Public Health Dept. the next day for their babies’ initial immunizations (BCG which is protection against TB) and their first of four Polio oral drops. The mother is given an oral 100,000 Unit Vitamin A tab., which most swallow without any water. Then they pay their bill and carrying their newborn walk home, often many miles.
This system of medical care certainly has it’s drawbacks but there are advantages as well. Each day as I pass by the Maternity Ward on one side of the road and a field of Caregivers on the other, I greet each and every man (few though they are ) , woman and child. with “Waraye” (for one person) or Mwaraye (for more than one) . Each person greets me with “Yego” (which literally means Yes, but in essence means “Good morning, back at ya.”. Then many say “Umeze ute?” which means “How are you? And they all wait for my response which varies from “Meze Neza”= very good to “Ndaho” which translates to ”fair or OK”. Both responses invariably result in gales of laughter or repetition of my response from one person to the other.. I still don’t know why I cause such a response, but as long as people are laughing and not crying, that is good enough for me.
OK, back to the Outreach to Gifumba: When we arrive there is no one there (we go to the school house and set up) but within minutes the word has spread and woman and babies arrive in droves. First the babies are weighed (looks like a meat hanger), then they come inside, give us their child’s immunization cards (* the ones I want to gift them with- gallon size baggies to protect them) , we determine what is needed, give them the required medicine and then no body leaves. It becomes a community social event as all the mothers visit with each other, admire each others children and basically hang out for several hours. Then the pregnant women who have been seen by the midwife come to us for their series of Tetanus Injections.
Unlike America where a tetanus injections is given prophylactic ally every ten years or when we step on a rusty nail etc., a series of 5 tetanus injections are given to pregnant women or women of child bearing age, over a couple of years. Fortunately this series is a one time thing, not with every pregnancy, or they would be getting one each month most of their lives, as the average # of children is nine per woman.
Also all accident victims, simple abrasions or serious wounds come to the Public Health Dept. for a tetanus shot, even if they just had one the week before. It might seem like overkill to us, but it is a serious problem here and all you need to see is one baby who received tetanus from an un-inoculated mother and you quickly understand. The child seems normal until day three when their body becomes ridged (like a constant seizure) and death soon follows.
I have digressed a bit here and will some more as my mind recalls the newspaper headlines where several top government officials are on trial for stealing millions of dollars that were allocated for Uganda’s Immunization Program. Perhaps their punishment should be to see the results of this misuse of funds when their child or grandchild was unable to access these drugs.
Ok, back to Gifumba ! These woman walk miles (in this case Kilometers) and are very appreciative of our services. Even though it is very far from St. Francis Hospital, most come to the hospital to deliver and the ones who choose to stay home , bring their newborns (sometimes hours old), for our once a month visits
I’ve included some photos of our most recent visit to Gifumbia, as well the woman and children that “camp out” here at the hospital while a loved one is hospitalized.
I am very tired as I write this, so I apologize that it is not as well written as in the past blogs, but this Statistical Research is wearing me out-smile. My hope is that once we can set up a procedure for obtaining this needed information on HIV-AIDS and the Antiretroviral Therapy, it will be a piece of cake each month and I will be able to spend my time holding babies and tending to the sick. Please God, let that be your plan, as well.

* Anyone who would like may send me quart or gallon size baggies for the children’s immunization cards, as well as the mothers medical records, as they carry them with them, through rain and shine. Only the HIV+ pts who are on ARV have medical records which remain in the hospital. For those cards, I am also looking for plastic baggies, as well, but they need to be large (either 17” by 12” or 17” by 9” ) At this point there is not even a file or a box to keep them in.
Friends have told me that you can send a cardboard envelope From the post office marked ”Global Priority Mail” and stuff it with as much as you can get into it for $11.00. And it arrives in a couple of weeks!
If you filled one of those baggies with dark choc. M&M’s or Pink Canada Mints, all the better(smile).

Ugandan Women-answer the question

IS THERE ANYTHING A UGANDAN WOMAN CAN NOT CARRY ON HER HEAD ?






















I
DON"T
THINK
SO!!

Tears of Hope

Marie and Maria-the friendship strengthens

Maria’s story continues: July 18, 2007

I was at first shocked when I was told I had Slims Disease (AIDS) as my late husband was not a man who chased after woman. As for me, I had not known any other man sexually. I was angry and felt betrayed but later, as the same nurse talked with me some more, I learnt to accept my condition and not to look for anyone to blame. My baby was taken care of by the staff at TASO ( The AIDS Support Organization ). I was too sick to do much. TASO paid for all my hospital bills. I am so grateful
When I left the hospital, I was still weak. My brother came to take me home. I noticed from the beginning that his wife was not happy to see me. She had not been to the hospital to see me even once. I could also see that my children were not happy. It was obvious that the woman has treated them very badly, but I was still too weak to do anything about it.
My parents’ house was old. It had recently collapsed. By the time I returned, therefore, I had no house to return to. The children and I had to squeeze into my brother’s house with his wife and their three children .It was difficult. My sister-in-law harassed us constantly. She blamed the children for everything that went wrong in the home. It was so bad that my eldest son threatened to run away at one time. She took advantage of my being weak to beat me up sometimes: One time she found me sleeping at night and pushed me off the bed to the floor. It is a wonder I did not break any bones. Other times, whenever my brother was not at home, she would throw me out of the house with the little infant. I would then spend the night out in the open.
A time came when I could not take any more of her cruelty. There she was sauntering like a queen ,to where I lay. She stood above me and looked down on me as if I was nothing. I looked up at her and kept quiet. She started, as usual, to pour abuse on me. I was still weak at the time but her taunts got to me. A wave of anger lifted me from the bed and I stood facing her, ready to fight. Then I noticed a pestle lying nearby, where my son had placed it after pounding sorghum. I snatched it up and, with a kind of strength I did not know I possessed, brought it down. I missed her head by a split second. The bitch is young and strong and agile as a cat, instead I got her elbow as she scampered out. For a good three weeks her hand was swollen and lame. It straightened later after treatment, but she has been scared of me since that day.” She only abuses me from a distance”, Maria stops almost out of breath.
“What did your brother do about all this mistreatment? I chip in. “He did not intervene. He did not wish to offend his wife. He was blind to everything. But the neighbors were not blind, they became concerned. What shocked them the most was when they learnt that I was sometimes forced to sleep out in the cold with a very young baby. The L.C. (Local Council ) leaders of the village intervened They believed my sister-in- law tortured me because she wanted the children and me out of her house. They, therefore, ordered my brother to repair Mama’s house for me to move into. We moved in but the repair work was so shoddy that the house collapsed again in no time at all.
Meanwhile, the abuse by my sister-in-law continues. Moving out of her house did not seem to make too much difference. She said I had no business being around there. She wanted me to go back to Rwanda, where my home and property were. It did not matter to her that my husband was dead and his people were either dead or in exile.
One day during one of the sessions at TASO, I shared my problem with the group members. One woman told me about the office in Kisoro town that helps woman with legal problems. She told me how she had gotten help when the relative from her dead husband wanted to grab her land from her. She directed me to the office. I did not know Kisoro town well. It had grown very large during the years I lived in Rwanda. I asked around and eventually found the office.
At the office a young woman welcomed me. She told me she was a lawyer. I narrated my story to her and she listened intently. She wrote down everything I told her. She asked me many questions. I answered them truthfully. I explained that my brother and his wife did not want me to have a share of my father’s property. She assured me that I was as much my parents child as my brother was, therefore, entitled to a share of their property.. She then wrote a letter and gave it to me to take to the L.C. Chairman of our village She also wrote other letters to other important people She promised that my problem would be handled soon. Indeed, not long after my visit to the office the Chairman LC2, the Probation officer and the LC 1 Executive Committee held a meeting at our home with my brother and me. They ordered that our parents’ property should be divided equally between my brother and me. Any property bought by my brother was his and I could not claim any of it. Only what belonged to our dead parents was to be divided.

To be continued…………….. .

Mary Sunshine sets me straight

Well Mary Sunshine is a southern gal so it is really no surprise that she set me straight about Pink Magnolia's being "Steel Magnolia's. Her response to my blog included as well as my contact information

Picture of Mary Sunshine, myself and good friends James and Brian, about three years ago when we "remembered" our dear friend Harry Broussard at Mill Park, North Little Rock, AR

Dear Marie,

Love reading about Marie and Marie and Marie. To answer your question, it was Steel Magnolia's cause its the women who are made of steel in handling a love one who is sick or dies....and the pinks are bashful and blush...is what popped into my head. Love ya, Mary Sunshine

Marie McGee
St. Francis Hospital- Mutolere
Box # 26
Kisoro
Uganda

Saint Benedict-Subiaco and Birthdays

Praise You Father
Bless You Jesus
Holy Spirit-Thank you for being here
Being here---------------Now !



Dear Friends July 11, 2007

Today is the feast of St. Benedict: He was born at Norcia in Umbria, about 480. He studied in Rome and then turned his back on the world and lived in solitude in Subiaco. Disciples came to him and he went to Monte Cassino, where he founded a monastery. He wrote his Rule which established the spirituality and way of life of monastic communities ever since. He died in 547.

I feel quite a connection to St. Benedict and his Rule for a couple of reasons; one being the struggle between the active and contemplative life , which is finding its balance, here, in my life in Uganda. The other is my years of friendship with the priests and brothers of Subiaco Monastery in Arkansas.
Many of you know that I have been involved in retreats for people with HIV-AIDS for 15 years, all held at Subiaco, Arkansas. Thanks to Trudy James (RAIN = Regional AIDS Interfaith Network)) who first invited me to “Heartsong # 8”. I was on the team as a nurse, costume director, liturgical dance instructor and whatever, until my last retreat when I had the privilege of being the Coordinator of the “Heartsong-Positive Spirit” Reunion.

God our Father,
you made Saint Benedict an outstanding guide
to teach men how to live in your service.
Grant that by preferring your love to everything else,
we may walk in the way of your commandments
.
.. Besides the lifelong friends I made, the extraordinary experiences I enjoyed, the deep mourning at the loss of so many wonderful young people in the prime of their life, I also met Abbot Jerome, Fr.Aaron, Brother Mel, Brother James and many other religious at Subiaco, who I now am honored to call friends in Christ. They helped teach me about the balance between a contemplative life of meditation and prayer and an active life in the midst of the suffering and celebration in the lives of those infected and affected with HIV-AIDS. I honor them today on the feast of their Founder, Saint Benedict and I honor my new friend, Sr. Benedict, here at St. Francis in Mutolere, Uganda. I woke early this morning to attend Mass (I am just not a morning person) and to gift Sr. Benedict with a single yellow rose bud for her feast day.
.
Today is also a special day of celebrating the birth of my good friend Joan Dickerson
(Now we are the same age for another 10 months-HA) and my very young friend, two year old Olivia, the daughter of my supervisor Sr. Justine. I am going to have a small dinner-birthday celebration for Olivia tonight and the balloons and other goodies Mary Johns recently sent, arrived at a perfect time.
I so wish I had photos with me of Subiaco but they all were taken before I knew the joys of storing photos in my computer, so I will include a photo of Carolyn W, Dana S. and myself performing a spontaneous favorite liturgical dance “Praise You Father” at my going away party at Cynthia K. This movement in prayer has been performed by countless retreatents over 25 Heartsong and Positive Spirit Retreats.

Last year on this day I was on a personal retreat at Good Shepard Retreat House in South Africa, concluding three months volunteering at Sparrows AIDS Orphanage. I knew, at the time, that those three months were only a precursor to three years as a missionary somewhere in Africa, but I did not know it would be Uganda. How grateful I am to be here in this beautiful country, with people who don’t just believe in God, but live lives of” knowing” that God in their everyday existence.
Marie

Miss Olivia's Birthday Party !

My favorite picture: Ms. Olivia under the coffee table--that's where the fun is!

I know turning Two is big in any country, but I wanted to give Ms. Olivia a full fledged American Party (balloons and all) ! "Aunt Bonnie----Ms. Olivia----------and-----Mommy Justine ----make three!

Mom Justine says "Just take a deep breath and blow!"

Ms. Re and Ms. Olivia talk "Birthday"

Just one bite and chocolate will own you! "Aunt" Bonnie gives Ms. Olivia a piggy back ride home!

Maria and her son Peter-outside their home

Maria’s story continues:----------------------------------------- July 8, 2007

“One day when I had a bit of strength”. Maria returns to her story, “I tied my husbands clothes to make a small bundle which I passed over my head so that it dangled down my chest. I got a stick for support and slowly, resting several times on the way, tottered to the village to try and sell the clothes. They were part of the few valuables I had packed when we fled. I had carefully kept his best shirts, ties and suits for all this time. But let me tell you it was not easy keeping anything in the camps. Thefts were rampant, if you took your eyes off your belongings for just a second, something disappeared. One of my sons always stood guard whenever I moved off.

“Anyway, I went to town. But when I returned, however, I found the children alone crying. Their relatives had vanished. The children had looked and called for them everywhere in the camps until people told them not to bother because their relatives had moved on, to escape responsibility, I guess. That sort of thing happened fairly often, sometimes husbands abandoned wives and children.”

“Fortunately, I had managed to sell the clothes. That money helped to keep us alive.

You see after that trip to town, perhaps because of my exertion of walking some distance, I became very ill. The children and some good people in the camp did their best to nurse me. The children became mature overnight. They are wonderful children!”

Maria pauses in her storytelling and reaches into her small bundle. She pulls out a polythene bag and opens it. She gets out an exercise book, and as she opens it, a bunch of photographs pour into her lap. She picks them up and looks at them one at a time. She selects three and selects them more closely. As she does this, her face light up. There is a flicker of the beauty that was masked by the premature ageing . She hands me one “That is my oldest son Joseph” She hands me another. “That one on the left is my second boy, . the one next to him is Nsaba, my third son. And this is me carrying my daughter Rose, on my lap. She was about two years old then.”

They are lovely children. How old are they?” I ask.“Joseph, the oldest is sixteen, he is in class six. He is the spitting image of his father. The one who came after him is fourteen and in class five. Their youngest brother is twelve and in class four. The war in Rwanda interfered with their schooling. When we arrived here it took time to resume school. They lost about three years altogether. As soon as I got some strength and knew my way around, I got them back into school. They had problems adjusting to a different school system, different language and new people. The girl who is only seven is in class two. I gave birth to her the night I arrived in Kisoro.

“The situation was really bad in the camps. But God had not totally abandoned us .A distant relative of my mother heard of my state. His home was not far from the camp. He took us to his house where we rested for several days. He and his wife were very good to us and later told us how to get to Kisoro from Ruchuro. The money from the sale of the clothes came in very handy for the journey to Kisoro.

“You know, God is great, “ Maria announces dramatically and then pauses for quite some time as if to ponder on the greatness of God. She appears sad and shakes her head several times. “If we had remained in Gatare camp for just one more week, I would have delivered there and certainly would have died. My delivery at St. Francis Hospital, Mutolere was not easy, I was in labor for over six hours. I was weak and the baby was big. The doctors had decided to operate when by some miracle, I delivered. I bled a lot after the delivery and received several bottles of blood.

“You see, the taxi that brought us to Kisoro was the same one that took me to the hospital. I was so sick that the taxi driver did not have the heart to throw me out at the taxi park along with my little boys. All through the journey from Ruchuro, they huddled close to me, afraid that I might die. I prayed fervently through the journey that if I were to die, I should die after reaching Kisoro. I dreaded dying on the way and my children being abandoned in a totally foreign country. At least in Kisoro, they would eventually be traced to my people. I had provided my oldest son with some facts. He knew my brothers name, the name of the village of my birth and the name of my late father.

“I delivered that same night. I remember the date well; it was the 16^th of Sept.1994

Later, some of the patients recognized me and a message was sent to my brother.

He was very happy to see me alive, as he had feared I might have been killed in the war in Rwanda. He took the boys with him. Afterwards he regularly checked on me and generally took care of me

“I was so sick, I remained in the hospital over a month. Somehow my daughter was born strong and healthy. She is still a very healthy and happy girl,in spite of the fact that she did not breast feed. She was not born with* ”Slim”. She has been tested several times and each time she has been found negative.” Maria gives the beaming smile of a proud mother.

“As for me, I was informed soon after delivery that I had* “Slim”. I first became suspicious when I was told my daughter could not be breastfeed, they said she was too weak. They would only let me hold her a short time before taking her back. A nurse would stand by to make sure I did not feed my baby. I could see the baby was normal so I constantly begged to be allowed to feed her.”

“One morning, one of the nurses sat with me and we talked about many things. She was very friendly and ask me many questions. Then she explained why the doctors discouraged breast milk for my baby. I was sick; I had* “Slim”, she told me and my milk could expose the baby to the disease. “I was ready to do anything to save my daughters life.”

“The nurse told me many things about the disease and what to do to keep strong. She was very kind and gentle, she did not seem to blame me or think I was dirty.”

* Slim = AIDS

Maria and Marie celebrate the feast of St. Maria Goretti

Dear Friends July 6, 2007

Today is the feast day of St. Maria Goretti-----what better day to visit Maria as we share both a name and a patron saint!

Grace and I arrived gift in hand-a large bag of Irish potatoes and left with some dried beans (looked like kidney beans to me. ) What a fun visit this was! Maria looks better each time I see her and today was no exception. Her B/P was normal, her breath sounds were clear and full, and she looked lovely.

I asked her if she knew that this was our patron saints feast day and she did not but told me, thru Grace my helper and translator extraordinaire, that she knew about St. Maria Goretti and would like me to tell her anything I might know about her as well. So, I read from the weekday missal that Sr. Invialate has lent me:

St. Maria Goretti was born in 1890 at Ancon, Italy, of a poor Italian family. She was stabbed to death by a man who was attempting to rape her .Before she died in the hospital, she declared “I forgive him for the love of Jesus, and I pray that he may come with me to Paradise."
I recall the remainder of the story is that following his release from many years in jail, he became Maria’s greatest advocate for her canonization as a Saint of the Church which happened in 1950

I am not sure if it is because Grace translates so well or the connection between Maria and I is so strong, but we had such a wonderful visit with her health being a minor part of the conversation. We talked about Uganda, Italy and America and how, life though very different in each country, still had so much that is in common.: like poverty, family and primarily-- devotion to Jesus.

We shared stories of our lives and when Maria admired my pink nail polish and I said it matched her skirt, she didn’t hesitate to tell me that the two pinks were not the same at all-ha.
It made me remember a great line in a movie “Pink Magnolia?” when Julia Roberts character responded to someone about all the pink in her wedding being the same, something like” no they are not , this one is bashful and the other is (something else). . Ha- Who recalls that line?

In any case, it put us into peals of laughter, ending in going outside to the light to see who was correct. While outside we took some pictures one of which is included in this blog ; my favorite when Maria insisted my very blond ponytail be atop her very dark hair.(smile). What fun we had and how glorious to see Maria feeling so much better.

I’ll close with a thought from my reading this morning from “Daily Prayers for Busy People” by William J O’Malley SJ, which I think ties in with St.Maria Goretti’s ability to forgive the unforgivable and my Maria Goretti’s ability to laugh and be silly in the midst of poverty, illness and great tragedy.

God of kindness most of the days of my life

I have asked you to forgive my trespasses against you,

But only insofar as I forgive those who trespass against me.

Remind me of my need to be forgiven

and to forgive
AMEN.

Maria's story continues "Tears of Hope"

Mount Muhabura

My husband died at the hands of Ntoni, my own brother. Ntoni was at first in the army but later, together with some others, was sent home from the army. But when the 1994 war started, the discharged soldiers were recalled. Ntoni must have been happy to handle a gun again. He was a greedy man,I suppose it was the army that made him like th

He had never forgiven my husband: As I had told you earlier, my husband had never paid bride price for me, Ntoni held a grudge about that.. He had hoped the bride price would go to him, as brother of the bride. He, therefore, used the prevailing confusion of the war during our flight to carry out his revenge.. He was stationed in the area we passed thru as we fled. He found my husband and the children and duped them into believing he was going to offer them some help. My poor husband did not know how wicked the man could be. At night he tied him up and hit him repeatedly on the chest with a butt of a gun. He must have burst his lungs or his heart. The boys watched helplessly, while their so called uncle left him for dead.. The frightened children sat next to their father as the blood oozed from his mouth and nose throughout the night.

As soon as the light of day showed them a path, they ran to the roadside to seek help. Passers-by did what they could to help, but the damage was so bad, he died later that day. All this time I was happily following behind , unaware of what was happening. I did not find out until much later when I ran into the children in Goma town.

I had never been to Goma town ,many of us fleeing had never left our villages before. It was just by sheer luck that I noticed my children sitting alone like orphans on the veranda of some building.. I expected their father to be somewhere nearby. Then the children tearfully told me how their father was killed. I was horrified but not surprised. I had known the depth of Ntoni’s wickedness for a long time.

In Goma-Gisenyi we were heaped in camps. We would stay a few days, sometimes one night, in one camp and then move on. We stayed at Mugunga camp and at another one near Goma airport. My mother-in-law died in that camp. The next day we just abandoned the body and continued. That was common. A person would die and would be left unburied as people continued fleeing. There was no time and nobody prepared to bury the dead. Everyone was trying to get as far away from the Rwanda border as possible.

We were later moved to a camp at Gatare near Sabginyo Mountain. We lived in this camp for over 6 months .It was a bad time for me. I was sickly even before I became pregnant.. With the pregnancy and the bad conditions, I got worse. I was very weak and yet to survive one needed to be strong. You should have seen the pushing and shoving when rations were being distributed, it was not for those without strength. The children were still very small, they could not fight in that crowd. It was a very hard time. Only Bikira Maria (mother of Jesus) kept us from dying.

I would wait until the fighting was over and everybody had got their rations and left the compound before crawling to pick up the fallen grains from the dust, mud or even human excreta .We could have died from hunger, dysentery or any other disease, but , surprisingly the children did not get sick.. Do you see this rosary? It never leaves my neck It kept us, me and my children, alive in that camp.

All this time I kept close to my husbands relatives. I feared that if I died and they were not near relatives, they would be all alone. But when times get really bad sometimes people become bad also, that is what happened in my case.. It was clear that the children and I were a burden to them. They had to share with us the little food they had .I could see the bad feelings in their eyes, it was so unreasonable. They could see I was very ill, I hated having to depend on them. I always wanted to do things for myself. The situation was really bad.

In the distance from the camp I could see Mt.Muhabura tantalizingly close. I knew that just behind it lay my home. Many an evening I would just sit and look at it and pray.. At that time it was hard to imagine that I would ever see it from this side.

Maria raises her eyes to Muhabura. This conical-shaped volcanic mountain stands tall and majestic astride the Ugandan-Congo-Rwandan border. Because of it’s size, it looms so close it appears much closer than it actually is. The view is breathtaking!

There is not a whiff of mist. It stands high dressed in clear nakedness, like the innocent nakedness of a baby. This mighty giant was washed clean by the rain of the previous night.

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St. Francis Hospital-Mutolere Golden Jubille Celebration

Try and see the cross closely: It has the Trinity: The dove on top, an image of God the Father holding Jesus up on the cross. Quite impressive!
You can see all the nursing students in uniform in the back.


Dancing Priests, Sisters and Children. I'll join them in a year (smile)


Bishop Callist is the person responsiable for my being here in Uganda. He invited Lay Mission Helpers to come and help-----so here I am!
Pictures of the Extraordinary Mass (with three Bishops and a zillion Priests) What a special Day!
The new church was also dedicated.