Coming Full Circle
During my time here it seems that every day a new story unfolds, which I guess is what is only natural as you share life with a group of people.
Last year around this time I remember going through a difficult time, I called my friend Angie who is and has always been a trusted friend and great support. Getting to her house she made some tea and we sat on her porch overlooking the street and talking about life. Everyone has their own story of life the joys and sorrows all mixed together. It seems we are all wishing for the wounds of the past to mend. Even in the mending it seems difficult to not look upon the scars and not to remember the pain you once felt. Sitting on her porch that day holding the warm mug in hand my eyes filled with tears. I cried for the things lost and the question if the pains of the past will ever go away, as I spoke out things that have laid silent in me for years. There is relief in the breaking of silence as if the sunlight is hitting blind eyes for the first time and I am still straining to see. Freedom is a funny thing it seems that you always remember the details of when it came and the people who walked with you through it. The thing I remember most is that as I spoke of my brokenness and anger I saw Angie’s eyes filled with tears and anger rise at the injustice. Comfort comes with the compassion of a friend sharing these moments with you, my hope is only that I can be this for someone on their road to freedom, a listening ear, open heart and a warm cup of tea as we sit and talk watching the fall come in.
Tonight my heart aches as I return to my room. This evening I went with my friend Karina and Ruthie (two American girls that are staying on the islands) into the village visiting some people. Evening in the village is always full of energy. Families sitting outside their homes preparing their dinners. Music fills the air as children play in the small alleys between houses.
Walking into the village we meet up with Susan who is a girl finishing her last year of primary school. She moved to Lingira to go to school, many of the other islands don’t have schools or function below standards having only one or two teachers to cover the range of seven years. Most of the teachers on the other islands have limited educations themselves making it difficult for them to reach the standards of education that the school should be running at.
Susan was able to come and stay on the island when she was offered housing from a friend of the family. She lives with two other girls in a small house. All of the girls in this house are left to fend for themselves, none of them have parents living on the island so banded together they try to overcome the struggles and care for the needs of one another. Wanting to spend some time with these girls this evening so Susan came with us as we went about on our visits.
I find myself sitting with a man who is sick in his final stages of AIDS. He loves music so we sat in his home singing with him. There is very little you can offer in these times music seems not enough and yet it is all we have to give, unable to fix this disease that is ravaging his body. Malaria is taking over and seems to be winning this fight I watch his mother care for him she states he is only taking liquids now, tomorrow we will go to the hospital.
Next we stop and sit in a small mud hut women who is also sick with AIDS and is too weak to work. We sit and talk over the soft glow of the lamp that offers little light to her room. The house looks like that of an abandon work shop, a storage room for odds and ends that you are sure will come in handy in the future. We sit and talk of her day to day life. She has been sick for some time thinking that death was knocking at her door. Unable to afford food or meds she laid in bed alone praying for God to be near. Provision comes by the care and feeding of those in the village and through the care of those around her she is better. The simplicity of this women’s life, and her gratitude astounds me that one can find gratitude in a bowl of rice and see it as a great provision, its hard not to find conviction in my ungratefulness.
Leaving her home we walk with Susan to her house under the dim lighting of flashlight I follow her. Arriving at Susan’s home we sit with her and Jackie. Jackie sits reading her studying her books though she has been chased from school unable to meet her school fees. Jackie greets us her eyes darting to the floor. Karina says she had wanted to come and visit. The girls had been attacked in her their home the night before. The man had come after Jackie. This was the second time this man had broke into their home and come after Jackie. For the second time she was able to fight him off this time only with the help of a women who had needed a place to stay and was sleeping in the other room. Hearing the commotion she came to Jackie’s aid. The man was taken to jail as Jackie filed a report, after all the forms had been filed then came the demanding of fees. Here it is the victims job to pay for the guards, food for the prisoner, and transportation to the mainland jail. Without these fees being paid the man would be released in the next day or two. Criminals like this seek vengeance for the shame that was brought upon their name, not only is their fear that this man will come and take what has been denied him twice but her life could be the great sacrifice for bringing on such suffering. Jackie sits beside me quietly. There has been no money for this girl to even eat, and now she would have to pay to feed the mouth of her attacker to ensure her safety. Here in her innocence she stood being chased from school, without food and a criminal will receive better treatment than the innocent. This is the injustice of a corrupt government. I cry out for justice.
Trying not cry I sit on beside her I hold it all in swallowing hard so trying to hold my voice steady.
That evening I remember sitting on Angie’s porch. My heart had been so filled with wounds of the past, justice that had never come and truly I had come to terms now that it never will but it was the wound on my soul that demanded vengeance. The next day Angie told me that she had thought of me all that night and as she was driving to work she was hit with this passage and didn’t remember the exact words. As she read it she felt it was for me, this is what it said….

The wilderness and the desert will be glad,
And the Arabah will rejoice and blossom;
Like the crocus it will blossom profusely
And rejoice with the rejoicing and shout of joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it
The majesty of our God.
Encourage the exhausted and strengthen the feeble.
Say to those with anxious heart, take courage, fear not.
Behold, your God will come with vengeance;
The recompense of God will come, But He will save you.
Then the eyes of the blind will be opened and the ears of the deaf will be unstopped.
Then the lame will leap like the deer, and the tongue of the mute will shout for joy.
For waters will break forth in the wilderness and streams in the Arabah.
The scorched land will become a pool and the thirsty ground springs of water;
In the haunt of jackals, its resting place,
Grass becomes reeds and rushes.

Sitting with Jackie that night I was remembered of the comfort this brought me. That my dry heart would rejoice again, that strength would come to my weary body and in that I could have courage. Vengeance may have not come in the form of what we as humans see is justice but God was just in that my heart would not be stolen to. For sure there has been springs of water in this dry land.
I pray not only for healing to come for Jackie but that true justice will prevail.
In talking to a friend from home I told her the story about this girl and how so many things would be relieved if she had a sponsor for school. It seems like Jackie might have found that sponsor. Jackie will be able to return to school in January and she and Susan both will be able to move to the student hostiles which are secure, all students there are provided with three meals a day. It seems that truly the wilderness and desserts will be glad.
This is merely a glimpse of the stories I hear daily. In that I am trying to find hope in that which is bigger than myself. Sometimes I find myself in wonder surely this people is not forgotten. I don’t think I will ever be able to solve the mysteries of life, why bad things happen to good people, why the criminal goes free while the victim suffers, or why with watchful eyes we watch those we love in pain but I don’t know if we were meant to understand such things. My hope is that through all of life’s journey that I will come to see that there is both joy and peace to be found.

The Suffering Heart
My last update was placed on this site by Amanda I had intending on writing this journal entire too but there was so many problems with the computers that day that both of these are quite delayed!
This journal writing is from October 31, 2006
Today was a bad day. It seemed that everything that I put my hand to ended up messing up. Spending the day in Jinja from the computers to the market. To top it all off I found out that my visa was denied which leads to me crossing the border to renew it every three months. Quite an inconvenience and more of my budget that was unaccounted for. I’m ready to go back to the island. My friend Robert connected with me in the afternoon and I’m so thankful to not spend the rest of the afternoon alone. Robert is sick though and my needing to run all over town still is not good for his already tired body. He has typhoid. Everyone at home is sick which leads for a sort of sadness that hovers over the island. Illness here is not like the common flu, you never know the outcome and the common cold is usually not found but is replaced by the reality of something potentially serious. Poor Robert not only deals with my illness but my sadness and disappointment of a really bad day. Just when I thought the day couldn’t get worse Robert's phone rings, its Joyce she is crying, her Aunt passed today, a single mother of five kids.
Joyce has been my closest friend during my time here on the islands. She teaches history at the secondary school. The school has only been open for the year and is the primary reason she has moved to the island. She had heard of the position through Robert. Robert has come to know their family well over the years first befriending her sister. Joyce's sister passed two years ago unexpectantly. Last year her Grandfather died and now this. Joyce has already been worried as her younger sister has been ill now for some months. Upon my return home I drop my things and go to check on Joyce. Her room is filled with people coming to comfort her. Joyce holds a mask on her face. I’m fine she reply’s as I ask her how she is... but really how are you she says... Some moments later she excuses her self. I can hear Joyce crying outside her home, the kind of tears that only can come from your belly when you are unsure that the pain will ever leave.
In the past Joyce has been known to go into hyperventilating, crying with her heart being so overwhelmed. Concerned for her state and the fact that she gets so upset that her breathing becomes strained I tell Joyce I will stay with her and go home to prepare for a night with my friend who needs me!
Walking with pillow in hand I pray that God be with me. In moments like these it’s hard to know what to do. Joyces food remains untouched (Robert says he heard she hasn’t eaten all day). I grab the basin and water for her hands. She tries to refuse me but with a little persistence she washes her hands and takes the meal I hand her.
This small mud hut with a tin roof. Her single bed pushed against the wall with a mattress behind it for Petra, a neighbor girl whose Mothers home is too small for al of her children. Joyce gladly shares her home with this young girl at night. I help her settle Petra in on the floor when we are greeted by Justine with radio in hand. (Justine is a beautiful heavy set African she is much older than us and speaks very little English.) She too has decided to stay with Joyce. Another mattress is squeezed on the floor Petra balled up on the small mat in the corner. I am to share Joyce’s bed with her.
The lamp is left on dimly and Justine tries to tune her radio in I have to sleep with noise she says. She finally settles on a Ugandan preacher who speaks with such soul and charisma that it shakes the speakers filling the room with static. I have never cared much for radio evangelists and though I didn’t understand a word this man was saying I think it is safe to say that I didn’t enjoy this man much either. After the radio is set Justine informs Joyce that she sleeps in the nude as she undresses. Joyce laughs and relays the message, I laugh to not really all that surprised by the freedom most Africans possess not being the least bit self conscious. I lay in bed and Joyce grabs my hand with tears she starts praying a prayer of thanksgiving for my friendship, its hard to receive as I know she needs nothing but just what I am offering. After she is done I pray for her, that God would give her peace for what I cannot fix. That he stand beside her and her family in their loss and watch over her as she travels tomorrow. I say good night as I finish and Justine’s naked body sits up, fully confident she kneels and prays for Joyce the way a mother prays for her child. I have to laugh to myself; even in the sadness of this grief watching a large African woman pray in the nude is still somewhat humorous.
Joyce spent the night fairly sleepless. She feels God has abandoned her and her family. She wonders at how fair a God is to continue year after year to see her family suffer. I have no answer for these things, as they are life’s mystery. All I can do is pray for Joyce that somehow through it all the God of peace would find her and comfort what I cannot begin to unfold. I pray for a miracle to come and heal her sister knowing that her lose would be more than they could take. My heart is saddened as I see Joyce go on the boat. I will never understand why we were created to love only to be open to such lose in return, and yet again it is truly the only thing worth living for.
Note: any responses given on this site are great but some of you I have no email addresses for! My email address is jessicaadlora@yahoo.com if you want to be added to my email list! Thanks!

The Suffering Heart
My last update was placed on this site by Amanda I had intending on writing this jornal entrie too but there was so many problems with the computers that day that both of these are quite delayed!
This jornal writing is from October 31, 2006
Today was a bad day. It seemed that everything that I put my hand to ended up messing up. Spending the day in Jinja from the computers to the market. To top it all off I found out that my visa was denied which leads to me crossing the border to renew it every three monthes. Quite an inconvenience and more of my budget that was unaccounted for. Im ready to go back to the island. My friend Robert connected with me in the afternoon and im so thankful to not spend the rest of the afternoon alone. Robert is sick though and my needing to run all over town still is not good for his already tired body. He has typoid. Everyone at home is sick which leads for a sort of sadness that hovers over the island. Illness here is not like the common flu, you never know the outcome and the common cold is usually not found but is replaced by the reality of something potentially serious. Poor Robert not only deals with my illness but my sadness and disapointmentment of a really bad day. Just when I thought the day couldnt get worse Robert's phone rings, its Joyce she is crying, her Aunt passed today, a single mother of five kids.
Joyce has been my closest friend during my time here on the islands. She teaches history at the secondary school. The school has only been open for the year and is the primary reason she has moved to the island. She had heard of the position through Robert. Robert has come to know there family well over the years first befriending her sister. Joyce's sister passed two years ago unexpectantly. Last year her Grandfather died and now this. Joyce has already been worried as her younger sister has been ill now for some months. Upon my return home I drop my things and go to check on Joyce. Her room is filled with people coming to comfort her. Joyce holds a mask on her face. Im fine she replys as I ask her how she is... but really how are you she says... Some moments later she excuses her self. I can hear Joyce crying outside her home, the kind of tears that only can come from your belly when you are unsure that the pain will ever leave.
In the past Joyce has been known to go into hyperventalating, crying with her heart being so overwelmed. Concerned for her state and the fact that she gets so upset that her breathing becomes strained I tell Joyce I will stay with her and go home to prepair for a night with my friend who needs me!
Walking with pillow in hand I pray that God be with me. In moments like these its hard to know what to do. Joyces food remains untouched (Robert says he heard she hasnt eaten all day). I grab the basin and water for her hands. She tries to refuse me but with a little persistance she washes her hands and takes the meal I hand her.
This small mud hut with a tin roof. Her single bed pushed against the wall with a matress behind it for Petra, a neighbor girl whose Mothers home is too small for al of her children. Joyce gladly shares her home with this young girl at night. I help her settle Petra in on the floor when we are greated by Justine with radio in hand. (Justine is a beautiful heavy set african she is much older than us and speaks very little english.) She too has decided to stay with Joyce. Another matress is squezed on the floor Petra balled up on the small mat in the corner. I am to share Joyces bed with her.
The lamp isenendosi convinto dell'utilità della missione in Iraq, ha fatto sapere di aver accolto le dimissioni del segretario alla difesa e ha annunciato che al posto di rumsfeld sarà presto nominato robert gates, ex capo della cia dal '91 al '93, già alle dipendenze di sei presidenti americani sia democratici che repubblicani (compreso il padre di bush), attuale direttore di un'importante università del texas." dunque, non so voi, ma io fra i rettori universitari conosco diciamo... 7... forse... una buona decina di massoni. ma in america la massoneria non esiste. nossignori, triangolo e compasso sono solo elementi decorativi delle banconote, previsti da ralph lauren. quindi, fidiamoci del nuovo inquilino del pentagono: anche se i militari volevano rumsfeld, anche se i cowboys resteranno in iraq a finire il lavoro, e sono in guerra, sono in guerra con troppa gente, oramai. intanto, il petrolio costa sempre più caro, di anna e della cecenia non si parla più, la finanziaria è una barzelletta da tremila spulciatine, per non perdere due voti al senato allarghiamo i termini per la presentazione dei documenti per il rimborso elettorale a due senatori in quota alla maggioranza, la regione campania ha una floridissima rete di ambasciate all'estero e a napoli non accade più nulla, o quasi. da bambina, quando volevo far vedere che sapevo fare le pulizie, infilavo tutto sotto al tappeto. credo sia uno degli sport preferiti dall'uomo.
B9 caro, di anna e della cecenia non si parla più, la finanziaria è una barzelletta da tremila spulciatine, per non perdere due voti al senato allarghiamo i termini per la presentazione dei documenti per il rimborso elettorale a due senatori in quota alla maggioranza, la regione campania ha una floridissima rete di ambasciate all'estero e a napoli non accade più nulla, o quasi. da bambina, quando volevo far vedere che sapevo fare le pulizie, infilavo tutto sotto al tappeto. credo sia uno degli sport preferiti dall'uomo.

Like no other Wedding I have seen!
The trip to Torrio is a long bumpy road. I think my butt spent more time in the air then it did on the seat. That’s kind of the way of Uganda roads but I am told that the roads here are nice in comparison to Kenya. I don’t want to know! There was about twenty of us total that jumped into the van to go for the two-hour drive. As you go through part of the journey you can see baboons that come right up to the side of the road unafraid of all the cars passing by. We decided to slow down to see if we could get some snaps. Amanda tried to woo them closer to the vehicle to get a better shot. She grabbed some biscuits out of her purse and before you knew it the baboon was ready to jump through the window to get the goodies. Needless to say Amanda screamed and threw the treats out the window and we sped off as to avoid the van being overtaken by the whole clan of baboons. Defiantly some entertainment that you would never capture at the local zoo.
We got to Torrio at 11:30am for a 12:00pm wedding which soon after was pushed back to 2:00pm, which was still enough time to make the wedding and get back to town. Most of the people in the van were from the islands and we were taking a boat back late that night. Besides that our taxi driver needed to be back by a certain time and really wanted to leave by. So we waited and went to get lunch knowing the we might not make it to enough of the reception to eat, African culture makes a ceremony out of all events and it seems to draw things out.
So 2:00 rolls around and still no signs of the wedding starting, we headed over to the church and waited but their were no signs of the bride or groom. We continue waiting patiently wondering what is going on. Now let me say it is not uncommon for things to run behind in this country, its known as “Africa Time” but for a wedding to delay this much seemed to even have the locals concerned. 4:00pm and still no one has shown and we have to pile back into the taxi and return home. Finally one of them men we were with received a text from Joy (the bride) saying that she didn’t know what was going on but her Father was demanding three hundred million shillings which is the equivalent of about $1300.00 in addition to the cattle given for her payment before he would give his blessing. So here was Joy, the day of her wedding, waiting for the blessing of her Father so she could wed and instead here was her husband running around town trying to pay off Joy’s Father for the price of his bride.
Some time around 7:00pm long after we had gone home along with many of the other guests David and Joy wed and followed it up with a reception. When later asking Joy if she was angry she said no I had faith that God would surly not let my wedding fail. It seemed amazing to me that she had remained so calm and that they still honored the irrational desire of her Father who cared more for the love of money than the happiness and care of his daughter.
Upon Joy’s arrival back to the islands this week her husband David came with and is able to stay for the next to weeks. The island put together a grand celebration and everyone came. All the children sang and performed and many speeches were afforded in congrats to the couple. I sat near the couple as they smiled happily and was grateful that even though there wedding wasn’t as they expected, this could not be stolen. David and Joy now wonder why they didn’t have their wedding on the island in the first place having been so overwhelmed by the love and care of the people on the island.
Congratulations David and Joy! May you find comfort and strength in each other, and may love remain through all the days of your lives together and happiness be written upon the doorframe of your home!