COMPASSION- Guest Blog, written by MAF supporter, John Butterworth

Showing Compassion to sponsored Ugandan boy, Bwambale

Long-time MAF supporters John and Jan Butterworth spent two weeks in Uganda in August this year. They went to see Andrew and Liz Parker and their children Esther, Ben and Joel whom they have supported when they were in South Sudan and now in Kampala. In the second of three blogs John tells of meeting Bwambale.

Besides visiting the Parker family the other reason we went to Uganda was to visit a nine-year-old boy we had been sponsoring for five years.

Through the international charity, "Compassion", we had been supporting Bwambale to ensure he has a basic education and regular medical check-ups.

Now we were going to meet him and his family at the project in the remote west of the country, only five kilometres from the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo.

At 8am on Monday, August 27 our driver and guide, Ham, picked us up from the Makindye Country Club, a lovely hotel on the edge of Kampala where we had stayed for our first week.

As he drove us in his minibus to Fort Portal and our hotel for the next two nights, he told us Compassion has 293 projects in Uganda where they look after 95,000 of the poorest children.

It was our first trip outside the capital and the tarmac roads, some built by Chinese money and contractors, were surprisingly good and much better than the pot-holed streets of Kampala.

It was interesting to pass through the lush green countryside and the towns full of mobile phone and hardware shops, plus stalls with locally grown fruit and vegetables for sale. We also saw the poorer side of life with children herding cattle, families collecting wood and people selling charcoal.

As we approached Fort Portal the landscape became more mountainous and more beautiful with banana, mango, avocado trees and coffee, tea and cocoa plantations on either side of the road.

Late afternoon we arrived at our modern conference and wedding hotel built only seven years ago. But we were surprised how few guests were there. Also there was no safe box in our room, plus a limited menu and no filter coffee in the restaurant – even though we had passed hundreds of coffee trees on our journey there. However, it was a pleasant stay with comfortable beds, good wi-fi, lovely gardens and bed and breakfast all for £20 each per night.

The following morning we set off on a two-and-a-half hour journey over the mountains to Compassion Project UG-256 in Bundimbuga district not knowing what to expect.

In the town we met Philip from the project as we wanted to buy some food for the children and Bwambale’s family.

It was only a corner shop but the owner enlisted the help of a mechanic waiting in the queue to go and fetch sugar, rice, bread and 250 lollipops from nearby stores to fulfil this unusual grocery order.

After a while the shopping was put in boxes and we were off with Ham and new passenger Philip for the half hour trip up a very bad sandy and rocky road.

As we turned the corner at the top we were overwhelmed to see 250 children all in tribal dress singing and dancing and going wild at the sight of our minibus. Their faces were covered in chalk with words of welcome written on their foreheads and out of the crowd stepped Bwambale to greet us.

What a welcome – the children greet us, singing and dancing:

The children then changed into their bright red school uniforms and we joined them and the staff in the church.

First meeting – John and Bwambale

 Although the building was basic with no glass in the windows the service was full of joyous African singing, dancing and praising God. The head girl gave a short sermon in English and Swahili before some pupils recited Biblical memory verses.

Afterwards the children were ecstatic to be given the 250 balloons and lollipops and we had enough left over for the villagers and the children looking in through the open windows.

Up in the air – the children enjoy their balloon gifts:

It is incredible that in the 21^st century in this remote part of Uganda there are no mains electricity, no TVs, computers and wi-fi. Even more amazing our translator Ham said some villagers had come specially to meet us as they had never seen a white person. Some of the children even asked whether we had red or white blood.

Showing Compassion – the project at Bundimbuga:

Next was our second breakfast of the day as we ate cows’ liver, plantain (fried bananas), eggs tomatoes and peanuts. Then Bwambale joined us in our minibus for the 15-minute ride to show us his two-roomed home and to meet his mum and dad, gran, aunt and uncle plus an older brother and sister and a younger brother.

His parents, who worked away in a cocoa plantation, had come home for this special day and very movingly they thanked us for our sponsorship and said what a difference it had made to Bwambale and the family.

Our presents to the family, including a Bible and a rucksack for Bwambale, were well received. Then we were shocked to be given gifts in return – a basket for Jan that his mum had made and a straw Ugandan hat and a football that Bwambale had put together for me out of banana tree fibres.

Later Jan was given a smart green and yellow beaded evening bag which one of the girls at the project had made.

Finally, I was taken outside where many villagers joined the family who presented me with a home-made wooden scooter. I had a go on it, much to the amusement of the crowd, before I presented it back to Bwambale asking him to look after it for me until I next came out to see him.

On his bike – Bwambale’s family present John, complete with his Ugandan hat and football made from banana fibres, with a wooden scooter they had made him:

Back at the project there was a lunch feast waiting of plantains, matoke, rice, cassava, chicken, beef, peanut sauce, watermelon and pineapple before we were shown Bwambale’s school and medical reports and a booklet with all the letters I had written to him.

Afterwards we were asked to plant a ‘Jan and John Umbrella tree’, with Bwambale’s help, to mark our visit before I played football with some of the children. Our final honour was to watch the project’s football final and to present a splendid trophy to the winning team, which I was delighted to see included Bwambale.

It was humbling to see none of the players had football boots; they all played bare-footed on a rough piece of ground with makeshift goalposts. Two minutes into the final a shot brought down one of the crossbars and there was a short delay while a new branch was found.

After a packed day it was time to say an emotional farewell as all 250 children sang and danced and followed our minibus down the track.

Everyone was so grateful for us coming – but the honour was ours. We learnt so much from them and were humbled to see all that they did even though they had so little.

The project has been going for four years, yet we were only the second sponsors to go and visit the site.

Some Compassion sponsors of other projects made it to Kampala and the children were brought to see them in the capital. But the visitors missed so much not seeing remote Uganda and the youngsters at school and in their homes.

It costs us £25 a month to pay for Bwambale’s basic education and medical checks, a small amount to us but it meant so much to Bwambale and his family.

As a journalist for 44 years I have been fortunate to have had some amazing times and experiences. But this day visiting Bwamble has to be one of the most unexpected, amazing and humbling days of my life.

Amani- meaning "Peace"

On December 12th 2016, a taxi drew up to large orange gates set within imposing concrete walls.

The taxi driver honked the horn of his vehicle and the gates were drawn open by a young, slim and conscientious guard.

This was how we met Amani, the day of our arrival at our Kampala home.

Amani had been appointed to work for us by MAF. We quickly realised that in this hard-working young man we had the perfect person to guard our home and keep our garden looking healthy, tidy and colourful.

It is a sad fact of life in Kampala that leaving our home unguarded is almost asking for a break-in. Having someone on the property for 24 hour security had to become the norm.

**************************

Amani came from Congo. He had fled to Uganda as a refugee, seeking peace when his home country was embroiled in conflict. Unemployed for long periods, he was glad to have work as a guard for a MAF home, despite being well educated in the French language with his Secondary level certificate.

Amani also spoke Swahili. Since he had not yet grasped English, I communicated with Amani in French and Andrew chose to communicate with him in Swahili.

Reliable, discreet, trust-worthy and with a keen work ethic, Amani proved to be a great asset as we settled into life in Kampala. Coming on time each morning, he helped to man the gates, cut the grass, manage the gardening and keep an eye on security.

If supplies ran low Amani would pop to the shops to grab what was needed.
If we needed to stay out later than his normal working hours, he was happy to be flexible and stay later, earning over-time and ensuring the property was not left unguarded.
When the car broke down and mechanics came, he was the spare pair of hands that helped out:

(Amani stands in the blue jacket in front of the car)

Once, I rushed out to drive the children to school and in my great haste, accidentally left the front door wide open. Amani simply guarded the door until our return. Scrupulously honest, our home was in safe hands.

When Harry arrived on the scene, he and Amani became easy companions. We had all settled into a smooth rhythm. We had peace of mind knowing that Amani was working for us- true to his name.

Keeping the garden pretty- thanks to Amani

Earlier this year, Amani announced good news- he was going to marry a girl from his native Congo! His family in Congo were sorting out the dowry that he would have to pay. We were pleased he would soon be able to bring his fiancee to Kampala as his wife.

In late May, he departed for Congo for three weeks to try to finalise arrangements for his marriage. He would be taking the bus for an arduous ride from Kampala into Congo.

Shortly before leaving, he had come to work looking unwell and explained that he had terrible stomach ache and could not do the gardening, but would it be OK if he just manned the gate and guarded the property for the last couple of days before his journey?

Thinking that this was just a stomach bug, I gave him some rehydration medicine and asked what the doctor had said. The doctor didn't seem to know what was wrong. Amani resolved to travel to Congo as planned, despite being in much pain.

When he left work for his journey, I didn't know that I would never see Amani again. We fully expected to see him in a few weeks, hopefully returning a married man with all marriage and dowry details finally resolved.

Very early on the morning that Amani was due back at work, his cousin came to see me and explained that Amani could not return because he was in hospital in Congo! His stomach pain had become intense. He had spent most of his time in Congo very poorly and in hospital. Contrary to expectation, the mystery illness worsened until the family decided to pay for him to be transferred to Burundi for an operation.

Stomach pain, wounds in his stomach and vomiting blood were the symptoms described to me. With renewed fighting and chaos in Congo, very little healthcare was available. His cousin sent me a photograph of Amani, in deprived conditions, looking very ill and in pain. It was sad to see.

We had to find a relief guard, but the new man was not so motivated to get on with the work and found it difficult to manage the dog. One afternoon he was unable to secure our heavy gates, not being used to the way they operate.
I drove down our steep driveway but cringed as the heavy metal gate came crashing into the side of the vehicle, ripping the mud guard off the side of the car. I cringed even more as the sharp edge of the gate scratched the paint, scraping along the side of the moving car. Argh!!

All was fixed later that day, but we missed the efficiency of Amani's work.

The relief guard then needed time off. We got a second relief guard. He worked happily for a couple of days but then did not turn up one day. Instead, he sent a message saying that he disliked the hours we had asked him to work and would only come if we employed him for the hours he had decided on. Hmmm- this did not bode well for an easy working relationship- so we asked the first relief guard to come back after his days off!

Poor Harry was beside himself as the people in the garden with him day by day kept changing. He became snappy and sprouted grey hairs in his black coat. The dog was stressed, not knowing who to trust.

Finally, Amani's cousin came to see me a  second time. He told me that Amani was actually too ill to be moved to the Burundi hospital.. I felt terrible for Amani. It was horrible to think of him suffering so much. We redoubled our prayers for him and for his finacee.

The cousin brought with him one of Amani's relatives- a calm, efficient young man- who took over Amani's role and worked for us in Amani's continued absence.

The day before we left for England, the phone rang. It was Amani's cousin. Upset, he told me that he had some bad news. He was right- it was horrible news. Amani had died that morning in Congo.  Relieved from his incessant pain but deprived of his upcoming marriage.

Shock hit hard. I wasn't expecting such finality. Both myself and Jane, the lady who works for us, were very upset by the sad news.

It seems life here can be short. War, poverty, refugee status, more war and inadequate healthcare because of war. So sad. So unecessary. Would Amani's life have been safely intact if he had lived in a developed nation, with stability, less poverty and access to proper healthcare?

Because we had to leave for England the next day, we were unable to atend the Kampala family gathering to show support and solidarity. Other relatives travelled to Congo for the funeral. We felt bad that we could not offer more support. other than a phone call to the family to say how much we had appreciated Amani and his good work.

In East Africa, funerals are expensive affairs where family and friends are expected to contribute. This was the least we could do- but it felt like so little. I left Kampala with a heavy heart for Amani's family and knowing that his finacee had great loss.

If you are a praying person, please keep his family and his finacee in your prayers. For comfort, for provision, for peace for the people of Congo.

Last week, I ventured across our garden to the guard's room where the guards change out of their everyday clothes to their working clothes and where they store any belongings they want to keep safe. I found Amani's work clothes hanging on the pegs, where he and I fully anticipated him taking them down to wear again.

As I laid eyes on his red and blue checked shirt, I pictured Amani standing in our garden, watering the plants and quietly going about his work. I brushed away the tears as I picked up his clothes and took them to the machine to wash them.

Later, as I hung out Amani's clothes to dry, both Esther and I had to swallow hard. How sad, to hang up his clothes knowing that there was now no Amani to wear them again...

 

Guest Blog: by John Butterworth: On cloud nine when I became a ‘co-pilot’ with MAF

On cloud nine when I became a ‘co-pilot’ with MAF   

Long-time MAF supporters John and Jan Butterworth spent two weeks in Uganda in August this year. They went to see Andrew and Liz Parker and their children Esther, Ben and Joel whom they have supported when they were in South Sudan and now in Kampala. In the first of three blogs John tells of a big surprise on their third day of their holiday.

It is every boy’s dream to sit in the front seat of a plane next to the pilot.

I had to wait until I was 65 years old but I was still as excited as any youngster as I put on my headset when I was invited to join MAF pilot Eivind in the cockpit of the 17-seater Cessna 208 Caravan.

We had arrived only on the Sunday to see the mission society’s work at first hand and on the Monday we were told there were two free seats on the plane the next day. Were we interested?

We were not going to miss that chance of a lifetime and we were ready for the 6.30am lift to the Kajansi airfield between Kampala and Entebbe.

After a safety briefing, and the other six passengers and luggage safely onboard, we then had clearance for take-off for the first of our three stops, Kotido in remote North Eastern Uganda, home of the Karamojong people.

With my headset on it gave me a fascinating glimpse of the two-way communication between the control tower and the pilot.

On the right wavelength – ‘Co-pilot’ John Butterworth

Ten minutes after take-off I was slightly unnerved to see heavy rain and lightning on the left side of the plane.

It was also a little worrying to see Eivind looking out of the window and steering his way through a gap in clouds as he explained the plane was not built to go through heavy rain clouds, particularly if there were hail stones.

But he reassured me that was normal procedure and the rain soon stopped. As the sun came out we enjoyed the spectacular scenery of crossing the River Nile and looking down on the new hydro-electric dam being built hundreds of feet below.

The headset gave me the chance to chat one-to-one with Eivind as he explained how he had joined MAF and how he had grown up partly in Norway and partly in Ethiopia where both his parents and grandparents had been missionaries.

I was also impressed to hear that he had traced his family tree back to the 9^th century. I am still struggling back in the 19^th century tracing my ancestors.

Soon it was the first landing of the day in Kotido. I looked in vain for the grass strip runway as we flew over sparsely populated areas with tribal settlements and small flocks of sheep and goats.

A view of some of the settlements from the air

There was no one to be seen as we made a fairly smooth landing in a scrubland clearing.

As the plane came to a stop, out of nowhere appeared villagers in colourful tribal dress to greet us. I had seen that type of picture in many missionary magazines but now those pages came to life.

A tribal welcome as we land in Moroto

I thought about Liz Parker’s mum who had spent some time there as a teacher with the Church Missionary Society and how she was able to revisit the Kotido airstrip near to her old school thanks to MAF in August last year. (See blog post: Monday, 28 August 2017  “MAF Makes a Dream Come True” )

 Then on the horizon there was a cloud of smoke as a vehicle came towards the grass track and two English grandparents boarded our plane after saying tearful farewells to their grandchildren and their two parents working as Christian doctors in remote Uganda.

It would probably be a couple of years before the family would be reunited again.

But what an itinerary for Gran and Grandpa: Kotido – Moroto – Soroti – Kajjansi – Entebbe – Dubai – London Heathrow. No other passengers on Emirates Airlines would be able to match that.

We were soon taking off again, this time for the short hop to Moroto to drop off and pick up more passengers before flying on to Soroti where I changed places with my wife Jan and she put on the headset for the return journey sitting next to the pilot.

Back at the MAF base we had lunch with some of the other MAF pilots, including Andrew Parker who had flown in a smaller Cessna 206 plane to north-west Uganda that morning.

After a tour of the hangar and the engineering/ repair centre we were taken back to our Kampala hotel after an amazing day.

Although I had been an MAF supporter all my life it was amazing to hear at first hand some of the vital work that MAF does all over the world:

- transporting sick patients to hospital

- taking Christian workers to remote outposts

- bringing important relief to people in Uganda and South Sudan.

I was privileged to be a ‘co-pilot’ and to have such a bird’s eye view of Christian work on this flying visit that few have the chance to see.