Alma (The Younger)

"I will be healed as I let Him teach me to heal."

I never thought in a million years I would ever be saying the following sentence:

I, Mallory Hurst, delivered twin baby boys at 11:25 am and 11:45 am on July 28, 2008 at Kawolo Hospital in Lugazi, Uganda Africa.



The next logical question is, "WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU DELIVERED TWINS, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN, YOU'VE NEVER EVEN SEEN A BIRTH TAKE PLACE, HAVE YOU EVEN EVER TAKEN ANATOMY?!" Well, no to the anatomy question and yes to my never witnessing an actual birth. The rest might need a few paragraphs.

I volunteered in the maternity ward at Kawolo Hospital that morning with the intent to bathe babies and sit with expecting mothers (at which point I assumed they would be wheeled away to a restricted area and I would continue on.) It seemed like a reasonable expectation. If I've learned anything in Africa it's that there is no such thing as a "reasonable expectation". It doesn't exist here.

I was sitting with a woman named Brenda, who was very pregnant and dilated to about an 8. I learned that she is originally from Pakistan, has three other girls ranging in age from 7 to 14, her husband works in Lugazi (which is why he wasn't there with her) and she is of the Protestant faith. I also learned, by timing her contractions and monitoring her baby's heartbeat.... that she has a very tight grip. After a while, I started to notice that her contractions were getting closer together and more intense. I called for a nurse, but upon receiving no response, I started to sweat a little. I knew they were coming. I continued to comfort her and breathe with her. She kept saying, "It is too much for me," and "Jesus, momma, Jesus, God." Can you blame her? She was lying on an old blue mattress pad on top of a rusty metal bed frame about to give birth without any medication or doctor present. Only a 22 year old white girl from Idaho who was about as medically useful as a potato....

At that point, Brenda was screaming and I got the sudden courage to lift up her slip and prepare for the worst. I blinked a few times to confirm that I was ACTUALLY seeing two little brownish blue feet coming out of a grown woman. I almost fainted. I started screaming for a nurse but no one came. The only mid-wife/doctor there, at the time, was conducting an emergency C-Section in the other room. All of the nurses were there assisting in that effort. I put a plastic apron on and gloves that came up to my elbows, just as the nurse walked in...laughing hysterically at me. If there were ever a more backwardly surreal moment in history...



She didn't understand why I was panicked. She had full faith in me. In Lugazi, and in other parts of Uganda, they believe that all white people are extremely well educated (in all areas), and rich. I was neither. She told me, in broken English, that I was going to deliver the baby. Wait..... wait. They were aware I did not know how to deliver a baby right? That I was not qualified! I was terrified, and trembling, and dizzy. But the baby was coming, with assistance or without. So, we grabbed the little guys foot and pulled the baby out of his mother.... she clamped the umbilical cord on two ends, cut it in the middle with a razor blade, and then slapped the baby into my arms as he started to cry. I wrapped him up and took him into the other room.

For some reason, at that moment, I was pretty calm. Awestruck really. And grateful it was over and everyone was alive! But Brenda wasn't done.

The next baby came without much warning, and in the same fashion: feet first. She was having twins!! I closed my eyes and offered up a silent prayer for strength and guidance. When I opened my eyes again, I caught a glimpse of Brenda's face; sweet, and pleading. I hardly knew what she was saying, but I knew she had great faith in me. In God through me. So I tugged on the baby's feet, he tugged on my heart strings, and we separated him from his mother. When he entered the world, he looked so peaceful. But there was no crying, he was limp and lifeless. Closed eyes, non responsive, and not breathing. My whole body started to shake and my heart became almost too heavy to carry. I ran him into the other room where the nurse handed me a suction cup and an air pump. And then just like that, she left.

My thoughts were cloudy... I was shaking uncontrollably... tears were rolling down my face... I could hardly breathe. And then, serenity came. His guardian angels calmed my heart and started working through me. I pumped air into his lungs 5 times, and then started to squeeze his little chest. All I kept repeating was, "Please, God, don't let him die. Please, let him live. Help me know what to do, stay with me." I repeated the resuscitation at least 10 or 15 times. I started to wonder how much time we had before this sweet little baby's life was over before it could start... and then........... he started to cry. That cry, was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. It penetrated the deepest chambers of my heart. I tied off his umbilical cord with a rubber band tube, wrapped him in a tattered blanket, and did my best to soothe him, my adrenaline surging. His presence, in those first few moments, could only be paralleled in my mind, to that of the Savior's.



Tears came rolling down my cheeks as I recognized the similitude. I had just held in my arms the life of a son of God...I watched him struggle for his first breath and heard the sound of his first cry. It was piercing. Magnificent, and still, so humble in existence. I knew my life and testimony would never be the same again. As I placed the babies into their mother's arms for the first time, I could feel the transformation take place. She thanked me in a reverential way, and handed me her younger son, speaking in Lugandan. "Gwe malayika wange".... "You are my angel". She wanted me to name him. And so I did...

Alma.The middle name of someone I love very dearly - and the first name of someone in the Book of Mormon who I admire deeply. All three being the youngest sons - all three needing saving in one way or another.

I still had pieces of the latex all over me from sweating so badly. I walked home alone that evening, my arms and hands still shaking. I probably very much resembled someone put into a deep trance. Anything else I did that night seemed meaningless. I still can't believe what happened. I can't believe it. It was so overwhelmingly... overwhelming. My mind was completely blank - thoughtless and empty - yet reflective.

I found myself staring blankly at the wall for hours that night, unable to sleep. In the next hut over, I could hear the cries of a child, and it awoke in me a profound revelation. Deeply and wholly spiritual. We are not alone. Within each of us, there is a power to call on angels from God. And they will assist us, they will surround us and protect us. They will forge with faith the path which God has designed for us, and for those we are called upon to serve. This morning, I was called upon to serve His child. And of myself, I was not enough. But through Him, through His son Jesus Christ, I could be made whole. I found myself relying on the breath of Heaven to hold me together. He lightened my darkness and poured over me His holiness. He calmed my spirit and guided my hands. He made it possible for His son to be saved.

Yet, having an eternal perspective... I was really the one being saved by it all.



And I wouldn't have changed it for the world....
Well except maybe to have a certified Doctor in the room. But I'm just sayin. :)

Temporary Insanity - African Style

Every weekend, we are granted the opportunity to see more of Africa, do some crazy things with our lives, scare our poor mothers half to death, and defy all the laws of insanity. My first adventure of course being rafting on the nile river. The second... repelling down a 340 foot waterfall at Sipi Falls in Mbale, Uganda.
I call this day, the day I met God.

The next few photos are going to be sort of like playing Where's Waldo, only it's Where's Mallory, and I'm not wearing a striped red and white shirt. :)


At this point, I couldn't believe what I was about to do. I looked over the edge quite a few times before I went, and the only emotion I felt was anticipation and excitement. No fear. The adrenaline rush was incredible. They had me climb backwards over the cliff's edge once I had all my gear on....this was the hardest part. I wasn't scared - not even a little bit. But it was hard to position myself and feel comfortable with knowing what to do.


As soon as I started down, the world all of a sudden felt so big. I felt like a spider crawling down her web. It was, without hesitation, the most incredible thing I've ever done. Looking over my right as I bounced away from the rock, I could see the rushing water headed for the valley below and I couldn't help but feel like the world existed just for that one second.


I got to the point of the mountain where there was a huge inlet directly behind the waterfall, and from there, I just let go of the ropes and gave all control to the African's about 300 feet above me. I extended my arms to catch the wind as I was lowered down....with the whole world at my feet. I felt like I was flying over the most untouched, undiscovered, ground in the most beautiful part of this world.


It was spectacular. One of the best feelings in the world was to look up and see what I had just accomplished. A big goofy smile was plastered to my face and nothing replaced it for hours afterward. I have to admit I was pretty relieved to touch the ground...oh and mom....I know. But I'm still breathing.

Happy Birthday Momma Mallory

I'm starting to get very homesick. Today will be my 7th day away from "home". I miss my family.

I am however learning to adjust to the culture as I make a new home here in Uganda, and have truly come to love and appreciate the people. One tradition in particular that I think is worthy of that love is the way in which they address mothers. The surname of a woman who has children is hardly ever used. Instead, they are associated with and known by their children. For instance, in Lugazi, my mom would not be known as Lorie... she would be known as Momma Mallory.

Although in truth I have no idea why they do this, I like to think it closely relates to the fact that a parent's true accomplishments lie in the hands of their children. Well, today is my mother's birthday. And as much as I'd like to be home celebrating with her in person, I'm grateful to know that by serving in this capacity in a place where the need is great and the blessings are unparalleled, I am truly celebrating her life and legacy through my own.

So from there, I introduce the "Happy Birthday" team of African children from Lugazi, Uganda. Because really, it's all I have to say, and they do a much better job of it than I ever could, don't you think?...



Mom - Thank you for putting up with the stress and worriment of my being born and wanting to come to Africa. Here's to the new found gray hairs, the added worry lines, and the ever growing ulcer in your stomach, for my being here. I love you - and happy birthday.

Mary, Mukisa, Mzungu

Olyotya lye Africa! Ono Mallory, nabakyala oba Nabagereka Lugazi. Welabe neabo mzungu jendi. Mutwe kibegabegas vviivis n' bugeres. Kiku Nkima's kkapa Jambo!

Roughly translated, "Greetings from Africa! This is Mallory, queen of Lugazi. It is very beautiful here. The people in the village are so friendly. The Monkey's say hello!

disclaimer: The preceding Lugandan paragraph does not actually make any coherent sense at all. You would be put in an insane asylum if you repeated it here in Lugazi. A word for word literal English translation would be - "How are you, is, Africa! This is a, Mallory, Queen, Lugazi. Goodbye, woman, white person, I am fine. Head, shoulders, knees, and, toes. (Made up word), Monkey's, cat, and Hello(in Swahili)!

But hey.. no one can say I'm not at least trying!

I am loving it in Africa so far, but the natives here can't say my name. When I introduce myself I usually have to repeat MALLORY three times before they say, "Okay, you shall be Mary." Hm.
Just a few days ago a man named Richard gave me my official Lugandan name - Mukisa. It means "lucky" or "blessed". I laughed pretty hard before I informed him of the meaning of my English name Mallory - "unlucky". Very concerned, he replied, "Your parents have named you wrong."
Oh.
Here, I usually answer to the children screaming "Bonga Mzungu!" anyway, so no big.


This last weekend I was informed by the guys in my group that I earned 50 man points. I'm still not sure if this is a good thing. I earned those points three ways...
1. RAFTING THE NILE RIVER, with 12 huge rapids, most class 5!
2. By being the only PERSON in the boat willing to do a back flip off the raft.
3. By surviving.

All in all, I'd say my experience in Africa has been not only life changing, but apparently a gender changing one as well.
Yeah... I conquered that in a raft...

Never Eat Soggy Waffles

There are a few things in a girl's life worth remembering. Most of my "life lessons" originated in elementary school.

Being a twentysomething hopeful, still flirty and thriving, the following is not only embarrassing, but somewhat pathetic. Admittedly, I am geographically challenged and what's worse: Directionally illiterate. If it weren't for the phrase "Never Eat Soggy Waffles" I'd probably still be lost on some Utah side road. It's how I remember that East is directly to the right of North. You think I'm kidding.

It's a good thing though. I feel comforted, sitting here in London, 26 hours since I left Orem, incredibly sleep deprived, that I know which way is home. Silly, but important.

I have realized two things so far about myself since this journey... and they are this:

1. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into. I thought I knew the ends of the phrase a "roller coaster of emotions"..... So naive.

So far this trip, I've been sick from nervousness, smiled uncontrollably with excitement, shed a tear for heartache, shed a tear for exhaustion, and breathed heavily into a brown paper bag just before landing in London from plain not-like-the flying-thing-ness.

Ah yes but I know.... as Frank (and later Michael) said. "The best is yet to come"

2. I really wish that life was one big moving walkway. You know, like the ones in the airport. That way, you're ensured movement, even when you haven't slept in 28 hours and it's all you can do to just keep standing upright.

The next time you hear from me I'll be in AFRICA! Here's to hellish flights and screwed up body routines. PEACE!

How To... Become a Glam-Granola Girl

I've done some soul searching. I decided it was time I embrace my true identity and accept that I have in fact become... a granola girl. I blame Don.
But it got me thinking. What if we could give my mom the ultimate daughter? So the question presents itself, what do you get when you cross a glamour queen with a granola girl?
BAM
(picture taken from www.glamgranola.com)

You get Glam-Granola Girl. (Note the dash)

So how do you achieve this imaginatively chic title? Behold...the answer:
You spend your summer helping impoverished children in Africa, but pack three silk head scarves, a manicure set, your red nail polish (in case, heaven forbid, you chip a nail building a new brick school), and a bottle of glitter to make the orphans sparkle. :)

My mission statement:
"I am intelligent, I am the substance behind the glitter, and I am quite extraordinary, actually, especially in my red open toed high heels and matching bandanna. I AM Glam-Granola girl." (www.glamgranola.com)

Following: Things I'm Not So Fond Of

#1 My mom calling me a granola girl.

If you know anything about my little sister, who is a glitz and glamorous sort of girl, you know it's hard to be fashionably related to her. My sweet mother made the observation that while I was wearing a conservative, plain outfit and had just ordered Chaco's for Africa, my sister was wearing dolce and gabbana (which in my defense, the right click dictionary doesn't even recognize) and had just ordered gucci shoes.

She made the comment and I quote, "It's so funny how my daughters are so different. One is so glamorous and girly and the other one is sort of turning into a granola girl." Thank you mom. At least you used the word girl, hence revealing my true gender identity. I know it gets sort of confusing what with all the plain white tees and sandals.