My African Farewell

I feel so much pressure with the amount of people my mom tells me are reading my blog. So much so in fact, I've feared the computer. :) I decided however, that I'd face my fears today and leave behind something that can be funneled into history: An African Farewell.

To date, it has been 35 days since I first touched African soil, and since that time I've found that being 10,000 miles away from home isn't easy. I've also realized that the term "home" has several different applications and definitions... all of which I'm still figuring out.

Today, being the last in Africa, has been...well...foggy. I did not realize how hard it would be to leave. How silly, that I'm sitting here fighting back the tears just writing it. This will be my last time in a rickety little rundown internet cafe, the last time I walk around aimlessly through Lugazi town, and the last time I hear, "Mzungu" 20 times in a 2 minute stretch while waving my hand like a celebrity.

It's the people who I'll miss so much.
The children in my neighborhood that have committed my name to memory and insist on screaming it four or five times every time they see me...just to make sure I heard them. Usually it ends up coming out sounding something like, "Maralee!! Maraleeeee!!" I've never smiled so big in my life.

The students in my Crane's Junior class who came by my house this morning with letters just to say goodbye. Mustering up a smile through all the salty tears was difficult.
Caroline. I'm grateful that our farewell was not with talk of "Goodbyes" but silent, with a kite and a big ball of sun.

So what did I take away from all this?

Well, I'm leaving a much stronger person than when I came. Not merely by physical measure, but spiritual as well. This experience has not only strengthened my testimony.... it has strengthened my character, my countenance, and has brought me closer to my Savior. Because of my time here, I've come to realize the true meaning of service and come to know a whole NEW meaning of love. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that freedom...peace...unity...happiness...they're all just words. Whether they exist or not it's the people, the character of the individual, that gives them meaning and therefore value. I've found hope here in Africa, and there is an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and empowerment in its wake. Maybe I can't save the whole world today, but I'm counting Lugazi, Uganda as Done and Done. :)

The Inevitable List

I knew this list would come, I just didn't realize I would feel so passionately about it when it got here. I call it: The top 10 reasons I miss America. I realize this idea is not an original one. I also realize I'm in a 3rd world country and whining about missed conveniences. But yet here they are... in no particular order.

1. Being barefoot. Or at least not being afraid to be barefoot.
2. Hot water. I'd even settle for just clean water. Sometimes, we don't even have ANY water.
3. Croutons. And cold milk, chips & salsa, (safe) meat, ice cubes, chocolate, soft bread....oh this list could just go on forever. All I want to do is eat something and not fear that death will shortly follow. :)
4. Clean good smelling clothing. Good smells at all would be super.
5. Seat belts. Speed limits. Enough said.
6. My family (even the ones not related to me). My girls. My boy. My NIECE AND NEPHEW. *said with an exasperated awful sounding whiny groan*
7. Dependable constant electricity. It's available, but only when it decides it wants to be.
8. Fair, fixed prices: There have been so many times I've wanted to shout, "It's because I'm WHITE isn't it."
9. The controlled mosquito population.... you know, the ones without malaria.

I'm feeling a little bit of pressure here, this last one has to be good...I'm gonna go with....

10. Sanity. Because it seems I left mine at home. Who tries their guardian angels in Africa...not once.....but like a trillion times? Whoever she is, she's having an awfully difficult time keeping me breathing. Perhaps I should help her out a little. :)

I'm positive this list is going to pale in comparison to its counterpart, which will be written in 5 days, entitled "Everything I miss about Uganda." And #1 will be - My heart. Most of it, if not all of it, will be left behind.

A what? An update.

Olyotea!
I wanted to let you know what I've been up to the last little while and also give you some good news....I've decided to leave part of me here on purpose...! That way, when I die (after having been to many other places like Lugazi), I'll die having scattered my love all over the world. (and St. Peter won't be able to deny me entrance.) :)

I've been working a lot with my little Crane's Junior class recently. I think I'm just about the most politically INcorrect teacher in the world, but there is no where else on earth I'd rather be right now. Every time I leave there is a group of girls that insist on walking me home. I have become so fond of them, particularly Askahmn and Shamira who are definitely a part of me now and will be hard to say goodbye to.
I've also been able to work with Caroline, the little girl who is mute and deaf, at the hospital a few more times. I took her for a little walk, we climbed a tree, looked at the birds, colored some pictures, played a few games, jumped rope, flew a kite......all in all she's teaching ME more than i could ever leave with her. I can't stand the thought of knowing her future will never be all it could be. She'll never receive what she deserves, yet she is closer to God than I'll ever hope to be in this life. And for now, spending some time under the sun with some crayons and a loving heart might be all she really needs.
I try to steer clear of the Maternity ward, but I've volunteered at the hospital a few more times, reading to the children afflicted with malaria, bathing the babies, comforting, cleaning, and assisting. It's been great!

I've also spent a lot more time with the children we visit who have disabilities, including Pius. We were able to provide wheelchairs, mattresses, bed pans, and many other needed supplies to the families of these children with our project funds. It's been incredible being a part of it all. We had goals for each of the kids and their families to reach in order to get their equipment... some learning to read, others learning the alphabet, or to recognize letters, making a sound, stretching their limbs, or the simple act of eating every day. They all reached their goals! In fact most went above and beyond! It was incredible.

I've kept up my visits to the orphanages in both Lugazi and Jinja. We play with them, provide clothes and supplies, watch movies, and give our love. It has been such a rewarding opportunity. We work a lot with the primary and secondary schools as well, teaching classes on English, nutrition, sex ed, business, history, music, and so much more. We were able to put together a library with over 2000 of the books we had donated for all the schools to use. We also built a brick addition to the Ssanyu school so they can educate more children. Needless to say it was laborious and expensive, but so worth it!

The last thing I've been working on is Adobe stoves and square foot gardens. We have about 13 stoves yet to finish and only 4 working days to get it done. We're all feeling a little overwhelmed. We've made it possible for almost every primary school (elementary school) in Lugazi to have one of each, and have taught countless others how to do it and keep it going. We're so proud of that!

Anyway, so far, Cranes has been my favorite place to be in Africa. I'm starting to feel like what I want to do with my life is become teacher. I love to teach. There are a lot of things I love though, and in some ways, I feel like this trip to Africa has made things more confusing for me in that regard, and for a while it really discouraged me.

But then I realized that God has been here with me every moment. He wants me to take it one step at a time and make the smaller right decisions.... the ones that shape a persons character and not their career path or marital status. I feel comforted in knowing I am doing a good thing in Lugazi. I'm confident He's aware of my presence here. He's guided me and granted me His wisdom on so many different occasions. Maybe it's enough just to be here. Perhaps there are lessons to be learned that I had not intended for myself. How presumptuous of me to think that I knew what I'd take away from this experience. I'm fighting so hard to be in control of my life that I'm oblivious to His plan for me. Here, His love is everywhere. I'm grateful for these people, for their example to me and for their faith in God. I'm grateful to be ABLE to serve them.... I know I've already made a significant difference and carved the way for it to continue.

I just want to say thank you, for supporting me, for loving me despite my adventurous stupidity on occasion, and for believing in me. I can't wait to show you more pictures and tell you all the stories with the silly facial expressions and fluctuations. :)

New Complex: Bungee Jumping into the Nile

....I'll start from the beginning.

It was Friday, August 8, 2008, 6:15 pm.
We drove up to the Adrift Campground in Jinja, Uganda to wait for the rest of our group who wanted to join us for some unintelligently suicidal fun. It was a beautiful place, situated on the River Nile in the middle of the rain forest. It actually seemed pretty surreal that I was even standing there. It cost us about 65 US dollars to sign up, and it cost me about half my life preparing to jump by watching the other crazies do it. From where I stood, the fragility of life became glaringly significant.

The sun was setting and it was time to go, so I started up the steep hike towards the tower. My body was on FIRE with crazy anxiety and nervous laughter. From where I stood, the tower looked perilous and daunting. What was I even doing? Each stair, ready to break in half with any step, seemed steeper than the last. I paused frequently to "take in the view" (and a few deep breaths). Holy crap! I was about to jump off a 150 foot platform into the Nile! No. Big. Deal.

My poor mother.

I was feeling pretty tough and indestructible - so I volunteered to go first. To my surprise, it was two gentlemen from New Zealand running the show...with a calming humor about them... and friendly smiles as if to say, "I promise I won't kill you." They weighed me, sat me down in what, to me, resembled an electric chair, and then wrapped a wet towel around my ankles. My mind was going a million miles an hour. I actually started feeling a little dizzy. But..I stood up with confidence, now fully equipped by African standards to adequately risk my life, and shuffled/hopped to the rickety wooden plank. Only problem now was as soon as I got there I wanted to get down... and in a way that DIDN'T involve the act of jumping. I was freaking out in my mind, while trying to keep a tough exterior. I was so close to backing out - distracting the people in charge of making sure I go through with it, and coolly wiping the sweat off my forehead.

This next part, I blame on my brother.

They took the long heavy cord attached to my feet and put it over the edge. It reminded me of watching someone who was about to experience death by cement shoe drowning. I was pretty much to the point of PURE GIRLY RIDICULOUSNESS. But then, the face of my brother Riley popped into my skull. I was not only aware that he would be supremely disappointed in and ashamed of me if I hesitated for even one more second, I was aware that he had, over the last 22 years, given me a morbid sense of adventure and suicidal carelessness....and that I was about to throw myself off that cliff despite every shred of sense I possessed.

They told me if I wanted my hands to graze the top of the river, I needed to jump straight out and do a big Pocahontas swan dive. And well, maybe I should have protested. The last time I did a swan dive (at the encouragement of my older brother) at the Meridian Swimming Pool when I was 15 years old, I ended up doing one sweetly massive belly flop off the high dive in front of my entire Young Men/Young Women's group AND the man I was in love with...resulting in a great story of "one of my most embarrassing moments" for posterity's sake. I couldn't help but smile a little bit remembering that story on top of a small wooden board in Uganda about to do something similarly stupid. Oh man. So - they counted down from 3 - 3,2,1...Bungee...and I just jumped. Straight out. Pocahontas style. I remember feeling TERRIFYINGLY surprised at how fast I was falling. And then I made stupid move #2 by diving down head first, resulting in my falling even FASTER. That was the moment I, Mallory Hurst, experienced sheer...unadulterated...terror. People throw that word around. I only wish there were one more suitable.

All I could do was stare at the water approaching and put my arms out as if by some magical force it would stop me. And then all of a BLOODY sudden, I hit the water face first with both eyes wide open (unintentional stupid move #3)... and plunged through the river, in all its Nile glory, up to my knees. The cord whipped me back up, which was the last direction on earth I wanted to go, giving me just the right amount of time to plot the way in which I was going to KILL the person who suggested I do this. And then I went into a fit of laughter as I realized I had just developed a complex, and would sooner want malaria than to do that again.

Battle wounds: 1
I noticed later that night that the left side of my left eye was completely full of blood. The impact had popped a few blood vessels.../slash/ all of them....making the entire left side of it completely red. Perhaps I should have ALSO envisioned the frequent emergency room visits my brother encountered while building up my false courage.

Publisher's Note: I won't be putting up any pictures again until I get home... in 13 days... :)... because LIKE the Nile River, the computer viruses have completely taken me over.

Moment of Sun

Being in Africa has changed me. Of that, I am certain. There have been times when I've felt as though my heart would never recover from something I witnessed, and times when I realized that... well... maybe I didn't want it to.

The other day, my heart caught a glimpse of heaven. I was on my way to Entebbe in a taxi full of people...when immediately my eyes were drawn to a beautiful baby girl about 5 months old. I don't know what it is inside me that is so drawn to children, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. After fidgeting and dying a little inside to be able to hold her, I built up the courage to ask her mother, who then happily placed her in my arms. I learned that the sweet infant's name was Faith, and had recently contracted malaria. Because her mother could not afford the medical bills, she feared her daughter's life would be taken by it. So, she was on her way to introduce Faith to her father for what she believed would be her first...and last time.

My heart literally broke in two. I just stared into her beautiful brown eyes and, like so many other instances here in Africa, I found myself asking God, "Why"? "If God loves us, why does he allow us to suffer so much? War. Pestilence. Famine...Why doesn't he stop it? What possible point can there be to such a tragedy? Doesn't God love us?..."

The truth is that He does, and it is through our suffering that, we not only find God, we come to realize that our true good and happiness lies in another world - and that this life is for our preparation to earn it. "We're like blocks of stone, out of which the sculptor carves the forms of men. The blows of his chisel, which hurt us so much, are what make us perfect. The suffering in the world is not the failure of God's love for us; it is that love in action." I believe we all understood that by coming to earth, we would be exposed to all of the experiences of earth life, including the trials of pain, suffering, and hopelessness. If that were all we knew of the plan I doubt any of us would have embraced it. But it all came into focus, and it became acceptable, even desirable, when an Elder brother stepped forward and offered that He would go down and make it all right. Out of pain & suffering He would bring peace. Out of hopelessness He would bring hope. Maybe alternatively to the neglect we feel from our Father in Heaven in our moments of despair, we are really being loved beyond our capacity to understand. We cannot avoid or deny the difficult paths of suffering, and hope to be perfected in Christ. He knows the paths we walk, for He has known the way with us.

My teary eyes were now focused on the angel in my arms. If in fact she was taken from this life - it is through the grace of God she would be reunited with her mother. A woman who no doubt will have weathered the storm and held fast with.... Faith: In its most simplistic childlike form. I handed the infant back, thanked her, and turned just as the sun hit my face.... knowing a little better the reasons for Christ's suffering, the suffering of His people, and my own.

I'll never forget her. She's a part of me now. A part of my eternal existence. I thanked Him silently for the wonder of His ways.... and continued down the muddy road in silence.

(Ideas from Shadowlands by William Nicholson)

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.