George Maalo

10 Sep

George Maalo, age 36, lives in Nakaseke, 40 miles North of Kampala. George lost movement in half of his body two years ago, when he collapsed suddenly, and was found with fluid coming out of his skin, nose, ears and eyes.

His four children have suffered, since, because of his difficulty working to single-handedly provide for them with his condition. Like many others, Geroge sought medical treatment at a local hospital, and was turned away.

George arrived at the medical mission with high hopes, after being referred by his brother, a soldier at the military barracks in Bombo. Operation Heal Africa was able to provide George with medication, and crutches to help him walk. We hope to see George slowly return to complete health, and the ability to provide for his children.

Vincent Matovu

10 Sep

Vincent

20 year old Vincent Matovu is the second born of four children living with a single mother struggling with AIDS. At 7, Vincent tripped and fell, cutting open his face and ankle. While his face was tended to, his ankle was ignored, and the wound has re-opened on a regular basis for the past 13 years.

Vincent’s father worked as a coffee dealer until he died from AIDS in 2002. His mother tried to continue providing them through waitressing at local bars – a low profile, low paying job for women in Uganda that often puts them at risk for sexual and physical abuse. As her AIDS worsened, however, she began to dig for roots in casava, potatoes and matoke in order to provide food for her children. Vincent’s wound has remained a problem for his family in the midst of their financial constraints. In 2003, he visited Mulango National Referral Hospital in Kampala, where he underwent a grafting surgery that didn’t take. In 2008, a sponsorship through Plan International enabled him to seek treatment at Kiwoko Hospital, but he was told that the doctors there were unable to handle his situation.

Vincent arrived at Operation Heal Africa’s medical mission, this year, in the hopes of finding healing, at last. Unfortunately, his wound is inoperable, and the doctors could only provide him with pain killers, and encourage him to keep his wound clean.

Mabadilisho is about life change, for us. As those who are living in Africa, working to help our people, we are here for change that comes about through the long haul. Our goal is to stand beside people like Vincent – lifting his spirits and aiding his family’s situation while he seeks to self-medicate his wound and begin the long road to natural recovery. It’s families like Vincent’s that we’re looking for – the people who need more than a quick fix. They need a community to rally around them.

These are the stories you might not typically hear from our yearly medical mission, or the quick trips that enter in and out of Bombo – but they are the stories that move our hearts, and keep us working. To partner with us in life change for people like Vincent, email info@alignministries.org.

Nayizuri Faith

3 Sep

Nayizuri Faith developed two steadily growing apple sized lumps on her mid back four years ago.  She hasn’t been able to find a job, and couldn’t afford the medical bills that it would take to fix her problem. Last week, Faith was able to have her lumps removed at Operation Heal Africa’s clinic last week – and couldn’t stop talking about how happy she is that her pain will be gone soon.

Nagawa’s reading glasses

31 Aug

 Nagawa Bethemis, 53, has spent years unable to read. Last week, she came to Operation Heal Africa, a week long clinic where we worked to meet the needs of almost 4,000 needy and sick in our community. At OHA, she was given a free eye exam, and a pair of glasses she never would have been able to afford on her own.

She left the clinic in disbelief at the way she was able to see.

She couldn’t stop talking about it – “Who am I to get reading glasses? Where would I have gotten the money!?”  

She smiled as she left, letting us that she was going to read her Bible by herself for the first time, tonight.

Nakadingidi

11 Aug

There is a village on the outskirts of Wobulenzi, across the town’s only paved road: a place known for its poverty and darkness, even to those living in devastation in other parts of the city.

Along the road, a child cries, naked, except for a thin leather strap used to measure his weight. His exposed thighs are covered in the brown mud he is sitting in, outside of an open doorway, close enough to the road to share close quarters with a trash heap, full of rotten banana peels and old bottles. Other children run wild, dressed in an array of old cast off clothes – pink, faux fur jackets paired with old gym shorts, dresses a Baptist preacher’s daughter might have worn for Easter, years ago, paired with plastic flip flops. One girl sports mismatched high heels – one black, one a faded shade of ivory, turned dusty grey.

Families crowd into small, tarped shelters. Ashes spread between them, the signs of old trash heaps, or food, cooked and devoured long ago. Alcoholism and drug abuse runs rampant and the signs of its damage can be seen in the children running loose in the streets. Here, prostitution, witchcraft and polygamy are commonplace.

This is Nakadingidi, a grouping of low, cinderblock buildings and sheds that Wobulenzi Pentecostal Church has targeted for ministry. Together with the help of Align Ministry, the members of the church seek to provide help and hope to those who live in captivity to the darkness present here.

Tendo was recently brought from a situation where she was living in the midst of prostitution, hunger and drug abuse. A young girl of 17, Tendo giggles around Mzungu (whites), embarrassed because she cannot speak English. She is beautiful, with clear skin and short hair pulled back in a colored band. She loves to work with the pre-school children at Donela Wobulenzi, a school Align helped to begin in 2009.

Morris, a young man working in ministry at WPC, met Tendo through a ministry group he led in Nakadingidi. After hearing her repeatedly complain about her constant hunger, other members of the church returned to Nakadingidi to bring her basic necessities and food. Tendo’s brother, a man with a deep alcohol and marijuana addiction that drove him to spend all of the family’s resources on his habit, sold of all of the food the church brought. While struggling with her brother during the day, Tendo watched a friend’s daughter at night while she “went out into the field,” code for prostituting herself out. After watching Tendo struggle, a couple in the church invited to her to live with them, so that she would be able to have consistent food and shelter, for the first time in her life.

In a small, cinderblock building down a narrow, muddy alley way in Nakadingidi, Mastulla has been battling AIDS while singlehandedly taking care of her large family of children and grandchildren. When she came into contact with members of WPC, Mastulla was given help for the first time through the church’s Life With Hope ministry, a program helping the only the neediest families in the area, and targeting women struggling with AIDS. Through the ministry, Mastulla has been given some very basic necessities, such as food and medication.

“We have to use a lot of discretion with the Life with Hope ministry,” Millie said, walking along the road from Nakadingidi after leading a Tuesday night ministry group. She explained that the ministry is to help families get to a place where they can provide for themselves, rather than becoming dependent on the church.

“If you just give to them everything, then you are crippling them, because they get used to a higher standard of living and wouldn’t know what to do if you took it back from them,” she continued.

While the church’s ministry in Nakadingidi seeks to provide food, clothing and medication to Wobulenzi’s most needy, the ministry’s focus is on providing hope. Sitting in a circle of women outside their rudimentary housing, Millie explained to them that anything they have comes from Jesus.

“Jesus provides for me,” Millie said to them, recounting the story of a man who once asked her to lend him a million shillings. “I told him I have never seen a million shillings in my life. But, Jesus gives so much to me that I look like a million shillings.

Mirembe Namubiru

9 Aug

Like many peasants in Kakooge, twenty year old Mirembe hires herself out to dig cassava roots in order to survive. The firstborn of four children, Mirembe lost her father to AIDS in 2003, and her mother to AIDS in 2007. She has been looking after her younger siblings for three years now, one of whom she lost to kidney problems when he was 17. If Mirembe and her brothers could receive a Life With Hope sponsorships, they would receive a monthly supply of food, and financial help beginning a sustainable business that could provide for them, bringing them out of their peasant status. Mirembe’s younger siblings, Kasiga Balagadde (10) and Badda Kiwanura (14) have not been able to afford schooling, and she is hoping that they can be sponsored to attend Donela Kakooge.

Robert Kamasu

6 Aug

Robert Ddunba Kamasu couldn’t wait to show us his stock of old jerry cans, locked in a storeroom behind his one room apartment in Nakadingidi. His wife, a hearty Ugandan woman with a quick laugh and thick thighs, laughed at most everything Kamasu said. She leaned on his thin legs with her chubby arms, he a small proud man with a thin frame, and listened as we talked with him about his success with microfinance. When we asked if he was providing for his family, she beamed.

Kamasu is HIV positive, and was the first in his village to be visited by Life With Hope. When he began to receive help, it became his goal to spread the hope and assistance he received throughout his village, and has directed Life With Hope to several new clients. He proudly pulled out a folder full of International HIV/AIDS Alliance training project certificates as we talked about his condition, and it soon became apparent that he has sought to make the most of it in every way possible.  Since he began to receive help from Life With Hope in May of 2009, Kamasa has being looking after Musa, a 14-year-old orphan living with his grandmother nearby. Kamasu takes care to make sure that Musa takes his ARVs daily, and arranges for hospital visits when Musa falls sick. When it nears time for his C4 count to be checked in Entebbe, Kamasu begins campaigning in the village around him, arranging for a van sized taxi to carry him and anyone else he can convince to come for free treatment in Entebbe.  The Ugandan culture is one of great community, and aid that changes the life of one person often touches the lives of others quickly, through a cultural understanding that what one is given must is for the five, ten, and sometimes fifteen other extended family and friends that many adults find themselves responsible for at a young age.

Now that the strength has returned to his sinewy arms, Kamasu has moved on from receiving monthly food and assistance from Life With Hope, and relies solely on a microfinance loan of 100,000 shillings (about 50 USD), that he was given in February of 2010. Kamasu proudly pulled out two card size certificates from the front of his Bible, and explained that he has so far paid back two installments on his loan – both of them at 20,000 shillings (about 10 USD).

Kamasa’s business is a steady one, founded on a plan he came up with on his own. Using an old, rusty bike as transportation, Kamasu rides to schools, homes and businesses that he counts on as secure clients by now, and picks up jerry cans they have no use for. Some of them are from past milk deliveries, others were used to carry paint or cooking oil. He purchases them at a low price from private parties, and recycles them through giving them back to larger companies that need them in mass amounts for the same products they were originally used to store. Kamasu completely cycles through a stock of jerry cans every two weeks, and steadily earns about 120,000 shillings a month this way (about 60 USD). This amount that pays his rent, provides food for his family and provides for his transportation to the TASO (The AIDS Support Organization) headquarters in  Entebbe, when he runs low on ARVs, or needs his white blood cell count to be measured.

As we followed Kamasu to his store-room half full of jerry cans, he turned around to smile as he opened the door. He picked one up, chuckling and quickly turned his face serious for a photo – a pose most adult Ugandans strike for the camera. He returned to laughter, afterward, as he locked the door and said that just 500,000 (250 USD) would fill the quarter-full room to the top. As we turned to leave, he handed me a naked baby from his neighborhood, “genda e womuzungu” (go to the white!), grinning over her rolls,  often provided for by his business. As a father figure in the area, Kamasu relies on his success in microfinance to do much more than provide for his own family. With it, he is changing the lives of those around him in one of Wobulenzi’s most impoverished villages.

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