life in karamoja
The day after I posted a blog about the dry season, it started raining and hasn’t stopped. In twenty-four hours last week, we got six inches of rain. As you might imagine, streams turned into rivers, rivers turned into torrents and fields turned into flood
Learning a new language is also learning to laugh at yourself. I’ve never been very good at laughing at myself, as many of you know, so it is no small wonder that I love learning Karimojong so much. In welcoming new teammates and hoping to
Bees. Bees in the house, in the visitors’ luggage. Bees on the floor, in your hair and now in the new clinic building. Bees. They’re swarming and dying everywhere. Bees. I’m no bee keeper so I’ve been content thus far to wonder at their strange
I don’t get out much. I don’t own a vehicle here and public transport is questionable. The fastest most direct way to get places is on the back of a motorcycle. We are not yet letting our 11 month old and toddler ride those! When
Zion had just stopped crying when the phone rang. Christopher had just started softly snoring; I had to nudge him awake. The ring pealed through the night offending the preceding silence. It was Johnson, our on-call clinician at the clinic. There was an emergency, Christopher
“Do you know what lying is, Carmel?” Christopher asked our daughter one day when she was intentionally being allusive. “Rooooaaar!” was her response. We had to hide our laughs behind our hands, before beginning the proper explanation of this strain of sin. It comes so
“When you are not the parent, you love the sound of a baby crying. When you are the parent, it is hard to see that having a crying baby is a blessing from God”. This is the wisdom I received from a Ugandan friend, after
They were singing so softly I couldn’t discern the words. The sound seeped into the late morning, the fields around us and now abides sweetly in the memory. Carmel peered back at me over the shoulders of Loupe Vicky who insisted on carrying the obviously