We are heartbroken to announce that our 11-year journey helping the poor in Uganda may be coming to an end. We have watched, prayed, trusted, and persevered through lack of funding, corruption, sickness, and sadness, but we have no idea when, or even if, we can return to work in Uganda. Hopefully someday we can resume God’s work in Uganda, but for now, it’s not possible.
The government of Uganda, like many governments around the world, is using the Covid-19 pandemic as an excuse to take away its inhabitants’ rights and freedoms. Since the beginning of the pandemic and with no end in sight, they have had a curfew in effect – a curfew which will prevent us from travelling to our remote villages, doing our work, and returning home in time. Likewise, they have had an indoor and outdoor mask mandate in place since the beginning of the pandemic, and it is not possible to do our field work under the equatorial African sun with a mask on without suffering from heat exhaustion or heat stroke. The government is even requiring tracking devices on all motorized vehicles to monitor everyone’s movements. This will be a particular problem for us, because the national Ministry of Water and Environment has been trying to force us to work for them instead of the villagers (they told us outright that they do not care about the poor in their country).
Business, church, and school closures, public transportation restrictions, and the aforementioned draconian policies are causing hardship for the Ugandan people. Not surprisingly, our embassy has warned us that crime is on the rise, making it very risky to use expensive geophysical equipment. Sadly, we know of many missionaries who are reluctantly closing their long-established missions in the country.
We ask for continued prayer for the people of Uganda – the thirsty, the sick, the widows, and those who are especially dear to us – Hellen, Anne Mary, Phoebe, Esther, Scovia, and Dennis. We will complete our groundwater maps for over 1,800 square miles of the country, and they will be published, posted online, and distributed to the districts, so that nothing is lost.
Words cannot express our gratitude to all of our donors. Your encouragement, prayers, and financial support have blessed us immeasurably. Our sincere hope is that you have felt God using you, through us, in Uganda. Thank you for being a part of our journey. Thank you for caring about the poor in Uganda. Thank you for everything. We are humbled by all of you. God bless.
Romans 8:28: And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.
While in the village, we also brought a much-needed hoe and seeds to Amalo’s husband. He had asked me for them on my previous visit, and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get so excited over a hoe and seeds. The picture doesn’t really do the moment justice, but he was dancing and hoeing and just overjoyed. He started throwing some maize on the ground to call his chickens so he could give me one as a gift to show his gratefulness for the hoe and seeds. 
Here I am holding our organic free-range chicken, which we ate two days later in a tasty stew prepared by Dennis’ wife. We continue to be humbled by the generosity of the villagers.
I don’t mind the geckos, but these beetles are the size of an egg, have jagged legs, red eyes, and they fly and bite. Funny story – I was teaching two chefs at the hotel in Soroti how to make chocolate chip cookies one evening because they really wanted to learn. I mixed up the flour, baking soda, and salt and set it aside. After the chef creamed the butter and sugars, I started pouring my flour mixture into his creamed mixture, while he stirred. Suddenly he reached into the batter super fast and flung one of these beetles out and onto the hot stovetop. It had come through the open window in the kitchen and must have flown into my flour when I wasn’t looking. Everyone thought it was hysterical that I was bothered by it, so I had no choice but to laugh along with them. But, I’m telling you, that was one big chocolate chip!
Unfortunately, there are no western-trained doctors in the Soroti area, but we wanted her to be looked at, so two weeks ago we took her to a doctor at a local clinic recommended by Dennis. I saw firsthand the challenges Ugandans face in receiving proper diagnoses and treatment from locally trained health care workers. The doctor said that the “mass” was filled with fluid caused from infection, and Adeke’s blood tests showed that her lymph nodes were working overtime to fight infection. He said surgery was not needed and prescribed four medications. When I returned home from the doctor visit, I checked what had been prescribed: two of the four medications were to reduce stomach acid, one was an anti-inflammatory not recommended for elderly patients, and one was used to treat epilepsy, anxiety, and nerve pain caused from shingles or diabetes and only helped elderly patients at a dosage of 300-600 mg, while Adeke’s dosage was 75 mg. He didn’t even give her an antibiotic to treat the infection! Sadly, we tried, but this incident only reinforces the importance of getting patients to western-trained doctors.
Gordon continues going to the villages, five or six days per week, and driving an average of 100 miles per day on his motorcycle. He always comes back covered in red dust and even darker skinned than the day before. But lately he’s had some adventures. On Friday, he drove to a village so remote that the villagers told him that lions used to reside on the rock outcrops there (see photo). On Saturday he bushwhacked his way through the jungle and thorn bushes for hours, accompanied by plenty of big green snakes. He was pretty scratched up from the thorns, but fortunately none of the snakes bit him, and the villagers showed their appreciation with fresh oranges and some delicious roasted white ants (‘tis the season!). He ate them last night and noted that he had never eaten the wings before (a bit of information I really didn’t need to know). Then on Monday he got hit in the face by a bird while driving about 45 miles per hour on his way to the village, which you can imagine didn’t feel too good, but he didn’t turn back. The bird must have caught its beak or talons on Gordon’s ear and head, because he was a bloody mess when he arrived home in the evening.
Stories from Uganda 