Manry Family

Myles is home! Early last week, we were given permission to bring John Paul home from the orphanage in Kampala.  Though we love that his given name is actually a "family name" for us -- considering we have two Paul's and three John's in our immediate families, we thought we would rename the newest Manry.  Myles is a name we have loved for a long time, and find fitting for a little boy whom we traveled a many miles, both on land and in heart to love.  The Owen Falls on the River Nile in Jinja, where Uganda's first hydro-electric dam was built in 1954, inspires his second name, which means "well born."  Despite the unfortunate circumstances into which Myles was born, God's favor was upon him and us, allowing him to be reborn well into our family. We are thankful.

Sunday morning I received a somber call from Spencer. Goretti and Emmanuel, the wife and child of Grace Nyanga, a prominent leader among churches in Busoga, had lost their lives when their car collided with a truck in Mabira Forest.  One hour later I rode in a vehicle with nine other people, escorting Grace to confirm with our eyes the awful truth.  I have no words to adequately describe the heavy feelings that draped over everyone in the vehicle, especially Grace. He sat amongst us a broken man, receiving calls from shocked relatives and friends, alternating between stunned silence and uncontrollable cries.

Grasping for some lens to see Grace in this moment, painful memories were awakened that haven't fully healed. Last year, on my way to Kampala, a young man named Simon ran in front of my vehicle and died shortly  after we brought him to Jinja hospital.  A year before that, a phone call from Irene Kimeze began a long dark night in which we learned that her husband Moses Kimeze and our teammate Adam Langford  lost their lives in an  auto accident on Mount Elgon. These tragedies (still) seem senseless and leave only questions. 

Bright green hills surrounded the dark scene at the mortuary in Lugazi and highlighted an everpresent paradox.  Uganda is a land full of life: perpetual springs and summers bring water and sun to fertile soils that are bisected and nourished by the world's longest River.  Here of all places, people seem so fragile, vulnerable to tropical deseases and deadly viruses, and unsafe drivers on unsafe roads.  Ugandans often acknowledge these realities and deal with their consequences by repeating mantras of faith such as, "It was God's plan."  I'm never sure what is exactly meant when I hear these statements - words are loaded with unspoken understandings - but I have difficulty attributing divine intent to such tragedies, especially from my earthly vantage point. 

I take solace in a word Spencer shared from John 11 at Goretti and Emma's funeral the following day.  There Jesus encounters Mary weeping over her brother Lazarus.  Scripture says, "When Jesus saw Mary crying and the people with her crying too, he was very upset and deeply troubled. 'Where did you put him,' he asked. They replied, 'Lord, come and see.'"  Then, we are told, "Jesus wept."

The backpacks my boys received for Christmas were packed full, not with gear but anticipation of the journeys we would share together on the trail.  While we were still in the States, thousands of miles away, all three of us had our sights set on Kagulu - a massive rock about one hundred kilometers north of Jinja, the highest point in Busoga.  We could easily imagine the incredible views from the top of Lake Kyoga sprawling accross the landscape below, having been there once before with Tom Ngobi.  It was no suprise that it took only two weeks in Uganda for us to get to the base of this lonely rock, the boys reunited with their friend Wilson, and me with my teammate Spencer.

Kagulu is summitted by a short but steep climb ascending around a thousand feed over the distance of a mile or so. The path features irregularly positioned steps constructed during the regime of Idi Amin to access a communication tower that once stood near the top.  A sturdy concrete shelter is all that remains now; it will be our home for the night.  We were "escorted" up the mountain by a dozen curious Ugandans.  Outsiders visit the mountain every four to six weeks, but camping on top is a rarity.  I was certain we would become the nightly news at the trading centers below. As night fell we were kept warm and well fed by a charcoal fire. Luke cooked a chicken curry rice - our specialty - and we roasted teriaki steak on skewers.  The boys realized that everything tastes twice as good when you are camping and had to carry your food in a backpack!

The next morning I stayed back to cook breakfast while Spencer took the boys to "explore" the cluster of boulders that leads to the top.  As they scampered over the large stones and through the brush, a family of baboons quicky retreated, continuously and curiously watching these strangers explore their home.  I often wonder what my boys will remember about their childhood in Uganda as I burn into my memory sights and sounds that are beyond what I ever imagined in my youth.  Do they see Uganda as an exotic wonderland filled with strange creatures and interesting people, or a familiar place they simply call home?  I am content to know what they are thinking right now: they are glad that their dad took them camping!

Click on the read more link to journey with us to Kagulu via video clip: