More than a statistic

Hello all. I want to tell you about some people I've met, and my heart is that these people become more than just BBC news stories to you - that they will not just be statistics we pass around in the missions community. Because of the 20-year war with the rebel group, the LRA, hundreds of thousands of northern Ugandans live in IDP (Internally displaced person) camps. These camps are over-crowded, and disease-ridden.

The team here does medical clinics in these camps, and often they bring back criticaly ill patients to town for hospitalization. My first day in the camps, I sat by Susan, a seriously ill resident of Opeta IDP camp, on the way back into town. Susan died the next day. We went to a post-burial funeral at her family's village two days later, and there I began to see that Susan isn't just another death in the camps - she was a real person, with two very real and motherless children, and with a mother who loved her. Then yesterday I interviewed many people at Ojwii IDP camp. The first five people I interviewed told me about their sons, daughters, wives and grandchildren who had been abducted and brutally murdered by the LRA. As my eyes started to water and I felt the sobs coming, I somehow held them back. I am here to bring hope, and I wanted to much to show hope. And I guess I knew that if I started crying, I wouldn't be able to stop.

And then there is Morris - the darling of our GRI family here in Uganda. The GRI medical team diagnosed 12 year old Morris as having AIDS. We met him at Aloni camp, and brought him into town a few days ago. Today we had Morris tested for HIV/AIDS. After Morris had his blood drawn, he sat down with Walter (a Ugandan member of our team here) and me in the waiting area. He began to sob. Morris is a little boy with real feelings. So often we read about AIDS orphans and children with AIDS, but have we ever thought about their feelings, and whether or not they are scared to death of this awful disease? I know I haven't. Morris has lost both parents and all his siblings to AIDS already, so he is very much afraid of dying. He told Walter that the kids in school make fun of him because they assume he has AIDS. Again, the tears started coming, but I didn't want Morris to be afraid and to see how worried I was about him. After the nurse told Morris he did in fact have AIDS (later testing this afternoon showed that he is in a very advanced stage), we took him out to lunch. He saw a television for the first time in his life, and was enthralled. Then we bought him a new school uniform and fed him tons of American junk food. I played cards with him, and he laughed and smiled all afternoon. At the end of the day he told us he loved us. No, Morris is not a statistic...he is a special little boy who is scared for his life.

Before I came here I read about life in the camps, but as much as I felt pity, I didn't feel a sense of loss when I read about the death tolls. I feel it very acutely now. Will you join me in praying for the people of northern Uganda? And maybe even join me in crying for these people - they are real, scared, and desperately in need of hope. Please pray that we would share the hope of Jesus with everyone who crosses our path. Sorry to be so verbose, but my heart is so heavy that telling you about all this helps me tremendously. Thank you so much for your continued and faithful prayers

- Kerri (a visitor from the GRI Denver office who has been touched by my two weeks here...)