Today is Hiroshima Day, and I am reminded of the story of Sadako, a little Japanese girl who had contracted leukemia from the atomic bomb dropped on her city. She believed if she could just fold a thousand paper cranes, her wish would be granted. Of course, her wish was to be cured and get to go home from the hospital and live with her family again.

I wanted to tell this story for children's story at church, so I decided to try folding a paper crane to show the kids what a paper crane looks like. I'm pretty crafty, so I thought, "this will be a piece of cake." Five attempts later, I managed a rather crude crane. 

 die before their fifth birthday in Uganda. There is only one  ​clinic in the entire country dedicated to helping sickle-cell patients, and it is a day clinic at least a day's bus ride from their home.  

I am looking for new venues to show the beads and tell the stories of the people behind them. Maybe home parties, church programs, new gift shops, raising funds for your cause by selling bead bracelets...if you have an idea for me, please contact me here.  I know it sounds trite, but you really can make a difference. 

In January, I went on a Church of the Brethren work camp to Nigeria, where there are actually more Brethren (called EYN there) than there are in the United States. There are EYN churches all over Nigeria, but the majority are located in the north, where the extremist group Boko Haram has been wreaking havoc for several years. In fact, over 1,000 EYN churches have been destroyed by Boko Haram, and many members have fled the area and crowded into camps for Internally Displaced Persons. Our group was building a church for people who had fled from the Chibok region.

The first weekend, our group visited two IDP camps near Abuja, where many of our church members from Chibok have fled. We were given a short tour at each one, and then encouraged to wander around and visit with people. Three little girls took my hand and led me to their homes, to meet their families, and others along the way. People told me they were unemployed and waiting. Our Nigerian leader told us, "they need work to fill their hearts, minds, and souls."

At the second camp, when I saw a young girl at a sewing machine, it "clicked" for me: the reason I had come to Nigeria, to help bring work to women in these camps, something to fill their hearts, minds and spirits. I began to think and ask around about how best to start a project in Nigeria to make things to sell in the US.

A friend who works at a Church of the Brethren nursing home had talked to me about the popularity of rice-filled pillows that could be heated in the microwave to provide a natural heating pad, or kept in the refrigerator to provide a cold pack for injuries. I decided this would be a good project to start with, as they are easy to make, and would be beautiful made from the gorgeous African Batik cotton that is everywhere in Nigeria. We could start by selling them at nursing home gift shops. I decided to call this the Lafiya Collection, Lafiya being a common Nigerian greeting, wishing health in body, mind and spirit.

The first day, I met the women and told them about Omiyo and the Lafiya project. They were enthused. They told me their stories. Here are two of them:

For now, these women are being trained in making the products that will eventually be made in the camps. Then the women who are fluent in the Chibok language will train women in the camps to make them. I'm also planning to work with a group of widows whose husbands were killed by Boko Haram, who are making natural ointments. More on that later!

Can you guess which color is the one for this year? I will give you a minute to think.

And nobody says it like Pantone: "Greenery is a fresh and zesty yellow-green shade that evokes the first days of spring when nature’s greens revive, restore and renew. Illustrative of flourishing foliage and the lushness of the great outdoors, the fortifying attributes of Greenery signals consumers to take a deep breath, oxygenate and reinvigorate.
Greenery is nature’s neutral. The more submerged people are in modern life, the greater their innate craving to immerse themselves in the physical beauty and inherent unity of the natural world. This shift is reflected by the proliferation of all things expressive of Greenery in daily lives through urban planning, architecture, lifestyle and design choices globally. A constant on the periphery, Greenery is now being pulled to the forefront - it is an omnipresent hue around the world.
A life-affirming shade, Greenery is also emblematic of the pursuit of personal passions and vitality."

Wow, that is some good copy. And guess what? Omiyo loves Greenery, too! Our bead artisans love it. I was calling it Kiwi, but they thought I meant black, because they never heard of a kiwi fruit, but they do have Kiwi shoe polish. But I finally got them straightened out, and they've made lots of pretty green jewelry for 2017:
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They've made necklaces:

So with Spring on the way, you've got lots of ways to get your green on!  All those pictures are clickable, and take you to the product page where you can order. Check it out.

In Africa, where there are women, there are children. So one of the joys of spending time with Rwot Omiyo, the women's group who make Omiyo's paper beads, is getting to know their children. These two little guys are always around whenever beads are being made. On the left in his birthday suit is Phillip, and that macho guy in a pink dress on the right is George. At a year and a half, George is a typical toddler. Chasing after a chicken, ten steps on those wobbly legs, and he plops down on his bare bottom in the dust. He crawls over to the women making beads, and, quick as a flash, he dumps a bowl of seed beads. When it's taken out of his reach, he squalls awhile, until finally, strapped to his mom's back, he falls asleep.

Most days he just sticks close to Milly and whimpers. He cries if she gets more than a few feet away. He seems listless, uninterested in the world around him. Milly is a saint, caring for him with such love and tenderness day after day, without frustration. ​​She often has to miss beading days to take Philip for treatments.

One day, though, it was "cold." Finger quotes, because it was maybe in the upper 60's. I call it refreshing. I think Phillip did, too, because he actually scooted away from Milly, fast, all the way over to the neighbor's house, where some boys were giving the thatch roof a bowl haircut, pitching the ends into a wheelbarrow. For once, Milly was calling Phillip, and he wasn't paying any attention to her, so fascinated with the work those big boys were doing. When they started pushing the wheelbarrow away, Phillip started scooting after them at an amazing speed. All the bead ladies were laughing to see that  little guy so excited about something. It gives us hope that someday, in the not too distant future, with good medical care, Phillip will learn to walk. 

I'm committed to giving Milly a bit extra to help with Phillip's medical care. If you would like to join me, you can donate to his care as easily as you buy a product right here! And whether or not you give, thanks for reading until the end. Please keep Phillip in your prayers!

Across from my booth was Tulia's Artisan Gallery. Tulia's Passionate person, Karen Torres, the curator, spent summers visiting family in Colombia, and learning to love Colombian folk art. She has a passion for preserving traditional arts and crafts,  and working with indigenous groups to help them better their lives by providing a market for their work. Besides, she will share chocolates and whatever else you may have forgotten.

​Next to Tulia's was Moriya, and its Passionate Person, Amber Steffens. Moriya works with women in Ethoipia who have had to become prostitutes in order to support their children. By making beautiful bags from handwoven fabric and leather, they are able to make a living with dignity. Amber and I had many good talks, and since she is also in Indiana, we hope to collaborate on organizing some fair trade events together in the future in Fort Wayne. Amber would make a great speaker for your church.

Next to Moriya was Revy Fair Trade, and its Passionate People, Ron and Mary. They work with lots and lots of groups in El Salvador, and they sell very cool bags and wallets from recycled tires, plus jewelry of all kinds of natural materials, and gorgeous indigo tie-dye scarves. They were kind of the old-timers, having done a few trade shows before, so whenever any of us newbies had a question, we ran to Ron and Mary. 

​One more Passionate Person I met was a buyer, Irene, from Footprints of the Mind. She has started an amazing organization to help kids learn about other cultures in fun, hands-on ways, which is also kind of a passion of mine. 

I also met several fair trade store owners, hospital gift shop volunteers, people who sell religious gifts (they want paper bead rosaries! paper bead stars of David!), and a doctor who's organizing subscription boxes for cancer patients, called Thriveosity. 

I spend a lot of time working at home in the company of cats, so it was great to find the world so full of Passionate People working to make it a better place!

When I'm In Uganda I stay at a center where the Comboni Sisters live, and while these good Italian nuns look very nice in their tan habits, socks and crocs, that is not what this post is about. This is about the Saturday morning when my two dear Ugandan "daughters," Diana and Effie did me the favor of modeling the many many necklaces that the bead ladies had made. But first, the setting:

This is the view from the wide terrace right outside the door to my simple Catholic room (bed, desk, chair and crucifix). With its lush garden, colorful trim, and thick walls, it was a great place for a photo shoot.

Effie's nephew Katuga came along with Effie, too. He is what is called "stubborn" in Uganda. See it in his eyes? He demonstrated his stubbornness by occasionally ringing the nuns' little bell  rather loudly and pawing through all the jewelry. Diana and Effie had brought along a variety of outfits from their wardrobes to mix and match with the jewelry, and they pretty much figured out what to wear with what, and I shot the pictures on my video camera, because my water bottle had spilled all over my regular camera. 

sodas...whatever needs to be done, this girl can do it, and do it in four-inch heels, too.  Besides working full-time as an accountant, she helps pay school fees for the kids in our education program, and sometimes ends up taking them to the doctor (though that's not her job). She sings in her church choir, too.

These beautiful women are real Ugandan young women with hopes and dreams. Effie had to quit secondary school early to care for her mother, who has since died. Diana lost her mother at age nine; her father, a photographer, was able to provide her with an education. Effie is building a house next to her grandma's house near Gulu, which she hopes to rent out for income.  Diana dreams of someday owning a hair salon, or a shop selling clothing from Kampala. Both have applied twice for visas to the US, and been denied every time. We're going to try again, in hopes of bringing Effie for Christmas, and Diana on a student visa next fall. So, look out, Midwest! The Omiyo models are goin' places!

But what about the other eye? The night before, we'd been walking around the city, and Gerald pointed out a golden lion on top of a distant building. I was pleased that his vision was that good, and in the preliminary eye test, Gerald read all the way down to the second to the last row. So it was looking like he was just going to be a one-eyed guy. Then the doctor looked into the good eye with his big, fancy machine, and then he called me over to look. Deep down in the eye, it looked like someone had spilled a bit of milk. The doctor explained that this was the beginning of another cataract, which would surely get worse. That was also bad news. We will have to watch that eye very carefully, and take action when it gets worse. But with good care, that eye should easily be saved.

All this was taking place in English, so I asked the doctor, who had some fluency in Gerald's native dialect, to explain it to him. I wasn't sure how much he understood. I watched his face as the doctor explained. It was impassive. But then a single tear rolled down his cheek, and I knew he had understood. That single silent tear really got to me. How scary it must be, to think you may lose your sight, especially when your parents have died, your aunts and uncles have died, and you and all your cousins and your old grandmother are living in a mud and grass hut far from town and any doctors, and you have no way to contact this white lady, and anyway, is she really going to stick with you?

I decided to find a clinic where Gerald can have his eye checked regularly, and take him there for a baseline check-up. So the following week, I took him to one in Gulu, the town nearest his village. As we got off the motorbike, he said "Mum, this is where I had the surgery done before." This did not bode well, but we were here, and really, how can they mess up with an eye chart exam, right?

I started telling the doctor that we were here for regular checks, but that when his eyesight began to deteriorate, we were going to go to the hospital in Kampala for surgery. She said, why don't you have the surgery done here? We can do it."  I'm not always the most diplomatic person. I pointed to his blind eye, and said, "because that eye was done here." She got quite huffy and defensive, and finally I said, "I can save your feelings, or I can save his eye. I choose his eye." So she tested him, and she looked into her big machine, and guess what? She did not see any spilled milk in the back of Gerald's eye. She said that eye was just hunky dory. Do I believe her? Not a chance. I am so glad that we have raised enough money to take Gerald to a good doctor and a well-equipped hospital when the time comes. As I keep telling him, we are lucky God gave us two eyes. Losing one is hard, and we won't let him lose the second one.  Thanks to all who have given to save Gerald's sight.

Some people think I'm brave. Ha.

I am about to embark on another trip to Uganda. This time I will be staying in the capital city, Kampala, for four days, a place I usually avoid like the plague, because it's crowded and confusing, and full of taxi drivers who want to rip me off because I'm white. I will be taking a boy named Gerald (see last post) to the hospital, another place I usually avoid like the plague, because they smell scary and I don't understand what they're talking about. And that's in the US.  I, an introvert, will be staying in a dorm room with two twelve-year-old boys and a girl who is herself afraid of me.

As I settled into my nice bed last night, I said to my husband Andy, "why do I do this stuff?"   
I said, "maybe this will be my last time." 
He said, "ha." 
Then I said, "sometimes when I am there, I miss home so much, I feel really sad." 
He said, "well, you don't have to start yet." Good point. 

When I was in college, I thought study abroad sounded cool, but I knew I'd never have the guts to do it. And I didn't, much to my parents' relief. But they didn't reckon on my meeting Andy, who took me on a backpackers's trip around Thailand and Malaysia on our honeymoon, and then a few years later, an all-Asia trip, on our way to our jobs in Indonesia. Later, a summer doing disaster work in the Virgin Islands, with three kids. A year in Korea, with four kids. A trip to Guatemala to show our oldest two how it's done. A work camp in Haiti. Then six months in Scotland, two in Nicaragua, just to name a few places we've been. And of course, Uganda, the Pearl of Africa.

We always travel on the cheap, not just because we are... well, cheap, but also because we think it's a lot more fun (our youngest daughter disagrees with this strongly). We like riding around on the backs of motorcycles (three to a bike), eating local foods, and waking up to the sound of roosters crowing. You meet a lot of nice people on a chicken bus. But all these things bring potential for more danger than staying home, or traveling in style (which is not even an option for us). Bugs, snakes, accidents, discomfort, sickness, crime, insomnia (from those roosters). 

So now I am packing my bags again, and I scream when a little spider crawls down the side of a suitcase. I wonder if I should bring a bike helmet ("What? And wear it all around?" says Andy). I know I'll get lost and argue with taxi drivers and get the absolute worst seat or have to stand on the chicken bus because I can't push for the best one. I'll have no idea how to change money and I I will get really obsessive about tucking in the mosquito net. Yeah, I'm not that brave. But I'm going. And I know I will be glad I did.

Gerald was doing so well in the village school, where he was one of 100 children in a class, that we decided to transfer him to a simple boarding school, where the education is much better. He has continued to achieve good grades at his new school.

When I visited his school in April, he shyly approached me, and I had to lean down to understand that he was asking me to thank his sponsor for paying his school fees. I asked him how it was with his eyes these days, and he told me he was feeling some pain in his good eye, hopefully just from the stress of having to do all the work. After doing some research, I learned that a failed cataract surgery can sometimes be reversed. Also that there are only 34 ophthalmologists in the whole country of Uganda, most of whom work in Kampala, the capital, a seven-hour bus ride from Gerald's small village in northern Uganda.

We've decided to take Gerald to Kampala for treatment during his school break. We will need to travel to Kampala and stay a few days, then will need to keep him in a sanitary place until his eye heals, so that it won't become infected, as it did before. And of course, we will need to pay for the surgery. Since our sponsorship fees are only $20, which just barely covers his schooling, we need to raise some money to pay for everything. If you would like to help save Gerald's sight, please go to our GoFundMe Campaign, where we have already raised $420 of the $1,500 we estimate we'll need to fully pay for the extra expense.

Gerald wants to be a pilot, and with good sight, he can probably achieve that goal, or any other. Please help this bright, humble guy fly.