The Garlic Press

In the last four days, I estimate that I have eaten as much garlic as a garlic farmer produces in 3 months. I carry a garlic press around with me, so that I can ingest more and more as I go about my day. All of this horrid garlic bingeing has given me the nickname “Garly”. Now you must be asking, “Why are you eating so much garlic?” Two weeks ago I got really sick and they suspected that I had an amoebic infestation. After taking meds for 5 days I got better, but it came back. So now, I am trying the natural remedy, which seems to be working. 5 more days to go… yuck!


Six students from SPU came to the home today, and helped us paint a few of the rooms. It was perfect timing to have them come, as just last week we found out that the landowner was ticked with how dirty the boys had gotten the walls, and wanted them to be cleaned immediately. Only the boys who have school in the afternoon and are at the home in the morning knew the “Muzungu” (white person) Students were coming. When Megan and I got to the home Chantal was putting the boys to work like an army line, it was rather impressive with how well she got them organized, finished with their chores, and baths, three hours earlier than they usually finish. After the morning group left for school, Daniel shortly arrived at the Home- unusually early. We asked him why he was back a good 10-15 minutes before the rest of the boys and he told us that when he was walking back from school he saw the morning group and they told him that the house was full of muzungus. Still breathing heavily he wheezed, “I was so excited I ran the whole way back!”


While the SPU students were scrubbing away at the grime on the walls to get them clean enough to paint, Muhawe stood among us watching. It took him about 30 minutes to muster up the courage to ask if he could help. After we assured him we would love his help, he eagerly started scrubbing the walls and cleaning the floors. Not only did he really want to be a part of the work the muzungus were doing, he always tries to serve in anyway he can. He is one of the boys that completely blows me away when I think about that only two months ago he was living on the streets. I was looking at pictures Megan had taken of the broken down ruins of buildings where he used to sleep, wearing dirty, baggy ghetto clothes, and a stone cold expression on his face. It is bewildering to know that this is the same boy.


One of the SPU students asked if the boys had families or if they were orphans. As Muhawe went at it scrubbing the floor next to us, I told her his story. Muhawe’s mother wrapped a cloth around her back, in which Muhawe slept soundly. They left their house and while they headed down a dirt road, a few rebels spotted her and came at her. She tried to flee from them and ran into the bush, but they caught her and killed her with a machete. She fell to the ground and died with Muhawe still strapped around her back. Her killers left them both in the bush, thinking Muhawe was as good as dead. But 4 days later, a passerby heard Muhawe’s cried and found him on the ground hours away from death. He was brought back to his elderly father to be raised motherless and in severe poverty. The severity of their poverty forced him to choose between starving or living on the streets. He chose the streets.


I can barely believe or imagine what his life was like before he came to Hope For Life. It is so incredible to know that God has always known each one of them by name, and called each one according to His purposes to a new life.