2005...I was attending college in Oklahoma City after being medically disqualified from the Air Force Academy after a year of prep school. I was miserable. After not making it to the Academy I did not have a plan B, no back up. So, I went to college because that is what you are "suppose" to do. I was always a fantastic student, but I was miserable. My sense of finding my "grand purpose" was shattered along with any hope I had in my future.
On Christmas break, my mom was home from Africa. I listened to her talk about her plans for Uganda and one day at dinner, without knowing what prompted the idea I said, "I'm going to go back to Africa with you."
"What?"
"Ya, I think I am going to go with you this time."
My mom was as shocked as I was.
I put all my stuff in storage, dropped out of college and got on an airplane. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. All I knew was that I had to do something drastic. A third world country was as extreme as I could muster up. And I wasn't just going for a short volunteer visit. I was moving there. For at least year.
I was terrified.
We landed in Entebbe, Uganda.
"What?"
"Ya, I think I am going to go with you this time."
My mom was as shocked as I was.
I put all my stuff in storage, dropped out of college and got on an airplane. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. All I knew was that I had to do something drastic. A third world country was as extreme as I could muster up. And I wasn't just going for a short volunteer visit. I was moving there. For at least year.
I was terrified.
We landed in Entebbe, Uganda.
The air was thick with humidity and smelled of damp earth. As we loaded onto a public bus/van I found myself lost in the landscape. The red earth billowed around the bus as it (rather unsafely) made its way towards Kampala. Animals dotted the side of the road, women carrying impossibly large items on their heads wore brightly colored fabrics, other vehicles fought for invisible lanes. It was everything I had imagined, but better. More visceral, more real, more intense.
My mother tapped me on the shoulder, "You love it don't you."
I looked back out the window before replying, "Ya, I do."
Purpose suddenly became something that was a daily necessity, not an impossible journey. Unexpectedly, Uganda, a place I had never had any desire to visit, had now imprinted on my heart.
We were shopping in a local market and hired a street kid to carry our belongings as we did. There are no shopping carts, obviously. He was barefoot and dressed in tatters. After we completed our shopping we took him to eat where we were able to get his story.
His sister had come to Kampala from their village to get married. A few years later his village ran out of food and his mother could no longer feed him. So, she put him on a bus to the city to find his sister. Maybe, she could help. But she had changed her last name and he did not know her married name. Being unable to find her he made his way to a slum area in the city and joined a gang. They got him hooked on drugs and he was collecting plastic bottles to turn in for money. He was hoping he could save enough to buy a bus fare back to his village. He had been in the ghetto for over a year. He was 10 years old. Obviously, this stirred our hearts.
“What if he doesn’t make it? How will we know?” I cried.
“We won’t know. We just have to do what we can when we can and leave the rest to God,” my mom comforted while trying to move me through the park.
That was it. I was ready to leave. My heart hurt. I couldn’t reconcile the not knowing.
Obviously, I ended up staying and learning the very valuable lesson I still try to practice today.
My mother tapped me on the shoulder, "You love it don't you."
I looked back out the window before replying, "Ya, I do."
Purpose suddenly became something that was a daily necessity, not an impossible journey. Unexpectedly, Uganda, a place I had never had any desire to visit, had now imprinted on my heart.
Four months into my Ugandan adventure I hit an emotional wall. For me, the hardest thing about Africa is there is SO much need. Being there on a long term basis forces you to define your own personal vision and mission. You learn how to say no, when no seems like the most impossible thing to do. But without those boundaries, you become so stretched you are no good to anyone else, or yourself.
We were shopping in a local market and hired a street kid to carry our belongings as we did. There are no shopping carts, obviously. He was barefoot and dressed in tatters. After we completed our shopping we took him to eat where we were able to get his story.
His sister had come to Kampala from their village to get married. A few years later his village ran out of food and his mother could no longer feed him. So, she put him on a bus to the city to find his sister. Maybe, she could help. But she had changed her last name and he did not know her married name. Being unable to find her he made his way to a slum area in the city and joined a gang. They got him hooked on drugs and he was collecting plastic bottles to turn in for money. He was hoping he could save enough to buy a bus fare back to his village. He had been in the ghetto for over a year. He was 10 years old. Obviously, this stirred our hearts.
We took him to the bus park. Gave him a bag full of bottled water and food and put him on a bus back to his village. Now, the bus park is the craziest place in the whole city. It is FULL of buses, vendors, etc. Chaos only mildly describes the happenings. As we walked away from this young boy, I broke down emotionally. In the middle of the park. Just a random white girl bawling her eyes out in the middle of a Ugandan chaos zone...nothing to see here people.
“What if he doesn’t make it? How will we know?” I cried.
“We won’t know. We just have to do what we can when we can and leave the rest to God,” my mom comforted while trying to move me through the park.
That was it. I was ready to leave. My heart hurt. I couldn’t reconcile the not knowing.
Obviously, I ended up staying and learning the very valuable lesson I still try to practice today.
Sometimes, we don’t know how the story or situation will end. All we can do it the best we can and continue moving forward. We can surround ourselves with positive people and decisions that create a life of daily purpose, on purpose. We can hope and pray that as long as we do our part others will come along side and do their part. We all have a role to play, a job to do, and it might seem small, but the ripples extend to places we might never witness. We just have to have faith because our contribution to the world around us...matters.
-Nicole Mills
Public Relations Manager
Kids Inspiring Kids
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