jigger clinic

Stephanie with kids waiting to get jiggers removed. 

Today we had the pleasure of meeting a wonderful missionary couple, Stevan and Stephanie, who live on an island on Lake Victoria. They are busy ministering to the people in the village around them in so many ways.

On the same property as their home, there is a medical clinic whose primary purpose is to be a birthing centre for the area, since so many mothers and babies in the community were dying in childbirth. They also support the school that is nearby, providing a breakfast program that, the school headmaster tells them, has totally changed the kids during the day. The students are alert and they now play after school until dark -- something he had not seen the children doing when they were coming to school hungry. In the summertime they run a Saturday feeding program. There are plans to begin a wool-dying centre to teach the women in the area a trade, as well as a woodworking shop for the men. The list goes on ...

In their sixties, this couple came to the village in January. They served as pastors in California for years. Although Stephanie always felt called to the mission field, her husband was adamant that he "was a pastor, not a missionary." On a short term missions trip to Uganda in 2010, Stevan literally heard God calling him to serve as a missionary while driving through the Kampala slums. Within three months they had miraculously raised enough money and were back in Uganda.

Since coming to the village they have faced their fair share of hardships. They have had malaria twice. They have watched the cost of projects creep way past the initial prediction. They have learned to trust God, and have watched God provide money month by month. They have transformed the un-livable little mission house into a cozy home [even though they still don't have electricity].

And yet they have such a wonderful attitude. They were both so bright and welcoming, and wanted to hear about us. Instead of going on about the troubles they've had, they were eager to tell us about the Muslim woman who gave her heart to Jesus last week; after delivering her baby at the clinic, the woman demanded to know what religion they had -- whatever it was, she wanted it to! It was clear that, in spite of all the frustrations they've had, they are fixed on their true purpose: to share Jesus.

The particular reason we were there today was to help with their monthly jigger clinic for the surrounding community. What are jiggers, you ask? As I understand it, they are small flea-like creatures that burrow into your skin and lay sacs of eggs. They are painful, and if left untreated they can become infected and actually cause death. People get jiggers by having dirt floor in their homes; the dry, dark environment is the perfect breeding ground for jiggers. Each month Stevan and Stephanie run a jigger clinic. The Ugandan nurse (who will soon be leaving to train as a doctor) hands out educational pamphlets in Lugandan to teach the people how to prevent jiggers. The children's feet are washed, jiggers are dug out, the wounds are cleaned, and band-aids with cartoon characters are applied (a thoughtful donation from a church in the States!)

After having coffee and banana bread with Stevan and Stephanie, some of the men in our group helped put a roof on the small shelter that they use to run their feeding program. The rest of us played with neighbourhood children, waiting for our jigger clinic patients to arrive. Finally we realized that most of the kids playing with us had jiggers, so we began washing feet and digging out jiggers [okay, let's be honest -- I only washed feet! The description of a white sac of eggs that usually breaks open during removal and leaves a hole turned my stomach!]

Isaac helping fix the roof, and telling me not to take his picture :) 

Most of the kids spoke little English, which made it a little difficult to give instructions. It also explained the initial miscommunication: the kids that we were playing with had probably been sent by their parents to get their jiggers removed, but they had decided they would rather play and we didn't realize they were the jigger patients we were waiting for. Somehow, though, between our scraps of Luganda, their scraps of English, and other kids who acted as translators we got the basic messages across and a few jiggers out before we left.

Most of the time we were there, though, we didn't need a whole lot of English. Frisbees, soccer balls, smiles and bubbles don't require a whole lot of translation!

Babu: A seven yeard old boy I had played Frisbee with (scary thought: me teaching someone else how to Frisbee) and practiced English with. He had jiggers and fungus. I washed his feet (with gloves!!!) so that he could get the jiggers removed.