Having a “hangout ministry” allows you a flexible schedule – one where you can pick and choose how you want to serve each day. Jenni and I have had specific callings placed on our hearts (counseling and medicine) so when we stumbled upon the brand spankin new, Ntinda Hospital we were eager to volunteer our time. They informed us about an HIV community outreach that was taking place that week, and they needed extra help. My mind starting racing… I was hoping to take blood and run the tests myself… only later to be disappointed when learned you had to be a “trained professional”. Lame.
But we were still able to serve…. And well.
We showed up at the hospital at 8am sharp. Prepped with our HIV notes, Jenni and I were armed and ready to take the day. But then our contact, Barbara, shocked us when she asked what we knew about circumcision…. She handed us a very description brochure, with a full on diagram of before and after surgeries and the all the greaaaat benefits. I could only think of one thing: I didn’t sign up for this. HIV, sure, but circumsion…? Oh dearrrrr.
We set out in an old white van with 5 hospital staff and a megaphone. Our driver, Robert, boldly asked me if I was positive or negative. “Excuse me???” He pointed to my arm freckles with raised eyebrows. Confusion…. “I’m negative. Thanks for asking…Robert.”
A large white tent was setup on the side of the road, and the testing began. Herds of people lined up to be tested for HIV, and Jenni and I had the task of filling out medical and sexual history forms. “So…. how many sexual partners have you had in the last 12 months? 20? You’re married? Okay, cool. Oh, and your wife is HIV positive? Perfect.” That convo pretty much sums up our day. Talk about culture shock.
It was an interesting day to say the least… one definitely worth mentioning. Not only for the humor and ridiculousness that Jenni and I experienced, but because of the people and their stories.
We met mothers, drunks, boda drivers, mechanics, hairdressers, husbands and their wives. We met hundreds of people, from all different areas of Uganda, with various professions and backgrounds, who may be HIV positive, or may not. But they all had one thing in common: they are all God’s children. Each and every one. They are loved more than they could ever imagine. Even the drunkard falling in the street, yelling at the voices in his head. God loves him as much as he loves any missionary or foster parent. Sometimes, people just need a friendly reminder… even if you have to use HIV testing as a medium to do so.
