A pilgrim's tale

Throngs of pilgrims. Far left is the Basilica Church.

The most recent time when I feared for my life was last 3 June 2012 at Uganda's celebration of Martyrs' Day.  There were around 1.5 million pilgrims trying to enter the grounds of the Basilica Church at Namugongo, outside

I got in alive

Joyce sits the Asian way

Kampala.  At the only gate, the police were doing a rigid physical security check because a suspected Somali terrorist had entered Uganda 2 days before.  There was no formal queue and people just dodged whoever was in front of them.  When the police push the people

Priests giving communion

it had a domino effect but no one fell;  there was just no ground so everyone ended up being squeezed.  My shoulder was in somebody's

Umbrella for a prelate

neck, and my neck was in someone's hair.  My chest was being torn apart and I had to hold my head high to catch some breathe.  It was badly disorganized.  Joyce and I managed to get inside and found a space to stand so we can hear the mass.  Martyrs' Day is celebrated every year in Uganda to commemorate the 22 Catholic martyrs who were either dismembered, beheaded, burned, speared, castrated by the Buganda prince Mwanga in 1886.  Pope Paul VI canonized the martyrs in 1964.  Catholics from neighboring countries make the pilgrimage mostly traveling on foot for several days to reach the shrine.  Most pilgrims carry jerry jugs as containers for water to be taken from the shrine's lake.

Scooping the "miraculous" water from the lake

Many believe that it is miraculous water of unknown origin, but the priests keep on reminding the pilgrims that it is a man-made lake which used to be a fish pond.  I know someone who drinks the water to cure his sickle cells condition.  

Faith can move mountains.