Having myself an African Christmas

Some might see the weather outside as frightful as the temperatures continue to rise and the sides of the road are becoming covered with dust. But the blinking, colored LED lights on our artificial tree are truly delightful.

There is no doubt that this Christmas is going to be filled with many firsts of both the frightful and delightful variety. I am frightfully far from family for the first time at Christmas. Last week in advent we focused on home and what that is. Christ was both an IDP (internally displaced person) born away from his earthly parents home and a refugee as he was on the road to Egypt to escape death not long after his birth... not to mention the fact that he left heaven. Even as an adult Jesus had not a place to lay his head. What Christ did means more to me this Christmas. It also has helped me to long for my real home which is the place he is preparing for me in heaven. Because the truth is that only He can fill the home shaped gap in my heart.

ONE OF MY FAVORITE KIDS- MUJUNI

KIM AND LYDIA AND FRIEND DECORATING OUR TREE

So much of life here is like what it would have been like 2000 years ago. While people aren’t riding donkeys, you are sure to see goats and cows all along the road. People live with their animals in their house and sleep on dirt or straw and cook over a fire. A couple weeks ago we went camping in Queen Elizabeth’s game park. We sat around the campfire faces glowing from the blaze singing Christmas carols. Every time there was a line about stars we would lean our heads back an look up at the sky that was just littered with them. Across the lake we heard a lion roar. I was assured that it was far away but one can’t help feel a little nervous. I thought then about the shepherds to whom the angles came to tell of Christ’s birth. Shepherds who had bathed at an even more distant time than I. Shepherd’s who routinely heard the roars of animals, and whose job it was to actually defend the sheep from these beasts. Dirty, smelly, thieving perhaps but braver than I. And yet when the angles appeared to them they were “sore afraid.” I have never been totally sure what that means but you can be sure they were shaking in their sandals. Then these guys went running into town to find this one worthy of such an introduction.

JUST UP THE HILL FROM MY HOUSE

Last weekend I left this world and drove the 8 hours to the other world of Kampala. A world of stores that resemble Wal-mart and you can get iced coffee and Indian food. On Sunday we went to Kampala Presbyterian Church and saw a Christmas cantata. It was an amazing blend of African and western cultures with a choir of over 100. Dancers and an angel with a great Ugandan sense of humor wearing a white suit, derby hat, and wings. Comparing the chaos of the census to the elections minus the tear gas. Heidi made a comment that she always imagined the angels singing classical music, but after this choir we weren’t so sure. It was amazing!

KAMPALA

I am sure there will be many more special things that God wants to show me about the kind of God He is this Christmas. I am praying the good news of our savior, God of the Cosmos, coming to a nobody town, sleeping with smelly animals excites and awes you like it did the shepherds and changes your life like it continues to change mine.

Weebale kubugha Lubwisi

“Thank you for speaking Lubwisi”. I have been counting my blessing lately and this phrase is one that I am thankful for. Learning Lubwisi... or at least making an attempt has been a struggle. I mean, try saying “weebale kuntegheeleliya”. This is the simple reply of “thank you for listening” At this point I smile and just say “weebale” (way-ba-lay). The other day I went to the market in Nyahuka in need of potatoes and an avocado, determined to practice my Lubwisi. I had written a few of the hard parts on a note card. I glanced at it just prior to hopping across the stepping stones through the mud into the many little tents of the market. It was a week day and much less crowded. Though, the dried fish section was just as potent. I found a lady with potatoes and greeted her. Pausing, I gave an initial smile of apology, took a deep breath, and blurted out my request for 3 heaps of potatoes. Even though I butchered it and got a verification response in English, I still received smiles from the lady selling. I then went on to find avocados, the word for this is more simple and I only wanted one. A much smoother interaction.

I was feeling pretty happy about all this and started back up the dusty road with a smile on my face, ready to greet anyone who wanted to talk. I stopped at a little compound where there are always people sitting to greet. I have this problem that I spit out my few sentences of greeting and people continue on thinking I can understand them. I stand there like a deer in the head lights shaking my head. I decided to try out a new phrase. “I am going, bye” So I say “aghenda, weesalo.” about 10 people stop their sombe pounding or whatever and burst out into laughter. I had just said, “She goes... bye” I decided this was a good time to make my exit, but not with out hearing the last words from the fellow I was conversing with of “weebale kubugha Lubwisi” While I am sure there will be many more blunders ahead, and people at this compound still randomly start laughing when I pass, I am so thankful to be living among gracious people, who not only love to laugh but also love that I am trying. Their warmth is a blessing. I look forward to the day that I can actually tell them this.

Thankful for Team and Turkey

I am missing my family this thanksgiving... not to mention my mom’s cranberry chutney and sweet potato casserole. But I am SO thankful for a wonderful team with whom I can celebrate. One traditional meal item that we did not have to do without was turkey. I had a drumstick and though it was not the fat, juicy meat I am used to, what it lacked in tenderness it made up for in freshness. How fresh you might ask? Well, I witnessed its last breaths this morning. After which came my first turkey slaughtering experience. Instead of describing this one I will just let the pictures give you the gruesome details.

Step 1: Tie up the dog, no matter how excited she may be about this event.

Step 2: Inhibit wing movement by placing a foot on each. You don’t want violent flapping to make the process more lengthy than needed.

Step 3: Hold the head steady with on hand while swiftly sawing the jugular with the other hand, allowing blood to drain. (It is normal for the turkey to be blinking through this processes and trashing my occur upon removing feet from wings)

Turkey number 2 can’t watch...

Luke the professional. Kids don’t try this at home, but if you do, remember to wear gloves.

Step 4: Spa/ feather loosening treatment

Step 5: De-feather with your own two hands (gloves not required)

I am THANKFUL that I’m not a pioneer woman who has to kill my own meat, and that there are boys to do it for me when necessary.

The Art of the Boda Boda

On Monday I traveled the 8 or so kilometers to Bundibugyo town. The most efficient method of transport for this thirty minute scenic trip is a sputtering moped taxi called a boda boda. I have really been looking forward to my first boda riding experience and I was not disappointed. Sarah and I walked from our house into Nyahuka where we negotiated our fare, 5000 shillings... about $2.75 and climbed aboard. I got the middle. You may be wondering how a boda can manage two passengers. I assure you this is nothing. We were passed on the road by a boda carrying not 2 but 3 passengers (4 people total, one of whom held a chicken). Economy is a theme here. In an effort to conserve fuel boda drivers are constantly cutting off the engine to cruise down hills. This always makes me a little nervous after Sarah told of one driver who upon trying to restart the engine without success said, “Sorry, fuel is finished” and they walked the rest of the way. I was also surprised by the smoothness of the ride. This is no small accomplishment when one considers the road riddled with pot holes and protruding rocks that must be navigated. However, while there may be limited bumps it is not a straight path. Staying on your side of the road only seems to apply if your side is the smoother one. There is always a mud puddle to be dogged, a truck to beware of coming around the bend, or a pedestrian carrying a large bundle of fire wood on her back. The challenge for the rider is to try to keep the majority of both butt cheeks on the seat... a constant shifting battle.

So we arrived in Bundi town, backside disagreeing with my previous observation of a smooth ride. We did our errands, Bundibuyo town has the only bank in the district of 300,000 inhabitants, it also has a gas station. We went to the market where we were able to procure a pumpkin, carrots, and green peppers... things that don’t come with such ease in Nyahuka. We then treated ourselves to lunch out... rice, beans, greens, and... soda! For our dining pleasure on the little TV was women’s wrestling. Not exactly the taste of America I was longing for. Never the less, lunch was much enjoyed and we continued on.

Our driver for the way back was a little more daring and the ride definitely more thrilling, this may also have had been due to the fact that we were heading down the mountain. At one point there was a bit of a bottle neck as we slowed down because of a wedding. On either side of the road people were lined up in their finest, music was starting to blare and I could see a little arch way decked out with pink tule. This was going to be an event. As we slowed down a man looking very smart (as they would say here) asked us to join them, however we declined. I was enjoying myself thoroughly until we got behind a truck and I stared to taste grit in my mouth from all the kicked up dirt. But, I made it back to Nyahuka unharmed. The only alteration was being a slight shade darker due to the intense equatorial sun and a layer of dirt newly plastered, not sure which was the greatest contributing factor. All in all it was yet another great Ugandan adventure!!

A day of Adventure

The morning started with my first a rat killing attempt... an attempt without success. I beat the cabinet and with a large bamboo stick hoping to send the rat to Sarah’s side where she waited with a golf club. We made a lot of noise and waited expectantly... but no rat. So the little guy is still running around somewhere.

The agenda for the rest of the day was to go to Semliki National Forest and hike the 14 km to the Semliki River, which separates Uganda from Congo. Sarah, Nathan, Joel and I headed down Bundibugyo road (the only road) toward our destination. We winded and bumped through the hills, the Rwenzori Mountian range towering to our right. The road has apparently just been graded and was much better to ride on, Nathan was excited to get the jeep into 4th gear.

When we arrived at the park we were able to secure a guide, only after we stared at each other for a while as he considered whether or not he was willing to get started on the trek so late in the day. After that delay and a stop at the “flash toilet” (supposed to be “flush toilet”) we were off. This is the rainy season so I was thankful for my borrowed rubber boots as we sloshed under eucalyptus, palms, and huge trees with buttress roots. We saw some exotic birds and a monkey or two. We started to get unpleasant whiffs of sulfur then the path opened into a clearing where we were transported back into the land before time. White mists rose from the ground against a back drop of prehistoric looking trees. Green mountains shot up dramatically behind. White clay bubbled and miniature volcanoes spewed into the hot springs. If we had brought eggs we could have hard boiled lunch. I almost expected a brontosaurus to poke through the foliage.

We crossed the marsh via board walk. Over creeks through the woods we trudged. The heat was getting intense, if not for the tree cover it would have been unbearable. We spotted buffalo tracks, tracks of a deer variety, even elephant tracks but unfortunately saw none. We did see some crazy insects: a red spider that had a crab body, bright green inch worms with whiskers, butterflies of many varieties, and we sighted with the vicious impali ants at a range that was too close for comfort. Their pinchers draw blood. I did a shrieking, swatting dash as I realized they were moving up my boots. I am happy to say there was no blood shed.
We did make it to the river, took a few snaps of Congo and scrambled back up the muddy bank. I had no desire to linger as a 7m croc had been spotted in this very river. The way back was tiring and I longed to be sitting in the jeep feeling a breeze hopefully drying my sweat soaked shirt. As we reached the edge of the park our guide took us on a shorter route by road. We passed a truck that had been in an accident just a day or so before. I remember hearing about how several people had recently been killed in an accident. I cringed as we passed a reddish mud puddle where flies swarmed.

Hot springs

The Semliki River

Today was a great day. I was surrounded by amazing beauty and continually put in awe of the Creator. But Africa is full or reminders that we live a world filled with both beauty and pain. God loves extravagantly yet is far from safe... something I have so much to learn about in the days to come.

Dinner Out

I am back from dinner at my new friend Naomi’s house. I walked in to Naomi’s tiny mud house, the front room was completely filled by a small table. Behind one faded curtain are sleeping quarters. Behind the other I heard clucking of the other residents... three turkeys. We sat as the charcoal smoke from the cook fire wafted in, faces glowing with lamp light. We got more and more excited with each pot Naomi brought in as each one moved us closer to the feast. And I do mean feast. Africans eat like none other. The spread consisted of rice with peanut sauce, beans, and sombee. Sombee is a leaf that has to be beaten for about and hour to release the cyanide, then cooked to be something like the greens we enjoy in the south, all these piled high in a bowl. Then one eats and eats. I thought it might be smart to eat quickly so that I could finish it all before I felt too bloated, then Naomi started scooping me more sombee. By the time we left I was far beyond full.

Naomi lives with her grandmother, Mamba. I like Mamba very much. Mamba greeted us warmly and smiled revealing pink gums and a tooth something resembling a fang. Supposedly she has 2 teeth, I have yet to see the other. She goes on and on in Lubwisi I smile and say “mmm..” (equivalent to the smile and nod) She occasionally will revert back to the traditional greetings, as this is the only thing I understand and can make a reply. Mamba just likes to talk. My roommates Sarah and Ashley and Heidi (a nurse in Bundi) are better at communicating, but still there are a lot of mmm...s. Mamba laughs. She then starts to count to 10... in English. Amazing! Hardly anyone here speaks English, but this old woman is learning. She wants to talk that much. The other school kids in the room laugh as she attempts other words. I understand this feeling well... many giggle at my awkwardness in a place and culture so unlike my own. A feeling that is soon to be a constant companion as I will really be trying to learn Labwisi these next couple months. Pray that I would be like Mamba, having a strong desire to communicate with these people as well as the ability to laugh at myself. Pray that I will be disciplined and that God would provide a good Babwisi language helper and friend for me.

A few snaps

In Bundi taking a picture is called taking a snap. So here are some snaps from my last few days is in Bundibugyo.

Two days ago I left Kampala in a tiny little four seater plane, even got to sit in the copilot’s seat. We flew west over a green Uganda. After crossing the Rwenzori Mountains we circled around to be in position over the the small green strip below... our runway. And we landed. Kids waved from the tall grass. Then when the plane landed stood behind the profellers so their shirts would balloon out. The team greeted us also waving, some standing on top of their vehicles. It was so wonderful to meet these people I have so long to be with.

Yesterday I visited the health clinic where several of my teammates work. I was shown in the delivery room, a tired mother rested and a healthy newborn lay bundled only minutes old. It was amazing the baby had survived because it had been a twin and the twin had died long before. The cause of this child’s second chance at life was being in a different amniotic sac. “Not something you see every day Jennifer” said... EXACTLY what I was thinking.

Nyahuka is the closest village to me in Bundibugyo. Today was market day and because Christmas is soon it was very crowded. The plies of shoes on the mats were higher... more fabrics, more clothes as the second hand stalls. Coco, the cash crop is in. This means people also have money to spend. My favorite scene: A boy herding two goats through the mazes of muddy streams, stalls, and people with a basket of live chickens on his head.

I was walking up the path by myself making my way to a teammates house when from behi

nd I hear someone called out, “Anna” I stopped and turned around. A smiling face with bright white teeth and warm dark eyes greeted me. “How are you?” she said. I was relieved that she was communicating in English and embarrassed that I did not know her name. I explained that I had met so many people and could she please tell me her name again. She said, “Oh I haven’t met you yet. I just heard that you were coming and wanted to greet you, my name is Pauline.” That pretty much sums up the happiness I feel at being here. Can’t wait to share more.

God Sighting = Joy

This afternoon I sat at Mrs. Everhart's desk making my last notes about my week of subbing, when a stampede of about 15 of my previous students came in to give one last hug. (I LEAVE OCTOBER 26TH !!!) This morning I was presented with a rubber band ball from another former student. (Glad to know that those rubber bands won't be used to shoot hornets across some classroom.) ...just a few precious memories to file away. While my heart feels a little torn in two, I can't help but stop and thank God for the blessing of knowing and being a part of these awesome kid's lives.

Another thing I learned at MTI is how important it is to remember all the times throughout the day God shows up. I know he is always there, but man do I forget when things don't go according to plan. Other times it is so obvious you can not help but have full heart. I know God will continue to be present at Brown Middle and I look forward to hearing from my colleagues about how he shows up.

A fellow teacher shared with me that God is not only all over Brown Middle school, but he is Bundibugyo Uganda too. This brings me great comfort as I head out, a little warily, into the unknown. I'm can't bring someone who is already there. But God has seen it is best for me to go and be a part of what He is doing in the sticks of Uganda. He also shared a great quote:

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus what will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of the wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us, if we are with them. " -Bono

So whether it is the kids of davidson county or the poorest of the poor in Uganda, God is there pouring out his love in ways we don't always see or understand. But we can cling to the truth and join in his work. I really think I have no idea how BIG God is, how involved and so in control he is. I am excited about what he will show me about himself.

I did it! All by myself

This week I have grieved my independence. At times I have viewed this part of my personality as a virtue but this week I have seen it as the vice that it can be. I see how it saddens God, even robs Him and myself of joy in our relationship.

As a kid I remember my dad taking me down to the school parking lot with my first two wheeled bike. It was a glorious pink and white beauty, now training wheelless. My dad held the bike steady as I climbed on. My legs were just long enough to make the rotation of the pedals. This was a bike to grow into, and I was feeling very grown up. He gave me a good push. Hands gripped tightly to the handle bars, the words, "Lean into the fall, lean into the fall" cycled through my mind as my feet pressed against the pedals, muscles contracting, and... I was doing it! Oh what joy... I was riding my bike all by myself. This feeling became one I would love and cling to for years to come in many more circumstances. There was one sad thing... I didn't need my dad to go with me anymore.

This week I have seen this desire of my heart with different eyes. And I have felt sorrow at my many lone bike rides down the road of life. This weekend God sent me down a hill and his ordained forces of physics sent me racing out of control. I longed for my father's steadying hand, but I wasn't sure where he was. I thought I had left him back in the parking lot. So I closed my eyes and anticipated a painful crash. Imagine my surprise that despite my efforts to remain independent my loving father was there and instead of crashing into asphalt I slammed into his arms, and found myself sobbing into his chest. I heard him rejoicing over me with familiar words, "Anna, I did it all by MYself. I will always be here to catch you, in fact I pushed you down the hill so that I could chase you down. I so want to love you. Rest, rest here against me."

Another phrase I recall my dad saying in the bike riding lesson, "You know how to fall" To which the correct response was to stick out my legs release the handlebars and and let the bike crash to the ground without me on it. Falling is inevitable, my heavenly Father says the same thing... he is showing me how to fall straight into his arms.

The Weak Hand

Currently I am at MTI (Missionary Training International) in Colorado, with plans to leave for Uganda by the end of October! Yesterday in one of my classes I had to draw a characterization of myself, portraying the current journey on which God has taken me... with my left hand. Being the perfectionist that I am I was not particularly thrilled by this task. My pitiful stick person self portrait had a large purple crayon stroke down the middle. One red curve of my mouth going up in a smile, excited about my soon departure to Africa, the other curving down as I am sad to part with family, friends, church, and job that I love so much. Somewhat reluctantly I shared with the others at my table what was depicted... as explanation was most definitely needed.

So what was the point? The immediate application is that when I arrive in Uganda I am going to be weak, helpless even, awkward and inept in my attempts at learning foreign culture. But with practice it will come more easily. Upon deeper pondering spiritual implications came to surface. God loves to give us all left handed tasks in which our attempts just aren't pretty. At this point it becomes less about us as we have nothing to take pride in. Really the only thing of worth is the story that we tell. As believers our lives are about telling the story of the gospel and letting it motivate us to love others. But so often we do this poorly. God in his goodness and graces still uses our feeble attempts and the story goes forth with Him, it's author, getting his rightful Glory!

You just know

Two of my best friends got married this summer. Beaming, I stood beside each of them as they cast their lot in with this person whose life God had collided with their own. Who doesn't love a good romance. I mean how many times have I read Pride and Prejudice? Love is something every human craves, not to mention the fun of getting dressed up, dancing, and eating cake that goes with weddings. I've always wondered how one knows they have found the one person with whom they want to spend the rest of their earthly days. Upon my queries I get a pretty standard response. Exhaling softly they say, "You just know." But I think we both know there is more to it than that. God has an amazing way of making the way plain. And we can be confident to take the next step because it is obvious that only God could have done such a thing.

Those that have known me for a while are aware of my love for travel. I have been in and out of relationships with this place and that. It has been a long time desire of my heart to live in Africa. This past year has been like a romance with Africa. My acquaintance with Uganda began last summer. When kids clamored with dirty hands grasping for mine, I was smitten. Since my return there have been mixed emotions, confusion over what I should do, a lot of waiting and praying, even the surreal feeling when World Harvest asked me to go to Bundibugyo, Uganda. In the back of my mind the question loomed... "Is this it?" These past few months assurance has filled my heart as God has called people to partner with me and funds have quickly come in despite the current climate of our economy. The road just keeps materializing as my foot nears the ground, step by step. And... I JUST KNOW this is what God has prepared me for and where He is leading me right now. So for the next two years I am casting my lot in with the people of Bundibugyo, hitching my wagon to the gospel and expecting the ride of my life!

I can't believe I did that!

This past week my sonship study sent me spelunking, crawling deeper into the dark caverns of my heart and I have to say I don't like what the head lamp reveals.  As I've already shared my heart is full of self-dependency and self-righteousness.  When I am faced with something I can't do or don't want to do, I am learning to cry out to God. I feel relieved, excited even as God rescues me and I briefly draw close.  Then pride creeps me in as I feel satisfied at the insight I have gained into myself.  But insight is not repentance. My self righteousness flares as I say to myself, "I can't believe I did that again" and I make resolutions.  But this reveals a darker heart attitude, and how alienated I really am from God, to think that I could actually not sin.  An article I read by Nancy Leigh DeMoss puts it this way, "Our hearts are an underground network of caves, all interconnected, and all full of sin.  As light shines in, it reveals a cave together with passageways to ten more.  Travel into another cave and we find more passageways." Making resolutions to do better is futile.  So instead of blundering around in the the cave of my heart.  I need to say instead, "I did do that... I can believe I am like that! Lord, forgive me you are my only hope."

So, I've had to repent about my repenting... pretty pitiful huh?  So what is true repentance? First of all seeing the grossness of my sin, and truly feeling grief and brokenness over it.  Hating it because it hurts God.  By this sin I dis God.  Then coming face to face with God in my disheveled messy state, knowing he desires to break the cycles of sin in my life.  Then clinging to the undeserved grace that I have and receiving quietness because of the pure, perfect heart of righteousness from Christ. With caves not full of darkness but treasure and riches from the Father. 

Allergic to neediness

Last weekend I was in DC visiting some family for the 4th.  One morning I was jogging on an unfamiliar path.  Suddenly a root reached through the gravel and caught my foot.  I stumbled with windmill arms in slow motion failing to regain stability before I hit the ground.  Sitting there in the dirt examining the damage done to just about every appendage, embarrassed,  I very much wanted the oncoming couple to know that I was okay.  But am I really?  Physically, yes the scabs are healing, but what about my heart?  This incident caused me to reflect on a conversation that I had just had with a friend about my support raising.  A people pleaser, I get burdened by needing the approval of others. Also a first born I am independent by nature, not to mention my all-American tendencies toward self-sufficiency.  These things make asking other people to give me money hard, and reveal a self-centered heart.  But dependency on not only others, but on God to provide is good for me.  My friend and I talked about how we are allergic to neediness.  I like to do things myself and look like I have everything together.  If I can do it myself why do I need God? Needy is exactly where God wants me to be.  Because the truth is whether or not I realize it I can do nothing with out God.

2  Corinthians 12:9-10  “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 

I can’t say that I am quite to the point yet of delighting in my weaknesses... I’m still applying the cortizone to my neediness itch.  But I find it so encouraging to know that when I am weak He is right there being strong beside me.  And I delight in being close to Him.

H.A.G.S.

"Have a great summer" what so many of my students wrote in my yearbook.  Middleschoolers are into acronyms.  H.A.G.S. implies "I'll see you next year" but for me that won't be the case. Though I am so excited about what the next year has in store, the last week of school was a  lot harder than I expected it would be.  I have put in a lot of little roots at Brown Middle School.  I guess I should have known that it would be somewhat painful to be transplanted.  So what exactly is there to miss about spending eight hours a day with over 100 teenagers?  A lot actually!

I will miss: 

• Moments like the time I finally got Cody back for all his goofiness when I accidently squirted him with frog guts.  
  
• Visits from eight graders (my students from last year)  
  
• Talks with my helpers who stayed during planning.   
  
• How my students make me laugh at least once a day.   
  
• The fact that no day is ever the same.
  
• Messages from my kids on the white board.
  
• Homeroom with AVID
  
• Sweating it out on field day and watching dizzy bat.
• Cupid shuffle at the dances
• Ball games... go Bruins
• Spirit week... especially wacky/tacky day
• I will GREATLY miss the team mates that I have been so blessed to work with and the teachers, administrators, and staff that made coming to work such a pleasure.
  

ILY!