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.