A merry little Christmas

Just a little window into Christmas in Bundibugyo...

Charlie Brown Christmas tree #1... webale electricity this year with means LIGHTS!

Christmas tree #2 (which more accurately is 6 branches wired together)... the dead branches of tree #1 started falling off

RMS Christmas party with special guests Kym and Lydia... Happy Birthday Jesus!

Johnson's Katube living nativity/ RMS program. With Ivan reading in Lubwisi, and Pat costume coordinator. I love how this picture captures the afternoon with our rambunctious shepherds, lovely angel Lilli with pink wings, and expressive Afsa as a beautiful Mary

Two Kings...

... And 3 wise women

Christmas eve at the Johnsons... Chrissy is really excited about santa, Lydia... not so sure :)

Church service on Christmas day... ladies choir in new Christmas dresses

What's in a Name?

From the very beginning of time naming was something important to God. To name something suggests ownership. Adam’s first job was to name all the animals, as his work was to subdue the earth and husband it. God himself gives Adam his name, an identity linked to his creator. However, after the fall, our true identity was marred, lost even. We lost the ability to be ourselves. We knew shame for the fist time. We couldn’t love, we couldn’t trust God or even do the work created for us. We needed a new name, a new identity... we needed a savior! When God promised to link himself to Abram, to save and bless the world through him, He also changes Abram's name to Abraham (father of a multitude). God routinely does this through out the old testament, a gesture of redemption, of making these men and women His own. For Abraham’s wife Sarai He changes her name to to Sarah (Princess... even after she laughed at the promises of God). Abraham’s grandson, Jacob becomes Israel (one who struggles with God). These names were were reminders of one who would come.

The creator, the one who was there in the very beginning, would become flesh and dwell among us. But when Christ came he was born as he son of peasants no one had ever heard of. Jesus from Nazareth... who was that? This indescribable God actually took a name, a shrunken identity. Not nearly showing the glory of all that He is. Isaiah attempts in several names, “He shall be called, “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” But on that night when he was helpless crying baby these were things that he laid aside. The shepherds got a glimpse of his glory in the singing of the heavenly hosts. The wise men saw the star that spoke of his greatenss. Joseph and Mary each got visitations from angles trying to describe His wonder. But his majesty just couldn’t be contained or explained even in dozens of names.

At Christmas it is appropriate for us to ask ourselves: why would God do such a thing? He came to live among us, attempted to describe himself because He so longs for us to know Him. He gave up part of his identity so that we could have His. A new, a perfect identity. He came to give us a new name. Just as he gave names to Abaham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, and so many others. He has a name for you... as his beloved Child. “I will give him a stone, with a new name written on the stone, that no one knows except the one who receives it.” Revelation 2:16 Last Christmas as our team prepared for advent, Jennifer Myhre asked us to read John 10:3 “To Him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice and, he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.” She asked us to to listen for Jesus calling our name. I have been blessed this year by revisiting this meditation. I hope you will take some time to do the same. Let him call you by name. May you know more his deep, deep love for you this Christmas!

A gift that keeps on giving

Another year at Christ School Bundibugyo has come to a close! I have so enjoyed spending time with these secondary school students. Praying with them! Hearing their stories. Watching God enter their lives. The students that I have spent the most time with are part of the orphan and vulnerable children’s scholarship program. My team mate Chrissy interviewed some of the graduates. Read and be blessed!

Meet Kansiime Asumini. She calls Bumate village her home and answers my questions in a soft-spoken voice with a smile. We find common ground being the youngest child in our families and she tells me about her favorite Nigerian movie. Asumini recalls both the happy and the sad life-changing moments that have occurred in her nineteen years. She remembers the joy she felt at being accepted at Christ School as well as the discouragement of becoming ill during her first term there. While teachers made preparations for her to return to her home, a friend and fellow student named Miriam, prayed for Asumini. Soon after, there was no more talk of Asumini returning home due to her illness—she had been healed! Remembering God’s healing power, Asumini says she learned that “God has plans for me and He can make a way when there seems to be no way.” As she dreams of what those plans may hold, Asumini hopes to become a journalist, taking photos and writing stories of important events in Uganda. Join us in praying for Asumini as she graduates from Christ School, that her light would shine brightly here in Uganda.

Meet Nyangoma Agnes. Her story is one full of pain and hardship but also one of victory. She comes from Buganikere village and enjoys visiting home on term breaks, where she helps in her aunt’s shop and plays with her uncle’s young children. Agnes completed primary school but there was no money for her to attend secondary school. God provided her with a sponsorship at Christ School, where she began to learn about God and the teachings of the Bible. When she came down with smallpox, she thought death was near but after being healed, she began to trust God with her whole life. Two years ago, Agnes’s twin sister died. As Agnes remembers her sister, tears roll down her cheeks and the pain is still great. However, Agnes can still say “God has done great things for me”. She says with confidence that God has always been with her as she has passed through many troubles. She also states that God is for her and not against her, pointing to the evidence as she prepares to graduate from Christ School. Agnes has a passion for math and economics and hopes to one day become a businesswoman. Join us in praying for Agnes and other students of Christ School—that they would have similar stories of triumph and be able to say “God has done great things for me”.

Would you consider blessing future CSB students? I would love to introduce you to one of them! We will have 10 new freshman scholarship students in 2011. You can sponsor a child for $600 a year ($50 a month) and give the gift of hope! For more information visit http://www.whm.org/csb. OR just send me an email at annalinhart@gmail.com.

Struggling with God

The sunday before I left Uganda I was in Kampala. I attended Kampala International Church. The Pastor preached from Genesis 12 about God calling Abraham out of his own country, away from his family and go to a land that He would show him. But not without a promise... a promise that he would make him great in order to be a blessing, so that all the families of the earth would be blessed. The pastor also talked how God would later give a name to this nation. The name was Israel, which means “one who struggles with God.” God chose a people that he would link himself to. A people to be forever loving and struggling with. In order that all the families of the earth would be blessed.

In a similar way God calls us all to a path that he has chosen for us. For me, right now, that is “the end of the road” Bundibugyo. And I have for sure been wrestling with God along the way. I struggle with how to respond to the multitude of requests and needs. I struggle with culture and language and how to love my friends well. I struggle to find time to be with God. I struggle a lot. But I am encouraged that God himself invites His people to struggle and as Psalms 118:2 says, “Let Israel (or the God strugglers) say, “His steadfast love endures forever”

I’ve been in Bundibugyo a year now. And I thankful for this short time in America to rest and reflect on the path that God has taken me. To be reminded again that as I struggled along, he held my hand the entire way. Tomorrow I return to this place so characterized by hardship. Pray for me as I struggle along that I would not forget that His love for me never stops or decreases. And that the wrestling has a purpose... not only to bring me closer to him but also to bless the nations... even the least of these in Bundibugyo. Pray that I would embrace the struggle!

God's gift to me

11 Days ago I descended the escalator at the Charlotte airport after over 30 hours of traveling and laid eyes on my parents for the first time in over a year. I’m not a very emotional person... but I cried. The past 10 days have been one blessing after another. Here are just few!

Traveling to Boone, NC (a colder part of NC) to see my brother Randy. And wearing his down jacket to keep my thin African blood from freezing.

Getting 7 inches of hair cut off... after a year away from the scissors.

Hanging out with my parents... just the 3 of us.

Phone dates.

Going to Washington DC. Spending 3 wonderful days with Rachel. In which she patiently allowed me to say at least 100 times “Look at the leaves... oh my gosh... so beautiful.”

Warmish, amazing, beautiful fall weather! I was pretty worried about freezing my buns off after the eternal summer I've been living in for a year.

Lying in bed, under a lot of covers, talking late into the night with my sister.

Long breakfast conversation over oatmeal at the Caseys.

Trader Joe’s.

Seeing the Myhre’s. Getting a Julia hug... and a sweaty soccer hug from Jack.

Dunkin' Donuts with Erin on Sunday morning.

Catching up with friends.

Worshiping at Redeemer. The blessing of being prayed for. Taking communion and feeling the presence of the God right there with me.

Can’t wait for what the next 2 weeks have in store.

Mt. Vernon

Gardens... SO organized!

Billy goat trail at Great Falls

Oh fall color! I love you!

Kiddos I've been missing... now both taller than me.

May God Bless the Work of Your Brains

The Ugandan school year is about to end in about a month. Students start exams tomorrow. Pat told me yesterday that Ugandans LOVE to get cards. Taking her advice I decided to write cards to the 17 kids in the Christ School scholarship program that are either taking exams to graduate from secondary school as senior 6s or complete Ordinary level schooling as senior 4s. I first rummaged through the piles of old stationary in our office, sifting through Christmas cards, birthday cards, blank cards and lot of stuck together envelopes. I hit the jackpot with some Max Lucado Day Spring cards with just great messages. But there were not enough. I sought the advice of Pat again who told me where I could get them in the market.

Just inside the main walls to there left, before you get to the beans and rice and hanging cow legs, there is a little duka. There I found strings hung up where cards and nicknacks were hung. Pat warmed me about the cheesiness, but she said the cheesier the better by Ugandan standards. I can tell you one thing I wasn’t expecting the pop-up flowers and music playing cards... grant it, the music sounded more like a cross between an annoying child’s toy and a high pitched alarm clock. I was happy to purchase the ones without music for 500 shillings (25 cents) less. So I made my choices and ended up buying about every card the guy had hanging. And came home with some real winners. Chrissy and I had a good chuckle at some of these... just too good not to share, so here are a few excerpts:

“Examination is always a testing time” (literally) :-)

“For you’re special, I remember you as you sit for your Exams, let nothing shake your confidence or flatter your knowledge. For i believe you can make it. And a bright life lies ahead. That is why i wish you the best in your exams. ‘With God everything is possible”

“Time to reap ‘what you sow’ has finally come. May the almighty shower your toils with his unending blessings to culminate in a blossoming excellence. Finally, upon your emerging a victor, you will not only be happy alone but we’ll also be more than jubilant. All the best.”

“Just to say that you have intelligence and you are good in your studies....... Now all you need is best wishes to pass these exams with flying colours Best wishes.”

And my personal favorite line... “May God bless the work of your brains”

Hope you enjoyed these bits of Ugandan color :-) And do PRAY for the kids as they are studying hard and testing all next week. It is a big deal, determining if they will be able to continue schooling. Pray for hope no matter what happens and that these kids without parents would know a heavenly Father who loves them and has GOOD plans for their lives, whether they pass or fail exams.

Independence Day... Ugandan Style

Celebrations happened all over Uganda yesterday. Chrissy and I have been talking about making a trip into Bundibugyo and the prospect of National festivities made us even more motivated. The day was pretty cool and the sky threatened rain but we set out anyway making sure we packed a rain coat. We walked down to the boda stage to get a ride and were soon bouncing along the rutted Bundibugyo road. I had been raving to Chrissy about how beautiful the ride was along the base of the mountains into town and was a bit worried that the the clouds would be masking their majesty, but we were not disappointed. The tops were covered but the clouds were suspended like stage curtain folding into the ravines and filling the crevices. At times it was like we were in the clouds.

We arrived in town I mailed a few letters and we walked over to where the crowd was gathering. It was kid of like going to the county fair. They were gathered in an open field. Tents were set up to provide shade. Venders with piles of sugar cane supplied children with the African equivalent of cotton candy. We caught the end of the morning program with the last two singing school groups. The the speeches started and we decided to walk around. Chrissy and I ventured into a few kitangy (African fabic) shops, checked out the produce situation at the market, priced a world cup shopping bag... which in my opinion were way too expensive... guess there are no after World Cup sale prices. Just as we were passing the “Love Beauty Saloon” (local hair salon). A friend came behind me and grabbed my shoulders to give me a hug. I about jumped out of my skin because we had also just past a truck with some rather obnoxious hissing young men. Janet was a welcome surprise. The three of us wandered a bit and then we went to eat lunch at a the Vanilla Hotel. Janet chose a table right near the TV where we could watch the parade happening in Kampala. We enjoyed our matoke, rice, and chicken sauce. Chrissy and I were delighted to learn that while we thought that we had missed most of the program that morning, after the speeches there would be a traditional dance performance. Usually Ugandan’s are in no rush. Evidenced by the fact that our waiter sat in a chair next to our table to watch TV and promptly fell asleep. But Janet did not want to miss any of the dance and woke the poor guy up rushing him to bring our bill. He didn’t seem too bothered. (I love how good natured Ugandan’s are.)

Janet gettin' her hair did

We were soon on our way through back paths I have never seen in Bundi town. It is always fun to explore with a local. When we reached the “fair ground” as I like to call it, the speeches still droned on. Janet took us to the shop of her Auntie and Uncle and we sat on benches under the overhang as it started to rain. A little pants-less boy came up to me and sat right down in my lap. Janet, Chrissy and I chatted and laughed. Some music was playing and my new little friend got up and started to bob and do wind mill arms. Cute as can be, he had a little audience in no time. In a bit we heard drums coming from the fair ground and we headed that way.

A dance circle had already formed and men and women in grass skirts and traditional fabric were dancing. Bells strapped to ankles, jingled in perfect rhythm with every stamp of their feet. They played little bamboo pipes adorned with feathers and bits of fur. The leader had a hat covered with feathers and a loosely attached fountain like arrangement was attached to the top. The feather duster of sorts swayed this way and that with each wag of his head. (Similar to the neck movement of teenagers with a lot of attitude... only he smiled a lot more.)

After the dance a sort of parade formed. Since it was getting late, Chrissy and I decided to do our grocery shopping and head back to Nyahuka. We hugged Janet goodbye and hopped on a motorcycle, our grocery bag around the neck of the driver, zipped up our jackets and headed down the road. I have often wondered at the parka wearing boda drivers with their furry hoods here on the equator, but today I understood. The cool damp wind blowing in my face was frigid. I pulled the drawstrings on my hood. The view was even more beautiful than our ride in as the clouds had moved out over the valley and hung over the flat land that stretches out to the Congo. This driver wasn’t as good at avoiding pot holes as some and I was happy to get off when we reached home and went inside to put on some long sleeves. This was for sure an enjoyable day and out of the ordinary in many ways. I am thankful for Ugandan independence and grateful to share this day with such wonderful people.

Rikki-Tikki-Jesse

I read Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, the story of the cobra killing mongoose in 6th grade literature class. I actually saw a mongoose the last time I as at Queen Elizabeth National Park. I remember thinking to myself that I might like to have one for a pet, as snakes rate up in top 5 of things that I fear. But now I know that there is not a need. I have a cobra killing dog!

I really am not sure if I would have the guts to kill a snake. When faced with fight or flight, flight would definitely be my choice. And God knows this so he set Jesse. Jesse was first the Pierce’s dog. She was well loved by them but she did not deal with the transition well and after we were having break in problems at RMS we decided that Jesse we would try her at guard guard dog. When she came to RMS. She was skin and bones, but more than hungry she was starved for attention. When I would enter into the gate in the morning she would come streaking across the dewy grass and jump all over me. The kids probably thought I didn’t ever do laundry. Despite her often annoying tendencies, she also had as sweet and pitiful side that did me in. Especially when she would come to the window as I was working, feet on the window sill barely able to see in but when I called her name her tail became a blur and she shook all over at the prospect of getting a little love.

If you have a dog you know that they have personalities and if Jesse were to take the Myers Briggs she would for sure be off the charts extrovert. She could not stand to be at school all alone on the weekends. She kept finding ways out of the fence at RMS and into the one that surrounds our yard. So after going back and forth for a couple weeks. We finally decided to let her stay at ours on probation. Her terms being that she refrain from tearing clothes off the line and chewing on them, and to generally not drive us bonkers. She has managed to control herself minus a few moments of weakness when her hyper energy could not be released in any other way. She chewed a hole in my favorite pair of jeans and I swore I was going to beat her.

The other night I was in the kitchen and I hear Jesse and Chloe, Pat’s dog, barking. It was like one of those, “hey look at this” barks. It was dark out so I went to the door with my flash light and shined it through the screen, telling them to calm down. But there was indeed something. I thought I saw something. Then Jesse lunged, grabbing something shaking it and her head violently. I called to Heidi, We both put our flash lights on the scene and to my great disgust saw a huge snake. At this point I think it was dead but it gave us a few good jumps as Jesse continued to shake it with each of it’s post death twitches. I called for Pat and she came over. Then travis came to the fence to inquire about all the commotion (being girls, we scream about snakes... or at least I do) By this time Pat had separated Jesse from her conquest and dumped it in our trash pit. But Travis (being a guy) came anyway to take a look at the 5 foot (at least), black, disgusting creature.

Jesse had risen to hero in my mind. The jeans were forgotten! She may be pesky and needy, but the girl is a snake killer! I love you Rikky-Tikki-Jesse!

Dinner and a Movie

The rain is beating on our tin roof and even coming in the windows as yet another storm rolls over the mountains. Glad to be back from taking the neighbor kids home in the dark and mud.

Tonight Heidi and I had dinner with our friend Naume. I eat at Naumes more than any other Ugandan and I have to say I always look forward to her g-nut sauce. Tonight was no exception. Naume’s mother lives in Kampala with Naume’s dad, his other wife and several of Naume’s sibling and half-siblings. Naume was left in Bundibugyo to take care of her grandmother. Eating at Naume’s is a unique experience. Because she essentially lives alone at about age 14, we eat with a bunch the neighborhood kids. Traditionally men will eat with the guests, often in silence, while women and children wait outside and eat later. At Naume’s we crowd around the little table with the one little kerosene lamp flickering. Kids chatter or just eat really fast because they haven’t eaten all day. Naume switches back and forth from English to Labwisi and laughs often. Her friend Susan sits quietly in the corner, always smiling. It is just fun. Because it was Heidi’s goodbye meal we has a surprise. We were to going to take them back to our house to watch a movie. Oh the squeals and smiles of delight when they realized that we were going now! Yes, “now, now”.

We went to go ask their parents, and our party grew from about 5 kids to 8. But that was okay. The plan was to watch Night at the Museum, then Richard says, “What about the one with the man who has the legs of a cow.” “Narnia?” “Yes Narnia... we want to see that one.” So Heidi ran over to Pat’s to see if it was there. It was. Before we started Heidi explained that the movie came from a book that was telling a story about Jesus. “Oh!” they all reply. Couches were in position, pillows were on the floor and the kids huddled around Heidi’s little macbook. In awe of the “surround soundish” little speakers... that I have to admit are pretty amazing to even me. They were quickly drawn in by World War 2 England the planes, the trains, the music. I always wonder what it is like for them as they watch a world that is so much different from their own. They laughed at the first sight of Mr. Tumus, and the talking beavers where hilarious, though I am sure to them they looked more like the huge edible rats that run around Bundibugyo. We stopped occasionally and Heidi and I would explain what was happening and then Richard or Naume would translate for the younger kids. Ugandan’s love stories (I guess we all do) It was neat to experience this one yet again. To be struck once again by the power and majesty of the Lion. A Lion that can breath life into a statue of stone, as God does with my heart and I pray will continue to do the same with the hearts of these young ones who sat in our living room. What a great way to spend a Saturday night!

Things Fall Apart

Many vehicles in Uganda post phrases in big shiny letters on their front and back windshields. They say things like “Allah is great”, “God’s Power”, “Manchester United” but my most recent favorite has been, “Things fall apart”. I remember Heidi and I chuckling when we saw it, thinking so true. Well, now we might as well paste it our our own windshield as our most recent trip over the mountains proves that the Bundibugyo road literally rattles your car to pieces.

So we had made it past the switch backs and were bumping along maybe 25 km from home when we heard metal making contact with dirt. I whirled around and seeing nothing left behind, stuck my head out the open window to check the tires. Still nothing, then another big bump and metal scraping again. Heidi pulled over to makes sure the “underside of the car wasn’t falling off”, she joked. But this was no joke. The cover for the fuel tank had lost 2 of its bolts and was dragging the ground. Heidi made a call to John back in Bundi about what we should do. Since we had a few tools the plan was to remove the cover and continue to drive. So there I was on my back with wrench in hand unscrewing things off the bottom of the car. A few guys on boda’s stopped to watch and help. I have to admit I felt pretty proud of myself. Hands all greasy, dirty pants... practically a mechanic. Never mind that I still can’t drive a manual transmission on my own. As the saying goes. Pride goes before the fall. I just didn’t know how literal this was going to be.

After the successful removal we hit the road again. Not two minutes down the road we passed a friend, Vincent Kawah, who is the headmaster of a local school and friend of many on the mission. He waved us down to give him a ride and we were happy to oblige. Onward we went chatting about Nyahuka news until interrupted by a load thud. Vincent yelled, “STOP! STOP! something has fallen from the car.” Bet you can guess what that was... Yep our fuel tank had actually fallen off the car!

We hopped out yet again. Vincent headed down the road to inspect the fallen tank. Heidi started to make phone calls and I looked back under the car and sure enough where the fuel tank had been, remained a few loose wires and hoses. Vincent managed to save all the fuel from draining out and used plastic bags and banana fibers to ceil off the openings. We were also thankful for his eyes and ability to keep those who wished to syphon off the diesel from coming too close. And thankful as two single women in the middle of nowhere, for his presence when about 15 UPDF (Ugandan Peoples Defense Force) came walking up the road in their camo with rifles slung on their backs. The mechanic in Bundibugyo town was actually out of town, so we called the Bishop’s son Robert who had a vehicle and might be able to tow us. Praise God! He was already headed our way. What we didn’t know was that his car was already being used by Samoli who is currently campaigning for a place in parliament. Just as dusk was turning into dark, Robert and his gang pulled up in the party wagon plastered with huge yellow posters of Samoli’s face. Music was blaring from monster speakers in the bed of the truck. Samoli got out, starting to shake hands with the crowd that had already about tripled in size. An wrinkled little woman approached me encouraging me to join the spontaneous dance party... but for some reason I just wasn’t feeling it. I went over to Heidi and considered asking her to pinch me. I mean this had to be some crazy dream that I was having.

Shortly after that John and our neighbor Biwah also arrived bringing us a little more back to reality. We were equally excited to learn that John brought pasta salad with him... THANK YOU Loren Clark! The party wagon was now hooked to our car with John in the drivers seat and Heidi, Vincent, Bihwah and I happily waiting in the Clarks car. Then the party truck stalled and almost rolled back into ours... by this time we just laughed, not surprised by much. The second start was successful and the car was towed to the Bishop’s house were it now waits to be repaired.

Vincent, Heidi and I sat in the back seat sharing Loren’s DELICIOUS pasta salad. Tired, but not too tired to thank God for how he had watched over us. Vincent had no idea what he was getting into when he flagged us down, but the timing of it all was none other than the orchestration of our Heavenly Father. Vincent could not have been more kind and helpful. Robert and the mobile disco were our life line, as well as a little comic relief. And the presence of John and Biwah were assuring, and made me thankful yet again for a supportive team and neighbors we can depend on. Amazed again at the hand of God in our lives and the reminder that God is good... all the time!

Fort Weekend

Welcome to Fort... goodbye dirt road

Last weekend our team took a trip to Fort Portal for a little r&r. It was truly refreshing. The temperature is always cooler in Fort and this trip was no exception. We arrived in early afternoon, dusty from the Bundibugyo road and had lunch at the Gardens. Our favorite restaurant which is described by my Uganda guide book as the most alluring place in town. They also have the best samosas I’ve ever had. After lunch we went to Y.E.S. (youth encouragement services), a hostel that is clean and efficient... and pastoral. This is vastly different from Bundibugyo scenery. In the morning when there is still mist hovering above the grass and the air is cool, minus the the banana trees, I feel like I could be in England.

We settled in for a much needed afternoon nap at Y.ES. We were happy to find that the mountain pillows valley mattresses are no more. New mattresses for Y.E.S. and I remembered to bring my own pillow this time. A thunder storm rolled it which made the nap that much more delicious.

The following day team Bundi went exploring in some caves where we listened to African legends from our Guide and stood behind waterfalls. Then we hiked to several crater lakes near by. Replenishing expended calories at Pier’s Pizzeria. A new favorite Fort restaurant. Then paid about 3 buck to spend the afternoon by the pool at Mountains of the Moon.

So wonderful to have fun as a team. To get rest from a tough last couple of weeks. Thank God for rest and keep praying for us!

Heidi Anna Susan and me behind the waterfall

Kids that followed us on our climb... crater lakes all around

Just Love 'em

Lately my life consists largely of nursery rhymes, counting the days of school with counting caterpillar, feeding objects and letters to sound muncher and getting pre-school songs in my head. I loved teaching middle school and still do love that age but I never realized just how much I would love teaching kindergarten and pre-school. Just a few highlights:

-A flower for the teacher from Lilli.

-Patton snuggling when we read books.
-Lilli asking me if I will come over and play after school or watch one of her favorite movies like Felicity.
-Sharing popcorn or cookies at snack and Lilli divvying up the fruit snacks (an American treat).
-Tuesday tea and talking with Lilli.
-Watching almost four year old Patton attempt to hoola hoop. Quite a challenge when your waste is only about 2 feet from the ground.
-Laughter and fun for over 30 minutes just blowing up balloons and letting them go.
-Ots and Cwafts (as Bryan says) aka arts and crafts time. An all around favorite (as long as Patton is sure that we can wash hands when we are done.)
-Never tiring of “Here is the church, Here is the steeple, open the doors and...”
-Listening to the prayers of little ones.
-Sitting on the couch at school reading the Box Car Children to Lilli.

Sure do love these kiddos. Bryan, can’t wait till you come back. We pray for you every day :)

Nowhere is safe

This little teacher was not expecting a creacher

To disturb her while she worked away.

But out jumped a rat, which she hit with a bat

Oh, what a way to start the day.

So nursery rhymes where the theme for the last week of pre-school and this popped into my head on the morning of this event. Our second kill in 48 hours. We have been having a lot of rain in Bundibugyo lately. This seems to be driving certain critters into our house in a higher quantity. We have killed 4 rats in our house in the past couple weeks. After each kill the hope is that we will sleep in peace as they tend to be very active at night rustling around, chewing my necklaces in half... infuriating! Doing something that sounds like furniture rearranging... equally infuriating at 2am, 4am... yet we can't seem to get a break. Just one after another.

A few days ago I was awaken to paper shredding that sounded like it was right by my head. I turned on my flashlight that I keep in bed with me and shined the light on two beady black eyes that starred right at me not moving from my night stand. I watched it crawl down behind the books... gross! At least this one was a little more mouse like in size. I think I made metion in my last post of how thankful I am for my mosquito nets and all that it keeps out of my bed. I am one to faithfully tuck it in every night insuring no unwanted visitors. I feel very safe under my net even if I hear scratching on the night stand by my bed.

Last night I woke up because something had crawled over my leg. I had caught a lizzard in there just a few days before and figured that somehow he had just got back in, but I turned on my flash light just to see. The net was moving so I looked down and there trapped between the side of the mattress and my net was a rat! Fortunately I did not scream as Heidi and Anna probably did not want to be awake at 4am any more than I did. But I am sure that I made some noise as by now I was practically standing up yanking out the net and saying to the rat GET OUT! GET OUT! shivers running down my spine as I realized that a rat had just awakened me by running up my leg! I went around the circumference of my bed forcibly re-tucking the net probably almost pulling it from the ceiling. Then laid down heart still pumping praying that I would be able to fall back to sleep. And God was gracious, it was certainly a work of the Lord that sleep came and that I am already laughing at this CRAZY experience.

This one was much bigger than the one in my bed. Thank the Lord!

Not your average sleep over

Last Sunday brought Anna our summer intern! As part of Anna’s welcome and orientation to Bundibugyo and Africa, I arranged for the 2 of us to spend the night with Eusta, one of my Ugandan friends. We arrived at Eusta’s place about 4:30 on Friday afternoon bearing gifts of sugar, rice, and a pumpkin. We sat and chatted with Eusta and her neighbor, while a brood of neighborhood kids stood around mostly staring at us and giving us shy smiles from time to time. Then we walked down the dirt road through... well the jungle to greet Eusta’s sister-in-law who had just produced her second set of twins. We sat in the dark room mostly just watching after I had exhausted the little Lubwisi I know. But I do love visiting with Ugandan’s and just watching how life works for them.

Back at Eusta’s dinner was in preparation. I donned my long sleeves and slathered on the bug repellant to fight the never ending (and probably never winning) battle with the obakakuni (no-see-ums). We peeled sweet potatoes and two types of bananas that were to be boiled for dinner. The simmering pot of beans was removed from the little charcoal stove to make way for the two new pots to be added to the tower. Dinner bubbled away as we swatted bugs and chatted. I got to hear about the new school where Eusta is teaching and her boss (and friend) came to greet us. And the story began. One of the great privileges of being in a place where missionaries have preceded you is the rich stories and getting to see the kingdom worked out over time. Eusta and her friend are both graduates of Christ School (the secondary school started my World Harvest) It has been a long time dream of World Harvest to have a primary school as well. World Harvest as a mission has yet to start a primary school but we keep praying. And they continue to keep springing up. This story was another answer to that prayer for sure. After attending teachers college it is very hard to get a job. This hardship has been water to the seed of vision planted by Kevin Bartkovitch (founder of CSB) in the hearts of this particular student. Since work was not to be found... why not start your own primary school. So classmates were recruited along with Eusta, the community was rallied, and support of parents gained. And a school was born, without the aid of a single missionary or American dollar. WOW! They still don’t have a building or land of their own, but they are dreaming and praying.

Eusta’s friend ended up staying for dinner so in Eusta’s tiny candle lit eating room over rice, beans, gonja,and matoke. The story of God’s faithfulness continued. He went on to tell me that he was a scholarship student at CSB as his mother died when he was small and his father was killed in the war. We talked on until it was time to go to bed. Since after dinner that is what you do. We went out back and brushed teeth spitting into the bushes and made a quick trip to the pit latrine. When we went back to Eusta’s tiny bedroom we found that she had moved one of the foam mats from her bed to the floor, which completely covered the remaining space. She was giving up her bed and even more precious mosquito net for us, her guests. So with the door shut and the a candle out Anna and I settled in to the single bed with Eusta on the floor. As we lay there Eusta said, “oh, I for got to tell you the rats sometimes make a lot of noise on the roof.” I assured her we would be fine as we also had a rat problem in our place. I was surprised at how quickly I fell asleep, but this was not to last. I awoke with a damp shirt... our tiny room had transformed into a hot box. I could also hear scurrying and squeaking and I am pretty sure that it was not happening on the roof. I thanked Eusta in my heart for the gift of her net that doesn’t just keep the mosquitoes out. I did sleep some and the heat subsided by morning, but I was pretty happy when I realized it was light outside.

First job of the day was to sweep the compound. Passers by starred at the 2 white women and continually thanked us for working. We sat eating oranges again battling the morning bugs while kids played soccer with a tiny rubber ball. One little neighbor boy pounding g-nuts for breakfast. Anna commented on the difference in Saturday morning activities... no cartoons and fruit loops here.

After breakfast we visited some more neighbors. As it was time to leave Eusta presented us with gifts, oranges from her tree and sugarcane. We were thanking each other back and forth. Eusta told us not make this stay our last. She expressed honor in hosting. She walked us a bit down the road and bid wesalo. Anna and I continued down the road each with sugarcane in hand and bags under our eyes, but our hearts were full with Ugandan hospitality and generosity.

Going Public

On our latest journey from Kampala to Bundibugyo Heidi and I made the decision to take public transportation. This is something I have only heard stories about... and most of them less than motivational to pursue this experience. We have heard about passengers being hit in the head by luggage that rattled off the over head racks, hoards of passengers quickly filing out as the bus teetered on the edge of the mountain, smelly seat mates, and as 2 single women there are always those questionable characters that one hopes to avoid. There are actually 2 modes of public transport. The first being a matatu which is like a slightly larger version of a minnie van that does not leave the bus lot until crammed full of passengers and possibly chickens or other live animals that one might want to transport. The matatu makes continual stops where ever its passengers want to be let off and new ones obtained. So a normally 8 hour journey could take easily 10... or more. The other option is the Kalita bus, which is the African version of grey hound (African meaning they add an extra row of seats along the aisle). Heidi and I opted for the latter in which at least we were assigned our own plastic coated, poorly padded seat.

The bus going to Bundibugyo town is scheduled to leave at 10 am. Wanting to secure a seat of our choice we arrived at about 8:45 (the second people to arrive). We found the bus. Heidi staked out our seats and I headed to the ticket booth to purchase our tickets. As I was boarding this man in a suit came up to me and asked where I was going. I was a bit wary and hesitated to say Bundibuyo to which he responded, “I know you”. He still wasn’t looking familiar, then he adds to my relief. “You are with World Harvest Mission, yes? My name is Wilson I work with SIL on Bible translation” I am still not sure if I ever met the guy before, but after that he kind of made it his mission to make sure that we were settled well on the bus. Turns out he was also hosting two SIL staff from the states that were going to visit the project in our little town of Nyahuka. He kept saying, “Yes, we go together.” So even though it was after 10 and the bus was still only about half full I was looking at the journey ahead with new optimism knowing God had his eye on us.

People slowly started to board. I was amazed at the kinds of things that were being loaded on. Two of the most bizarre being a ginormous metal door and a flat screen TV which was actually put in the fort of the bus in the aisle... in case those people weren’t feeling claustrophobic already. By 11:30 we pulled out, said goodbye to Kampala, and hit the open road. I was in a happy place with my ipod on, the warm breeze coming the window, just taking in all the lush greenness of the country in papyrus reeds, and banana trees. We passed towns with enthusiastically waving kids jumping up and down, big white smiles on brown faces, the smells charcoal fires, chipatti and meat roasting meat. I couldn’t wait to get to Mubende A.K.A. “In your face chicken place” home of the best chicken on a stick you will ever eat. Usually how this works is the vendors rush the car window stuffing skewers and other food items in your car window. Coming in on a bus is not much different, only our bus didn’t have low windows that opened. So I pushed my way through the mass exodus and took off up the street to try and get some fresh fried bananas, and chicken. The key is to put your hand close so you can makes sure there is still heat coming off. I made my purchases and muscled my way back saying a lot of no, I don’t want this and that and definitely not grasshoppers in a little plastic baggie. In your face chicken did not let me down and that wasn’t the end to our culinary delights along the way. We got samosas in Fort Portal from a little guy who hopped on the bus for a while. We even snatched up some of the last mangos of this season at another stop.

At Fort Portal we left the pavement behind for glorious mountains... and switchbacks. The mountains have become so green in our absence. The shades of green weren’t the only thing that had changed. The road is going through a widening and paving process. I have yet to see any pavement, but I will say they are moving a lot of dirt around. I freaked out a bit when we stopped and I watched dirt and rock pouring over the side of the looming cliff to the road in front of us. I felt some amount of ease when I realized there was a bull dozer of sorts up there pushing it down. Other than that, and the time and alarm came on and announced, “warning! acute turn” as the driver took a little to much advantage of the force of gravity going around a hair pin turn... oh and the incredible speed we hit on the straight away, I thought our driver did a great job and I was very pleased with our travel choice.

To top off our experience we arrived in Bundibugyo town before dark even and Lameck, a friend who works with agriculture and the goat project, met us with a car. All smiles and welcomes and hand shakes Lameck helped us get our dusty bags and cooler full of frozen Kampala food. We were home, or just about, and it felt good. We had done it. Made our way from Kampala to Bundibugyo on public. And I would so do it again.

A Time to Cry

I wrote this back in May right before we left for our mission wide retreat and realized I never posted... sorry for the delay :)

Friday evening we heard something outside that sounded like cheering for a football match going on. We stepped outside to investigate and realized it was more of a steady wailing. 30 year old Birahanga, a long time friend of previous missionaries had died. Birahanga was local primary school teacher husband and father of 2.

Saturday I went to my first Ugandan burial. There were literally hundreds of people gathered on the compound and around the house. Some were sitting on school benches brought in from across the road. Others sat on the ground on pieces of cloth. It started to rain and I was thankful to be seated under one of the 3 or so tarps hung up to the house. Inside the house people crying audibly, a generator hummed and music played on the rented sound system. I greeted my friend Usta and she handed over her tiny smily niece who I rocked for a while. Until the tarps started to tip gushing water and I had to move, seeing my other friend Bahati I moved close to her. After a time the music stopped and the speeches began. In a culture where many people do not know how to read the spoken word one of the ways they best show appreciation. Friends and relatives took turns sharing. Tears streamed down the faces of grown men as they morned this great and unexpected loss. The headmaster of the school were Birahanga taught promised to waive school fees for his children for the coming year. It is the African way to come around a family or community member in need.

After an hour or so of speeches and some words of encouragement from pastor Kisembo, we sang some of the Lubwisi songs from church on Sunday. Then we all got up and followed the rough wood casket to its resting place on the compound. There was more wailing. Birahanga’s wife had to be carried. It the crowd some just curled up on the ground and sobbed, the sea of people moving around them. Perhaps the most sobering thing about this burial was all the children present that were crying. Birahanga was a teacher and these shaken kid were students of his.

While witnessing all of this was a bit difficult, it was also beautiful. Pain and suffering is a real part of life. But not a reality that I have to face often. And definitely not something that I do well. But grief for a time is good for the soul. It is good to be vulnerable to need each other. Life here is all about community people are all deeply intertwined in each others lives. They invest in each other and bear each others burdens. It is risky to invest like this, every thing is more intense. In loving well they pay a price when there is loss. I have to ask myself a lot, am I willing to pay the price to love these people. To be hurt... but also to have the great joy of sharing life together, and of knowing God together. Only the good news of the gospel of Christ can bring me to the place where I can answer yes and jump in. I am thankful for another lesson from the Babwisi.

New Trousers for Owen

So about two weeks ago one of the neighborhood kid Owen, about 10 years old, came knocking on my door asking if I had any work he could do. I couldn’t really come up with anything. I had already been to the market, the yard had just been slashed. He kind of looked at the ground and said he needed to buy some new trousers. I said I was sorry that I couldn’t help (and his trousers looked okay to me). When he turned to go, I smiled a bit due to the view. There were two a gaping holes about 6 inches each perpendicular to the middle seam. While this is not too unusual a sight I still felt bad because Owen did indeed need trousers (“Trousers” not to be confused with “pants”, which is what Ugandans call underwear.) He has continued to wear those trousers along with his usual smile for these past two weeks. He has also been persistent in asking for work, so this Saturday he has been working hard, first washing Heidi’s bike, then clearing our drainage ditch which is forever over grown. And lastly going for a market run which I was happy to pass off on this sweltering day. I gave him a list and explained it... “garlic, you know it?” (enthusiastic nodding) “oh yes it is like an onion, only not an onion.” “yes, one of those, five carrots, a pineapple, etc.”, I continued. And Owen and friend set out, my market bag over his shoulder, returning with an itemized list of how much everything cost. The only mistake was that since there was only one carrot to be found they bought 5 heads of garlic. When I paid him for his work, he had that satisfied look that comes with the reward of good, honest, hard work. The thought that he wouldn’t have be feeling the draft through his trousers much longer was that much sweeter.

The Rat ate my homework

We have been experiencing some rat issues at RMS. They began with a somewhat traumatic experience. Weeks ago when Ashley and I were rearranging the classroom we were removing books from a shelf when all of a sudden Ashley says, “oh no!” and backs away. There was a rat’s nest. I proceed to poke at it with a broom handle when a large rat jumps out at me. Both of us scream. I rush to shove the carpet under the door, but the little rascal beat me to it. Ashley got down from the table and we went to hunt it down. It had run behind the uninstalled black board leaning against the wall. Ashley stood on one end broom ready to shoo towards my end. Only I was feeling a bit apprehensive about my first rat kill. (I have disposed of many dead poised rats but I had yet to squish one’s furry body with a bat.) And again it ran right past me. We hunted a bit more but she was gone. How do I know it was a she you might be wondering? Well you can guess what I found dead on the floor from the long fall off the book shelf.

After this, almost every day we would find new evidence of our little pest(s). One night when one was trapped in our cabinet, after munching our precious white computer paper, Lilli’s foam handwriting mats, and various craft items, it went to town on the door. Many a book has been gnarled away on a corner. Strawberry Girl has had to be tossed completely... and yes even Jack’s homework was partially devoured. Jack and Julia the rat exterminators posted RATS BEWARE signs on the chalk boards and last week Mama Rat met her doom at the skilled hands of these two with broom handle and towel rod. The next day I was to have my first kills as Ashley and I found two more babies. I’ve decided broom handle is not my preferred implement. Just when we hoped we were rat free, all yesterday we kept getting little whiffs of something suspiciously like dead animal. After the kids left, there in our storage room was one smelly, grey, large, dead rat. With 4 down I am hoping we are at the end for a while. Ahh... the spice of life in Uganda. While rat hunts are not my favorite flavor, I love the adventure and new experiences that greet me each day.

Great Care!

One huge difference between life in America and life and Bundibugyo is the amount of time it takes to do things. I mean you can’t just whip up enchiladas you have to make tomato sauce and the tortillas. Last week when I wanted to buy some sand paper I ended up going all over... “no I don’t have it go here”. However, this weekend I experienced just the opposite.

We were participating in our usual Sunday activity... Sunday soccer at the Myhre’s, when while taking my turn as goalie my hand got in the way of a powerful shot resulting in quite a lot of pain. While in America this would have ended in perhaps hours in the ER or some waiting room followed by a large bill, here in Bundi I was quickly surrounded by 3 doctors and a nurse bringing me IB prophen, ice and quickly constructing a splint. Upon observation the following day it was decided that I needed an x-ray. There was no bone displacement but very likely a fracture. This meant the 8 hour trip to Kampala. Bumping along a dusty road, with a painful arm in the blazing heat was not something I was looking forward to. The other option presented was that Scott could just go ahead and put a cast on. After a bit of deliberation I decided I didn’t want to make the journey all the way to Kampala just for them to tell me I needed to get a cast, which I can get here. So 30 minutes later there I was on the Myhre’s porch a cut tube sock on my arm, cotton padding over top and Dr. Scott wrapping strips of wet plaster around my arm. All with the assistance of the wonderful “nurse” Julia. And I was done... easy as that. AND there was no bill! I may not have been able to choose my color cast, but I could not have asked for better care! Thanks team!