Over the mountains and through the jungle to Bundibugyo electricity goes

About a year ago huge mango trees came crashing down along the Bundibugyo road and a new kind of tree went up. The power lines have made it over the mountains and electricity is now available, though few are able to afford it. On the mission we have been using solar and have not yet tapped into the new source. Its effect on us has been from a distance. You can tell which shops are connected as kids gather out front to dance to the blaring music. Occasionally I am kept up by a neighbor showing a kung fu sounding movie. Traditionally when there is a death or a wedding drums beat all night to keep away evil spirits. Blaring music through the night is the new solution, a use of technology that I would never have considered. Duka’s with services like printing, photocopying, and cd burning are popping up. Even saw one with a popcorn machine the other day.

So we have “enjoyed” the changes of electricity at an arms length... until now. Now it is up close and personal. Our cement walls have been hacked apart. Holes for the outlets were pounded leaving a mess of rubble and fine cement dust hanging in the air. Then fresh cement was flung back into the gashes and craters in the wall. Everything book shelf, couch cushion, item on a counter top had to be moved out or covered up. This would be all well and good if they came in did the work and so mess could be cleaned and the house back in order. But here I sit over two weeks following the initial chisel pound and as I type the electrician can be heard clomping around in the ceiling and I’m still wiping cement dust off tables and shelves. Whether it is rain, not having someone to cook them lunch, or International Women’s day that has kept the MEN away... the installation continues. Getting electricity has turned into a cultural experience. African’s are not exactly time oriented. God faithfully provides grace to be flexible and forgives my eye rolling and impatience when they want to show up after noon when we are at work, or when they all leave 10 minutes after arriving because they need some tool, or when wet cement is left all over the counter. He gently shows me my own faults and my own ways of putting other things in front of what really matters. And reminds me that loving people is more important than being able to charge my phone or turn on the lights on a rainy day.

post hacking

post cement