CROSSWARD

Good to the last drop...

2012-01-13T04:13:00.000-08:00

... and then it is just bad. Such was my boda riding experience this morning. It even started out a bit interesting as my goal was to transport an empty trunk to another part of Kampala. So there I was holding firmly to the bar at the back of the seat with a huge trunk wedged between myself and the driver, a bir comical perhaps to those around me, but nothing compared to some of the things that I have seen on the back of motorcycles. Just yesterday I saw a vanity dresser with a mirror attached (a good 6 feet tall.) So the trunk was a little cumbersome, but everything was going well until the motor stopped.

The driver had me get off. Fortunately, the road wasn't a busy one since there wasn't much of a shoulder, just a steep grassy bank that I kind of leaned the trunk against. The driver laid the motorcycle on its side then lifted it up again shaking it from side to side... out of petrol. This actually was not a huge surprise to me since most drivers ride around on almost empty making frequent stops to put in a few squirts. The driver proceeded to blow into the gas tank (not sure what this was supposed to do) and do a little more engine rattling, to my great surprise the engine actually puttered on and he was off almost before I was actually seated. We road about 100 meters till the engine was bone dry and died a second time.

I got off again. The driver informed me, "We walk, then slope down." Which means we walk till the road starts going down again and then can coast to a gas station. He kindly offered to try to balance the trunk on the boda while he pushed. This was not working very well, so I just carried it to the "sloping" point. At the bottom of the hill was a petrol station... a good location as slopers can reach it from 2 directions. The driver put in a whopping 8,000 shillings (about 3 dollars). I guess he wanted to make sure that he got me the rest of the way there. And he did... with just a little more excitement then the average boda ride. After all... TIA.

Nothing says happy new year like dancing and beating on watering cans...

2011-12-31T14:22:00.000-08:00

How does one celebrate new years in the bush of Uganda? Well here’s how my day played out...

Hand washing clothes.
Trip to the market
Sweaty bike ride back home
Impali ants invading our house again! (see post the Ants go marching... for more on what this is like)
Cow crisis at RMS.
Mango daiquiris and fajitas!!
A round of Apples to Apples with great quotes like “I wasted ‘being in love’ on you” -Josh to Pamela... she didn’t pick his card
A round of Cranium with more great quotes like, “I don’t know if I’m good at it, but I’ll do almost anything”- Jess
Finally getting enough internet to download some of the top 40 songs from America... thank you Pamela!
Going out on our front porch with our little battery radio listening to the voice of Bundibugyo (one of 2 stations we get on the FM dial) for the count down.
Listening to the countdown in Lubwisi and shouting too early.
Beating on our milk pail that caused the bats in our rafters to swoop down on our heads. Pamela and I to screamed and Jess and Pamela ran inside.
Walking down the road because we thought we heard fireworks and coming upon our neighbors dancing around a tire with burning plastic inside whilst beating on jerry cans and watering cans with sticks. Needless to say we joined in the fun which brought joy to those around us despite our obvious lack of ability.
We continued down the dark dirt road, the neighbors following us with the flaming tire now on a stick. Still beating on jerry cans
Coming back home still hearing the beating.
Closing my shutters... still beating on jerry cans... putting in ear plugs... still beating...

HAPPY NEW YEAR BUNDIBUGYO!

Webale Bhili Bikulu!

2011-12-25T07:18:00.000-08:00

The cattle were lowing as I walked into the RMS school yard Friday afternoon for the RMS Christmas program. Just one of our team Christmas festivities. After that we headed out to our neighbors and sang Christmas carols. We walked dusty footed down the road. Even though the sun was starting to set I was still sweating. I can't image what Mary must have felt traveling all day in the heat on a donkey. It was probably the dry season in Israel too! I do love Christmas in Bundibugyo! Here are just a few reasons why...

RMS Christmas parties and decorating cookies... not to mention really cute students :)

RMS Christmas performance with refreshements!

Susanna

Caroling to our neighbors

Christmas eve with my awesome, super fun team

Great Christmas dresses

... and great suits

Christmas story drama

My Bundibugyo family!

Christmas morning baptisms

Webale Bhili Bikulu!

A little Bundibugyo Miracle

2011-12-18T04:10:00.000-08:00

Jesse was hiding in the bushes. Her breathing was labored, she kept hacking up stuff and gave a pitiful low growl when I tried to pet her. Earlier in the day Jesse had killed another cobra in her usual strike and shake to death method, but this time she had not managed to avoid the fangs and venom. Jessica (one of our team doctors, now with some veterinary experience) was sure that Jesse wasn’t going to make it. She did look bad. The tears started to flow and I choked back a few sobs as I thought about life with out this pup. No Jesse jumping up on the window in the morning, with her whole body wagging. No more excited Jesse kisses as I sat on the back porch to check my email. No more of her cute little howls, where she would throw her head back in attempts to get a little love and attention. I love this dog. I thought to myself... this was a goodbye I was not expecting and one I felt like I could not deal with.

It was a long night. I tossed and turned, went through a lot of my America stash of tissues, and offered up many prayers in my semi-wakeful state. I got up at 6 am with puffy, red, tired eyes and went out to the porch to face what I thought I couldn’t handle. And there they were snuggled together, Jesse and our other dog Chloe. Chloe got up to greet me and Jesse slightly raised her head and gave a little tail quiver. To which I almost started crying again. My heart was definitely singing with thankfulness to God. Jesse still couldn’t get up, but she was alive! Jessica administered a round of IV fluids. Jesse spent the day in a basin in our kitchen. By the end of the day she was able to lick a little water from my hand. With the advice of some vet friends Jessica gave steroids and antibiotics. I happily sat in as veterinary assistant and held Jesse’s head with my oven-mitted hand. (This is a dog that freaks out when I have to put totally painless flee treatment on her back.) Fortunately, she was too weak to do much more than wriggle around and growl. By the next morning she was able to stand up and walk to the back yard. She could even drink. Yesterday she ran to the gate to greet me. My girl was back!

Some people might think it a little crazy to pray for a dogs. But I know that God healed her. Jesus himself said that not even a sparrow falls without the Father noticing. The point of saying this may not have been to show that God cares about animals, but I believe that he does, he created them after all. And the bigger message is that He cares for us, A LOT. Whether or not Jesse had made it this would have been true, either with God holding my heart or by filling it with joy and thankfulness. One thing I know... Jesse is just another way that God shows his love for me. And it is pretty amazing how much He cares!

Over the river and up a hill

2011-12-11T05:26:00.001-08:00

I went to visit my friend Asiimwe yesterday who just had a baby... or “produced” as they say here. The day was hot and beads of sweat quickly accumulated on my forehead as I headed down the dusty road, the ever present chorus of “Mujungu... Mujungu!” following me as I went. In the US I would come bearing some casserole or crock pot of soup. Today I stopped in the market to get a bag of beans, some rice and sugar to add to my gift of baby blankets. As I neared the market I saw a man with 3 children under the age of 5 pushing a broken down truck... wished I had my camera with me. My shopping done, I headed down a side road to Asiimwe’s house. Greeting people as I went, all very curious as to where I was going, and so excited that I was walking on the road.

I began to descend a steep hill cut by deep ruts from the rivers of water that race down it from day to day with all the rain we have been having. When I arrived at the river at the bottom, I saw that the stones that I had hopped across in the past were under water. An old man who had just crossed was putting socks and shoes on wet feet and another old women with a basin on her head slipped off her flip fops and expertly navigated her way over the stones. So I followed suit, with flip flops and my bag in one hand, skirt held up in the other. I eased my feet in the cool water and started across. I managed to make it to the other side avoiding major catastrophe, slipped my shoes on and squeaked and slipped my way up the hill on the other side of the river. It must have been cocoa harvesting day as I passed person after person balancing basins piled high with the slimy, milky, white beans on their heads. And I was impressed yet again by 5 year olds heavy laden with jerry cans of water strapped to their backs who were passing me as we climbed.... and climbed. I hadn’t remembered that this hill was so big. My forehead wasn’t the only place that the sweat was dripping now.

I stopped at a compound with some familiar kids who were greeting me, thinking Asiimwe’s must be the place just across the road. It was not; and they communicated that I should keep going and informed me, “she is there”, so I continued to climb. Some kids must have rushed on ahead because Asiimwe was waiting in the door way of her little mud house as I arrived, telling me I was welcome. I removed my shoes and she took my things and we sat in her tidy little front room. Asiimwe scooped up Oliver (a girls name... pronounced Oliva) who had been sleeping on the couch. She placed the peaceful little bundle in my arms. Oliver was so perfect with long little fingers and tiny finger nails, soft black fuzzy hair, and smooth milk chocolaty skin. I couldn’t help but think of Psalm 119 and how this little girl was so wonderfully made. I had to share it with Asiimwe. We chatted and 2 or Asiimwe’s daughters popped their heads in to greet me and I shared about what I remember from way back when my little brother came home from the hospital. Asiimwe didn’t even go to the hospital to have her baby. But the women here are strong... I mean Asiimwe came to work less than 2 weeks after having her baby, looked awesome, probably even helped harvest cocoa earlier in the day. So we sat and chatted, I dabbed my face, still sweating and sat some more until I figured I had better get going down that massive hill to be back in time to fix some dinner.

As I walked down hill this time and could truly appreciate the beauty of this place with the lack of sweat dripping in my eye and the sun beginning to sink in the sky, I could just drink in the beauty of the green banana trees, towering mountains, warm smiling faces, some of which I had already passed returning with their empty cocoa basin to get another load. Isaac and Slivia, Asiimwe’s 2 other children greeted me as they were walking home. I couldn’t stop smiling at how wonderful it had been to be out greeting friends and sharing life. I sure hope I get a lot more of these afternoons in the months to come!

Thankfulness in my heart

2011-12-03T05:40:00.001-08:00

I have five months left in Uganda. Sometimes I feel the anxiety creeping in as I think about life changes, saying a multitude of goodbyes to people and a place that I love so much, reentering life in America, all that has to happen before I head to Kenya, the list goes on. As a team we have been studying Colossians. In Chapter 3 there is a verse that says “Let the peace of Christ rule in your heart and be thankful.” I am not so good at letting the peace of Christ run my life.

A friend of mine came over to pray a week or so ago. She is a single parent who really needs a job. She has a lot on her mind... a lot she could be anxious about. She said that a friend had told her she needed to read her Bible and she came upon Philippians 4. Guess what that says? Don’t get anxious about anything... but talk to God about it and be thankful and the peace of Christ will guard your heart. I like that picture of peace being a guard. It is not like hard things are going to stop coming at me. I still have to deal with all that stuff. But as the arrows come the peace of Christ keeps my heart safe.

So what keeps me safe? How can I let the peace of Christ rule in my heart? By being thankful, by remembering God’s faithfulness to me and what he has already done. These are just a few of the things I have to be thankful for.

One of my biggest fears coming into this was being lonely, God has been so faithful to provide roommates. So far I have had 8 different roommates and only about 2 weeks of being alone.

My entire family... Mom, Dad Randy, Rachel came all the way to Uganda to see me this year!

I have an awesome team here in Bundibugyo that is like a family.

God has blessed me with great Ugandan friends.

I get to live in an incredibly beautiful place with lush green everywhere, towering mountains, and it is WARM almost every day. The sun makes me so happy :)

God has directed my path and showed me where to take the next step as I make plans to teach at RVA.

God in all his glory and in perfect happiness left heaven because I could not come to him. And he came down to be with me.

I have a lot to be thankful for and God’s faithfulness to me is never ceasing! And this is PEACE!

chasing chimps through the jungle

2011-11-26T06:35:00.001-08:00

Not an ordinary Thanksgiving day activity, but an awesome one for sure. To read more about the adventure check out Pamela's blog here's a sneak peak...

The Ants go marching 5000 by 5000

2011-11-13T06:40:00.001-08:00

This morning as I as putting in my contacts the first thing I noticed upon clearer vision, was hundreds of ant pouring in our window. As I inspected them a little closer I noticed that they were impali, the blood drawing safari ants that move in rivers. As proof that I have become somewhat used to all the unwanted critters I just thought to my self, “gross!” Then went to get the Doom, our preferred hands off bug killer, and fumigated the area. And our tooth brushes were just below the puffs of chemicals. Oh well I thought... not something I wanted to deal with on Sunday morning.

About 10 minutes later Pamela got up and noticed that there were ants coming in her window too. So I figured that I better go outside and check on the situation. I tucked my pajama pants into my gum boots and and headed around the house. I should have know it was going to be bad when the dogs didn’t even follow me on my investigation. When turned the corner, to my horror, there were at least 10 little rivers of ants moving up the side of the house into the bathroom window and above towards the roof, carrying little eggs... INTO OUR HOUSE! My only weapon at the time was my can of doom which I began to spray furiously at the lines of ant. Also further dousing our tooth brushes with doom. This method was clearly not going to be effective for the masses of ants trying to enter our house. And now I was mad.

I came inside and mixed up some kerosene and water in a bucket. Since all things living hate kerosene. I was attempting to make a barrier around our house to deter the little menaces from further intrusion. I plodded back to declare war. As I started to douce them I realized that not only were they moving up the house by bathroom window but they were going into a crack in the wall by Pamela’s room. They were now scattering all over the yard congregating in little masses to attack and devour other unsuspecting bugs... gross! Jess and Pamela noticed that they were coming in the office window too. I then saw the inch wide, half-inch deep river or ants running along the side of the house between the windows. I quickly finished my bucket and went to mix up some more kerosene death. I made a perimeter and kind of went crazy throwing it around... definitely not an activity I ever thought I would be doing... pouring kerosene on my house. But it was working and the ants were starting to retreat. I had to go out and do this another time before church and another after. But our back yard is now a grave yard for 1000s of impali as well as Pamela’s room and the bathroom. Pamela pointed out that this would be the perfect time to have a shop vac... only in our dreams. And we probably should have worn masks to go back there due to the strong fumes. But we held the troops off for a least another day! Hoping Monday morning doesn’t hold the same fate :)

What God Joined together

2011-11-06T05:58:00.000-08:00

Usta was one of my first Ugandan friends. She has taught me most of the Lubwisi that I know. She welcomed me into her home for my first overnight experience. She was a prayer partner. I remember praying with her that God would provide a godly husband for her.

I was very sad about a year ago when she moved to Bundibugyo town 30 minutes away to get a better paid teaching job to help put her brothers through school. But this was all part of God's plan for her. Because she met Robert. And about a week ago they got hitched! It was such a fun wedding!

Groomsmen, grooms family and pastor entering!

Bridal procession. Usta is in the green.

A happy, clapping, grandmother who probably wishes that she could be dancing with everyone else.

Usta and Robert

Cute kids sitting next to us.

dress change

Pamela and I with Usta

Please pray for Usta and Robert as they start a new life together. Pray that Christ is the rock and foundation of their relationship. Pray that as God blesses them that they will be a blessing to others.

A+

2011-09-30T05:58:00.000-07:00

A great blood type for a teacher, I think. Yesterday I gave blood for the first time ever. Sad I know... in college I did tried to donate blood. I confess my motive was some free t-shirt or subway sandwich. But I was rejected because I had lived in Niger for several years as a kid. Rejected for life! While I was disappointed that I could not get the free sandwich, in some way I was a little relieved. I have never really liked needles.

In Africa the standards are a little less stringent for blood donation. I also must confess that I probably would not have been motivated to give blood in Africa either if not for the encouragement of my team mate Jessica. (Jessica had just given blood to one of her patients, who was in desperate need of blood after her c-section.) I guess it was a good idea, but as I have said I don’t do well with needles, and a total wimp when it comes to even minor pain. I had a flash backs to a year ago when I had to get a mere vile of blood drawn for some tests. The nurse who was a student, information I would have preferred not to know, kept plunging the needle into my arm in search for a blood vessel. She finally hit one which failed to produce enough blood. When she left the room I started to feel light headed at the thought of a repeat artery diving experience. Another nurse walked by and suddenly exclaimed, “You are going to faint!” She quickly instructed me to put my head down and led me to the bench where I could lie down for the other arm. My right arm was more cooperative in blood giving and I managed to get out of there with out passing out.

I put all this behind me and reminded myself it was all in my head. The nurse at Kijabe Hospital expertly drew a quick vile and I passed with a hemoglobin of 13.5. The nurse had pricked me in my right arm for this initial test, so I decided to use my left arm for the donation. At this point I wish I had been thinking a little more about my near fainting experience and how the right arm worked so much better, but I had pushed that memory far from my mind. I sat in the chair with my feet up, pumping my hand like crazy as the nurse looked down at my arm with a wrinkled brow and stated that I had very small veins. I began to worry a bit and give myself another pep talk. She released the truncate and called someone else. The other guy managed to get the massive needle in my tiny vein and the blood letting began. It was so slow going, so slow that some needle gouging was done to try to get the process going. Eventually they gave up as the blood in the bag started to clot. And I hadn’t even produced1/2 a pint. The nurse asked me if I wanted to try in the other arm. I thought to myself, “Are you crazy?” but some how my mouth must have agreed and Jess was there to second this and remind me this could save someone’s life.

Praise the Lord he hit the vein on the first stick and we were in business. And I did it! I gave up a whole pint of my blood. It is pretty amazing that my blood can actually be put into someone else’s veins and be used to carry their oxygen and nutrients through their body. One last confession. When I stood up I could feel that tingly feeling returning and I had to sit back down and have my bitter lemon soda be brought to me. But hey, I got something for free, sustained only minor bruising the next day, and I had the hope that my A+ blood might do someone some good.

"Smile Loud"

2011-09-25T08:59:00.000-07:00

In Uganda the dental care options are limited and honestly kind of scary. It has been a year since my last cleaning and that was when I was in the US. The Kijabe Hospital in Kenya has a dental clinic, and last week Jessica and I both too advantage of this service. I usually like going to the dentist... love that smooth, clean teeth feeling. Jessica had a very thorough cleaning done by a hygienist named Millicent. In fact Jessica had to take Ibuprofen because the pain in her gums was so intense. Millicent... sounds a bit like that character in Sleeping Beauty... What was her name? Naturally I was a little less enthusiastic about this visit, especially since I had a years worth of plaque to chisel off. When I arrived in the clinic things were pretty western looking. There was a waiting room where we all sat on cement benches. Music was playing in the background. Christian music, because this is a mission operation. Point of Grace, I think... something from when I was in middle school. The reading material was also a little outdated. It appeared that the only choices were National Geographic from before I was born.

I eventually was called back and ushered into a little room to wait for the hygienist. Again, pretty normal, a dentist chair (only a few cracks in the vinyl), and appropriate looking tools. No artwork or dental licenses on the wall or garfield posters on the ceiling. I sat in the chair, which was kind of awkward because it was still reclined. I tried sitting side saddle, but this was weird too with the arm rests. I turned around spying into the other rooms to see how other people were sitting. In one room the chair was up. Well that was unhelpful, since I wasn’t about to push buttons or levers on this thing. This other guy was straddling the chair, sitting kind of hunch backed while he read his National Geographic. So, I attempted to do the same while reading my book.

The hygienist did finally arrive. I quickly asked what her name was.... Hannah... phew! The first thing she did was take x-rays. She pulled x-ray machine down and made a ton of adjustments moving it all around my head, inserted that cardboard film thing, and told me to, “smile.” I thought this was funny for multiple reasons. The first most obviously being that this was an x-ray which would going right through my soft tissue. The second was because I remembered Jessica telling me that Millicent had asked her to, “Smile loud” before she took her x-ray. I was smiling at this point, even suppressing laughter which, by the way, makes those cardboard things even more uncomfortable.

After this Hannah laid a crispy sun dried hand towel over my chest and started to work on the plaque removal. Thankfully she was gentle on the gums, but her method was definitely hands on. At one point the palm of her hand was resting in my eye socket and my hair was a mess by the end. After the cleaning came the polishing. Little bits of the gritty polish started flying in the air and I closed my eyes. At this point I was getting a good bit of saliva build up, and I really wanted her to use that suction thingy. When she did I could see why she had waited so long. It was just an open tube with A LOT of suction that kept getting stuck to my my cheek and tongue. She also started using that little water sprayer. It too had a lot of power and my face became covered with heavy mist. I closed my eyes again and tried to keep from laughing as parts of my mouth kept getting sucked up and Hannah apologized for the water and dabbed my face with the crispy towel.

One last thing to do... the flossing and of corse the final examination from the dentist. He came in, greeted me and began holding my x-rays up to a rather dim light bulb... good thing I smiled. I am happy to report that, despite my lapse in cleanings, I have no cavities and healthy gums. And Hannah had done great... no pain. And the whole thing cost only $16!

Longonot Adventures

2011-09-20T05:37:00.000-07:00

From my porch at RVA I look out at the the Great RiftValley. On a clear day I can see Mt.Longonot, a dormant volcano, in the distance. I see Mt. Maurgret, a random blipon the flat valley floor that some believe to be a mass of earth that wasdisplaced by one of Longonot’s violent explosions. I am told that about once a term a group ofhigh school students from RVA leave campus on foot (at 4 am), descending to thevalley and walk to the base of Longonot. Then they make a trek to Longonot’s highest peak (about 9,000 ft.). From the base up and around the rim of the massive crater it is an 11km journey.Sometimes they camp out and then they walk home. Last weekend I had a Longonotadventure of my own.

You can be sure that I did NOT leave at 4 am. Jessica, our new roommate Susan, and I took ataxi to the base of themountain. Our driver also doubled as ourtour guide, instructing us on what to pack, offering to hike with us and tellingus about a local muchomo joint where we could get roasted meat after ourhike. The day was absolutely perfect forhiking the sun kept appearing from behind the clouds to keep us warm enough atthe high altitude. It also occasionally went behind the clouds which was nice since we were soon gasping for air and hot as we made the steep ascent to the rim. As for the climb I will let the picturetestify that it was incredible!

As we came off the mountain we kept saying how perfect a day itwas and wouldn’t it just be amazing if we saw some giraffes in the valley orsomething. About that time Susan pointedout a herd of animals grazing. I thought they were cows or, the very prevalentin Kenya, donkeys. Above the herd on thehillside I could see something that looked like it was eating leaves on atree. Could that be a giraffe? I decided to use my camera with the supercool zoom and get a little closer. Itwas moving so much in the view finder that I still couldn’t tell so I snapped apicture and sure enough, it was agiraffe! And on further inspection I sawabout 3 giraffes. And those “donkeys”were some kind of antelope with curvy horns.

Arriving at the base Philip was very glad to see us. We had takenlonger than he expected. We were coveredin dust and dried sweat and as Philip predicted, very hungry! I couldn’t wait to get some of that chewygoat meat. Philip had us take off our shoes and beat out clouds of dust. I also noticed he had covered the floor ofhis car with news papers. We were pretty gross.

Philip drove us to the nearest town and pulled up to a littlestrip of dukas that were alternating butcher shops and restaurants. The one we went to I think was called the “Uand I Restaurant” right next to the “U and I Butchery.” We walked in and Philip inspected the ribsand other hunks of meat on the grill being basted with salt water. He didn’t like anything so he asked the guyto put something else on. We proceededinto the little eating area and sat at a table next to some lacy curtains thatare pretty standard decor. In the cornerwas a TV playing Nigerian music videos with women and men in cowboy hats doingsome kind of dance moves involving hip action that I am pretty surewould cause me to dislocate something. Upon my reflection of my inabilities, Philip assured me that withlessons I too could posses these skills... I am skeptical. Especially since most African children underthe age of 3 have more rhythm than I can ever hope to have. I was happy when after this song thelatest hit came on... something in the lyrics about “sawa sawa”. I really like the song but itunes isn’t up onthe kenya top 40.... or top 2. Philipsaid he would get me the CD. Ourkilo of meat finally arrived on a cutting board with some little piles of saltfor dipping. The “chef” or meat roasterperson cut it up into piece small enough that if you couldn’t manage to chew,you could just swallow it whole. AndSusan and I set in on devouring it. Ithink Philip was surprised at our ability to put the meat away. He even order some ugali (something kind ofin between corn bread and oatmeal) to supplement. It was great! I really love going to local places. It was agreat finale to our Longonot Adventure.

A great day at Wasini Bay... (a vacation reflection)

2011-09-18T06:15:00.001-07:00

I have been waiting my whole life to go snorkeling! As I think back, I can’t believe I have waited this long, because I love the beach and water. Three weeks ago I was on vacation, we were at the Indian Ocean in Kenya and my time had finally come.

The Masso family, Bethany, and Caleb from the Sudan team and Jessica and I started out pretty early in the morning. We all piled into the Masso’s little white pick-up truck two people lying on cushions in the bed. I hadn’t even had time to eat breakfast, so I munched some peanuts I had brought with me as we headed down the road. About 30 minutes in we were stopped at a police check point. Gaby and Caleb tried to hide under the cushions, but the legs hanging out somehow gave them away... the police man actually laughed. And was pretty quick to send us on our way. We arrived at the dock and were escorted out to the boat that we would be taking. Right away they gave us tea, fruit and mandazi (kenyan doughnuts) Which I also gobbled down (in retrospect this was NOT a wise choice). The crew were quick to tell us to put lots of sunscreen on our Muzungu skin and also passed out pills for seasickness. At this point I only had one memory of being seasick, which was when I took a ferry to Ireland in an all out storm and even then I didn’t actually throw up. It was a sunny day and I didn’t want to be drowsy, so I turned them down... another bad choice.

It was so beautiful as we set out across the blue water to make our way around the island to the marine reserve. But despite the sun the water was choppy and we were doing a lot of up and down motion. I started to wish hadn’t eaten all those peanuts... and mandazi... and fruit. I fixed my eyes on the horizon, even moved to the back of the boat but it just wasn’t helping. I did eventually loose all those morning snacks and I will not be eating peanuts in the near future, but the good news was I felt a lot better and we soon reached the place where we were going to do our first snorkeling stop. I donned my flippers, mask and snorkel and quickly jumped over the side before the seasickness plagued me again.

The view under those beautiful blue, choppy waves was incredible. I dove down over and over and was swimming through schools of colorful fish, staring in awe at all the incredible coral in various shapes and colors and sizes. After swimming around for about 2 hours our guide beckoned us back to the boat. When we had almost almost reached the boat we saw a pair of fins surface and then disappear. Our guide called out, “Dolphins!” I swam back out and looked down and saw the out line of about 6 dolphins, young and adult ones swimming below me. We followed them around for a while. At one point I turned around and a dolphin was right behind me, swimming up next to me. I could see scars on its back, I wanted to reach out and touch it, but I got scared. Later I was swimming behind a mother and a baby and even got to seen the baby nursing. So amazing! I could have stayed with them for a long time, but it was time to go, because some people were actually hungry.

We climbed back on the boat and made our way to the lunch spot on Wasini Island. About halfway there the motor started to smoke, I was starting to feel sick again and the smoke inhalation wasn’t helping. The motor eventually died. This didn’t seem to phase our captain very much and soon they were attempting to put up the sails. As the large wooden beam began to swing around I was not feeling very positive about this plan, but what do I know about sailing? They did get the sail up, but just as we were starting to move forward the sail ripped. Our plan B had just failed. And I was wanting to get on solid ground as soon as possible. Our captain radioed for another boat to come and get us and let us jump out and swim, because there is considerably less up and down in the water. Eventually another boat did arrive and we transferred all out stuff to the more sea worthy vessel to complete our 3 hour cruise. Upon nearing the Island we had to get into little canoe and eventually wade to shore. When we got there a lunch of freshly caught crab and fish was awaiting us. Fortunately, I had regained at least some portion of my appetite. After a tour of the island we headed back, tired, salty and sunburned. What a great great day. Who cares that the boat died, I threw up, and was sunburned. I had swam with dolphins in the Indian ocean. Thank you God for creating such a beautiful place full of amazing creatures!

RVA

2011-09-14T03:40:00.000-07:00

It is a 15 minute walk up the hill and A LOT of steps from where I am staying to the campus of Rift Valley Academy (RVA- A Christian boarding school started by African Inland Mission, over 100 years ago). Despite having walked this route for 2 weeks at least twice a day, at almost 7,000 ft I am STILL huffing and puffing by the time I get to school (but finally warm... warm enough to take off the top of my 3 layers). Just before I round the corner to ascend the last flights of stairs, I change out of my tennis shoes, into something a little more professional, but my calloused feet that have been wearing nothing but flip flops for almost two years protest as they squeezed into the second hand shoes I had bought at the market. But I felt like I fit the part... I actually look like a teacher.

For the past two weeks I have been substitute teaching for Ryan Dahlman, as he was in the US for his sister’s wedding. It has been great fun to be back in a traditional classroom with 105 student in my 9th and 10th grade World History and 11th and 12th US Government, going to ball games, hanging out with other teachers... even grading papers. These kids, having ethnicities from all around the world and homes all over East Africa and beyond, form a culture all their own. Something that has stood about them is their attitudes of gratefulness. Every day I have multiple students who on their way out the door from class say, “Thank you”... and not in a teachers pet, suck up kind of way. Just simple thanks. Saturday was an outreach day where students went out to serve and love people in the surrounding communities doing everything from planting trees and painting murals to playing soccer in prisons and visiting orphanages. In chapel on Monday during open mic time, student after student stood up expressing how their experiences (among other things) made their hearts thankful for the blessing of God in their lives.

Another thing that has struck me about this place is a commitment to prayer. Once a week there is an optional 15 minute prayer chapel... that a good number of kids actually choose to come to. I sat with 2 middles school girls as they prayed for unity among the students at their school various other things. Also every day the staff meets for Chai and Prayer. Yes warm, sugary, spiced, milky, delicious tea... (and snacks). I could for sure get used to this! But over this refreshment staff share prayer requests for the school, specific students, etc. And we pray!

I am thankful for this place and how it has impacted and continues to shape the lives of missionaries and future missionaries. It has been a blessing to be here!

Truffle... ( a Bundibugyo reflection)

2011-09-08T08:22:00.000-07:00

Late at night, head lamp on under the mosquito net I often find myself laughing out loud as I have been reading James Herriot’s “All creatures Great and Small”. I have always been an animal lover, but I am far from a farm girl and my experience with animals other than dogs and cats, has been somewhat limited. But living out in the bush of Uganda has broadened my experience as I now ride the bus with chickens. Goats and cattle roam the streets and sometimes our yard. And three dairy cows now share half of our school yard. I have to say, that despite the fact that they continually break though our fence and as Buligi puts it, “Abuse my garden”, I love those cows and I have become particularly attached to Truffle.

When the cows first came to RMS it was Truffle that would come to the window and stick her big nose up to the screen to see what we were doing. One time I was quite alarmed at the frantic knocking at the door. Upon going to see who it was, Truffle had her head through the screen door and was banging the door back and fourth by moving her head up and down.

I do remember a time were I was even a bit afraid of these huge animals. Most of the time when I walked through their grazing area I wouldn’t get too much of a reaction. Maybe they would look up from the clump of grass they were currently chomping. However, one time I came in with the milking pail. The particular one that was carrying has a lid that doesn’t fit tightly and rattles rather loudly when you carry it. The moment I came in the cows perked up and started to follow me to school. They were moving more quickly than usual with kind of a curious look in their eyes. (A look that I now know to be one that is expecting maize, something special that they get to eat when they are being milked). I put the pail down where Buligi had been milking and walked back across the yard to leave. When Truffle realized that I had not delivered the maize and was nearing the gate she started to gallop (yes cows can gallop) toward me. I also started to run hoping to reach the gate before this very large animal with horns did. I quickly squeezed out and flung the metal gate closed behind me just in time. Two of our neighbors looked at me about to burst into laughter... explaining didn’t help.

Since then I have grown more accustomed to these animals and their habits. Truffle also is quite fond on nibbling on my skirt when I go to pet her. She also gets very excited and will come running for cucumbers from the garden. I guess that cows do normally run but some other things that Truffle does are definitely out of the ordinary. Truffle gets up on her hind legs like a goat to munch on leaves of tree branches that are out of normal cow reach. A few weeks ago we were having trouble with them pushing down the fence to get to greener grass on the other side. The day after we had fixed it, Lilli and I were working the cows when I heard munching in a place that should be a NO MUNCHING zone! I ran outside just in time to see Truffle down on her front knees crawling in between two of the lines of barbed wire. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Due to the recent intrusions, cow wrangling has become a new past time at RMS that I never expected to be doing. The first time they broke in I was determined to get them out away from my garden Lilli handed me the yard stick and out I went. But even with my yelling and butt smacking, I managed to get out DMC and Oreo but Truffle does what she wants.

Despite all this, I love this cow and even volunteered to be her second milker. And several times a week I get to herd these three across the mission back up to their milking pen with Buligi, and I like it. I have finally built up the hand muscles to produce a pail of milk without getting hand cramps and we left for Kenya, when I get back I know a lovable frisky little cow who will be waiting.

Snickers... truffle's calf

Randy and Rachel come to visit... it doesn't get much better than that!

2011-09-02T07:59:00.000-07:00

I couldn’t believe that the time had come as I gave final hugs to Randy and Rachel. The tears just started to come. I hate goodbyes. But as a missionary they are a part of life. I have learned that despite the pain... they are worth it and this goodbye was no different. Because goodbye meant that I had said a hello. Randy and Rachel gave me the best gift ever this past August... coming all the way to middle of nowhere Uganda to see me. Now that is awesome! And we had a great time together!

A few of the highlights...

Being serenaded by Randy as he learned to play his mountain dulcimer (the body of which is made of cardboard and Randy brought with him on the plane in a plastic bag) I love my musical brother!

Having Rachel hang out with me at school... being a part of my every day life.

Many great meals together, with lots of longs talks and catching up on life.

Hanging out with Friends and sharing jack fruit!

Motorcycle rides!
Hiking through the jungle to Nyahuka falls in Bundibugyo!

A hike at one of the crater lakes in Fort Portal.

Swimming in the lake at the bottom of the crater... bathing suits are over rated.

Public transportation adventures on the way to Queen Elizabeth National Park. In which were dropped off in the pack on the side of the road, whisked quickly to a waiting Matatu, and crammed inside (me still carrying around Randy’s cardboard dulcimer in the plastic bag). Then another time waiting in the rain while we served as entertainment for local children. After 2 filled to the brim passed the third one had room for us and apparently a lot more. (there were 6 grown men at one point in a row meant to seat 3!)

Seeing lions at Queen Elizabeth!

Rafting the Nile!!

Rest

2011-08-29T04:04:00.001-07:00

People constantly at the door, ending a term at Christ School, hosting visitors, day to day teaching, walking with friends who are struggling, the fatigue of cross-cultural living in a remote place... all these things start to add up. And I just get tired, body tired, head tired, even soul tired. Heck I haven’t had time to even write a blog post in 2 and a half months. Last week all the teams in East Africa with World Harvest Mission met in Mombasa, Kenya to rest and be renewed together.

In the morning we had a short session, then an hour or two to just meditate, and be with the Father. One of the spiritual exercises was to intentionally put yourself in the presence of God and do something that you delight in. So there I was in my little chair the warmth of the sun, rhythm of the waves, rustling palm trees, the breezes washing in from the Indian Ocean, thinking to myself... I delight in this! My mind finally began to stop reeling as I poured out my heart out to Him. And it was so great to have uninterrupted conversation with God. Thinking of his steadfast love that is as constant as those waves, as faithful as the tides, alluring and beautiful.

I also read Psalm 62:1 “My soul finds rest in God alone”. Rest is an important part of life... even Jesus took time to get away. God created us to rest... to enjoy a nap, savor a cup of coffee, enjoy a long talk with a friend. But if I seek true rest, then these things have to include God. This is something that I am learning to do... and often not very good at. In Bundibugyo during a team devotion a few months back we were talking about rest and all the things that we do to rest that are good, but a lot of the time, they are cheap, not real soul rest. In America I was could be satisfied by a night out with friends or taking a hike in the mountains. Here in Africa the options for rest are minimal or they just don’t give me what I need, if I attempt them independent of God. But God has met me here, ever inviting me to find rest in Him ALONE, to enjoy the fun, but enjoy HIM in it. I love how Eugene Peterson put it in the Message:

Matthew 11:28-30

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."

Psalm 62 seems to almost play with the word rest. Saying that the soul finds REST in God alone. As well as saying that we should REST on God as our rock and fortress. So pray that when I work I will rest in God as my rock; and when I rest, my soul would find rest and refreshment in Him!

... And I'm back

2011-08-25T06:16:00.001-07:00

After a long pause in the blogging I am back! Sorry for the silence. It has been a busy season. As of tomorrow I will be in Kijabe, Kenya for the month of September and will be substitute teaching at Rift Valley Academy since none of my team mates are currently in Bundibugyo. I hope to have a little more time to reflect and will even post some stuff from the past few months that I never got around to sharing. Thanks for sticking with me... those ones who still check my blog :)

Jess and Anna Take a vacation

2011-08-25T06:14:00.000-07:00

So there we were in city center Kampala. The street I chose for us to take was the one that all the taxi busses used to get back in the massive taxi park. On the two lane road there were three lanes of taxis bumper to bumper, exhaust blowing into our open windows. It reminded me of a scene from the old movie Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation. In which Jimmy Stewart stars as Mr. Hobbs. There is a scene just before the Hobbs take their family vacation to the beach, Mr. Hobbs is driving home from work (definitely ready for a vacation) but things aren’t starting too well for him as he is in bumper to bumper traffic with semi trucks in front, back, and either side. I don’t remember all the details but there were a lot of other obstacles that he had to overcome before and during his “vacation”.

World Harvest Mission was having an East Africa teams retreat in Mombassa Kenya. Jess and I similarly were headed to Kampala to begin our vacation, and have had our own set of hurdles to jump before vacation.

Hours prior to our matatu sandwich situation we got a flat tire. Fortunately, my brother and sister were visiting (more on their visit later) and Randy was willing to help out with changing the tire, as Jess and I with all our heaving could not manage to even loosen the lug-nuts on the spare tire. The jack did not raise high enough to be able to get the flat tire actually off the axel. But Randy soon had a team of African men to supervise in the tire changing endeavor. After a few boards under the jack and only one time of slipping off onto the support rocks below, an hour later the spare was on. We paid a small fee for “shoap” (soap) so that our helpers could wash their close after helping us.

The day that Jess and I were to leave to head to Kenya for the East Africa retreat we left the guest house in Kampala at 5:30 am (not my favorite hour). Arriving at the airport our taxi driver dropped us in the pickup/ drop off parking lot where we had to carry our luggage (with some help of strong men in jumpsuits whose sole job is to carry peoples luggage up to the departure gates). We went to the Fly 540 desk to get our boarding passes which the attendant actually hand wrote. A little sketchy for an international airport, I know! I began to wonder just what kind of air line we had chosen to fly with. I started to picture all of us passengers peddling the plane down the runway like the Flintstone's car. Jess and I started to come up with things that 540 could stand for, like 540 days that they go before inspecting their planes. We were to leave from Gate 1 (one of about 6) at the Entebbe International airport (the only one in the entire country of Uganda). About 5 minutes before our plane was scheduled to leave, in African fashion, they finally started to board. In not so African fashion, the attendant hurried us onto the plane. Despite my misgivings the flight was quite nice and I also enjoyed a second breakfast of a cucumber sandwich, which is more than I can say for any 1 hour flight that I ever took in America.

We landed in Nairobi and hurried to catch our next flight. We ended up in some mass general seating area for anyone flying anywhere with Fly 540. There were no speakers so when one of the planes was getting ready to leave, someone would walk around and kind of mumble the destination. About the time our plane was supposed to start boarding we heard some mumbling we went to the gate (just a doorway that lead out onto the plane parking area) But it was not the right flight. Jess and I really anxious to get this vacation started continued this pattern of getting up at the mumbling, one time the guy even took our ticket and we almost got onto a plane headed to a place in Kenya that I have never heard of. Finally we picked a seat that was right by the door. The Fly 540 attendants then could personally speak to us about what was going on with the planes... turns out ours was delayed an hour or so. We did finally board and land in Mombassa and were so happy to see taxi driver waving us down among the throngs of pushy drivers trying to get a fare. He was very helpful pointing out to us interesting land marks like the prison, and train station, and giving us other tid-bits like, “and those trees on the left and right... those are palm trees.”

So we made it and I waved excitedly to see the Myhres and give them big hugs as I hadn’t seen them in months. More East Africa World Harvest Reunions to come. Let the vacation begin.

When it Rains...

2011-06-05T06:27:00.000-07:00

It was dark when Jessica and I stumbled off the Matatu (taxi bus) after a long day of travel across Uganda on public transport. I could tell that the floor was a little muddy even in the dark as we entered our house. It smelled a little musty, but then again that is pretty normal especially when the house has been closed up for a couple days. The following morning our wonderful house worker Zainabo came and informed us that the entire house had flooded due to an all day down pour while we were away. She showed us the water line on the outside of the house at least a foot high! She had done an amazing clean up job considering the mess it must have left.

The clouds have been dumping a LOT of water on us lately. Last week our neighbors cement rainwater collection tank, full to capacity, had exploded. Later that same day I had just battled another flood.

It was a Saturday. Late in the afternoon more dark thunder clouds came tumbling in. Lilli had planned a party for the afternoon and had just come to tell us it was ready when the deluge began. We decided to make a run for it. So with Patton piggybacking under my rain coat, we ran. As we reached the gate I saw that it had been left wide open and Chloe our dog made an escape. Within no time she had cornered one of our neighbors chickens and secured it in her jaws. I ran Patton to the the Johnsons while Jessica chased after our poultry loving dog. The rain coat had not been much help so we decided the first party event should be to play in the rain and quickly forming large puddles.

After this event we were all cold and muddy so I went back to change. When I got back, there was a knock at the front door. Kilija with our fresh tilapia! I went into the front room and noticed some water coming under the front door, when I opened it the flood gates opened. I grabbed the fish and told Kilija to come back on Monday to be paid ‘cause I wasn’t opening that door again. After stuffing towels and some old inner tube rubber under the door I donned my raincoat again and my rubber boots, grabbed a hoe and went out the back door to assess the situation.

Two guys who were waiting out the rain under our neighbor’s porch pointed out (from their dry location) where the main blockage in our drainage ditch was. Bamboo, elephant grass and palm leaves were stuck under the fence and causing major flooding. The water was a couple feet deep in the yard and started to pour into the tops of my boots. I started hoeing out the grassy mess moving closer and closer to the fence clearing the debris. I had another Swiss family Robinson flashback and I prayed that there were no snakes lurking in the dark water. When I got to the fence I realized that to really clear the blockage I was going to have to jump the fence into the demonstration garden and hoe from the other side. So I set out to find a place low enough for me to get over. The garden is a bit over grown, but I made it through the banana trees and such to the place I needed to dig and almost immediately the blockage was cleared and I was well past my knees in water as it gushed under the fence. I was throughly soggy, but I had a major sense of satisfaction, as well as surprise that I had fixed (at least temporarily) the problem. When I came back the two men (still waiting under the covering... watching) informed me that the water was now moving and it would be okay. Then they asked if I had an umbrella so they could go home... I just kind of looked at them water coming out the tops of my boots. “NO! I do not have an umbrella.” Though I am not sure it would have done them much good. I mean water had even made its way into the pockets of my raincoat. Because when it rains in Bundibugyo... IT POURS!

Firsts

2011-05-09T05:13:00.000-07:00

I’ve been in Africa for about a year and half now. It feels good to be getting adjust and good to feel like Bundibugyo is my home. But I guess I kind of crave adventure and a little of the unexpected, discovering things for the first time. Well this past week has had some firsts for me... and I like it.

1. My first Matatu over the mountains.

Jessica and I were traveling back to Bundibugyo from Kampala. I like to take public transport. Usually I take the Kalita (African grey hound) that goes direct to Bundibugyo town. However there is only one such bus that leaves daily from Kampala and usually it puts us back after dark. We decided to take an earlier Kalita to Fort Portal then take a matatu (minibus taxi) the rest of the way. We arrived in Fort in good time and were quickly directed to the taxi pick up point the matatus. The one poised to go to Bundibugyo was packed with 17 or 18 passengers (despite the 14 passenger limit posted on the side) They assured us there was room for us. The other choice for transport was a little white pickup truck. The driver of this vehicle grabbed our bags and encouraged us to get in, “We go now... 6,000 (shillings)” Then we learned the cab was full and we would be standing in the back with about 15 other people and their stuff. So we somehow managed to cram inside the matatu five adults across in a seat that was meant for 3 people. And we were off. As soon as we hit the open road the driver flipped down his visor and chose one or the 4 cassette tapes, his personal playlist, self recorded, for our listening pleasure. For the first hour I was distracted from the tingling in my feet as they fell asleep and the pain in my shins as they continually bumped into the boards in front of my legs by the Titanic Theme song, Alison Krauss, “You say it best”, and some other real classics. While I was far from comfortable, I was happy that we were making good time till we left the new part of the road for the old road which is horrible! Huge rocks gutting out sometimes 6 inches above the rest of the road, we slowed to a steady 20 km per hour for the rest of the trip. It was a long 25 km to town. Just as we arrived it started to rain. We rushed over the post office to check mail and wait out the rain. I decide that since we didn’t have much luggage a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) would be the best way to go the last 12 km to our village of Nyahuka. Which leads me to the next “first.”

2. Riding a boda in the pouring rain!

At first it was just sprinkling and it actually felt pretty good on my sweaty, dusty body. Then after getting off to walk up a muddy hill and and skidding down another and the drops were coming faster, we pulled over, and ran into a little duka. Besides the shop keeper and a man and his little girl, Jessica and I were the only others who could fit in. Our drivers just sat under the eves of the building as buckets and buckets pelted against the little tin roof. I greeted the shop keeper and the little girl who looked like she was going to cry at the sight of me. I rummaged through a soggy package that I had just picked up and found some smarties that brought a smile to her face. The down poor did finally stop and our drivers expertly transported us to safety. I was pretty glad to make it home!

3. Yesterday was my first time to milk our cow Truffle.

We now have 2 dairy cows and needed another milker. Since the cows have been at RMS I have bonded with them. The big cow eyes and the occasional nibble at my skirt is somehow quite endearing. It went pretty well. I need to work on my speed but Truffle seemed to be OK with it.

4. Also yesterday I spotted the first watermelon in my garden.

If you have ever tried to grow watermelon, you know it takes a long time! So far I have one that is about the size of an American football. Praying no worms get to it!

We will see what other “firsts” are on the horizon :)

RMS: Rwenzori Moving School

2011-05-01T05:16:00.000-07:00

Rwenzori Mission School is our peaceful little school up the hill from the river nestled among the plumeria and and hibiscus. Over the past six months our little mission school has been on the move. I have wonderful flexible students that are able to do school just about anywhere. So I pack my little back of school supplies and books and can set up school in many locations.

So far we have had school in Kampala on the couch cushions of our hotel.

When spent a few days in Fort Portal, Lilli and I marched through the tea fields counting by twos as we went. And had our traditional “Tuesday Tea” actually in a tea field.

Near Kassese we had school over looking the African Savannah.

Lilli read her, I Can Read It book in Hoima. We were visiting the family of Edward Isingoma, our new headmaster at Christ School.

And I have to say one of the best field trips ever in Murchinson National Park where cape buffalo and warthogs ran through our camp. We witnessed the incredible power or Murchison falls as gallons and gallons of fast moving water from the Nile were funneled into a very small opening. We enjoyed the beauty and majesty of creation as we watched the graceful trotting of giraffes, sunbathing crocodiles, snorting hippos, powerful lumbering of the elephants, and the leaping almost flying antelope. Some things just can’t be learned in books... And Rwenzori Moving School is just the place for that to happen!

Saturday

2011-02-27T07:01:00.000-08:00

We have a phrase that we say a lot here... “Never a dull moment” Which means days here include anything from fuel tanks falling off, hilarious comments like, “Cats, when you eat their feathers, it’s giving you like a pot belly.” ??? someone carrying a basket of chickens on their heads, or like this Saturday traipsing through the jungle that is our backyards. I guess that is just the adventure of living in Uganda.

So here is a typical (or perhaps not so typical) Saturday.... I actually slept in, thanks to the earplugs that blocked out the loud music from town, noisy neighbors and motorcycle horns from the road. Ate a bowl of homemade granola with milk from our cow. Piddled around in my pajamas for a bit getting things done around the house. Answered knocks at the door and sent some kids asking for work to get a pineapple and charcoal from the market. Headed to town a bit later to do a bit of shopping of my own. Perused outfits made from colorful African kitangi, hung on sticks outside the market. Already feeling sweat collecting on my upper lip. Chatted with Christine, a seamstress I like, about getting a dress made. Hurried to get the rest on my list and and get out of the equator sun. Feeling hot, tired, thirsty, and increasingly hungry stopped at a chapatti stand and got 2 to go. Sprawled out on the couch drinking a cold beverage. Up... and there went the power. Hopefully it will be back on so I can check email in the afternoon. Neighbor kids played cards on our porch. Paid a Esmo to weed in my garden that now has corn almost as tall as me!! Yay. Still no power so Chrissy and I accompanied the Johnsons down to the river to cool off. Down the ravine, trying not to slip or run into a banana tree. Boys hanging around shimmied up trees for fear of the Johnson’s dogs. Waded around, gave 2 dogs a bath. Went on a little safari adventure in search of a swimming hole, through the bush and peoples gardens to follow the river, avoiding impali (viscous biting ants) and groups of bathing men. Just one of the things we do for fun around here :)

Once we were back the plan was to grill on little Ugandan charcoal grill. I had only done this once before and I had a kid help me get the fire started... which at the time seemed really easy. After burning 10 sheets of scrap paper, melting 2 plastic bags, dumping the charcoal out 3 times to rearrange it, about 20 matches, some black and burned fingers later it was finally burning. Chrissy was in the kitchen skewering veggies and I started grilling the chicken. It promptly caught on fire and turned the outsides black. I started the veggies a little later and took off the blackened chicken. Due to some skewer flesh wounds, Chrissy and I switched jobs. I cutting into the chicken and seeing blood put it back over the coals. The power was still out so I lit candles, while Chrissy labored away over the fire, shooing away the 2 salivating, hovering dogs. After the 3rd check while veggies were on the table getting cold the chicken looked cooked and we sat down to enjoy. The chicken was pretty tasty once the quite crispy skin was removed. And after dinner a special treat. We had found mmmMallows (a pink and white version of marshmallows) in Kampala and were going to make s’mores. We loaded up some skewers with the non-pink variety and turned the marshmallows over the dying embers. Then put some America chocolate on rather stale cookies over the grill grate to melt and dry. The cookies ended up a little black too but it was definitely mmmGood. And a great end to a great day... with not one dull moment.

Owen showing off fire making skills I have yet to acquire

Sights and Sounds of Kampala

2011-02-12T05:55:00.000-08:00

I have been in Kampala, the capital of Uganda, for the past couple days to do some restocking and just to have a rest from life in the boon docks. Here are a few snapshots of the “big city experience”.

Crazy traffic and sometimes even crazier boda drivers weaving around the “jam”.

People transporting large often dangerous items, like huge panes of glass on bodas.

A matatu (taxi van) with the top totally filled up with chickens.

Political campaigning trucks with huge loud speakers blaring music so loud that it kind of takes the breath out of you when you pass them.

The crazy mix of beamers along with sputtering run-down toyotas from the 80’s next to each other in traffic.

Security guards at pretty much every public place that carry huge guns.

Oversized wooden wheel barrows full of fresh pineapples to buy.

Restaurants (that serve something other than rice and beans) where someone else can do the cooking!

Techno/dance praise music from the nearby exercise club.

Advertisements in simple black and white on computer paper plastering telephone poles for everything from “JOBS IN CANADA” to “GAIN OR LOSE HIPS AND BUMS” CALL...

Lots of dust in the air that sticks all over your face and clothes from riding around the city... especially now in the dry season.

Children with babies strapped to their backs running across the road in bare feet to beg at your window while stopped at a traffic light.

Guys selling sunglasses, maps, air time, electric bug zappers, candy, grasshoppers from buckets, and any number of random items along the road.

Going to church where they sing familiar songs in English.

Tub on a boda

boda on a boda

Witnessing History: President Museveni causes the first Jam ever in Nyahuka

2011-01-16T05:18:00.000-08:00

Zainabo came in Monday morning taking about town... “Ehhh! Towne, it is busy! Everyone is wearing yellow.” All of Nyahuka was in a bustle as they prepared for the visitation of the current president of Uganda, Museveni, on his campaign trail. Museveni came and spoke in Bundibugyo town in the spring, but today he was coming to the little trading post of Nyahuka. He has never reached this far! I could already hear motorcyclists going up and down the road. Honking more than usual. Susanna came in all excited. Zainabo translating for me that Susanna had never actually seen the president. The word on the street was that he was coming at 2:00; or was it mid day? Then when a motorcade drove past and a bunch of black SUVs at 9:30 the news was that it would be at 10:00! Susanna and a few others had run out to the road, then back a few minutes later, thrilled that they had seen the president... or at least his black car. Travis has been asked to go, and not wanting to miss the event Chrissy, Pat, Bethany, our friend Amina, Capu, Joas, and Joyce... and maybe someone I am forgetting all piled into the Johnson’s car and headed past town to a local elementary school that would be hosting this even. People with signs, sandwich boards, cardboard hats and flags continued to pour on to the road forming a parade. Trucks creating big clouds of dust were packed with way too many people. We were passing one and I swear the back tires were off the road and it looked like it was going to tip. We arrived at Bundikakemba primary school and drove a bit past to park in someone’s yard. We were not allowed to bring cameras in so Bethany snapped one last picture of a group practicing a tradition dance all decked out in feathers with tin can noise makers strapped to their ankles.

We got in the women’s line (substantially shorter than the men’s) and awaited our turn to get the full security pat down. Once in, Travis was escorted to special seating under the tent, but we were not so fortunate. There was an unfinished school building up on the hill that Pat had her eye on. We headed that way then settled ourselves in the windows. We were pretty far from all the action, but had a great view of all the festivities... and a breeze. Venders had tarps spread out selling political paraphernalia for the NRM where anyone who forgot to sport their yellow t-shirt with a large picture of Museveni on the front could purchase one. I prefer to stay out of politics here. But I have to admit I bought a visor with Uganda’s colors that said NRM with 2 thumbs up. (It was pretty sunny after all). We watched as the field became a sea of yellow and black. Two dance circles emerged, one for women and one for men, the drumming mirroring the excitement of the crowd.

After a while the security guards came off of their tank like, very intimidating vehicle and told us that we could not sit so high up. Despite our pleading we had to go down, but he did tell us that we could go and sit under the tent! (with the important people like the king of Congo who popped over for the event) Holding hands we squeezed through the crowd to the tent. We had to split up but all found a seat. I felt a little out of place with all the cheering and chants for everyone supporting the NRM and the bashing of the other parties. Isaiah, a local business man and board member from Christ’s School was particularly colorful with his yellow, red, and black track suit with NRM painted on the front and a yellow ball cap.

It was now after 1:00 and Museveni still had not shown up. We were to learn that he was not in the Mercedes truck/ movie star trailer. He was not even in the district yet and was scheduled to fly in on the mission airstrip. By about 2:30 he finally showed up to the general pleasure of everyone. I could not understand too much of his speach but, Isaiah frequently turned around to give me little tidbits. His speech was kind of like an interrogation of local officials and how they had been using money. But he did manage to address many issues and people love him here because we have received electricity and started the paved road construction from Fort Portal in this term of his presidency. At this point even if I could understand what was being said it is questionable that I would actually have absorbed it, as aIl I could think about was how incredibly hungry I was, wishing that some local chapatti maker would have had the foresight to see what a financial opporturnity setting up a stand would have been. Anyway! When Museveni finished we all pushed through the crowds to get back to the car. There was a river of people to traverse and this process took a while. Those walking (or footing as they say) made it back before we did. We passed Isaiah walking. He called to me, “Anna, you are seeing history. The first jam in Bundibugyo! Seriously, have you ever seen this?!” What a day!

The crazy truck that looked like it was going to tip.

Now that's a lot of people!

Eating Sunshine

2011-01-09T05:23:00.000-08:00

“That was just like eating sunshine.” The words of Pat Abbott as she tosses a mango pit with a sticky hand out the window. We get a lot of sunshine here at the Equator, but to eat it... tangy, sweet, orangey goodness? Definitely smile producing and endorphin releasing! And so many ways in which to experience this deliciousness: mango salsa, smoothies, pie, crisp, slaw, margaritas. Mango season comes 2 times a year and each season is anticipated with great excitement as the trees get blooms and the tiny green fruit grows, getting dotted with pink and orange. Oh glorious mangos! I knew when I came back from America mango season would be beginning. On the way back to Bundibugyo as the switch backs are beginning there is a place on the side of the road where you can get a plastic grocery bag full for 50 cents. I bought a bag and eagerly pealed a sizable mango as soon as I got home, leaning over the kitchen sink juice running down my arm. Sunshine... pure sunshine!

Lydia enjoys eating sunshine too!

People asked me when I was home what American foods I most missed eating. I miss oreos and ice cream and a few other things that I actually can get in Kampala if I am willing to pay. But some things just can not be packaged or transported. When the tables are turned and I am back in America and the only mango to be found was picked when it was hard as rock, never to reach lovely ripeness. Then this mango was shipped half way around the world to sit under lights, getting the occasional misting in the produce section. This mango for which I am also sure to pay a whole lot more than 50 cents. Then I will miss Uganda and that priceless 50 cent bag. Right now I feel pretty blessed to be right here eating sunshine!

A merry little Christmas

2010-12-26T05:12:00.000-08:00

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?

2010-12-23T04:19:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-15T05:40:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-28T19:24:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-14T17:44:00.000-08:00

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

2010-10-17T07:13:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-10T08:13:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-17T05:56:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-14T07:22:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-11T05:49:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-29T05:38:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-27T05:30:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-26T05:49:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-03T00:52:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-18T23:43:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-13T05:44:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-11T04:59:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-07T06:08:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-03-26T23:05:00.000-07:00

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!

Over the mountains and through the jungle to Bundibugyo electricity goes

2010-03-10T04:55:00.000-08:00

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

International Women's Day

2010-03-09T06:02:00.000-08:00

There was rain last night clearing the cloud cover that often shrouds the mountains in Bundibugyo, but today the sun was beating down. I squinted as it seemed to reflect off everything including the green grass of the Christ School soccer or pitch. The starting whistle was yet to blow and I could feel sweat already trickling down the back of my legs. Today was Women‘s Day, an international holiday that I have celebrated for the first time. Ugandan schools were out for the day and Illuminet, one of the Christ’s School teacher’s thought it would be fun to have a match between the Christ School girl’s team vs. the CSB female teachers, teacher’s wives and women from the mission. Ashley, the girl’s coach and pretty much an amazing athlete gallantly took midfield which involved the most running. Jennifer and Heidi were solid defenders and I played up top going head to head with feisty Nora who gave me a run for my money every time I got the ball.

Students lined the field gasping and awing with each good play. I felt so honored to be playing with these women and girls. In a place where just outside the school gates it would be inappropriate to wear pants, many women are uneducated and will spend their days having babies, cooking over 3 stones, and hauling fire wood and water, these teachers are role models, giving hope that it is possible to get an education and pursue a career. These girls are the future of Uganda studying hard and learning that they can enjoy playing futball like any boy. Also being poured into them is the hope that only Christ can give. That He loves them and has a future for each of their lives. And it is His love that gives them value. He is the one who will be there to lift them up not just on Women’s day but every day.

Nora Steeling the ball away

Kids, cookies, and cards

2010-02-23T04:27:00.000-08:00

The other day I was in the middle of making some cookies. It never fails that whenever I am in the middle of something there is a knock at the door. This time it was some neighbor kids with requests of “ompe massi” and “ompe cards”... give me water, give me cards. It is a constant battle for me to have a gracious heart, but today it was hard to resist their smiling white teeth (or lack there of) and mischievous dark eyes. Kiemanual always tries to hide behind the door and jump out and scare me. So I obliged with the water and gave them the cards, but told them I was cooking and couldn’t come out and play right now. As I was inside baking away I could hear them outside talking and laughing with each other singing even as they played. Wonderful sounds really. And my heart went out to them. Behind their demands for water and whatever is a desire for love, acceptance not unlike my own. I just seek it in different ways. I decided to bring out some of the warm cookies and play a round or two of cards. Africa is slowly teaching me to lay aside some of my task orientedness. God is showing me how to love others more than myself and also showing me that it actually will bring me more joy if I rely on Him and do it. My heart was full today when Kiemanual came and took my hand today at church. God still has a lot of work to do on my selfish heart but he has promised to not give up on me.

The Honeymoon is over

2010-02-22T04:44:00.000-08:00

Life in Bundibugyo has been a bit different these past few weeks. A bit more raw. I knew the honeymoon period was over when I came down with a fever and other flu symptoms that made me ever so thankful for indoor plumbing. The team is bare bones with the Clarks, Nathan and myself being the only ones. The comfort of running from one American home to another is not there. I don’t like being alone in my house and have felt lonely for the first time since arriving. I seem to be lacking purpose with the kids gone and no one to teach. Our school was broken into again revealing my accusatory heart. My hopes to focus on language have been thwarted with extended illness and I feel like my attempts are just not getting me anywhere. I have felt inadequate and overwhelmed as I face the new responsibilities of the scholarship program at Christ School. I am tempted to look at all of this and question why am I here? And be discouraged and wallow in self pity. Or I can see the mercy of God in placing me here at this time under these circumstances. What is going on is that the Holy Spirit has lit a fire in my hear, one that convicts and reveals sins of self-centeredness and drives me to seek Him.

The truth is that because I am self-centered, I have a hard time loving people. But there is another truth that is mine for the claiming... Jesus loves being with me anyway. And my worth doesn’t come from work that I a doing. And he is always around when I am lonely.(we actually seem to have more quality time that way). He loves it when I come to him confessing my selfish reasons for wanting to learn Lubwisi. And he is there to give grace to faithfully struggle with a language that is so hard for me. Jesus was already perfect for me, so I don’t have to have it together or know what I am doing as I jump into the scholarship program at Christ School. And his grace abounds, forever faithful, forever forgiving, forever loving me and helping me to believe it!

R.A.T.S. (Rwenzori Adventure Training School)

2010-01-21T04:48:00.000-08:00

Or as I so affectionately like to call us... the rat pack! It’s not every day that you get to spend 45 minutes of class time hunched over a pyrex bowl full of tadpoles, making sketches estimating with confidence their length to be 6 mm. Naomi’s exclamation, “They look like rats with no legs” Which is quite accurate I might add. I am accustomed to the pressure of the ever ticking clock and an average of 55 minutes with my class of 30 students. The freedom to take our time and feel the excitement in discovery is great. RATS is an in between term chance to enjoy life in East Africa and all it’s educational opportunities before we get back to our normal curriculum in February.

JULIA NATURE JOURNALING

I have a couple of young naturalists as students, examining bugs, noticing spores on ferns for the first time. We venture out into field and forest with our jars to collect specimens. I have admit that there are now about 10 grasshoppers missing at least one of their six jointed appendages due to Ephriam’s intense capturing methods. We take trips through the banana trees down to the river. We sit and observe dragon flies buzzing or the swarming butterflies or perhaps the smell of the sandy clay. Topista a guest teacher, has been giving us lessons in Africa crafts. Today we made soccer balls out of banana fibers (I think it was a hit for Quinn, who at age 7 already has plans to teach this skill to his children) Tomorrow will be basket weaving from palm leaves. (definitely more educational than underwater basket weaving)

QUINN AND HIS FOOTBALL

Cocoa is a big cash crop around here. The sent of drying/ fermenting cocoa beans lining the roads can not be escaped. Last Friday our adventures took us to the cocoa grove of Usta a friend of mine, where we would learn how to harvest. The kids were excited, as was I despite my apprehension about how buggy it would be. I am a bug magnet even in the states and on the equator in a place that gets a good bit of rain... well lets just say the first couple of weeks here I could have easily been mistaken for someone with chicken pox. Even bug spray does not seem to deter these pests from their quest for my blood. I have learned to be prepared. I wore pants under my skirt, socks with my crocks, as well as long sleeves. It was toasty but dampness is preferable to the itch and I could cocoa harvest anxeity free. So we began. Usta showed us how to identify the ripe ones by color. Jack could be seen with the long handled pod picker while others used pangas (large knifes) and other like myself picked them off the ground. Once the pile was assembled we all gathered for the debeaning. There was much laughing and chatting in Lubwisi what I could not understand, these people love to have a good time, even while they work. Pods were cracked with the panga revealing the white gewy beans, then passed on to us to be scooped into a basin or piled on a banana leaf. The empty pod is simply chucked over the shoulder (these pods double as bug dream homes) As we worked we snacked on the sticky beans. You can put them in your mouth the residue is a sweet/sour milky sensation. The left over bean is just spit back into the basin. All in all the excursion was a “sweet” experience ending in a gift of sugar cane from Usta for our help!

Just another day in the life of a R.A.T. (Rwenzori adventure trainee)...

UNRIPE COCOA

Having myself an African Christmas

2009-12-23T04:29:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-11T22:37:00.000-08:00

“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

2009-11-30T04:22:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-19T20:39:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-10T04:31:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-06T21:36:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-01T03:36:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-09T14:03:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-30T13:50:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-16T16:11:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-10T16:39:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-08-20T06:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-08T07:44:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-06-30T13:15:00.000-07:00

"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!