Things Fall Apart

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fort Weekend

Welcome to Fort... goodbye dirt road

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

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

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

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

Heidi Anna Susan and me behind the waterfall

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

Just Love 'em

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

-A flower for the teacher from Lilli.

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

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

Nowhere is safe

This little teacher was not expecting a creacher

To disturb her while she worked away.

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

Oh, what a way to start the day.

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

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

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

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

Not your average sleep over

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

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

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

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

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

Going Public

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

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

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

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

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

A Time to Cry

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

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

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

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

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