Paradox Continues to Ring True

Today I sit in a Panera, on the outside looking much like a typical 20-something American. Earbuds in, listening to the Avett Brothers, wearing jeans, mascara, and flip flops with pedicured toes. I edit photos of my nieces and nephews that were taken a week ago at an amusement park—family tradition since before I was born. I peruse facebook and finally decide to look at some photos from the interns’ summer in Uganda. It hurts, like I thought it would. I download the most recent version of iTunes. Sipping iced coffee, chilly from the air conditioning and the cardigan goes on. I sit alone, ignored by the majority of white faces around me.

Rewind exactly 6 months. I walk along a dusty, bumpy road to the market. Sweaty and sticky, long skirt swishing, hoping for a breeze. Toes have dirt between them, heels so callused they laugh at the prospect of a pumice stone. I ignore the staring eyes, greet some fellow pedestrians and thank women carrying massive loads on their heads “Webhale milemo”. I expect the shouts of “Mzungu!”, “How are you? I am fine!”, and “I love you!” and practice selective listening. I leap out of the way of massive lorries barreling by—if they are speeding unsafely, I shout and wag my finger. I peek into Bahati’s shop to see if she is there; we chat. I enter the market, searching for green peppers, knowing it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. I haggle, refusing to pay 25 cents for a shriveled little pepper.

Rewind another 6 months exactly. I move in a bit of a frenzy. I have about two weeks until I leave for a place I’ve never been. It’s got a great name though—Bundibugyo. Packing, frantic emails with lists of questions, trying to preserve memories with friends and family that can last for the next two years. Struggling to enjoy last moments in America, grieving good-byes, facing the total unknown. So busy I choose to ignore the dry mouth and trouble I’ve had swallowing lately. It’ll go away on its own.

I’m not sure what the scene will look like if I was to fast forward 6 months from now. I guess that’s something I’m learning—God guides my steps, even if they end up going in directions that I don’t expect, want, or to really painful places. And right now, each day is one step—where it takes me, I don’t know but I think it’ll be okay.