Two Years

On the way to my first day in Bundi.

Today marks two years from my first day in Bundibugyo. I landed on a little MAF plane, slightly green from the bumps, and greeted by many smiling faces. Within minutes, the word that characterized the next several weeks came into play: overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the hundreds of kids on the airfield. Overwhelmed by how the car could even make it over the road from the airfield to the mission. Overwhelmed by how much there was to learn. Overwhelmed by how little I knew about the most basic things, like turning my oven on or how to flush the toilet. Overwhelmed by the noises in the ceiling (that turned out to be geckos). Overwhelmed by the foreign sound of Lubwisi. Overwhelmed by how to even tell anyone apart or understand their names.

I still often feel overwhelmed by life here. But, as I reflect today I realize how many things have become normal. It’s normal to do a dance when the electricity returns after being off for a day. It’s normal to have kids (and the occasional adult) yell “Mzungu! How are you?” anytime I step outside of my house. It’s normal to know that the post office and ATM are 30 minutes away on a terrible road and that the closest “supermarket” is 3 hours away. It’s normal to pasteurize milk and cook from scratch. It’s normal to hear noises that used to go under the category of “barnyard animals”, outside my bedroom window. It’s normal to be the minority everywhere I go. It’s normal to worship in a church made of tarps, surrounded by bars, and to have the occasional drunk man stumble in or a visit from a pig. It’s normal to feel sweat dripping down my back by 10 am.

I’ve also found that I’ve learned how to do so many things! I’ve learned how to cook over an open fire and how to pluck a chicken. I’ve learned to lead a Bible study. I’ve learned some Lubwisi and plenty of Ugandan English phrases. I’ve learned how to drive a stick shift car over muddy, mountainous, and sometimes non-existent roads. I’ve learned how to be an accountant for a nutrition program, a manager of an employee, and a social worker for referral patients. I’ve learned how to harvest cocoa and attempt to have a garden while waging war with African ants. I’ve learned how to light my oven and the propane fridge, as well as lighting some safari ants on fire. I’ve learned to kill a rat with a bat and the occasional door or drawer slam.

There have been so many good things and bad things that God has brought forth in the last two years. I am thankful for my teammates here, as the team has more than doubled in size in the last two years. I’ve also had to say some hard good-byes as other teammates have moved on. I am thankful for my friends in the community that bless me with their love and their grace in engaging in a cross-cultural friendship. I struggle to know how to help those friends as they death with issues of poverty, poor health, family pressures, death, polygamy, and trusting God. I am thankful for an improvement in internet access and cell phone reception in the last two years and the way it has helped me stay in touch with loved ones back home. The reality remains that I am far from family and friends and have missed birthdays, special days, and regular days and nothing makes up for talking together over dinner. I am thankful for many things that feel normal and Bundibugyo feeling like home. And yet I feel like I’ve barely made a dent in all there is to learn about culture, language, and how to live here well.

Sherlock--the newest Team Bundi addition

Above all else, I am thankful for the many ways God has changed me in the last two years. He has changed my heart, my plans, my life. It hasn’t come easily. It has come by walking through deep valleys and fiery struggle. It has come with rivers of tears and hours of pain and strife. But—the change is good. And with it comes hope. Hope for God’s extravagant, rescuing, love to permeate my soul and this place, Bundibugyo.