The Whites Wedding Photography

Last Saturday, I observed history in the making in Bundibugyo. Or so I was told. My language helper, Biwa, asked that I come to a mass wedding. I was intrigued and soon found myself not only committed to attending but also to being the wedding photographer. Josh, my teammate, was the videographer. We joked that we should start a photography business called “The Whites”. (As white Americans, we are often lovingly referred to as “the whites” by Ugandans here)

5 couples were married in true Ugandan fashion and it was a great celebration. They were all married at the same service and then had separate receptions at their family homes. Of course the service started when it was scheduled to end and since there were 5 couples it seemed extra long. But I really enjoyed being a part of the joyous occasion. And being there as the official photographer was fun—I often feel awkward taking photos of people here but since it was expected, I enjoyed being behind the lens! Here are just a few of the photos from the day:

Arriving Ugandan style :)

Bride #3 arrives and processes in with singing.

Josh got some awesome video coverage of this kid shaking his groove thing. Gotta love spontaneous dancing with pink jeans and gumboots!

3 of the brides as true ladies in waiting (for the service to begin).

The grooms arrive!

So many cute baby boys in 3 piece suits!

Signing the marriage certificates.

The “kids mat”. In the U.S., kids are often absent from weddings or are well hidden. Here, they sit front and center in the middle of the action.

Definitely a packed house!

My new little best friend. I attempted to chat with her in Lubwisi. Unfortunately I ended up saying “ti maanye” a lot which means “I don’t know”.

After taking the vows, they put their hands on each others’ shoulders.

“Slammer”

I have a new nickname. It’s “Slammer”. Anna gave it to me tonight as we found the second rat that I unknowingly slammed to death. I wrote in another post about how I slammed a rat in the bathroom door. Well, tonight when we had 3 teachers from Christ School and Pauline, our friend from Mbarara, over for dinner both Anna and I commented on “the smell of death” coming from our kitchen cabinet. After everyone left we decided to investigate and behold, a rat smushed behind one of the heavy, wooden drawers in our kitchen cabinet. It had begun to decompose…thus the lovely scent.

We can’t be sure I was the one who slammed the drawer on the rat but it’s fairly likely. When given the choice between consciously bludgeoning a rat to death and unknowingly slamming one to death, I’ll take the latter. So, I have the nickname of “Slammer” and Anna gets “Batter” since she is quite experienced at baseball bat extermination. Ahhhh yes…these are the things I don’t think I’ll ever really “get used to”.

A Squishy, Sweaty Ride

This…

…is a matatu. They can be found in droves across East Africa and in Uganda they serve as public transportation for the masses. Normally, I don’t consider myself to be a super high maintenance person. But whenever I board one of these little Japanese-made minivans turned minibus, the high-strung American in me comes out.

I spent quite a few hours on various forms of public transportation last week as Anna and I went to visit friends around southern Uganda. In Africa, there is always room for one more. Or two. Or six. Thank goodness I am a petite person but I sometimes wonder if people assume I can fit in a 4 inch wide space because of my small stature.

So, back to the matatu. These little vans have 4 rows of 3 seats across. Including the driver, front seat, and these rows matatus are licensed to carry 14 passengers. In fact, this is painted on the side of each vehicle. I would say the average matatu has about 20 or more passengers along with a wide variety of cargo, such as giant bunches of bananas, chickens, foam mattresses, and the like.

When in a privately owned car, I love traveling around Uganda. With the windows rolled down, sunglasses on, i-Pod plugged in, and a bit of leg room it can be great fun to see Africa fly by. It is a great way to observe this place while maintaining anonymity (a challenge). Traveling via matatu is a bit less glamorous. Actually, I’m pretty sure there is no glamour.

Shoved between a lady breastfeeding her baby and a man falling asleep on my shoulder. Sweat dripping down my back as my legs stick to the plastic-covered seat. Praying that no one closes the window despite the dust from the dry season road flying in. Feeling saddle sore as we go over yet another set of “humps” (speed bumps) and debating whether to drink water or not, knowing a bathroom is hours away. After about 2 hours, my inner dialogue of complaining has to be let out. I start whining and groaning; Anna and I laugh, otherwise we’d cry as we pull into a petrol station and wonder how long this stop will last.

Rumpled, headachey, dehydrated, and covered in dust we emerge from the matatu. It has been a hot, smushy ride but I’m glad we didn’t break down along the way, as these vehicles on their last legs tend to do. The funny thing is how quickly I manage to forget the misery of the matatu when I see the faces of friends we traveled to see. Being reunited with friends I haven’t seen for nearly a year is so worth a squishy couple of hours! While riding a matatu is not my favorite activity, I am so thankful for the ability to travel around Uganda and for the time spent reconnecting with friends, giving and receiving encouragement, eating good food, and laughing together.

With Bahati, my good friend who is in nursing school in Ishaka.

Anna and I with Pauline, our friend who used to work with Bundi Nutrition.

I’m Back. And It’s Official.

So—I’ve been back in Bundibugyo for 2 weeks now. Time is flying! It has been wonderful to be back; enjoying many reunions and being surprised by how familiar things feel. It has also been amazing to be back and to be healthy. While many things comfortable and familiar, this feels like an entirely different experience as I do things and feel well. It’s great!

The last 2 weeks, a lot of things have become normal again such as:

• praying for the electricity to return
• hearing the voltage stabilizer groaning
• having a continuous ring of dirt ground into my heel
• raising my eyebrows and saying “ehhh” instead of nodding my head and saying “yes”
• wondering if I’m getting the mzungu (white person) prices at the market or if it really does cost that much
• answering knocks at the door at least 5 times a day
• cooking from scratch

…and the list could go on and on. But of course, the Official Welcome Back came in the form of a rat. We had heard and seen this rat in our house multiple times. And it had eaten a bunch of Pamela’s ramen noodles—an unwelcome surprise. But it was fast and eluded our trap, complete with cheese and bacon on it.

Last night though, as I went to take a shower, I shut the bathroom door and felt some resistance. Strange. I looked down and something that looked like a tail was under the door. I’ve been “seeing” rat tails everywhere though as I’ve been paranoid about this one. But when I opened the door…I had squished the rat in it!

Talk about great timing. I think God knew I couldn’t stomach bludgeoning it with a bat so he baited it with poison and placed him in the perfect spot at the perfect time. Of course there were lots of exclamations when Anna tried to sweep it into the dustpan and it came back to life. And I’m thankful she was there to deliver the final blow. Gross.

So yes…after a run in with a rat, it’s official. I’m back.

It has been so wonderful to have many new team members here! This is us at  Josh’s birthday party last weekend.

Welcome 2012!

2012 has arrived! And so have I--to Kenya! I brought in the New Year by going to bed at 9:30--lame, right? But I knew when I got up on January 1st, I wouldn't be back in a bed for a good 36 hours :)

My trip here went well and I've been amazed at God's gentle nudges along the way. Just a few of the things that  reminded me that He's been with me:

• a rainbow popped up in the sky as I drove to the airport with my parents; a tangible sign of His faithfulness and promise-keeping
• the friends I made along the way--an adorable, older Asian woman that encouraged me in the Philly airport; my seatmate to London that was a teacher in Turkey; my seatmate to Nairobi that is a medic in Somalia.
• 3 trunks that all arrived intact!
• a smiling Kenyan face that greeted me at the airport and helped me lug the 3 trunks to the guesthouse
• a nauseating moment of anxiety as I realized I left my iPad on the plane; a panicked phone call to my Mom; sheer relief as I called the airline and they said they'd found it and I could pick it up tonight. S.O.S. prayers answered quickly at 1 a.m.--thank you, Jesus!

Currently, I'm in my own little paradise. Sitting in the shade, surrounded by tropical plants, listening to birds chirping, sipping coffee, and not sweating in the lack of humidity. I have been so blessed to have the next 2 weeks as a time of slow but steady transition back into life in Uganda.

Despite the huge differences between Nairobi and Bundibugyo, it is good to be "home" in Africa. Last night as we drove from the airport to the guesthouse, I felt a (sleepy) contentment and smiled to myself. I have missed hearing the African English, driving on the left, and seeing ads for African products. I am enjoying the smell of Imperial Leather soap on my hands and sleeping with a mosquito net again. I guess I thought after spending more time back in the States than I spent here in Africa, it would all feel alien and strange again when I returned. But I am happily surprised by just how at home I feel.

Drowning in Details

It's funny how I've been anticipating a return to Uganda for so many months and yet with my (hopeful and currently unofficial) departure just 2 weeks away, it seems to have snuck up on me! Now is the logical time to start freaking out. In the next 14 days, I will move back to Maryland from Philadelphia, celebrate Christmas with my family, pack my belongings into a few trunks, and jet off to Africa. All of this depends upon a lot of details falling into place--being able to actually get a plane ticket to Kenya, another one to Zanzibar, another one back to Kenya, and a fourth one to Uganda from there. I need to figure out how I will get 3 trunks on a flight that only allows one checked bag per person. And the official green light from WHM to purchase said tickets. Oy vey. Thinking about it makes me clench my teeth.

Sometimes I wonder why my departures always seem to be last-minute and frazzled chaos. No matter how well-planned a departure may be, I know it usually involves some stress. But it seems with every time I leave the country, it becomes a little more crazy! Here's the thing though: God's got my back. He's got the details. He knows if it is best for me to spend time with the singles on my team in Zanzibar before re-entering in Bundibugyo. And above all, He loves me.

As I drove through Philly this morning, trying not to fret over details and envision the 478 possible ways all of this could go, I realized something. I still don't believe that He loves me. That's what it always comes down to. I think that if I can troubleshoot, plan, and control every detail of my life, it'll turn out better. I stop believing that God loves me and start trying to do things on my own. I doubt that He wants what is best for me and His timing is always right.

So this afternoon as I start the process of packing up my life in Philadelphia and moving towards the next phase, I keep reminding myself "He loves me. And He's got control over every detail." My prayer is that this truth will free me to stop spinning and fretting and instead to focus in on my Rescuing Father, who will save me from drowning in the details.

Manna for Today

"Do not forget that he led you through the great and terrifying wilderness with its poisonous snakes and scorpions, where it was so hot and dry. He gave you water from the rock! He fed you with manna in the wilderness, a food unknown to your ancestors. He did this to humble you and test you for your own good. He did all this so you would never say to yourself, ‘I have achieved this wealth with my own strength and energy.’" Deuteronomy 8:15-17 (NLT)

This passage has recently struck me as one of those "Whoa! Was that always there?" scriptures. My mother, who is a wise woman, has often encouraged me with the phrase "today's manna for today". As someone who could win awards for worrying about tomorrow (and the next day and the next year), I regularly need to hear this.

Right now is one of those times. Stress and anxiety levels are high. I generally try to shove those thoughts into the back corner of my mind, denying their existence. But they are relentless.

They are legitimate concerns. Both my dad and grandmother had surgery today. My dad's was pretty minor and outpatient. My grandmother's was to remove colon cancer. My mom is waiting on biopsy results from her thyroid. If you know my story, you know why that has me nervous. I'm waiting on results from my sleep study that will determine whether we've found the reason for the fatigue that has been hanging on. I'm tired of being tired. It's been over a year now. And potential transition looms on the horizon. Good transition. Exciting transition. But change nonetheless. And I'm afraid. Afraid to buy plane tickets. Unable to commit until I talk with my doctor. Afraid to really grasp the reality of going back to Uganda until I'm on the plane and it is actually happening.

I long for the ability to plan, to commit, to be sure. But God is saying no to that right now. Instead, he is asking me to be like the Israelites. To rely on him everyday for water in the desert, manna in the morning. Unfortunately, I'm a lot more like the Israelites than I care to admit. I whine and complain. Why can't I be more self-sufficient? I'm tired of manna. I want to be able to do this stuff on my own. I want to see the Promised Land. I'm sick of wandering around in the wilderness. I want to be able to pat myself on the back and say "Good job. That's quite an achievement you've made. You sure are strong."

And so while I may be whining, even kicking and screaming, I'm reminded again today to be thankful for today's manna. To stop wishing for manna that would last for months. To humble myself and cry out to my Abba, "I need help just to make it through today! I literally don't have the strength or energy to do it on my own. The future still seems like a big question mark and it still freaks me out. But you will provide. Help me to remember your provision in the past, even in the desert times."