Webale Kwejuna

Today my twin nephews, Sam and Elias, turn one year old. Even in the short two months I’ve been away, they look so much bigger in photos. I’m told they take a while to warm up to new people and like to crawl around the house together. They’re cruising around furniture which probably looks a little funny since they are still so small but before too long they’ll be running to catch up with big brother, Ethan.

For many reasons, I’ll never forget the day that they were born. In the weeks leading up to their birth, I struggled with being far from home as Rachel was in the hospital and I heard updates from my Mom about her pre-term labor. I was sick and struggling to function here. Eventually the decision was made for me to go back to the U.S. for a month to get good medical care. And the day I flew out of Kampala, I was getting text messages from my brother as he and Rachel were in the OR and the boys were born.

Now, a year later, it is hard to believe all that has happened. Sam and Elias fought hard and they are now chubby, healthy boys celebrating their first birthday. I’m back where I started—in Uganda—after a similar fight for life. It can be overwhelming to try and process all that 12 months have brought. But with each “anniversary” of a big event, I take a moment to think about it and praise God for sustaining me through the past and bringing me to this point.

Today I am thankful for two sweet boys and their perseverance in the fight (as well as their parents’ perseverance!) to survive. Webale kwejuna (thank you for surviving), Sam and Elias! And webale Yesu for bringing yet another anniversary, another reminder of your sustaining love, another opportunity to be thankful for where you’ve placed me today.

Out and About (Part 1)

I have spent several days throughout the last week or so in the community. It has been such a blessing to have the energy needed for engaging in cross-cultural friendships. And with a combined 8 months of experience here, I am far from knowing what to expect but slightly more comfortable in these “fish out of water” experiences. And I’ve also been around long enough to have some blossoming friendships!

Last Sunday I had the privilege of being the guest of honor at a church service. My friend, Janet, visited me a week before telling me how she had been so touched by the news of my cancer diagnosis. She had shared with her church and they had all been praying for me last summer. She had even written me a song about trusting God in struggle! Needless to say, I was blown away by her love for me and the prayers of Ugandans I had never met. She invited me to church and I quickly agreed.

The night before church I felt anxious. I’m not sure why exactly. Maybe because I wasn’t sure what to expect other than a really long day on Sunday. Maybe because Janet called and said they were “throwing a party” for me after church and I don’t love being the center of attention. Maybe because the Enemy wanted to distort this blessing and encouragement. Or maybe because living here is like being in a fishbowl. Every move is watched, scrutinized, and commented on merely because of your skin color. Sometimes I hate being “special” and wish I could just blend in. Add onto that the reason for my guest of honor status—cancer—and I was dealing with a lot of complex emotions regarding my “specialness”.

Anyway…I was so thankful that my housemate, Pamela, volunteered to come along for moral support. The day turned out to be fabulous. We spent some time visiting with Janet and her husband, Robert and her adorable little boy, Hannington. And we went to her church, where I was able to give glory to the Lord for healing me and thank the congregation for their many prayers. It was so encouraging to see how God is using my testimony to give hope to others.

The “party” afterwards was low-key and just involved a delicious lunch with some family and friends after church. We laughed and laughed at the cultural differences between Americans and Ugandans and took lots of photos. The highlight of the afternoon: eating my first chicken gizzard.

The gizzard is a sign of honor, bestowed upon the most important guest. Our friends are used to “mzungus” and know that gizzards are not common fare to us. But they offered it and Pamela and I decided to take the plunge together! Of course we had to take some photos to prove it :)

Our day with Janet, Robert, Hannington and friends was an encouragement. I’m so thankful for friends who prayed for me while I was on the other side of the world. And I haven’t laughed so hard in a while!

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.