African Muzungu

Those who know me well, know that I tend to be a germaphobe. In general, I really like things around me to be clean (not necessarily perfectly organized, but at least clean of dirt and contaminants). You may be laughing right now if you’ve realized where I live and just how impossible it must be to maintain clean conditions around me. Especially right now in dry season, the never ending war on filth is real, when every vehicle that passes by on our dirt roads sends up a towering cloud of dust that inevitably filters in every window crack and ventilator of the house. I can confidently say that the only way I have been able to cope and live the past almost 8 years here is because of the grace of God. The ability to ignore the kids’ dirt crusted fingers running through my hair, or the slimy hands thrust into my own has come miraculously from Jesus Himself. But there are still habits and rituals that I do to make myself feel more comfortable and at ease. My bed is sacrosanct. It’s the one...

Driving past the slums of Mbale to the little village of Namabasa after church, we sat in my little green Rav4 in nervous excitement and anticipation. This was a visit much talked about and looked forward too, but we all wondered just how it would go. I’m sure it wasn’t just Paul and my aunt Marisa who were anticipating the afternoon’s events, but also all those busy at the house preparing for our arrival: Paul’s mom, Mama Flower, his grandmother, his 2 sisters, brother and cousin were all busy getting ready for our visit. The meat had been boiling, and the matooke had been boiled and smashed. The pineapple and papaya were being carefully diced, and the g-nut (peanut) sauce was bubbling on the charcoal stove. This was the first time someone from my family would get to meet with Paul’s family, and there were so many questions and hopes surrounding this visit. Marisa and I greatly wanted to make lasting connections and start the relationship off well. Marisa’s position in the fam...

I’m typing while staring at my finger, newly decorated, and I still can’t quite believe it’s real. 7 years in the making, and in this moment it seems more like one of my early morning dreams, somewhere in the middle of waking and sleeping. But maybe if I write it out, it will start to sink in. 7 years ago, I had just left my family, including a newly married sister, and had moved to Uganda to live with a national pastor and his wife in Mbale. My very first day in Mbale, I was introduced to my next door neighbors, Paul, Flower, and their family. I was so excited for these new friends since I was so eager to learn language, culture, and establish myself in Ugandan society. Paul and Flower were just as willing and the next weeks found us in all kinds of activities from going out in the slums to do first aid for wounds, to learning how to wash dishes with no running water. They were also my first language teachers (of both Luganda and the Ugandan accent!), and we spent hours laug...

I moved to the village. Well, as they say here, 'somehow' the village. As someone aptly noted, our office compound in Kamonkoli is "like town in the village." It’s not brick or mud huts with tin or thatch roofs. It’s not dirt floors, or pit latrines. It’s not cooking outdoors on charcoal stoves. It’s indoor plumbing, and normal (for here :) ) windows and doors. It’s the same furniture and decorations that I had in Mbale. It’s carpet in the bedroom, and a bathtub and shower. My bedroom But it is also hand carrying water in jerrycans. Because city water hasn’t reached us here in months so the only way to have running water is if the one and only firetruck in the region brings water to fill the tank. And even then, everything other than showering is done with jerrycans in order to conserve water. It is learning that a toilet needs 10 liters of water (a half a jerrycan, or more than 20 lbs of water) in order to flush...and learning how many times you ...

This is a post I wrote right after coming back to Uganda in November, but was never able to finish publishing it. I thought you still might like to read it :) Many of the situations and feelings are just as true coming back this week after Matthew’s wedding! … Whiplash is the best word I can think of right now to describe this past week. Well, whiplash without quite the level of pain that comes with actual whiplash :) It’s not exactly painful per-say to be tossed back and forth between two very different cultures and lifestyles, but it certainly is a challenge! In the 2 1/2 months of being back in the States, I actively tried to fit myself back into American culture, values, and thought patterns. Some of that required active thought choices, and some of it was a more natural change. But public speaking and connecting with Americans requires me to get out of my African mindset and back into my American value system. But now I find myself back in the thick of African life. My day guard, ...

Today is the day my best friend is leaving Uganda for now. Jesus has called her to a new season of life and ministry back on the other side of the world. Even though I’m not in Uganda at this moment putting her on that plane, and waving goodbye through the tall glass windows, I’m still overwhelmed by the grief of that goodbye. Natalie is the one who welcomed me to Uganda and taught me so much of how to survive (and thrive!!) in Africa. Even before I ever arrived, she made time to Skype me and give me packing tips (mostly what NOT to waste my luggage space on…thanks, Nat! :) ) She was with me during my first market experience, and the first one to give me tips on how to drive there. She pointed me to all the random places I could find things I was missing from the States (like dvd from the movie store, canned tomatoes, cheese, and even oreos!) She’s been a constant well of information and guidance….and in more than just food items :) :) Nat and I during my first year Ove...

Almost every day I have the joy of introducing various people here to 'Muganda wange,' which translates to 'my sister' in Lugwere and Luganda. The common response is almost always, 'Yes! For sure, you resemble!' (aka, you look alike:) ). The many commentaries that have followed have been priceless! Showing her off to all my friends and acquaintances has been so much fun! This is a joy that I have longed for since the very first time I came to Uganda in 2003.   Over the past 5 years of living overseas, I have found that living in a totally different culture and environment from my friends and family in the States can certainly lead to feelings of isolation and loneliness. Struggling to describe especially the small things that make my life so different here can be frustrating to the point of not even wanting to try. Things like… making sure the water filter is full all the time so if water runs out, at least we have drinking water… maneuvering the the p...

For the past year, HUM has had a trip back to the States to help do support development planned for me. So everything was set for me to leave on the 5th of October, until British Airways announced they were canceling all flights to/from Uganda effective the 3rd or October. I was definitely more than a bit shocked since I’ve been flying BA since I started coming here as a kid. But they were good about reworking my itinerary and got me rescheduled to be on their last flight out of Entebbe. Little did I know that would be only the first hump in the road to me getting back to the States. Amidst the usual craziness of handing over all my other responsibilities to other people, packing, and wrapping up all the final details, I was told there was also a problem with my visa. 6 days before I was supposed to pass through immigration and get on a US bound airplane, I found out that my visa had only been forged. This after all the commotion of having my passport stolen, then having it replaced, t...

Each day I fight for forgiveness all over again. A month ago, my backpack was stolen from a locked car in a guarded lot during a quick shopping trip. A thousand 'what if’s' and 'I should have’s’ have gone through my head, but what’s passed is passed. Still, I have struggled each day to forgive the ones who robbed me, as each day I look for something, only to remember it was in the backpack. So many small things that to him would hold little value, but for me are an unending frustration. During that first week, Jesus's grace abounded, and as I went through the motions of replacing the two biggest items: my laptop and my passport (!!), I was surrounded by His supernatural peace. I looked for the miracles and found them. I hadn't carried my Moody Bible this time (which I always do!). At the last minute, I left my cross-stitch at home. Somehow, the thieves missed my iPhone which was in the seat pocket under the croissants which they also stole. The irreplaceable thing...

It’s been so hot here. Uncharacteristically hot. We’re in the end of an elongated dry season that has left each of us here begging Jesus for rain. Water sources around town have been drying up, and the city regularly turns off water in order to conserve it.  In Kamonkoli, city water didn’t reach the village for over a week. And even when Pastor called to get the fire engine to bring water from Mbale, they said they couldn’t pick water from dry sources. People in Kamonkoli would line up for hours at the wells waiting for their turn to fill their bright yellow jerrycans. They have really suffered.  In town, with my big water tank perched on top of my roof ready to collect water every second the city has it turned on, I really have had nothing to complain about. Yes, we’ve had days that water ran out and bathing became a luxury instead of routine, but on the whole we’ve done fine. It’s the heat that’s been the biggest challenge. After weeks and weeks of praying, today...

Photo credit:  Gap Adventures They are the shopkeepers, the hawkers of wares, the sellers of everything imaginable. They call out, shout, demand for attention, thrusting their goods in my face. Demanding that I purchase. But it is money spent for that which is not bread. It is a purchase of that which cannot satisfy.  Photo credit: Atlas But deny them once, and they will pursue every louder. They are desperate for even just a piece of me. I must flee. I must get away. Back to the One who offers wine and bread without cost. I must drink deeply of His waters. I must incline my ear to His voice, running into His presence so that I might live. For He offers what they can only fake. Steadfast love. Change. Purpose. Joy. True peace. He is the only source of life. He is calling: “Come, be filled again.” In the midst of the craziness that is travel and fundraising, Jesus brought me to Isaiah 55:1-3. This precious passage immediately summ...