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...

In my 6 1/2 years living in Africa, I’ve seen some really hard times. But this year has been different. A steady stream of one emergency, trial, and conflict after another has kept my spirit weary. Each one has not held the intensity or trauma that I’ve experienced in past years, but it’s been the never-ending tension that’s so hard. With at most a couple days of calm between each new struggle, the weariness of body, mind, and spirit has been overwhelming at times. From confronting malicious lies about me among the teachers, to grieving over the consequences of sin in some co-workers. From having to be the vet for my kittens (including learning how to put in a sub-cut IV, give injections, and do post-op care), and burying the ones that died in my arms, to cleaning out the fridge that either switches off, spoiling all the food, or freezes all the fresh fruit and veggies. From dealing with sullen teenagers in class, to battling the spiritual warfare that imprisons many of my teac...

After I graduated from Moody, I thought I had learned pretty well what the word ‘perseverance’ meant. Don’t get me wrong, it sure did take a lot of perseverance to get through those 4 extremely busy, challenging, painful, and rewarding years. But this year ‘perseverance’ has a fresh meaning for me. Even before I moved to Kamonkoli, and ever since, one crisis or illness after another has reared its head. It’s been only a matter of days or hours between the dimming of one and the start of another. From common colds to Malaria, this year has had a constant stream of different illnesses. I’ve struggled with my health for so much of my life (thankfully nothing life-threatening!), and often thought about why Jesus would allow me to be sick so much of the time. Especially when I’m stuck in the bathroom and need to be teaching a lesson in 10 minutes! :) But I do wonder if part of the reason is to allow me to experience the miraculous power of utter dependency on Jesus. I’ve had days when th...

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 ...