African Muzungu

I'm sitting in the dark. Amasanyalaze gageenze (power has gone), and I wonder how long it will be out this time. Before you feel sorry for me, I need to tell you that I am blessed beyond measure. In the 112 days that I have been living here, I have had to take only two cold showers. That is a miracle. Even with the constant power outages, the Lord has been kind to me and I have constant cause to praise Him when the power comes back each night (at times just long enough for me to shower!). Knowing as I do that just on the other side of town, the power is turned off for 24 hours every other day, makes me even more grateful! I remember a day back in America when I would complain about having to reset my clocks if the power left during the night, but living with true poverty ever before me has had a way of making me grateful for the things I've taken for granted all my life. You know what else I love about power outages? STARS!!!!! This city girl has a new love and passion for the ...

I realized today that I have yet to post any pictures of my language helper! I want you to officially meet my friend and helper, Diana. Diana is the one that I spend each day with asking the questions she finds hilarious (like are there any parts of the body that it’s impolite to scratch in public?) and answering the questions I find hilarious (like why don’t muzungu women bind their stomachs after having a baby? Doesn’t that make them eat a ton to fill up that empty space??) She’s the one that laughs at my multicolored bruised arms (their bruises don’t show), and mourns over the gigantic mosquito bites covering my feet and legs that are ‘spoiling my skin.’ She’s also the one I count on to tell me what I should and shouldn’t be doing, like yesterday when I learned that proper women should wash their bed sheets every 3 days. Oh yeah, and we also study Luganda. :) I’ll be honest with you. There are many days when I’m tired of studying. There are days when I just want to hear American Eng...

There's so much about daily life here that defies my ability to write about it. How do I describe the anticipation of hoping it won't rain so I can go to the market (for slippery mud roads, rain pelting in my face, and dirt up to my knees typically discourage any excursions in the rain!!)? How do I describe the challenges of successfully mounting (side saddle) the back of a piki (motorcycle taxi) with two full caveras (plastic bags) in each hand while managing a full length skirt? Or then juggling those caveras while holding on for dear life over the hole-ridden roads? How do I describe my constant direction confusion as this Colorado Springs girl, born and raised with the Rocky Mountains rising in the WEST, now looks toward mountains in the EAST??? How do I describe the complete anticipation and slight trepidation that the question "What are you cooking for dinner" now brings each day? How do I describe my embarrassment at having so much when peo...

Time has come for yet another Melody Moment. Here at my house, we have a watchman at all times. There is one particular one who is here most of the time, and others take shorter shifts to relieve him each day. So this particular guard is named Michael, but everyone around here just calls him Askali. Now I have been seeing Askali almost every day for the past 2 1/2 months right? And this whole time I just call him Askali like everyone else, and when someone says Askali I know exactly who they're talking about. So the other day I was asking my language helper Diana how to tell the taxi man in Luganda, "Stop there where the guard is." Diana replied, "Koma wali awali Askali." Slightly confused, I looked at her and asked how the taxi man would know who I meant. Slightly confused back, she asked what I meant. I tried again. "Diana, how will they know who I'm talking about? Do they all know my guard's name?" Understanding lit in her eyes, and laughter...

The brisk evening mountain air fills my lungs as I leave the darkness behind and enter the blue florescent light of the small African church. In front of me sits a small group of young men and women, eyes closed tight and lips moving in muffled prayers. I silently slip into a wooden pew, setting my water bottle down on the dusty floor, and join the intercession. It's late on a Friday night, and we have gathered together to pray, sing, listen to the Word, praise, and worship 'til morning. One person starts to sing, and with one voice everyone calls back the response. The song of the believers fills me with joy, and I know that I am home. All through the night, we praise, dance, pray, and sing some more. Unexpectedly, I am asked to teach around 2 am, which I do only through the power and work of the Holy Spirit. When heavy eyelids threaten to close in sleep, we sing. and dance. and jump. and clap. and call aloud for the Lord to work in us. I join in singing all the s...

Say hello to Brian! This precious little boy stole my heart right away, and I wanted you to meet him and hear his story. Brian lives just a hop step and a skip away from me in Namatala, the poorest housing area of Mbale. While I live in a 3 room carpeted, furnished, bug-free (mostly ;) ), beautiful apartment, it takes me only 5 minutes to walk to Brian's small mud and thatch hut where he lives with his mother, Regina and older sister. I first noticed Brian among all the many children of Namatala that swarm around the muzungus because of his clothing. That first day as Paul scooped Brian up in his arms, we were surprised to find that under the extra long, tattered, dirt encrusted, gray t-shirt, this bright eyed little boy wasn't wearing any shorts. I was later told that while he owned exactly 2 t-shirts, he didn't have even one pair of shorts or pants. Surprised, I determined to find out more about this little boy. Brian is the youngest of the 6 surviving children born to ...

Bout 2 of sickness successfully conquered! And before you ask, no, it was not malaria. That much anticipated event is still to come. It did however feel much like malaria, or so I'm told. Last week I woke up one evening with sever body aches, weakness, light headedness, and a fever. I waited a couple of days hoping that it would just pass since from what I had heard, my symptoms weren't serious enough to be malaria. Finally though, at the urging of my American and Ugandan families, I agreed to go into the clinic to be tested on Monday. The finger prick to test for malaria wasn't too bad, but I must say if I never have to give another urine sample on this side of the world, I would be most content! Since apparently collecting in a bottle the size of your thumb wasn't challenge enough, I was also gifted with outhouse accomodations and slippery floors in which to accomplish my mission. However, that mission proved successful since it gave me my diagnosis: kidney infecti...