A Crazy Market Experience and an Afternoon of Dancing, Pictures and Pineapple

Highlights of my week:

1. Saturday – where do I begin?  Pretty much I had my first experience of shopping in the crazy side of Kampala.  To explain what this was like is very hard to do, but I’ll try.  Now let me begin by saying that despite hearing that it was insanely hectic and full of people trying to grab at your hand and get your attention, I still pictured it as, well, pretty American.  I guess intellectual preparation can never really prepare you for something like this.  What I thought would be nicely spaced out outside stands with clothes hanging on wracks turned out to be a maze of little stands piled high with clothes that were being thrown by singing men into piles for countless hands to go through and grab before anyone else did.  To get to these stands, my sister, aunt and I wove through a maze of tiny alleyways, where my constant battle was to first of all avoid the bags of rice and pots of food going by me in all directions, and secondly to not only keep up with my aunt but also stay in between her and my sister, who acted as my body guards.  Slapping away hands and avoiding the calls of eager shopkeepers wanting the “muzungu” (white person) to come to their stand was also a pretty fun thing to do…a white face definitely calls attention to itself in the midst of such a place.  By the end of the afternoon of bargaining and learning how to boldly push my way through crowds (which my aunt taught me how to do), I had successfully found a dress and a pair of African shoes, and I was ready to go home.  And so the three of us walked to a public bus, and took the hour journey home, where we crashed and ate, and some of us surprisingly had energy to dance.  It was a day to remember – even my sisters said it was quite the experience.  To my surprise, this was also only their 2^nd or third time going, as malls were also quite common, and yet the market was definitely the place to go for great, cheap stuff, as long as you had the guts to do itJ And did I say its also the place to go if you want to receive a few marriage proposals?

2. Sunday – one of my favorite days so far.  After having a refreshing time alone with God, dancing became the afternoon’s event.  My cousins had come over and it was the last day with the dance game, and so we went at it.  About seven of us were in the living room, dancing to Get Low, which became “my dance,” as well as the shuffle, YMCA, and other dances with crazy moves I was trying to learn.  But I have to say it was a blast…the competition had died down and now we were just having fun, with my little cousins in front leading the way, and the rest of us behind them, including one of my classmates who was living with my cousins.  With all the passion and energy surrounding me, how could I not but dance?  Let me say that before coming here, I was the person that never really danced…so I think its pretty humorous that I got placed in a family that, lets just say, can dance.  And by the second hour of dancing, I think I began getting the hang of it too, to the point that I think I even beat my brother at a songJ  So the moral of the story is, anyone can dance.  If I could, you can tooJ

 Following this, I decided to pull my camera out for the first time, as I saw the most beautifully brilliant yellow moon rising in the sky.  My cousin joined me, and enraptured by it, began taking pictures of everything – from flowers, to every object within the house, to my brother cutting pineapple.  Somehow we went from that, to my brother pulling out all of his blazers and having all of us girls put them on and have a photoshoot in them.  It was pretty hilarious…and I have to say my family is a pretty good-looking bunch.  Maybe if they let me I’ll put up the pics soonJ The night ended with my favorite dinner of chapateis, beans and irish potatoes, followed by the ritual of the pineapple club.  Pretty much my aunt, brother and I decided to try eating pineapple…with everything else.  Ketchup and chips were the food of the first night, but tonight it was Snickers, Milky Ways, and papaya…and I have to say it was pretty good, except when we put it all together.  I don’t think I’d recommend that.

Stories

The things that I have see have done everything from inspire me in desire and faith to deeply pain me and challenge the way I am living.  I will first share a moment in which I witnessed great boldness and faith within a few young kids.

On Tuesday I drove through Kampala to get to Off-Tu, where a group of street kids gather every other week to worship, hear a message, and receive some love and food.  It began with a complete reversal of roles – rather than an adult standing up to preach, or even one of us, one of the girls quietly and confidently stood up to preach the word of God.  She spoke on the verse where the angel put a burning coal to a person’s toungue.  I don’t quite remember what followed that, but I do remember being in complete awe at her maturity and boldness in preaching, something that I have always been scared to do.  Following this, a leader of the organization stood up to preach the good news – that Christ had died for their sins and that they could have a new life in Him.  Meanwhile, my thoughts wandered unfortunately to criticisms of his approach…I thought, wouldn’t it be better if he made it more relatable and addressed to their particular situation?  I was so used to the addition of so much more to make Christianity attractable, that when it was in its plain essence, I thought it wasn’t enough.  And yet I was so wrong.  Shortly after, he asked all who wanted to accept Christ into their lives to raise their hands.  To my great surprise, about seven or eight kids raised their hands, and then after saying the prayer, three of them shared their testimony, thanking God for giving them a new life and for providing for them.  One boy was crippled and had splints on both his legs.  This boy thanked God for helping him be able to crawl on his hands down the stairs when it rained.  And he thanked Him with a smile.

I have learned so much from just listening to others stories and prayers.  For the past few nights my sisters and cousins have prayed, thanking God for the food and for His provision and then praying that He would be with those who didn’t have food, were on the streets, and even those who were dying.  They were thankful to be alive, and man, I just don’t know how to respond.  Our worlds are so different.  I so often go through the motions and thanking God for the food, but how truly thankful am I really, and when do I ever remember those who don’t have it?  But when your reality is one in which you daily encounter people going hungry and who can’t go to school because they don’t have the money, thanking God for one’s very life and food is not only normal, but heartfelt and real. 

I was honored enough to hear the story of a young girl on the way back from Off-Tu.  At first, all I knew was that she lived at the Off-Tu home and had just bravely led worship for a group of street kids.  I asked her to tell me her story…and so after a few moments of pondering her decision to tell a stranger her whole life story, she began.  She told me how she grew up in Kampala with her mother, brother and sister.  While her mother swept the streets to earn money, she collected metals off the street to sell.  She was forced to not come back to school for a whole year because she didn’t have the money for it.  She then painfully shared how a tree feel on her house and collapsed on her family, resulting in many injuries, nights of sleeping in the rain with no house, and as she described, a time of suffering.  However, this was not the end, for through a friend, she heard about an organization that could sponsor her to go to school if she had a talent.  And so she looked into it, and finding out that she could possibly dance, she was accepted, and amid her studies, she danced every afternoon.  She is now at Off-Tu, where she preaches, sings, and teaches dance to the kids.  Her dream is now to go to college at UCU, where I am, and to become a doctor that she might help her brothers and sisters also go to school, as well as help the helpless on the streets, as was done for her.  I asked her what her favorite verse was, and she immediately turned to Psalm 23 – Yea thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.  This verse took on a whole new light for me that day, as I saw a girl who had lost her dad, ate one meal a day and got crushed by her own house, to come out of that and say, in the midst of that valley, God was WITH ME.  

These stories must be heard.  Their struggles are real, and life isn’t just one of trying new exotic crispy grasshoppers and having adventures in town.  It is hard, and it calls for me to respond.  Yes, the Christians here are more joyful and perseverant than I have ever seen amidst such suffering and many truly know God, but there are still the many captive and brokenhearted that God so desperately wants to bring healing and freedom to.

 I may not be able to explain why there is suffering, but I do know a God who experienced the same pain and says, I know, me too - let me be there with you.

Learning and Dancing

It is Monday, one week into attending classes at Uganda Christian University.  I have now gotten myself into a nice routine – waking up around 7:30, walking to class an hour later to then have usually two classes, leaving me with time to do homework, write, and be with my fellow classmates.  Classes have been great so far, I’ve begun learning about African culture and Christianity and have in doing begun to see my own culture and beliefs in a new light.  My community art class and spiritual disciplines class also looks like they are going to be great…I’m loving how pretty much all of my classes intertwine and connect with my experience here – whether its by helping me interact with my community, journal about my experiences, or learn about the culture. It has been a very refreshing and needed time of just being, experiencing, and growing in relationships. 

This weekend was great fun – one of my family’s cousin’s brought by an x-box dance game and so we went at it – and very competitively at that.  We made teams and intensely cheered each other on, I don’t think I’ve seen my brothers and sisters ever get more excitedJ  I almost beat my brother at one of the songs…truly it was remarkable, but other than that, I was pretty much crushed by them all.  All I can say is, they sure can dance!  Other than the fierce competition that came with that, I drove into Kampala with my brother and the insane traffic and heat that came with it, went to church and saw a people with vision – a vision for all of Uganda to repent and return to God, (we signed this petition that they hoped would be henceforth signed by millions to be presented to the government), and had great talks with my sisters and very thought-provoking, deep movies to go along with it.  I think I also made a fool of myself too many times to count…I don’t know if my family just pulls out the blond side of me or if living in another culture with lots of new things makes me especially prone to saying funny things, but I am no known to make them laugh quite a bitJ  Examples…well, I mistook a gate into their uncles house to be the gate into Kampala, I took about five minutes to put a plug into a socket (you have to do it in a very specific way with much speed, I would argue), and I just plain say some funny words, I guess. 

But I have continued to learn much…for while I wouldn’t dare even watch my calm and collected young cousin bind a chickens legs and then proceed to cut off its neck and de-feather it, I was courageous enough to walk into a mass of flapping chickens and pour their food into their troughs, though I did pour half of it onto their heads because they were so excited to eat.  At first it was a bit scary to part the red sea of chickens and pray that I wouldn’t step on them, but now its not so bad and I think I’ve figured it outJ   I also received a history lesson on Uganda by my brother, in which I learned about their president Museveni and about the corruption that is so prevalent even within schools and the police. And so the learning keeps happening...and I am greatly thankful for my family in continuing to explain to me how things work, even if some of them refuse to tell me certain names because they know I'll forget it by the next day:)

My Sunday and today: hot cornflakes, muzungo pokers, and crispy grasshoppers

So much to say, all I can say is that I love this change in pace, and the beauty of having a truly relaxing Sunday.  After a great morning service, I was able to talk to my Ugandan dad who loves traveling and gardening and hear all about his adventures and work, play soccer with my 12 year old cousin and be beat in a goalie contest, roll more chapateis (torteias) with my sister and mom, and take a beautifully refreshing nap.  My sister also got a package with American candy in it which she generously shared with all.  I got my first Hershey bar in a week, delicious as ever, and then drank my afternoon tea with peanuts.  I haven’t quite figured out how tea helps my sweatiness after a game of soccer, but it definitely is a delight to take tea every day, as I am a tea-lover!!  I also tried for the first time cornflakes with hot milk - it truly transforms the taste into something wholly different!  Add sugar, and its even better:)  Dinner was around 9 pm as usual, which consisted of the chapateis, beans, chicken with very flavorful sauce, and matoke.  Special papaya juice was served as well which they had made in the afternoon – delicious!  (Though they of course thought it was quite normal and was not as excited as I was about itJ) After dinner, I was able to sit in the girls room for a while and just chat, look at more pictures and listen to songs, one being, “You don’t know you beautiful.”  Then it was bed time, time to get under my mosquito net and fall asleep to music and singing going on somewhere outside – party, church, who knowsJ 

Today was my first day of classes – had bread, tea, and a banana for breakfast before taking my ten minute walk to school amid bota-botas swerving in and out of crazy cars on the left side of the road (yah they drive on the left here).  Had Faith and Action today, in which after talking about how Christ has been brought to Africa in a very western way, I was posed with the question, “If Christ were to appear as the answer to the questions that Africans are asking, what would He look like?”  I’m not quite sure, but am looking forward to talk to my family tonight and see what they think.  I also went into town today and was successful at many things: at crossing an insane two-way street, bargaining for passion fruit, finding my way through an alley full of police men to reach the post office, not tripping too many times on the road, and not getting too many comments of "Muzungo" (white man) as I walked with my friend, the only other white person on the street.  However, I was unsuccessful at avoiding the Muzungo poker, a man dressed in rags who laughs and pokes any white person who walks by.  It was quite surprising, and as he approached us and poked me with laughter  my first thought was my brother's advice - RUN.  This running looked rather foolish and was filled with much laughter as well, making us stand out even more as silly americans, but we had escaped, and it sure did give me a story and the ability to say, I was poked by the crazy Muzungo poker.   

If you’ve read this far in my blog, I am impressed – I tend to right in long bursts, which pretty much result in a great length of words, but I will hopefully try to work on that and write less more often.  But, I think I can blame my Ugandan brother for that, for he told me to write in more detail and go deeper, and that necessarily follows with a very long post, so I am sorryJ 

Tomorrow I will have African Christian Theology in the morning and then will be off to my practicum site – Off Tu.  I will be in the city of Kampala, working with street kids and I think evangelizing in some way.  I am a bit nervous and know this will be out of my comfort zone, but am also a bit excited to see what it will be like!  Love you all and thanks for reading!

Oh, and as I speak, I just ate a crispy grasshopper.  Tasted awefully like...a cheetoh with eyes?

My Saturday: a church conference with many surprises!!

It is 3:00 on a hot afternoon and I am sitting in IMME headquarters, which stands for Intercultural Ministry and Missions Emphasis.  This is the room where those who live in homes are able to one, have a place to do homework at the college, and two, get internetJ  It is here that I listen to classical music to drown out fellow-skypers and write my blogs as I look out the window at lots of green trees and red roofed classrooms.  This weekend has seriously been a blur of many new experiences and aha moments – everything from finally learning how to peel a potato in my hand (something my mom has tried to teach me for forever) to seeing a lady be delivered from demon possession at a church conference.   

 On Saturday my little sister took me to the final day of a church conference that had been going on for a few days.  It began with unfamiliarity – songs sung in Lugandan and almost shouted into microphones in enthusiasm.  People would dance and clap their hands, and I slowly got into it too.  There was then many performances done by the different churches that attended it – some seemingly Hawaiian hula dancers, who got a bunch of people to go up on stage and give them money in approval, and then African dancers, whom I was completely entranced with as they danced with flair and spunk.  After a practical group session where we talked about relationships and what to look for in a spouse, (which they said everything from culture to hard work to religion), we had lunch – rice, beef, and a bit of cabbage.  This we ate with our hands, which was quite the experience as I figured out how to use my hand as a spoon for the rice.  By the end, I quite enjoyed it - I think I could get used to that!  What followed was lively dancing to songs I knew, one in which we swung each other around by the arm, which I did with my sister.  The message then began, which I have to say was a God-given gift directly for me.  Up until then I had become discouraged and doubtful about my calling and even being here, but as the pastor fervently spoke about God calling us to go and follow Him, and how we needed to go through Gilga, a place of setting behind the past and all that weighed me down, Bethel, where I would find my vision and dream and really get to know God, and then Jericho, where I would have a fragrance of His presence with me, I felt God reconfirming his call for me to come here and that He would empower me to do all that He had called me to do.  Wow – that God would allow the one sermon I listened to to encourage me and help me re-remember that God had called me and would use me.  So cool. 

I don’t know if any of you have ever been to a Pentecostal church, but I have never been to one like this.  What followed surprised and challenged me like none else.  It was the end of the conference and so it was therefore time to be anointed with oil and prayed over.  As I stood there in the long line, I saw a woman who was being prayed over lift her hands up high and start to shake.  As the prayer continued in fervor, she suddenly fell to the ground and started rolling across the floor and crying out, making people in line move out of the way for her undignified movement.  Four people came to her rescue and had to physically carry her by her hands and feet onto the stage, to then pray for her and hence calm her down.  After much prayer, the writhing stopped and suddenly she had come to her senses and sat there in a daze.  I asked my sister what had just happened, and she calmly told me that a demon had just been cast out of her.  Something that I had read about and intellectually knew was a reality had suddenly become a physical reality, one in which took me back with surprise and made me realize that there truly are spiritual battles going on that do influence us.  Those stories in the Bible about Jesus casting out demons and sending them into pigs were real…and I was suddenly seeing with my own eyes the physical power of God and spiritual forces that we who live in the U.S.  so often forget are real.  Even now God is breaking down my preconceived boxes that I have made for Him – He is so much bigger than we think!!  Following this was my time to be anointed with oil.  As he laid His hands on me and began to pray – one thing after the other being directly to my situation, something that could not have been generalized for everyone, I could not help but think, I can never doubt God’s reality after this.  At that moment, the Holy Spirit spoke through that man and reconfirmed once again all He had been telling me, that He was with me and I need not fear, that He would empower me, give me direction, and bring me into a good future – a GOOD future.  Good stuff, right? 

Blurry eyed, eight hours having gone by, I walked home with my sister to be met by my family.  Oh how I do love them already.  I feel that this weekend has definitely been a time in which we have definitely connected more.  I have to say, my brother, Jeramiah, completely made my day when I got home and was bombarded by the phrase, “It was really good!  Did I tell you, it was really good?”  Jeramiah had read my whole, very long blog to the family around the table and could not stop talking to me about it, how good I was at story writing and how he could not wait to read the next episode.  I don’t know how true that is, but it truly made me feel special and I am so glad that I could share a little bit of what life in Uganda is like with my family back home, because it is so worth telling.  So thank you Jeremiah – you are the coolest Ugandan brother I’ve ever had, and I bet if you wrote your own story about life in Uganda, there would be many people very interested in reading it as well!:) 

Obulamu

You may be wondering, what is obulamu found in Mukono, Uganda?  Is it the monkeys that we pass in the trees, the matoke (cooked, crushed up “bananas”) that we eat every day, or the brilliant colors of red and green splashed in every direction we look, or the beautiful people that we meet every day? Well, it means all of this.  In Lugandan, obulamu means LIFE, everything that I have described and more.  As I have been here, I have realized that I am going to truly experience life with all of its ups and downs – the weariness and frustrations of losing most of my comforts and having to learn everything from how to take a shower with a bucket to how to cook matoke, to the joys and beauty of gaining a whole new family, a family that has made me their beloved sister and daughter. 

Life in Uganda began on January 4^th, where I arrived into Entebbe airport at 11 pm.  It was hot and sticky and I was just plain excited to be there, but also pretty exhausted from a day of plane rides and a very strange sleep schedule.  The next day, after a morning of orientation and “preparation” to go meet my host family, I was dropped off at the gate of my host family.  While at first it was a bit awkward and hard to open up with them, after three days now I really feel like family as I have learned to just be in their presence, whether its sitting by a fire watching them cook, talking in the kitchen, or watching a soap opera.  I live with two sisters and one brother around my age (who are also in college), a younger sister (15), younger brother (12?), their grandparents, and countless cousins and aunts who drop by to say hi.  We live within walls, which contain mango trees, a house, a room full of chickens and an outside kitchen.  Then theres a little yard where my cousin continually rides his bike in circles without ever losing the fun in it:)  I have my own little room which is really nice - theres a bed, table, and shelves above me to put my stuff on.  The house is much more “normal” than I thought it would be - they have a tv, fridge, sofas, running water, and even a toilet.  While they may not be living in the poverty that I once thought of as either starving from lack of food or doing without any material wealth, their lifestyle is definitely one that is common among all of the poor in Africa.  The daily life of a women seems to be cooking and cleaning, as they cook over a fire and it takes hours to prepare it all.  And yet this life is so full of joys that I have already experienced.  I have sat on the ledge of the house at dusk and rolled out 25 torteias, I’ve woken up early and husked corn with laughter as they showed me how to twist it to snap the end off, and I’ve danced around my living room table to worship God, undoubtably messing up the rhythm and making everyone laugh.  While they don’t have much, they have already taught me in their prayers which we said just last night about passion and fervency for God.  They seem to really…know Him.  And I want that. 

I know this is going to be a beautifully stretching time, in which I will hopefully make really deep relationships and learn what is like to truly engage in another culture and love well.  The beginning was definitely a bit hard, but now I am seriously loving my family.  Last night I sat in the kitchen floor with all of my brothers and sisters (as I do at home) and just talked about different movies we had seen and realized that we had a ton in common!  We then shared pictures from home and they all crowded around, enjoying every picture I showed them of my beautifully big family – just like theirs.  We could tell our lives were so very different, and yet we now shared the same food and house, struggles and laughter, and above all - love for each other.  It’s crazy to think that I now have two families, and I know that at the end of these four months, I will dearly miss this beautiful family I have become a part of.  

Why Uganda?

You may be wondering, why am I in Mukono, Uganda?  Well, all I can tell you is that for the past several months, Africa has continually popped up everywhere I went – from the people I lived with during my internship in Camden going to this very program, to my hall-mates at Eastern University having lived in Africa, to chapel talks from people who went to Africa.  During this time, I was also really struggling with what major to pick and what to do with my time at Eastern, as I had just stopped playing basketball and was feeling restless with what I was doing at school.  I didn’t want to just go through the motions at school but wanted to live with purpose.  And so I continued to wait on God, hoping that He would show me what to do with my future.  In “coincidentally” finding out that the applications had just reopened for studying abroad in Uganda, I decided to at least knock on the door.  Well, to my surprise, the doors kept opening and in a time of prayer, I felt God clearly saying, the time of waiting is done, it is NOW time to GO.  I didn’t know why and it didn’t quite make sense, but like He told people in the Bible such as Paul to go to one town and that there He would show them what to do, He was calling me to step out in faith, and that He would bless me in return.  And so amid the finals week that I was in, I started filling out all of the paperwork and trying to in two weeks do what everyone else did in a semester.  It was a bit crazy, and I didn’t get my passport till a week before I got on the plane, but I had done it…and somehow I was going to Uganda.

 Looking back, I see how every “coincidence” was a divine appointment, in which God was directly leading me to go to Uganda.  Only later I would find out that my cousin, Prudence, and hallmate were going, that the classes that I would be taking included community art (something I am passionate about), Spiritual Disciplines, which ended in a week long backpacking trip up a mountain (something I had always wanted to do all my life), a Cross-Cultural Practicum (hopefully an orphanage – which God has recently placed on my heart), and a white water rafting experience down the Nile!  Seriously, when you delight yourself in the Lord, He will give you the desires of your heart.  In just the pre-Uganda process, I learned that God loved me more than I could imagine and actually wanted really good things for me. 

To cap it off, before deciding to go to Uganda, I had decided to go to Urbana, a missions conference for college students in St. Louis, MO, from Dec. 27-31.  That left me two days at home to get ready, but I realize in hindsight it was perfectly designed by God to be a send-off and preparation for my time here.  For me, it began with the conviction that God had to be my all and that my life should be one in which I constantly proclaimed the glory of God.  I knew I had to be more preoccupied with God, more in love with them, that because He gave me His life, He was worth giving up my whole life for, but I just didn’t feel it.  I was dry, and knew that before I was able to love or even think about doing long-term missions, (which I feel God calling me to), I had to know God’s love for me, that I might respond to it.  It was in that weakness and realization of my deep inadequacy that God was able to meet me there and bring a feast for my hungry heart.  He seriously poured out His love on me, and it was awesome, to say the least.

And so I felt ready to follow God to the ends of the earth and live for His glory – but was I really?  I would soon find out that my idealized picture of missionary life was not all it was cut out to be, and that was hard.  I had been dreaming about that moment of entering into another culture and doing missions work, but when I suddenly got to my house full of people I didn’t know who just stared at me like I was some strange white person (which I was), I couldn’t help but thinking, “what was I getting myself into?!”  This was not the end however – but you have to keep reading to see what happened!