homesick

I live in a land not my own. In a place where I don’t belong, but to live and work for a time. In a land where the customs and rituals make no sense. Where the people have different ideals and desires than i. I do not understand these people. I live among them but do not live as they do. I tell them stories of the land I long for, and I see it sometimes sparks longing in their own eyes. My heart abides in another land. i long with indescribable longing for my own land, the one where I belong. I know that I will see it soon, and that knowledge is enough to comfort me. But for now I sojourn in this foreign land.

pics

more photos for your enjoyment. so enjoy

party

This Sunday the pastor returned. This time the service started early to make time afterwards for the party. The pastor has been gone for a long time in America so I expected the party to be large and exuberant. I didn’t expect what actually happened. Worship started as usual. Dancing, singing, kids wanting to sit with me. And as we listened to one worship leader expounding on prayer, a growing commotion outside slowly grabbed the attention of the church. Shouting, yelling, celebrating. The parade of Ugandans in brightly colored clothing poured into the courtyard outside. The speaker announced the arrival of the pastor. The parade entered the front of the church to shouts and singing. So many colors on the dresses. The singing people drowned out the loud speakers. The parade circled around the front of the church. Around and around singing “praise God, thankyou jesus.” Or something like that. The woman next to me was kind enough to translate what we were singing. The only reason I figured out which one of the paraders was the pastor was from the way he held himself. Almost as if this welcome was too much for him. I don’t even think the body language was intentional. Right after his parade came the Americans. Somehow I was asked to come up front and sit with the other Americans as one of the special guests. Guess what my question was? I asked if I could take the kids who were sitting with me. So me and the 2 little girls were escorted up the front seats. The girls took turns sitting on my lap. We watched various people or groups singing in honor of their pastor returning. One woman was very good, the pastor and his wife got up and sang with her. The man next to me informed me that this woman was their daughter. So I took a picture of the public reunion of a family. Reverend Dorsey gave an excellent sermon.

I wanted to tell these people that before that morning I didn’t think they could express anymore joy in their singing or dance with more feeling. I was wrong. All I could think about was David leading his people and the ark back into Jerusalem. Imagine the rejoicing. Imagine the love and joy. Do you ever feel so happy you could just get up, shout and dance for joy? These people experienced this, and they gave vent to these feelings. They wouldn’t stop praising God for the safe return of their beloved pastor. Oh that Americans would show a tenth of the joy these people expressed. Quit worrying about how you look and just dance for joy. The day was about the pastor. Even the kids knew that.

The service ended, but most people stayed in waiting for the party to start and the lunch to be served. Us Americans went out to the courtyard among the kids for some air and a little quieter area. There were easily 100 kids in the courtyard, all trying to touch one of the Americans. I started taking pictures of the kids. They all crowded up to the camera. So I would get a group of them and tell them to stay, back up a few feet and try to take a picture before they all surged forward. Then I would show them a picture of them. So much fun to these kids. I got several pics of the other Americans entertaining groups of kids just by their looks. I spent some time coaxing kids away from each of the Americans so they could have a reprieve from the constant touching. And I found that several of the kids are ticklish. Evil grin.

The church service ended at about noon. We finally ate at 4. Until that time, the people were singing and dancing or watching others sing and dance. For 4 hours. Wow these people love celebrating. Finally we came back in to eat. The table with the guests of honor were served first. A woman with a pitcher and basin went around so we could wash our hands. Then the plates of freshly cooked Ugandan food appeared. I could see some of the servers getting worried till one arrived with a small plate of forks for most of the Americans. They hadn’t figured on anyone needing to eat with anything besides their hands, so they had to go find forks somewhere. Seeing the shortage of forks, I opted to eat with my hands. Pastor Wilson was so surprised and kept asking if I was ok eating like that. About 5 o clock rolls around and some Americans have a flight to catch. The rest of us piggy-back on that excuse to leave the festivities early. Church lasted 7 ½ hours for me that Sunday. Don’t get me wrong, I love celebrations. Just not for 7 hours in full view of the congregation.

Welcome home pastor Wilson. Your flock missed you. Cant you tell?

the wind

There are things about this trip I do not attempt to understand. These are the things under the direction of the Spirit. Don’t laugh, those promptings can powerfully direct life. “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” The word John uses for wind and spirit is the same word (3:8). He does that a lot with words meaning two things yet each meaning helps the readers understanding of the other side of that word. Stop trying to understand the decisions of some people according to what makes sense in your brain. It is the spirit that directs them, and it blows where it wishes. Without regard for what makes sense to our intelligence. This is why I say im not ready to come back to the states yet, even tho many people miss me and I miss American life so much. Im not done here. Not sure when I will be done. I guess I will know when it is time.

About 6 months before I came to Africa to immerse myself in a drastically different culture, I switched campuses. I didn’t understand it, but I felt called to attend the UW campus of Marshill even tho I had very little in common with the students there. Their struggles with campus life probably looked nothing like mine. I thought that was crazy. It turned out I was only able to attend that one for about a month. I guess God was testing me to see if I would follow his insane promptings. That strange affair probably had something to do with my readiness to live in Africa for a while, even with only 4 days notice for leaving.

So there are things that would only make sense if you were looking from the perspective of God on high overseeing the ages. It makes no sense if your goals in life are money or comfort. No sense at all.

second soroti trip

I went to soroti again last week. This trip was a lot more eventful than last time, mostly cuz I rode the coach up to soroti. I wanted to experience it for once. There was this conference in soroti last week about trauma counseling. Since that is something related to what I want to do eventually with my life, I felt it behooved me to go. That, and I was so ready for a break. A vacation. Anything different and away. By the end of the workday, im physically exhausted. By Sunday, after 6 days, im mentally and spiritually exhausted also. I had the option to go on Saturday and for the entire week, but I didn’t want to skip out on that much work. So I went on Tuesday instead. Early that morning I left the dorm before the guys were up. I needed to get to soroti long before the light ended. So that’s what I did. Yes, I went alone. Bravery or stupidity; doesn’t matter much to me cuz it was an adventure. I had moms pointing me out to their kids on the bus. In the hour before the bus even left, peddlers would climb on the bus and try to sell the passengers some millet cakes or waters and orange juice. You could even buy a plate of food which they dumped into a bag for you to eat with your hands. The orange juice looked good, but it came in bottles with labels for mineral water. It didn’t look professional. Every time the bus stopped in a town, I had dozens of food peddlers crowding around the bus trying to hawk their skewers of meat or roasted corn or roasted bananas. Thankfully I had a female sitting next to me. She would laugh at people’s reactions to me, especially the peddlers. The coach actually is quite a nice experience. Seats bigger than an airplane and a fairly smooth ride. Its cleaner than the little taxis.

I finally got to mbale which is 2/3 of the way to soroti. The bus mostly emptied there then I sat waiting for the bus to keep going to soroti. It didn’t. instead, the conductor had us file off and go to a taxi-van and get on. There were a few more people than seats, but that’s not unusual. He paid the driver then I lost track of him. As the taxi sat there, the locals inside starting getting somewhat irate at the situation. The coach said it was going all the way to soroti. But there we were sitting in a taxi. I could only catch some of what was going on so I started asking the people next to me. They took pity on this somewhat confused mzungu and explained a few passengers were threatening to call the police on the conductor. Ah. Understand that mbale is on the border between teso and Buganda so there is at least 4 languages flying about. The taxi driver refused to take us after we had already gotten in. so they brought another taxi and most of us boarded that one. Several passengers refused the inconvenience. Oh well, most space for the rest of us. I just wanted to get to soroti soon so I didn’t complain. And we are off. Thankfully we didn’t have to pay out anymore money. I got a window seat – yay. Part of the time I half-slept where my body, while hugging my bag, relaxes except my ears and brain. Its very useful ability for traveling alone. When I decided to “wake-up” several Ugandans flashed me grins and sincerely asked how I had slept. After a bit, we stopped by another taxi that had broken down and picked up a few of their passengers. We had a bit of an issue in another town when the people there demanded parking fees even tho they clearly weren’t policemen and it was public highway. I arrived safely in soroti 2 hours ahead of the sunset. I got a soda and sat near the shop to wait for a pilgrim person to pick me up. (they shops sell mostly soda in glass bottles, so they want the bottle back.)

I stayed with Phyllis and aaron in their house. They let me have my own room and bathroom and tub with a showerhead. And hot water, and oatmeal, and even a handtowel. I kinda stared at the handtowel like I had never seen one before. Oh, and a mirror. The excitement dimmed a bit when I realized the water pressure wasn’t great, but having hot water was awesome. I reveled in getting myself totally clean each evening.

The first morning I was basically bouncing as I ate my oatmeal and orange tang. I could see aaron trying not to laugh so I finally blurted out “I don’t have to work today.” Ah. They took me to town, made sure I knew the names of where I was going and where they lived then dropped me off to find my own way. That’s how it went each morning. I went to the conference all day; learned and ate with 50 ugandans all wanting to learn to better counsel. I walked around town one day – it isn’t very big. I always made sure I got back to the house by dark. I met several non-pilgrim Americans who live there permanently. One morning I arrived before most people. I usually helped the teachers with running the things smoothly. Thankyou alumni office for teaching me that skill. But that morning I had no work. So I walked up to the women dancing near the front and started copying their steps. So they taught me most of the easier footwork of the ateso people. I was still dancing when most of the others arrived. Several people got pictures and videos of me dancing with these Ugandan women. Everyone seemed to like me after that. Later that day a thunderstorm interrupted proceedings. As soon as they announced an impromptu break I headed for the door. There is nothing like warm rain after sitting in a chair for several days. Pure joy. Yup, that’s the word. Joy. Odd word actually. Over-used and under experienced. Anyways, all the Ugandans thought I was crazy. Funny, but crazy. Most of them fear storms. I love them.

Ok, so let me describe the conference. 6 women counselors from New York area have started coming to soroti once a year to give a conference in conjunction with Pilgrim about counseling, mostly to teach others how to counsel. The Ugandans learning this information work as teachers, pastors, counselors, prison guards, and social workers. I think I was the youngest there and definitely the only boat builder. This year the topic was trauma counseling. We went thru what trauma is and does to people, how to stabilize traumatized people, and how to care for yourself as the counselor so you don’t get 3nd degree trauma from listening to it. But these Ugandans listening had a ton of experience in dealing with traumatized clients. This is an area that recently dealt with the Lord’s Resistance Army so many of them had former child soldiers for clients. I don’t know which I learned more from; the American counselors presenting the material, or the Ugandans who lived this work for many years. The stories they recounted of different clients astounded me. After a while I just wanted to cry cuz of the stories. The things child soldiers went thru, child rape, or even just normal life to these people. These people are resilient. There were several sessions of watching two counselors play a specific client and the counselor. The first was a new Yorker who wouldn’t move even tho her ex kept calling and threatening to kill her. The second was a boy who was abducted by the LRA twice (that was hard, yet amazing to hear about then watch). The third was a Ugandan boy looking for a new place to sleep. So different from American trauma. Also, the cultural differences became clear to me as the Ugandans asked questions about the material. Things like time and special boundaries to make it easier on the counselor, or why confidentiality included not telling the spouse. Well, why wouldn’t it be ok for the client to come to the counselor’s home if they needed to in the night? The funniest was a Ugandan reminding everyone to not cross their legs when talking with a client. The Americans were very confused till they figured out that’s disrespectful here.

Another thing which I could watch from my vantage point was the disconnect on religion. The Ugandans took it for granted that counseling included things like forgiveness and God’s love. The New Yorkers didn’t necessarily. There was one Episcopal and several cultural jews and one unknown. We started each session with prayer and singing and each day with a sermonette. By the end of the conference, the Americans were clapping along to the Ugandan worship songs. Most of the teaching did not include anything about God or even god. But the Ugandans tended to naturally put everything presented in Christian terms. The principles of counseling made good sense according to Christianity – go figure. We all got to mingle for morning tea, lunch, and afternoon tea. Not sure if I will get used to this whole tea business. But hearing the stories made it totally worth it. Hearing about women having so many kids so early, or talking with women whose brideprice was counted in cows. It’s a different world with different ideas here.

The conference ended with a feast. So more talking and listening. But we also got to hear a guy named sam play an adungu (sp?) and sing ateso psalms. That was so counter culture I cant even describe it. But it sounded good. Very peaceful yet happy.
I was able to visit the school pilgrim runs up in soroti. I played volleyball with the older boys (girls don’t know how to play it here) and walked around the grounds taking pictures of students. Btw, they have incorporated parts of soccer into volleyball; kicking the ball is allowed. However, I never saw the ball kicked in the right direction. I played a few games, and lots of kids wanted to play. I walked around and by the time I came back, only a few were playing. So I played again and by the time I left the group was back all wanting to play. Im not even that good at volleyball.

The trip back was in a pilgrim van with mark and steve and talia. She is a Columbia student so we talked most of the way back. I got my girl time in so im set for a while. She told me about the weird practices of exorcisms in the soroti area. She was fascinated so eventually I told her a bit of what I know on the subject and even told her a short version of my testimony. She reacted with interest, saying she had never met a Christian like me. That’s a comment I get a lot. Im ok with that. Not insult or compliment, just how I am.

more random bits

First of all, congrats to albert and april for the birth of their daughter mercy. Happy day of birth mercy. Welcome to your first taste of life, mercy.

Bob leaves tomorrow. Sad thain boat team of Africa. We shall miss bob. He counsels us as to the stupid things we are about to embark on. also, he teaches us in areas he has experience in that we don’t. he has a positive attitude which is hard to come by in this line of work. As preparation for leaving he did last minute shopping in kampala for gifts and I hemmed his pants. Random I know. Sharron, keep him safe, for he has survived Uganda with the food here and the boda rides. It would be a shame for something to happen in safe America. Good luck bob. You are a good man and this group will miss you. For all you wondering, no, this isn’t a eulogy at all. but seriously, who will buy soda for us all each night?

Jon paul walked back the other day bearing our lunch and a headless snake with a sprig of chili stuck in his bandana. He did not kill it, that fact has bummed him a bit. But he did cut off the head and skin it. I think it was a green mamba. The locals were stoning it when he saved its skin. Quite literally actually since that’s all he kept. The locals have nicknamed him “the man with no clothes” in lugandan because he never wears his shirt when walking around and most of the time around the dorm he goes barefoot.

The boat is moving along in its process. We have the floors and beams ontop of the hulls but not fully attached yet. once those are in place, the rest of the boat will move much faster. It feels like we have repositioned the hulls for weeks. Each time we get closer, tho never perfect. If the hulls aren’t perfect, the whole boat will remain crooked. Not ok. So we inch over each day towards perfection. Moving a 2 ton hull with wooden levers and man power can get exasperating. Oh well.

There is a lizard in one of the containers. And we found a bat trapped in one of the hulls. Frogs and insects constantly get inside and promptly stuck. We walk thru hundreds of dragonflies sporting every color of the rainbow. Actually, not so much green, but every other color. What is a group of dragonflies called? Imagine standing in the center of the galaxy with all the stars spinning around you. Now imagine all those stars are dragonflies. That’s what its like.

We hear music every day going down the road. Ice cream boda! Kinda like an ice cream truck, only… in the form of a boda. Strapped to the back is an orange Gatorade looking ice water holder full of pink and yellow ice cream. 200 shillings for a small cone. Awesome. We go down to the village and buy sweet cakes and bubble gum and soda. Or zebra which is a truly aweful form of rum. If you mix it with coke its drinkable. The fifa world cup plays every evening so we walk over to the resort to watch the games. It feels like a movie to walk thru the warm evening to the pole and thatch building housing rustic chairs and a tv, Those south Africans really like buzzy horns. When we hear the bee hive, we know the tv is playing the football match. Not American football, soccer.

We have all reached a level of tan not possible in seattle, even in the hottest of summers. Our tan lines stand out quite a bit. My arm hair stands out against my brown arms. Bryce and jon-paul tend to wear epoxy shorts and good shoes for their African work uniform. I add a cami or a shirt to the outfit for my uniform. Bob is the odd one, sporting long pants and a button shirt compliments of ex officio. In communication with the locals, we tend to use nicknames based mainly on their physical appearance. There is Red Hat, and Ben (not his name), Gray shirt, Stripes, etc. they in turn call Bryce Mr. Bright cuz the closest pronunciation is “blyce”.

Bob won the other night at settlers of catan. But he didn’t realize it for two rounds until I was about to get 11 points and win. Then he counted up his points and cut me off. I was so close.

The stupid mud wasps tried to build a nest on a pair of my pants. I guess they figured they wouldn’t move. They had only been there since the night before. Stupid mud wasps.

speaking in tongues?

A group from a "miracle center" rented some of the dorms to stay and have a retreat. does anyone know about these kinds of centers? They kept us up the first night with their praying and singing. But the second evening they chanted down by the shore. And they were loud with their pacing and yelling in tongues and screaming. Now, don’t get me wrong, I believe the gift of speaking in tongues still exists and can be used for great good. However, like any of the gifts, it can be misused and faked. I wasn’t terribly surprised when John Paul said he felt moved by the Spirit to go talk to them and confront them with their chaos. Bryce sent him off with a prayer, I encouraged him that he knew more than he thought. Next time I looked, john paul sat in one of the chairs reading his bible, surrounded by people chanting, screaming, shaking, yelling, and writhing on the ground. I went down to check out the situation. Some of you know my past, and how it has affected me. I tell you, there was something wrong happening, something strange. John paul assured me he wanted to do this on his own. So went back to the dorm and watched. He stood up and talked to them for a few minutes as they all listened, then read part of Corinthians where it talks about prophets and speaking in tongues. Then he prayed for them all and walked back to the dorm. He left on a walk to go compose himself. As soon as he left, they started up again, only this time twice as loud and fervent. So I sat there and prayed against whatever they were doing until my parents called. Why didn’t I go over and do something about their actions? I don’t know. I don’t know if it was fear or just my inability to act. Maybe the Holy Spirit moved john paul to act, but not me. Whatever the reason, I didn’t. thankfully, they left the next day.