40/40 Day 8- Education

The goal of 40/40 is education.  I am here to gain better understanding of the African culture and way of life.  And I am seeing things here even more clearly than I see in Arua.  Maybe it’s because of the urban setting, maybe it’s the places Christine is taking me, or maybe I’ve just insulated myself into life in Arua, but I have definitely seen suffering here.  A part of me wants to ask Christine how she does it, how she keeps going here, how she functions in a place where suffering and death are so much a part of life.   As we walk through the neighborhood, every atom of my being cries out, “No!  This isn’t right!  This isn’t how we were supposed to live!”

This isn’t what God wanted for us.  This isn’t what the world was supposed to be like.  And praise the Lord, this isn’t all there is.  The pain of earth and life makes us even more desperate for eternity and what God has in store for us.

My education and understanding comes at a price.  There are people I am coming in contact with on a daily basis, and their constant struggles are teaching me about life.  This understanding I am gaining is costing them dearly.  God, please let me get it!  Don’t let them go through all this for nothing.  Humble my heart and let me see life from their eyes.  And let me be changed for it.

Welcome to my home...

Wanted to finally share pictures of the house... still need to take some shots of the kitchen and den. The grey house is the boys' quarters (also known as our storage facility), the volleyball court is right behind it, and the tomatoes were volunteers! Oh happy day!












the front of our home


the boys' house, aka extra storage. There is a volleyball court just behind their house


our backyard


a volunteer tomato!!


one of our lemon trees


Those are all my lemons... we've actually got 2 trees, and they are both loaded! That's what the yellow things in the basket are... maybe we have 2 different varieties? The smaller ones look just like yellow oranges- perfectly round and smooth. But then we've got the huge, oblong, bumpy ones... I don't know what the deal is with those, but they still taste good. Needless to say, we ALWAYS have at least one pitcher of lemonade made! (I'm always open to new recipes- gotta figure out a way to get rid of all this juice!)


the manual (yes I'm driving a manual) truck

40/40 Day 7- Beauty

It’s days like today that make me realize just how blessed I really am.  Our task for the day was to visit a home that has experienced a recent death, or where someone is very ill.  Christine took me back to her neighborhood of Matero, to Mavis’s home.

Beauty is Mavis’s older sister.  She has 4 children, two of whom are grown; the youngest is 12 years old.  Her husband died from AIDS in 2003, but Beauty was never tested for the disease herself. 

In November, Beauty began experiencing fever, night sweats, body aches, and general weakness.  A doctor at a clinic gave her Coartem for malaria, but it didn’t help.  Doctors gave her other drugs, but they didn’t help, either.  Her children were taking care of her, but when she got worse last week and began vomiting, Mavis brought her from the village where they grew up to her home in Matero.

In all likelihood, Beauty has AIDS.  The history is there.  The signs are almost certain.  What will happen to her and her children?  Her sister, Mavis, can barely afford to feed her own, let alone provide for Beauty while she is sick, or care for her children once she is gone.  And Beauty and Mavis’s story is not unique.  Theirs is the story of Africa.  Everyone on this continent has been touched by AIDS in some way, shape, or form.  Every home you go into, you feel the heaviness of death.  It is a part of life here.

As I walked through the dirt streets of Matero this morning, I was speechless.  There are no words that can make this okay.  There is nothing I can do to change the outcome of Beauty’s situation; she is going to die.  I know all the pc-church platitudes:  At least she knows Jesus; her body will be healed completely; there’s more to life than what happens on earth.  I know all that, and yes, it is true.  But it doesn’t make Beauty’s death any more acceptable.  What happens to her children?  To her sisters?

I have no words, and I truly have no answers.  All I can hold on to, as I write on the verge of tears, is that my Jesus is weeping over Beauty, too.

40/40 Day 6- Mosquito Food

My feet must have been confused for an all-you-can-eat-buffet

Last night, a large group of us ate at a nice restaurant, Rhapsody’s.  It was a very comfortable night, and we decided to eat outside on the patio.  Big mistake!  We didn’t realize that there was a huge swarm of mosquitoes hanging out under our table, and we got eaten alive!  Fortunately, we were all wearing long trousers, so they could only get access to the foot portion of the buffet!)

I didn’t realize I had become mosquito fodder right away—we couldn’t see the party that was going on under the table.  But when I woke up this morning, my feet looked like they did when I had chicken pox!  I can honestly say I have never had so many bites on my entire body, let alone on just my feet!

40/40 Day 5- Happy Sunday

You gotta love a day off.  And since today was really the only day off we’ll have for a month, you better believe we made the most of it!

We started the day with American-style worship (a real treat!) and brunch, then a large group of us headed off to town.  Arcades is a large shopping center with a Sunday crafts fair.  I heard the word “shopping,” so of course, it was a no-brainer for me!  We had a ton of fun bargaining, sometimes more successfully than others, and I got some really cool jewelry and things to take home.  Then we realized that Confessions of a Shopaholic was playing at the movie theater, so we forked over 24,000 kwacha (just under 5 bucks!) to forget that we were in Africa for two hours.  Glorious!

After the movie, we ate dinner at a nice restaurant, then decided to head back to the seminary where we’re staying.  Before we left, Kevin, the program director, had given us road names and some landmarks to tell a taxi driver how to get us back to the seminary, and that all the drivers would know where these places were.  Unfortunately, Leopard’s Hill Cemetery and Twin Palms Road aren’t nearly as well-known as we thought they were.  We had to ask 4 drivers (in the dark!) before we found one who knew the area we were going to, and even then the driver stopped for directions 3 times on the way home!  The whole way back, I’m starting to get carsick, even in the dark!  I’ve never been so glad to get back to a dorm in my life!

Out of pocket

I have to let you know in advance that there will be a significant shortage of new blogs for the next month. I am currently in Lusaka, Zambia, participating in a program called 40/40. This is an orientation program for new IMB personnel in Central, Eastern, and Southern Africa. The purpose is for us to better understand the African culture and worldview that we will be working in. For another week or so, our group of 70+ will be working in Downtown Lusaka. We will then move out to Petauke to spend 12 days in bush camp, before living in the homes of African believers for 3 days. Please pray for our group during this time, that God would give us good health, good contact with nationals, and nothing too crazy to eat!

I'll be in touch... when I get back from exile! :D

40/40 Day 4- Matero Township

Gracie and me

After two long rides on crowded minibuses, Christine and I, along with two other ladies new to the field, arrived in Matero, Christine’s home neighborhood.  During our two hours today in Matero, we met with several ladies just to talk to them about their lives.  We were so blessed to get to hear from these women about life in Lusaka.

Winnie and her sister Monica own a small grocery store.  Winnie has a two-year-old daughter, Deborah,.  Monica has just finished high school and is hoping to go to university to study business.  Their family moved to Lusaka from their village twenty years ago, when Winnie was 6 years old.  We sat outside their store and talked about our families.  Winnie struck me as a woman who truly wants to succeed, and who wants Deborah to have a better life than she does herself.

Gracie is a 16-year-old tenth grader who lives with her brother and sister-in-law.  She is very much like a 16-year-old in the States.  She goes to school, loves to read, enjoys spending time hanging out with her friends, and wants to study computer science in college.  Please pray for Gracie, that God will give her strength, wisdom, and the required finances for the education she wants, and that He would protect her in the face of teenage temptations and diseases that are so rampant here.

40/40 Day 3- Journey into Lusaka

Today we ventured into downtown Lusaka for the first time.  We rode in on a minibus crammed full of 20 people to the center of the city.  Kb, a teenager who just moved to Botswana with her family, and I were accompanied by Christine, a Zambian national believer who lives here in Lusaka. 

It is amazing the number of street children here.  Some are orphans, but many are runaways.  What kind of future do they have?  They will have no education, and many are already addicted to the cheap drugs that are all too available, even by the time they’re 6 or 8 years old.  What chance do they have?

Zambians have a huge sense of honor and pride.  School fees are very expensive, and though most parents, value their children’s education, they don’t usually have the money right at hand.  So they will borrow the money from people they know so their kids can go to school on time.  I asked Christine what would happen if they couldn’t pay back the loan, and it was completely unheard of.  Her response was, they gave their word to pay it back.  It might take time, but a promise is a promise.  They might have to work eighteen hours a day, but they will pay their debt. 

I think, in our culture of handouts and government assistance, we have lost the honor of keeping our commitments and providing for ourselves.  So often, we expect to be taken care of, rather than taking the initiative to do what needs to be done. 

I really have no frame of reference for Lusaka.  I think, if I knew Kampala better, I would probably see a lot of similarities.  As it is, all I k now is that it’s nothing like Arua.  Lusaka City Market is like the Arua market on both steroids and speed.  Fresh fish next to watches next to fabric next to beans next to used shoes next to dried caterpillars (a favorite snack).  And if you keep walking, you’ll come to the cages of live chickens and the sides of beef. 

40/40 Day 2- Africa Wins Again

You learn very quickly that, in a showdown, Africa always wins.  Whether it’s a battle with a washing machine, a house being invaded by flying ants and termites, a 4-hour security meeting that accomplishes nothing (because your shoes get stolen off your front porch the very next night!), two hours of tea with a neighbor, driving past a family of elephants, getting pooped on by bats (more than once!), or seeing an amazing sunset, Africa always wins.

I thought briefly about keeping score… but it doesn’t matter.  Because Africa always wins.  I think at this point, my job is to learn to function in Africa, so that it doesn’t bother me quite so much when Africa does win.  Africa belongs to my Father, and He loves this place.  The little things that drive me crazy are just the way He made it to be here.  Just because it’s not the way I’m used to things doesn’t mean it’s bad… it’s just not America.  Life in America is definitely easier, but in a showdown, Africa always wins.

40/40 Day 2- On the way there....

I can’t say that I’m completely thrilled about the idea of going through a month of living in the wilderness. I am not. At all. This is NOT my idea of a good time. This is miles and miles and miles away from my comfort zone. But at the same time, I know that God has called me to do His work in His places, and in His ways. He has put me in Africa for the next 18 months, for better or worse. And honestly, I think it will be for better. God is going to do some amazing things through me and in me.

I am looking at things I have never seen before. The Kalahari Desert. Mount Kilimanjaro. And it blows my mind to think that the God who created me and brought me here is the same One who made these amazing things. It just shows me that He doesn’t need me to accomplish His purposes. He could do it all on His own, without any of us. But He loves us, and because He loves us, He wants to give us the pleasure and the honor of being a part of what He’s doing. And why would I ever think that the God Who does all this wouldn’t get me through the next month?

How could I stand here with You
And not be moved by You?
You tell me
How could it be
Any better than this?

You’re all I want
You’re all I need
You’re everything, everything.

“Everything” by Lifehouse

Some Church Pictures

These pictures are from Awindiri Baptist Church, the small local church I sometimes attend. Awindiri is an Alur church, meaning that most people there don't speak either English or the native language we're learning. They do translate the entire service in to English for us, but it can be difficult to follow! This is the church that had baptism at the river- the picture with the kids on the bank are kids who came to watch the baptism! Lord, we pray your love, truth, and kindness are planted deeply in their hearts!

What is a Missionary?

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine sent the following email:

Now that you’ve been on the field for 1 or 2 months, I was hoping you could help me with a small quandary: What is a missionary? How do you recognize one? What are the distinguishing marks? Can you be one on Tuesday and then not be one on Wednesday?

Curious,
T

In all honesty, at first I had no idea what to say. But it stuck with me. I thought about it for quite a while, trying to figure out just how to answer... still not sure I'm quite sure, but I think I've come up with 3 separate, yet equally true, descriptions of an m.

Sunday School answer: We are all missionaries. The job of each and every believer is to make Jesus known, wherever we are. So even if you never leave your home town, if you believe in Jesus Christ, you are a missionary. (My eyes are rolling uncontrollably as I write this.)

PR answer: A missionary is someone who puts their own hopes, dreams, and plans on the back burner "so that the world may know." They are not perfect, but have a heart to share the Truth. They sacrifice their own desires and relationships for the sake of this higher call, often abandoning family and future. They are de facto nomads, sometimes wandering the entire globe for the purpose of ministry.

Smart-Aleck answer (This is where I'm living right now!): A missionary is an expatriate who enters their country of residence often under false pretenses. They leave behind their home country, with a life of moderate comfort, and choose instead a life of unreliable electricity, cold showers, spotty internet, gas-powered refrigerators, really weird food, and lots and lots of livestock. A missionary, in general, has no "day job;" rather, their primary task each day is to engage and build relationships with nationals, making them, in effect, socialites. Women who are missionaries usually have really bad hair and really bad clothes, but really great jewelry. A missionary may often wonder what rip in the time-space continuum or temporary loss of sanity placed them where they currently are. But, regardless of the "results" they see or how they feel, a missionary has chosen to put aside what is comfortable and familiar, choosing instead what is difficult and usually more rewarding. As long as they continue to be faithful in this uncomfortable-ness, (whether they are using a paperback book as toilet paper, chasing down damp laundry in the middle of a dust storm, being attacked by flying termites in their own home, hosting an intestinal circus for the third time in a month, driving 20 minutes to a ministry school only to be turned away for the sake of a soccer match, or scanning the horizon for lions from the roof of a car) they will continue to be a missionary.

Elephant Hunting

This morning as we were sitting in language, (joy of joys!) our language helper, Pamela, told us about when her grandfather used to go hunting… for elephants.
The thought that people would actually consider elephants as a food source sort of stunned me, but after that concept got through my thick skull, the way they actually hunted them was even more amazing.

Pamela said all the men in the village would go out together (I guess an elephant is too much for just one man!) to track the elephants. When they found one, someone would throw their spear to wound the elephant in the trunk. While this wouldn’t be considered a fatal wound by any means, an elephant’s trunk is where he is most sensitive. Once he realized he was injured in the trunk, he would become completely consumed with taking care of his trunk and would be oblivious to everything else around him. The hunting party would then take the opportunity to attack the rest of his body with their spears and knives. The elephant wouldn’t really care about the more dangerous attacks, because he was so concerned with his injured trunk.

As she was telling us all this, I thought, how like the enemy! He distracts us with the things that identify us, the places where we’re most tender and sensitive. He attacks us there, in the issues that won’t really hurt us in the long run, but that occupy our hearts and minds. And once we’re focused on the trivial issues in life, we don’t realize that he’s attacking us in the really vital areas, that places that will destroy us. We get so caught up in our pet projects, our longing for affection, our hobbies, our friends, our need for gossip or for entertainment, we don’t realize that we haven’t had quality time with the LORD in weeks. That our relationships with the people who mean the most are falling apart. That our hearts, our very lives, are under attack.

I don’t know what the answer or solution is. I’m not completely sure there is one. I think I need to be more aware of where I’m vulnerable, where I tend to get sidetracked. And realize that when I do get sidetracked, it’s probably because the enemy is trying to keep me from paying attention to where the real battle truly is.