Keep Moving Forward

Two things you need to know:

1)   I've been using piki-pikis, the local transport, more regularly.  A piki is a private motorcycle taxi.  For a small price, a driver will take you to the door of wherever you want to go, and will often wait for you to conduct your business there, if you ask.  When I'm wearing a skirt, I sit on the back side-saddle with my legs crossed.

2)   The real rainy season, with daily rain, has finally come… about 3 months later than normal. 

The other day I had to got to Crane Secondary School for a student story group, and had a meeting with a teacher at Mandela Secondary before it.  Crane and Mandela are on opposite sides of town, but the meeting at Mandela was to be very short, and I had plenty of time for both.  There's a piki station around the corner from my house, where several drivers wait for customers.  As it comes time to leave my house to walk to the piki station, it starts to rain a bit.  No big deal; it's just a little drizzle, and the sky is clear.  Surely this will just be one of those two-minute showers we've had so many of.  And I know I won't melt… so I set off.  I haven't even gotten out of the neighborhood when the rain picks up, so I find a big tree on the side of the road to stand under.  After a couple of minutes, the rain slacks off, so I start moving again.  By the time I get around the corner to my friend Irene's shop, it's coming down hard again, so I sit on her porch until it's just barely sprinkling.  It's now taken over 15 minutes just to get out of the neighborhood, but now it's time to go. 

I start toward the road and a piki driver, Robert, sees me.  He picks me up and we take off for town.  It's still raining just a bit, but only a drop or two, so it's no big deal.  We get about halfway down the main road in town and see that in the next block the sky is dark and there is an absolute downpour… and it's coming fast!  Robert pulls over at a bank, and I hop off the bike and find shelter under the awning just in time.  By the time Robert gets under the awning, the rain is coming down in sheets!  The street is instantly deserted, with everyone hiding from the rain in shops and doorways.  We sit for almost ten minutes waiting for the deluge to ease.

When it's finally slowed enough to not get soaked, Robert dries off the motorcycle seat and we try again.  We go about two blocks and the rain starts coming down again.  Robert pulls over again, this time at a soft drink depot crowded with people.  People are apparently shocked to see a white woman out in the rain, as I hear lots of "mundu" statements, and see lots of sideways glances and smirks in my direction.

As soon as the rain slacks off, Robert decides its time to go again, and we drive off… less than a block this time before the rain chases us inside again.  We take shelter with a barber who just smiles at the sight of a stubborn, dripping mundu.  Another ten minutes later, the rain has really slowed, and Robert decides it's time to brave the road one more time.  This time as we set off, the sky is clearing and the rain keeps slowing.

But now we've turned off the main, paved road onto a dirt road that hasn't been helped by the sudden downpour.  There's lots of mud, several small rivers crossing our path, and heaps of now-muddy garbage scattered all over the road.  We finally make it to Mandela, where my meeting really does take less time than it took to get there.  We travel on to Crane with no problems, but the day's ride surely isn't the most enjoyable journey I've had on a piki.

God doesn't promise us "enjoyable".  Or "comfortable".  There are times when we're pretty much guaranteed to be wet, cold, or muddy when we get where we're going.  Times when people will laugh at us.  Times when we see people around us getting stuck, scared, stranded, or even falling over.  Times when our plans get put on hold once, twice, or even five times before we finally get where we're going.  Times when we'd really just prefer to go home, put on sweats, and curl up with a cup of coffee.

But that's not what we're called to do.  He tells us to keep moving forward, even if it's just one step at a time.  Even if our feet are cold and muddy and our hair is falling in our eyes from the rain.  Even if it takes us three times longer than we expected.  The one thing He tells us NOT to do is to give up!

So here's the upside to my perseverance:  I get two more chances to share Jesus with girls at Mandela.  And when I got to the village where the Crane campus is located, 6 little kids came running to meet me and give me huge hugs.  What a blessing… definitely worth the muddy feet!

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Galatians 6:9

In Need

I admit it.  The past few weeks have been rough.  I’ve been tired.  I’ve been frustrated.  And, to be quite honest, I haven’t liked Africa very much.  Things here that are completely common have been wearing on me.  Things like…

My friend Jesca’s sister-in-law had a miscarriage last year, and her body didn’t completely get rid of the baby.  She developed an infection, and treated herself with the wrong kind of medication for a year before she died.  She was 22.

I have a precious friend named Ayiko (“Happy”) who is 4 years old.  He’s bright, giggly, and such a joy… the kind of kid I would gladly fold up and put in my suitcase to bring home.  His toothless grin is just a small part of his charm.  But then you realize that 4 year olds aren’t supposed to be toothless, and the only reason he is, is because all his front baby teeth have rotted out.  Which just makes me sad.

My friend Irene runs a business and is struggling financially.  I’m working with her on how to manage her money and be a good steward of what God’s given her.  Buying her cooking charcoal in bulk would be one small way to save money.  Charcoal here comes in basins for $1.50, or in large bags for $10.  A bag should last at least two months, while the same amount’s worth of basins would only last about a month.  But if word got out to Irene’s friends and neighbors that she had a whole bag of charcoal, people would come to her, expecting her to share… and culturally, she would be obliged to.  The large bag wouldn’t last any longer than the small basins do.

I visited a village this weekend with a friend, and quickly bonded with a 5-year-old girl named Sylvia.  As we were preparing to leave, her mother asked me, a perfect stranger, if I wanted to take her with me.  I almost said yes.

My heart has been hurting for Africa.  I have been so pained over the way things are here, over the difficulties and struggles of life that really don’t have to be.  I’ve felt an utter helplessness for life here, for the sweet people I know here who work all day, every day, just to keep food in their bowls, a roof over their heads, and their children in school.  And I have been reminded, more than ever before, that the only hope for Africa is Jesus. 

When Ayiko, the toothless 4-year-old, arrived at our house the other day for volleyball, I went out to greet him and Carol, the student he comes with.  (Carol is one of our students and Ayiko is her neighbor.  He started tagging along with her to volleyball and Bible study a few weeks ago.)  As soon as Ayiko saw me, he went to Carol and took a big, fabric-wrapped something from her and gave it to me.  Then he got really shy.  I asked Carol what was going on, and she said he wanted to give me a present.  I unwrapped it to find a carving of two giraffes, one big and one small.  I was thrilled, stunned, and completely humbled.  I thanked him over and over, and then went to put my prize inside the house before I started crying.  When I came back outside, I asked Carol where this out-of-the blue present came from.  She said Ayiko told his mother “he wanted a gift for his friend.”  How sweet!

A few minutes later, when Ayiko had gotten over his unusual shyness, I went over to him and asked him, “Did you know that giraffes are my favorite animal?”  He looked at me, grinned, and nodded.  “You told me!”  (Well, at least there’s one male in my life who pays attention!)

Jesus knew that I’ve been struggling.  Been heartsick.  Been grieving over the way life is here.  And he knew that I needed to be loved on by my sweet, pint-sized friend.  To know that, no matter what, I’ve made at least a small impact on a small person in Africa.  And that Africa has made a big impact on me.  He knew what I needed.   And He made sure I got it—in just the right way, at just the right time. I have to remember.  I have to trust Him.  And I have to believe that He loves my friends and all of Africa more than I could ever begin to.

“…my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 4:19

American Most Wanted

If everything goes as planned, six months from today I’ll be on American soil.  (O happy day!)  And in anticipation of the Land of Plenty, I’m sharing my American Most Wanted List.  This is by no means exclusive, but the things that I’ve most missed during my time in Africa… and the things that I’ve realized I’ve taken for granted the most--  never again!

·      - chocolate chips you don’t have to make yourself

·      - vacuum cleaners

·      - Chic-Fil-A

·      - washers & dryers

·      - electricity that’s always on

·      - internet that works

·      - water you can drink straight from the tap

·      - Lean Cuisine

·      - pizza that’s brought to your door

·      - amazing stores that have all the food you need in one place

·      - actual stores where you can buy new clothes

·      - houses where you won’t be invaded by flying ants or bugs that are literally trying to kill you

·      - toilets you can flush every time

·      - water heaters you don’t have to manually turn on

·      - places to visit within a 2-hour radius

·      - nightly news I can trust

·      - a living room suite you don’t have to throw big sheets of fabric over

·      - dog food from a bag

·      - church that doesn’t require an interpreter

·      - Coke bottles you can throw away

·      - Diet Cherry Limeade

·      - dishwashers

·      - ice cream from a store, not the back of a bicycle

·      - DVDs for sale that aren’t pirated

·      - movie theaters

·      - bowling alleys

·      - being able to leave home after dark without an escort

·      - life where diarrhea is the exception, not the rule

·      - mail delivered to your house

·      - cold weather… anything under 65° counts!

·      - clothes that don’t make me feel like a slob

·      - real shoes

·      - magic machines that give you coffee when you flip a switch

·      - bathrooms where shower curtains and toilet seats are standard equipment

·      - girlfriends

Sneaking Out

The Tuesday after Easter, I went to Mandela Secondary School to teach The Secret Things to Senior 3 girls (basically 10th grade).  As I came up the drive to the school, the path was covered with boys in the school uniform, standing with their trunks and mattresses outside the gate.  Immediately, I started trying to think why they would be dismissing students two weeks early for break.  Maybe they ran out of food and they had to send students home.  (You laugh, but it’s happened!)  Maybe they’re all just arriving back from Easter weekend.  Or maybe they’re just ending this term early. After maneuvering around all the (rather unhappy) boys and their belongings, I parked and got out.  I saw a large group of girls watching the commotion from inside the fence, so I asked them what was going on.

Sunday night over Easter weekend, about 75 boys had the bright idea to sneak away from school and go to the discos, and they stayed out until Monday morning.  (Keep in mind that most secondary schools are boarding schools, and that discos are a  major factor in the spread of AIDS in Africa. ) The school administrators were away because of the Easter Monday holiday, so when they arrived on Tuesday, they had to decide how to deal with this huge number of AWOL students.  All they boys who snuck out were suspended for the rest of the term, which is a big deal, since they’ve all paid to attend school.  They’ll miss the last two weeks of class, and their first-term exams, and they won’t be allowed to return to Mandela until next term begins at the end of May.

It turns out that the teachers, knowing teenage boys, had a sign-in sheet that the boys had to register on throughout the night.  They actually had to wake up in the middle of the night and sign in to prove that they were on campus.  Some of the boys who remained signed in for their friends who snuck out. When the teachers discovered this forgery, they chose a very ironic punishment.  They boy who snuck out, whose name was forged, was forced to cane (paddle with a wooden switch) the boy who signed in for him.  Imagine the guilt he felt, caning the friend who was “helping” him.

Having worked in the American public school system, I am a bit in awe of how the whole thing works.  There’s no disciplinary hearing or parent conferences.  A boy who left to buy avocados is in just as much trouble as the ones who went to the discos.  And none of this is private.  It’s all discussed out in the open, with all kinds of students and visitors (myself included) around.  Shoot- I knew what happened before I ever really set foot inside the campus!

Some of the boys who were sent away didn’t really care.  Some were angry.  But some were really upset. They know how much school fees are, and what a privilege it is to be able to attend.  And they know that missing two weeks of classes and exams will put their entire school year at risk.  They never thought that one night of chasing fun (and girls) would have such serious consequences.  And, sadly, it’s not just about school.  I’m willing to bet that there’s at least one more AIDS-infected student on the campus of Mandela SS, now that it’s all said and done.

Just one more reminder that the things we do make a lasting impact on our lives and the lives of those around us, for better or worse.  And that teenagers are all the same, all over the world.

The Great Samosa Hunt of 2010

At some point last week, several of my roommates and I developed a craving.  I have no idea where this craving came from, or why it hit us all at the same time.  (Power of suggestion, maybe?)  But hit it did, and once it hit, we were all obsessed... so much that now, four days later, I'm blogging about it.

Samosas.  Sadly, they're relatively unknown in the States, but here in Africa, they're one of the few options we have for fast food.  And, by the way, they're amazing.  Think triangular, meat-filled eggrolls.  (Or vegetable-filled... but who in their right mind would choose veg over meat???)  I assume they were originally brought to Africa by Indian immigrants... but now they're an African street food staple.  And we are so glad they are.  Back to the craving...

I think it hit me last Wednesday or Thursday.  Like I said, I have no idea why.  I think it was really just a whim, like, "Oh, while I'm in town, I'll pick up a couple of samosas for lunch."  I mentioned it to Kelli, who jumped right on board.  Only one problem: when I got to the market, there were no samosas.  Anywhere.  Sadly, I returned home empty-handed.  But the seed for a craving had been sown.

Saturday, the longing was still there.  I was walking around the neighborhood and stopped at the little roadside stands... no luck.

On Sunday, Kelli, Jessica, and I went out to a school for the weekly church service and scoured the street vendors all the way through town there and back.  We dropped a couple of students off for a funeral on the way back and kept looking at the little shops in their neighborhood.  Success... sort of.  The samosas were there, but only the nasty, bean-filled kind.  No thank you.  What's the point?  The hunt continues...

Fast forward to Tuesday.  The samosa craving is now in overdrive.  Kelli and I had to run some errands in town, and we were determined to be successful today.  No luck on Main Street- again- but we had a sure-fire, last resort spot.  The coffee shop out at the airstrip outside town has fresh meat samosas every morning.  So we drove the ten minutes out of our way, to find they only had two samosas left.  Bummer.  But two samosas are better than no samosas.  We cleaned out the coffee shop and headed back to town.

But now Kelli had an idea.  Deep in the market, there were women who (sometimes) had the coveted golden pastries.  While I waited in the car, Kelli went to investigate.  Disappointment- beans only.  They told her to try the newspaper office.  Because it makes perfect sense to sell snack foods at a storefront newspaper office.  No luck.  (Shocker!)  The newspaper office staff sent her in the direction of a street full of guest houses and cafes, all of which were empty.  But at the end of the street was a little cafe with a warming box.  And in the warming box was a pretty little pile of samosas.  Meat samosas, to be exact.  Jackpot!

Twenty minutes after she left, Kelli returned with a bag of 13 samosas- plenty for lunch, and then some!

After five days, the Great Samosa Hunt of 2010 was successful... but there was a bonus find.  Asianzu (ah-SEE-ahn-zoo) House, where Kelli found the prized samosas, doesn't just sell snacks.  It's a full-on coffee shop, complete with an espresso machine that actually works!  My friend Katie and I went back there today, and had real, legit lattes that were awesome, for about 50 cents each.  Let's just say there's a new hot spot in Arua!

Not My Battle

God's been having to smack me around some lately. My time in Uganda is coming to a close; 7 months from now I'll be back home with my family and friends… and unemployed. Don't get me wrong; I can't wait to see my people again. I've missed them almost more than I can stand! No, it's the "unemployed" part that's been making me uneasy.  I've heard plenty about how crummy the American economy is and how high unemployment rates are… and I'm not really excited about joining the ranks. Go figure.


The difficult thing for me lately is knowing that, once I get off the plane, I have no plan. No job. No home. (Rooms to sleep in at other people's homes don't count!) And I'm one who has always had a plan.   Even if the plan changed, which it did, and often, there was some kind of idea of what was going on. But right now, I got nothin'. (Not that I don't have ideas of what I want to do when I go home. I do.  The roadblock is convincing someone to pay me a salary to do them!) But in the past few weeks, God's been trying to get my attention. He
keeps telling me not to worry. (Easier said than done!) That He really does have it all under control.


Recently, He's been even more specific. He reminds me of Joshua and the battle of Jericho. Joshua, the gifted swordsman and general, was instructed to walk around a city in silence while God fought the battle for him… "and the walls came tumbling down!" (Sorry, I just felt like singing for a second!)


And last week He showed me 2 Chronicles 20, when Jehoshaphat and the kingdom of Judah was surrounded by Moab and Ammon and greatly outnumbered. The Lord prophesied through Jahaziel and said, "Do not fear or be dismayed because of this great multitude, for the battle is not yours but God's…. You will not fight in this battle; station yourselves, stand and see the salvation of the LORD on your behalf.  Do not fear or be dismayed; tomorrow go out and face them, for the LORD is with you." (verses 15, 17)


He keeps telling me, over and over, that He will fight this battle for me. And I have to believe Him. He has never failed me. He has kept me from getting jobs in places I had no business going. He has kept houses from selling at the wrong time. He has literally picked me up from one job and put me down in another. When it was time for my house to sell, He sold it in five days. He has kept me, comforted me, and provided for me all my life… why on earth would He stop now? I just have to remember to keep walking, to keep going, to watch and see and allow Him to fight my battle for me.

Jesca's Joy

Jesca, like most Africans, has more than her share of financial problems.  Her husband, Michael, has worked two different jobs in the past 6 months that never paid him.  Jesca is paid well, but it's barely enough to meet their ongoing needs.  And last month, after receiving her salary for February, she had to use most of it to pay for school fees for her younger brother.  She had no money left to buy food; the sweet potatoes from her garden have been harvested, so that's all she has at home to eat for the next few weeks.

Last week Jesca asked me to pray for her financial needs.  She didn't ask for a salary advance, and she didn't ask for me to help her.  She just asked me to pray.  So I did.  I asked God to show Himself as her Provider, to meet her needs in a way that only He can, whether by having her other crops mature early, by sending someone to repay a loan, or by giving them an unexpected financial gift.  I was so encouraged that Jesca was beginning to trust God to provide for her needs, not me or my roommates.

When Jesca arrived at our house the next morning, she was grinning from ear to ear.  I just knew that God had moved in an amazing way, and I couldn't wait to hear about it… so I asked her.  "Why are you smiling so," I questioned.  "What has happened?"

She just laughed.  "Nothing happened," she said.  "I may have problems, but God is with me.  How can I not smile?" she reasoned.

In a few short weeks, Jesca has learned the secret to true joy.  She knows tat it's not about her circumstances, but the One who is walking with her through it all.  And I am reminded that I need to learn a few lessons from her.

Out of the most severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity.  (2 Corinthians 8:2)

Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again: Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all.  The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.  (Philippians 4:4)