The school term begins this week in Uganda. Which means that school fees are being paid en masse at banks across this land.
I have been paying fees for awhile now. Start early. That’s the secret.
Unfortunately, “early” is not an easy thing for me.
So, it was with firm resolve that I walked up the stairs of the bank last Thursday at 11AM.
Yep. Almost midday. The line was all the way to the door.
Resigned to my fate, I joined the queue.
A queue full of two faces: The Stare and The Gawk.
I have mastered The Stare. The trick is finding nothing to look at. No person. No one thing for a very long time. Just an indifferent sort of gaze.
Most of my fellow queue-ers were already well into The Stare mode when I entered. I broke their reverie with my arrival.
The long line, to a person, broke wholeheartedly into The Gawk. This is enabled by my very white face.
I pretend not to notice. But The Gawk actually seems to burn holes in my back.
I ignore The Gawk and with a deep breath I enable my own Stare hoping that the effort will somehow, magically make me blend in.
Everyone’s attention is drawn away from my pale skin by the first cutter.
She is smooth. She walks past all of us with her heavy bag and stack of papers. She, in mastery of The Confident Gait, takes her place well in front of me.
I am silently annoyed. But I say nothing. Everyone's attention was just drawn AWAY from me. I did not want to call that attention back. Several of my Queue-mates raise their eyebrows and snicker. It seems they are almost thankful for the break in the endless staring. Her misdeed is a sort of distraction. (telling) We all quickly settle back into The Stare.
Two more self serving individuals place themselves conveniently at the front part of the line.
I decide, that the next time I will speak up.
And in walks E. The sweetest older woman you’ve ever met. I have only had two opportunities to speak with her through the years, but she is deeply respected and valued in this community.
I felt my Stare morph into Gawk as sweet little E greeted her way to the front of the line.
I imagined myself calling sweet E out. And I shuddered a little bit.
With a sigh, I kept my mouth closed.
The woman with the crippled leg grabbed my attention next. She limped her way to the front of the line and no one complained. I momentarily felt proud of the compassion and patience we were all exhibiting on her behalf. Of course SHE can go to the front of the line.
She approached the teller. Finished her transaction and then left.
A few minutes later she was back. With another transaction.
And again.
And again.
Seems she had a bit of a hustle going on. ☺
Meanwhile, I barely moved for another half hour.
All of a sudden (I must have dozed), I was near the front of the line. There were two in front of me.
Only.
And then.
The Nun.
She jumped in front of the first gentlemen. He was caught off guard, lost The Stare and looked annoyed for a quarter of a second. Then was jolted back into reality by the fact that she was A Nun.
She sidled up to the teller and pulled out a huge stack of papers.
Gracious me.
I think she was paying school fees for the entire tribe.
More unfortunate than her stack of papers, was the teller she chose. In over an hour of waiting time, I had carefully observed the tellers. There were four at work. One was for business customers only. Three were for the rest of us. Two of the tellers I had begun to think of as MH1 and MH2 (“MH” stands for molasses hands). The teller at the first window would be our savior. He worked quickly, relatively speaking. And I loved him.
UNTIL…and in the third world there is ALWAYS something else…
Mr Bank Employee in is stylin’ tweed jacket comes to complain to the tellers about the line. After talking their ears off for several minutes, which only served to slow them down, (have mercy!) he came out to address the crowd.
He said something like, “This line is too long!”
Thank you. I will now refer to you as Einstein.
So Einstein begins to peruse everyone’s deposit slips. In some seemingly arbitrary way, he pulls people from the line BEHIND me and puts them in a direct line for teller #1. The savior. Which, in effect, made him lost to me forever.
Now, thanks to the brilliant categorizing of Einstein, I am stuck behind Pushy Nun and my entire day rests in Hands Made of Molasses.
At this point, I began to huff. I couldn’t help it.
It did no good.
Twenty five minutes later, I dragged my weary bones to the teller window and handed her my papers.
She languidly went through the motions. I held my breath lest she decide it was tea time and leave me standing there. But, with a million slamming slaps of her official stamps, she finally completed my transaction.
Painful. Long. And able to reduce my maturity level to that of a 1st grader.
“Cutter, cutter, peanut butter!”
Next time I’m going with that!
Showing posts with label Life in Uganda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life in Uganda. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Via Satellite and Miracles from God
For many months the Cash Africa home has been enshrouded with the heavy cloak of internet silence. No World Wide Web. Ever. Oddly, a receipt paying for monthly service rests in the stack of paid bills. But no service for the payment. The Cash clan grew weary of that irony and Mr Cash set his sights to solve the problem. Satellite services were located. Negotiations began. Loads of equipment must be secured and monthly fees must be understood and written down and budgeted. Months of work followed and finally on a glorious day in January, a satellite dish was purchased with brackets and bolts and two very sensitive pieces we are to transport in a car with four children and luggage and NOT BREAK. An internet technician (hereafter referred to as Internet Guy) would be sent from Kampala to set up the service. We bought the satellite, but understood that as with all things technological in the Third World, we needed a miracle.
The day began peacefully. A Saturday. No school. Just housework. Visitors were on the way and it was my desire to have our home warm and inviting. And clean.
I was in my pajamas and heating water for coffee. And the phone rang.
It was Jeff. He was informing me that Internet Guy was at our gate. Now.
And Jeff was not even in town.
Which leaves me. And the Internet Guy. To set up and configure a satellite dish.
I hadn't even had my coffee.
I smiled warmly and welcomed Internet Guy into the compound. I began to point out the dish and its brackets and such.
He and I both realized with alarm, that a piece was missing.
A Very Important Piece.
At least from Internet Guy's perspective.
He began to shout at someone on the phone. And I, having lived in a third world country for awhile, realized that if Internet Guy felt fine about shouting at another man on the phone...
The female in front of him has no chance.
He began to say how disappointed he was. How IMPOSSIBLE it was to begin now, without Very Important Piece. "IMPOSSIBLE!" he told me, over and over again.
I encouraged and troubleshot. I offered a soda and lunch. Internet Guy--from Kampala---must be encouraged to stay.
He spent about one hour, yelling and fussing at someone on the phone. He huffed and marched around our house.
I prayed.
Every once and awhile, he would turn his (ahem) attitude my way. I was a dumb, crazy woman and what in the world did I know about satellites and who was I to tell him he could begin on the process without Very Important Piece. His time was wasted, WASTED he told me. He huffed and puffed and I said, "I think you can! I think you can!"
After some time, the tirade outside seemed to calm. I peeked from my hiding place inside and noticed Internet Guy pulling his tools to the back of the house. I stayed out of the line of fire until he asked for me. He, with many sighs and grimaces, was going to begin the IMPOSSIBLE process.
He wanted to hang the satellite in the worst place ever.
Just outside the back door. Where the children play and people walk and we live.
I knew, my directives would not be well received. So I played the husband card.
"Please don't hang the satellite dish, here, Internet Guy. I need to ask my husband first."
As I'm dialing Jeff's number, I hear drilling.
I rush outside to find TWO LARGE HOLES in the wall of our house.
I stare incredulously. He looks at me as if he is interested to see if my head will explode. I'm pretty sure it might.
Jeff answers and gives me two more locations for Internet Guy to consider.
Internet Guy shoots both ideas down quicker than you can drill holes in my wall.
Internet Guy says placing the satellite anywhere else would be IMPOSSIBLE.
Terrific.
I still haven't had my coffee.
Jeff hears the tone of my voice.
He also heard me when I said, "THIS IS TOO HARD! Please get here and do this!!!"
I was only screaming the first part.
Jeff inferred how badly he was needed and assured me he was on the way. With Very Important Piece.
Internet Guy keeps drilling.
Remarkably, he succeeds with hanging the satellite. Overcoming the impossible.
He then transfers his work station into the house. He sits for two hours at Jeff's desk. He attaches wires, types on his laptop and makes a million phone calls. When I eavesdropped it sounded like he was asking someone about lunch plans.
He asked for ladders and bolts and wire...and with the amazing resiliency of a woman who has had her coffee (finally)...I delivered the needed items.
And we waited.
Internet Guy eventually left for lunch. He said to call him when Jeff arrived with Very Important Piece. I was encouraged that he left his laptop on the desk.
Jeff arrived (with roses for me!) and he and a much happier Internet Guy succeed in configuring the dish and getting the signal.
Then Internet Guy leaves. We still don't have internet. Apparently there is yet another step that must be completed in Kampala. Any other way was....impossible.
Monday comes and goes with a phone call from Internet Guy informing Jeff of a technical difficulty preventing our receiving the internet.
Funny. We ALREADY HAD technical difficulties with our old system.
But with a huge satellite dish dangling from our back door (almost) we set ourselves to wait.
Because we don't get to do that very often in the Third World anyway.
On Wednesday, just after Jeff left the house for the day, he called me and with apology in his voice asked if I would be willing to talk to Internet Guy on the phone to get our computers online. (Jeff had already spent one hour on the phone in the early morning with IG trying to get things going.)
Terrific. Me again. As the phone rang I wondered if I had anything in the house stronger than coffee. You know. Like Dark Chocolate M&M's.
I answered the phone, sat down at Jeff's desk and began to try to decipher the Ugandan accent of Internet Guy over the phone while coding our computer.
Good times, my friends. Good times.
It took a mere one hour.
One hour of:
IG "please find the command screen."
me silence
IG "do you know what the command screen is"
me silence
(me pushing buttons and praying hard)
me "found it!"
IG "now hit 'ping' and a million numbers.
me "bing?"
IG "ping"
me "ding?"
IG "ping"
me "ting?"
IG "P I N G"
Only after about 10 rounds of this did IG think to say "P as in Paul". Which moved things along considerably.
Then we had to do the wire dance. "Unplug the yellow wire from here and re plug it there. Is it plugged? What does the screen say? Now unplug the yellow wire again and switch with the black wire. Unplug the black wire while holding the yellow wire but not touching your feet to the floor." Just kidding on that last part, but you get the idea. Complicated and difficult.
And then...
When I thought I was going to lose it in such a way that roses, coffee or dark chocolate M&Ms could never fix...
The Yahoo page popped up.
POPPED UP. It wasn't there. The wires were criss-crossed and I was pinging and then...
IT WAS THERE!!!!
Joy, my beloved. PURE JOY.
My tears were real. And flowed freely.
Two mornings later, while drinking coffee and making biscuits I had a chat VIA SATELLITE with my Dad in far off Texas. I explained to Silas the technology we were using. "The message I am typing here in our Africa home bounces off that satellite you keep bumping your head on, into OUTERSPACE then bounces back down to America, to Texas, to Nana and Papa's house."
Silas exclaimed with BIG wide eyes, "It's like a MIRACLE!!"
Yes my dear. EXACTLY!
The day began peacefully. A Saturday. No school. Just housework. Visitors were on the way and it was my desire to have our home warm and inviting. And clean.
I was in my pajamas and heating water for coffee. And the phone rang.
It was Jeff. He was informing me that Internet Guy was at our gate. Now.
And Jeff was not even in town.
Which leaves me. And the Internet Guy. To set up and configure a satellite dish.
I hadn't even had my coffee.
I smiled warmly and welcomed Internet Guy into the compound. I began to point out the dish and its brackets and such.
He and I both realized with alarm, that a piece was missing.
A Very Important Piece.
At least from Internet Guy's perspective.
He began to shout at someone on the phone. And I, having lived in a third world country for awhile, realized that if Internet Guy felt fine about shouting at another man on the phone...
The female in front of him has no chance.
He began to say how disappointed he was. How IMPOSSIBLE it was to begin now, without Very Important Piece. "IMPOSSIBLE!" he told me, over and over again.
I encouraged and troubleshot. I offered a soda and lunch. Internet Guy--from Kampala---must be encouraged to stay.
He spent about one hour, yelling and fussing at someone on the phone. He huffed and marched around our house.
I prayed.
Every once and awhile, he would turn his (ahem) attitude my way. I was a dumb, crazy woman and what in the world did I know about satellites and who was I to tell him he could begin on the process without Very Important Piece. His time was wasted, WASTED he told me. He huffed and puffed and I said, "I think you can! I think you can!"
After some time, the tirade outside seemed to calm. I peeked from my hiding place inside and noticed Internet Guy pulling his tools to the back of the house. I stayed out of the line of fire until he asked for me. He, with many sighs and grimaces, was going to begin the IMPOSSIBLE process.
He wanted to hang the satellite in the worst place ever.
Just outside the back door. Where the children play and people walk and we live.
I knew, my directives would not be well received. So I played the husband card.
"Please don't hang the satellite dish, here, Internet Guy. I need to ask my husband first."
As I'm dialing Jeff's number, I hear drilling.
I rush outside to find TWO LARGE HOLES in the wall of our house.
I stare incredulously. He looks at me as if he is interested to see if my head will explode. I'm pretty sure it might.
Jeff answers and gives me two more locations for Internet Guy to consider.
Internet Guy shoots both ideas down quicker than you can drill holes in my wall.
Internet Guy says placing the satellite anywhere else would be IMPOSSIBLE.
Terrific.
I still haven't had my coffee.
Jeff hears the tone of my voice.
He also heard me when I said, "THIS IS TOO HARD! Please get here and do this!!!"
I was only screaming the first part.
Jeff inferred how badly he was needed and assured me he was on the way. With Very Important Piece.
Internet Guy keeps drilling.
Remarkably, he succeeds with hanging the satellite. Overcoming the impossible.
He then transfers his work station into the house. He sits for two hours at Jeff's desk. He attaches wires, types on his laptop and makes a million phone calls. When I eavesdropped it sounded like he was asking someone about lunch plans.
He asked for ladders and bolts and wire...and with the amazing resiliency of a woman who has had her coffee (finally)...I delivered the needed items.
And we waited.
Internet Guy eventually left for lunch. He said to call him when Jeff arrived with Very Important Piece. I was encouraged that he left his laptop on the desk.
Jeff arrived (with roses for me!) and he and a much happier Internet Guy succeed in configuring the dish and getting the signal.
Then Internet Guy leaves. We still don't have internet. Apparently there is yet another step that must be completed in Kampala. Any other way was....impossible.
Monday comes and goes with a phone call from Internet Guy informing Jeff of a technical difficulty preventing our receiving the internet.
Funny. We ALREADY HAD technical difficulties with our old system.
But with a huge satellite dish dangling from our back door (almost) we set ourselves to wait.
Because we don't get to do that very often in the Third World anyway.
On Wednesday, just after Jeff left the house for the day, he called me and with apology in his voice asked if I would be willing to talk to Internet Guy on the phone to get our computers online. (Jeff had already spent one hour on the phone in the early morning with IG trying to get things going.)
Terrific. Me again. As the phone rang I wondered if I had anything in the house stronger than coffee. You know. Like Dark Chocolate M&M's.
I answered the phone, sat down at Jeff's desk and began to try to decipher the Ugandan accent of Internet Guy over the phone while coding our computer.
Good times, my friends. Good times.
It took a mere one hour.
One hour of:
IG "please find the command screen."
me silence
IG "do you know what the command screen is"
me silence
(me pushing buttons and praying hard)
me "found it!"
IG "now hit 'ping' and a million numbers.
me "bing?"
IG "ping"
me "ding?"
IG "ping"
me "ting?"
IG "P I N G"
Only after about 10 rounds of this did IG think to say "P as in Paul". Which moved things along considerably.
Then we had to do the wire dance. "Unplug the yellow wire from here and re plug it there. Is it plugged? What does the screen say? Now unplug the yellow wire again and switch with the black wire. Unplug the black wire while holding the yellow wire but not touching your feet to the floor." Just kidding on that last part, but you get the idea. Complicated and difficult.
And then...
When I thought I was going to lose it in such a way that roses, coffee or dark chocolate M&Ms could never fix...
The Yahoo page popped up.
POPPED UP. It wasn't there. The wires were criss-crossed and I was pinging and then...
IT WAS THERE!!!!
Joy, my beloved. PURE JOY.
My tears were real. And flowed freely.
Two mornings later, while drinking coffee and making biscuits I had a chat VIA SATELLITE with my Dad in far off Texas. I explained to Silas the technology we were using. "The message I am typing here in our Africa home bounces off that satellite you keep bumping your head on, into OUTERSPACE then bounces back down to America, to Texas, to Nana and Papa's house."
Silas exclaimed with BIG wide eyes, "It's like a MIRACLE!!"
Yes my dear. EXACTLY!
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
I Choose to See it Positively
I'm so thrilled to be able to post on this blog today. So thrilled. I love this blog. And I love writing stuff here. I also love and appreciate those of you who happen by and read.
"God has done great things for us and we are filled with joy!" Psalms 126:3
The following photos should get you up to speed on several blessings we've enjoyed over the last few months.
Jeff celebrated his 40th year!
And he received his Masters Degree with straight A's in every course!
We reunited with our teammates after our furlough and have worked at learning how to serve each other and the people here, together.
We began another year of homeschool with a 5th grader, 3rd grader, 1st grader and kindergartner all learning together!
We joyfully welcomed FAMILY for our Thanksgiving celebration. Robyn and Amy Crocker came to be with us for a few days! (Amy's Mom is Jeff's first cousin.) The Crockers are serving in Rwanda and made a very eventful trek to our place to hang out for the holiday. We enjoyed great food, warm fellowship and even watched some American football together!
We delighted in a Christmas season filled with lots of Christmas music, tree trimming, time with friends and of course, decorating (and eating) loads of sugar cookies!
We celebrated Alex's 9th year with chinese food and yummy cake!
We woke early on Christmas Day for the excitement of presents followed by a large gathering of our missionary community to celebrate together.
And that should about catch us up. January began with the sad news of Granddaddy's passing and my very quick travels to the States to participate in the funeral. I have arrived back safely to wait with our teammates for the arrival of their newest family member.
I miss you all when our internet is down, and I have grown weary of the heaviness that being cut off from the world brings. So, for today, I choose to see it positively. Not focussing on what I haven't been able to do...but only on what I am able to accomplish today.
Blessings, friends. I love every minute we have together!
"God has done great things for us and we are filled with joy!" Psalms 126:3
The following photos should get you up to speed on several blessings we've enjoyed over the last few months.
Jeff celebrated his 40th year!
And he received his Masters Degree with straight A's in every course!
We reunited with our teammates after our furlough and have worked at learning how to serve each other and the people here, together.
We began another year of homeschool with a 5th grader, 3rd grader, 1st grader and kindergartner all learning together!
We joyfully welcomed FAMILY for our Thanksgiving celebration. Robyn and Amy Crocker came to be with us for a few days! (Amy's Mom is Jeff's first cousin.) The Crockers are serving in Rwanda and made a very eventful trek to our place to hang out for the holiday. We enjoyed great food, warm fellowship and even watched some American football together!
We delighted in a Christmas season filled with lots of Christmas music, tree trimming, time with friends and of course, decorating (and eating) loads of sugar cookies!
We celebrated Alex's 9th year with chinese food and yummy cake!
We woke early on Christmas Day for the excitement of presents followed by a large gathering of our missionary community to celebrate together.
And that should about catch us up. January began with the sad news of Granddaddy's passing and my very quick travels to the States to participate in the funeral. I have arrived back safely to wait with our teammates for the arrival of their newest family member.
I miss you all when our internet is down, and I have grown weary of the heaviness that being cut off from the world brings. So, for today, I choose to see it positively. Not focussing on what I haven't been able to do...but only on what I am able to accomplish today.
Blessings, friends. I love every minute we have together!
Sunday, May 18, 2008
A Big Metal Box--Conclusion
It arrived.
After much angst, much waiting and many, many months,that big metal box finally rolled into our compound. I could hardly believe it.
A frantic afternoon, evening, night and early morning ensued. Just as we opened the doors, God opened His clouds. The rain poured and poured. But we couldn't stop. The truck driver wanted to go home and the box had to be emptied in order for him to do that. So we worked. And carried. And hauled.
And got very, very wet. The Martin's goods were to be kept in our car port which very quickly became The Muddy River of Destruction. Jeff rallied the troops and laid metal trusses on the ground to stack the Martin's treasures on. Our goods were hauled to our veranda and inside our living room. Kristin (visiting from Tyler) cooked food, pointed people to the bottled water and managed to keep a path cleared through our overflowing home. She also, very capably, held our dirty dishes at bay. No small feat my friends. No small feat.
I walked miles in and around our home as did every member of the Unloading Posse. Every box...every item...was rejoiced over and admired. Comfy furniture, camping gear, home organization items, a real American mattress...all bring pure joy! Even the drum set that somehow made it's home in the corner of my living room, was welcomed with much rejoicing! (Don't be surprised Jana dear, when Em receives Bagpipes for Christmas from Auntie Cheryl this year!:-)) Each box was like Christmas. My kitchen and pantry were filled to overflowing. MacnCheese, Dr Pepper, canned spaghetti sauce and pie fillings...
It was 2AM when the last crate came off the truck. A very tired team of men succeeded in emptying our big metal box. We would have high-fived if anyone had one ounce of energy left. :-)
There are no words to adequately thank all who worked to make this shipment a reality. Charles and Joan Colwell, who served us over and above. Jana, Kristin and Lori for shopping and buying so very well! For all our Glenwood family who gave so generously to purchase the church tent and chairs. Also our loved ones in Tyler who snuck on goodies and helped pack. For Andrew, Jeff and Ryan and their exhaustive efforts on both sides of the ocean. And finally for the team of guys (Brian, Bob, Peter, Jeff, Andrew, Derrick and co.) who unloaded and unloaded and unloaded that wet, rainy Saturday.
We love and thank you all.
May God use these tools to rejuvenate us, further His kingdom growth and bring honor to His Name.
Praise!!!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
A Big Metal Box--Part Two
About 5 years and an Airplane Saga later (Airplane Saga to be shared at a later date:-))another container became a reality for the Ft Portal mission.
Through a "Master-full" feat of endurance, my "never say die" hubby had a repaired airplane engine that had to be shipped. In the same months, the Martin family had made their commitment to serve in Ft Portal and needed to get their household items here.
The shipment took shape.
All the logistics are daunting for such a shipment. The cost of the container itself and the fees for moving it hither and yon are expensive, so it is inherent in every missionary heart that each tiny bit of space be used effectively. We are paying dearly for it...we should fill it well.
On our last furlough, we worked with the Martins on preliminary plans. We discussed companies and costs. We made lists and shared ideas. Then we began to budget.
We enlisted a wonderful couple to gather our items in Tyler, TX. Charlie and Joan offered their time, know how and storage space to help us with the container. We flew back to Uganda thankful for their willingness to help.
As the months drew near for the actual packing of the container, we began to discuss our being present for the daunting task. We felt that Jeff would be a blessing to completing the process, so we bought one ticket and sent Jeff back to the States.
He, Andrew and Andrew's cousin spent three sleepless days and nights shopping, filling, building, organizing and securing a world of physical blessings into one big metal box. As the box rolled down to the nearest sea port, the guys crashed hard, weary to the bone. Their efforts were successful and the box set sail for our foreign homes.
Within six weeks we received word that the box was on African soil. We all rejoiced, but Jeff and I set our minds to wait. We knew, now would be the hardest part.
The container moved somewhat smoothly through Mombasa clearing and customs. We received regular updates (which impressed us considerably) of the clearing process. By early November, the container had reached Kampala.
And then the real fun began. We were optimistically hopeful that we could get the box by Christmas. There were some treasures for the kiddos that would look lovely under the tree. So we hoped and set our hands to the task.
It is indescribable what took place next. Derrick and his uncle and Jeff began to go from office to office to office to office.... from desk to desk to desk...from person to person to person. We would be told The Process. We would set out to complete The Process. Upon reaching completion we would told that we must begin again. On another Process.
After several rounds of The Process Shuffle we were informed that we owed alot of money for taxes. Alot.
Gulp.
We've been living in this foreign land for awhile now and have well honed our reactions to such atrocious bits of news.
We simply inquired of The Next Process. The Process for People Who Cannot Afford Alot of Money for Taxes.
We were respectful. We were resolute. And we began to follow still more procedures.
Month after month passed. Reams of paper were filled with letters and rubber stamps, then carried from one official to another. Derrick basically moved to Kampala for awhile. And Jeff wisely navigated us all through a maze that could have very easily had no end. We had no idea, really, where the maze would take us. We just continued turning the corners, overcoming the obstacles and asking for direction.
In mid March, just a flow of visitors began to grace our home, we received word that we had, in fact, reached the end of the Process line.
The final papers were signed. We could bring the box home.
Through a "Master-full" feat of endurance, my "never say die" hubby had a repaired airplane engine that had to be shipped. In the same months, the Martin family had made their commitment to serve in Ft Portal and needed to get their household items here.
The shipment took shape.
All the logistics are daunting for such a shipment. The cost of the container itself and the fees for moving it hither and yon are expensive, so it is inherent in every missionary heart that each tiny bit of space be used effectively. We are paying dearly for it...we should fill it well.
On our last furlough, we worked with the Martins on preliminary plans. We discussed companies and costs. We made lists and shared ideas. Then we began to budget.
We enlisted a wonderful couple to gather our items in Tyler, TX. Charlie and Joan offered their time, know how and storage space to help us with the container. We flew back to Uganda thankful for their willingness to help.
As the months drew near for the actual packing of the container, we began to discuss our being present for the daunting task. We felt that Jeff would be a blessing to completing the process, so we bought one ticket and sent Jeff back to the States.
He, Andrew and Andrew's cousin spent three sleepless days and nights shopping, filling, building, organizing and securing a world of physical blessings into one big metal box. As the box rolled down to the nearest sea port, the guys crashed hard, weary to the bone. Their efforts were successful and the box set sail for our foreign homes.
Within six weeks we received word that the box was on African soil. We all rejoiced, but Jeff and I set our minds to wait. We knew, now would be the hardest part.
The container moved somewhat smoothly through Mombasa clearing and customs. We received regular updates (which impressed us considerably) of the clearing process. By early November, the container had reached Kampala.
And then the real fun began. We were optimistically hopeful that we could get the box by Christmas. There were some treasures for the kiddos that would look lovely under the tree. So we hoped and set our hands to the task.
It is indescribable what took place next. Derrick and his uncle and Jeff began to go from office to office to office to office.... from desk to desk to desk...from person to person to person. We would be told The Process. We would set out to complete The Process. Upon reaching completion we would told that we must begin again. On another Process.
After several rounds of The Process Shuffle we were informed that we owed alot of money for taxes. Alot.
Gulp.
We've been living in this foreign land for awhile now and have well honed our reactions to such atrocious bits of news.
We simply inquired of The Next Process. The Process for People Who Cannot Afford Alot of Money for Taxes.
We were respectful. We were resolute. And we began to follow still more procedures.
Month after month passed. Reams of paper were filled with letters and rubber stamps, then carried from one official to another. Derrick basically moved to Kampala for awhile. And Jeff wisely navigated us all through a maze that could have very easily had no end. We had no idea, really, where the maze would take us. We just continued turning the corners, overcoming the obstacles and asking for direction.
In mid March, just a flow of visitors began to grace our home, we received word that we had, in fact, reached the end of the Process line.
The final papers were signed. We could bring the box home.
Friday, May 16, 2008
A Big Metal Box--Part One
When we first moved to Uganda, most living supplies were not easily available in this land locked country. In the capital city (about 7 hours drive from us at the time) we shopped at two smallish "supermarkets" that carried Kenya made items and we bought our meat from one of two nice butchers in the capital city. Here in our own town, meat could be purchased live and butchered yourself or bought in the fly-infested meat markets of our local shops.
Larger items like refrigerators, stoves, living room chairs, beds, dressers...all were either not available, very used and broken or super expensive.
We were advised, as we planned to move our life across the ocean, to purchase some goods and send them on a sea container. A sea container is virtually a big metal box. It is filled at your home in America, trucked to the nearest sea port and then shipped to Mombasa, Kenya. Where it is then loaded on a truck or a train and brought across Kenya and Uganda into Kampala where it is stored.
In Kampala, you must clear the container with 500,000 different people. (oh, I kid) After the final person signs the final document, you can load the box back onto a truck and have it driven to your home for unloading.
In 1995, we shared a 20 ft container with another family. We had 10 ft of space. We brought our wedding gifts, a propane stove, a propane refrigerator, and a propane chest freezer. We also brought a couch, loveseat and an old recliner that was my Grandpa's. Jeff had two motorcycles and my sweet Granddaddy had fixed us up with every lawn and small engine article available to man (chainsaw, weedeater, lawnmower, tiller, generator).
We did not receive our container on this side until 9 months after our arrival. Nine months of sleeping on the floor, sitting on the floor and struggling through meal prep from scratch with only two burners to work with.
Our landlord loaned us an electric refrigerator for those nine months, but after our first trip to the capital to stock up on meat, we returned home to 5 days of absolutely NO POWER...which translated to $50 of precious meat, spoiled and ruined.
Jeff and I became vegetarians at that time. Not by choice really. Just by necessity. We ate alot of soups. And we longed for fajitas from home. As we enjoyed our vegetable soup, Jeff and I would talk about American food. For hours. Then we would cry. (Or I would cry. Jeff would just look sad and hungry. :-))
We made it, though. And when that shipment arrived we rejoiced. Jeff and his Dad (who was visiting us at the time) drove across Uganda twice with loads of our treasures. We began the agonizing work of setting everything up. Propane tanks had to be secured and fittings reworked with no stocked hardware store to help out.
Over the years of adjusting, settling in and having a family we were blessed by the items from that first shipment. We did need to purchase locally made items, as well as using what we brought from the States. We purchased beds with foam mattresses and had shelves and dressers made by carpenters in the area. The shelves and cabinets proved to be difficult endeavors. Wet wood became our nemesis, warping furniture beyond recognition. We borrowed some furniture items for our babies and scoured the Sale Lists posted in Kampala by departing expats for other items we needed.
Every missionary or expatriot that would move back to the their homeland would put out a sale list. Such sale lists were gold. From the departing missionaries one could score American bath mats, transformers, baby furniture, TVs and other treasures. Granted, the items would be well used and worn...but gold, nonetheless.
Always, in the back of our mind, a "if we had access to a container" list grew.
When the Lord led us to Glenwood church of Christ this mental wish list had grown long. In one of our first meetings with Glenwood's mission committee, they asked about helping us with a container. The idea was suggested that they buy the container, park it in their parking lot and fill it over a period of time. A list of desired goods was requested of us. We were stunned. We eventually did make a list and continued to dream of another shipment.
Larger items like refrigerators, stoves, living room chairs, beds, dressers...all were either not available, very used and broken or super expensive.
We were advised, as we planned to move our life across the ocean, to purchase some goods and send them on a sea container. A sea container is virtually a big metal box. It is filled at your home in America, trucked to the nearest sea port and then shipped to Mombasa, Kenya. Where it is then loaded on a truck or a train and brought across Kenya and Uganda into Kampala where it is stored.
In Kampala, you must clear the container with 500,000 different people. (oh, I kid) After the final person signs the final document, you can load the box back onto a truck and have it driven to your home for unloading.
In 1995, we shared a 20 ft container with another family. We had 10 ft of space. We brought our wedding gifts, a propane stove, a propane refrigerator, and a propane chest freezer. We also brought a couch, loveseat and an old recliner that was my Grandpa's. Jeff had two motorcycles and my sweet Granddaddy had fixed us up with every lawn and small engine article available to man (chainsaw, weedeater, lawnmower, tiller, generator).
We did not receive our container on this side until 9 months after our arrival. Nine months of sleeping on the floor, sitting on the floor and struggling through meal prep from scratch with only two burners to work with.
Our landlord loaned us an electric refrigerator for those nine months, but after our first trip to the capital to stock up on meat, we returned home to 5 days of absolutely NO POWER...which translated to $50 of precious meat, spoiled and ruined.
Jeff and I became vegetarians at that time. Not by choice really. Just by necessity. We ate alot of soups. And we longed for fajitas from home. As we enjoyed our vegetable soup, Jeff and I would talk about American food. For hours. Then we would cry. (Or I would cry. Jeff would just look sad and hungry. :-))
We made it, though. And when that shipment arrived we rejoiced. Jeff and his Dad (who was visiting us at the time) drove across Uganda twice with loads of our treasures. We began the agonizing work of setting everything up. Propane tanks had to be secured and fittings reworked with no stocked hardware store to help out.
Over the years of adjusting, settling in and having a family we were blessed by the items from that first shipment. We did need to purchase locally made items, as well as using what we brought from the States. We purchased beds with foam mattresses and had shelves and dressers made by carpenters in the area. The shelves and cabinets proved to be difficult endeavors. Wet wood became our nemesis, warping furniture beyond recognition. We borrowed some furniture items for our babies and scoured the Sale Lists posted in Kampala by departing expats for other items we needed.
Every missionary or expatriot that would move back to the their homeland would put out a sale list. Such sale lists were gold. From the departing missionaries one could score American bath mats, transformers, baby furniture, TVs and other treasures. Granted, the items would be well used and worn...but gold, nonetheless.
Always, in the back of our mind, a "if we had access to a container" list grew.
When the Lord led us to Glenwood church of Christ this mental wish list had grown long. In one of our first meetings with Glenwood's mission committee, they asked about helping us with a container. The idea was suggested that they buy the container, park it in their parking lot and fill it over a period of time. A list of desired goods was requested of us. We were stunned. We eventually did make a list and continued to dream of another shipment.
Monday, December 10, 2007
At the Same Time
Incongruity. “Not in harmony or keeping with the surroundings or other aspects of something. “
The past week seems full of that word.
Jeff and I began the week with a much anticipated over night trip without our kiddos to a nearby game park. The trip was a wonderful blessing. We did rest and were blessed by delightful meals alone, completed conversations and even some blissful silence. Our time was marvelous.
We arrived back home to Warden duties. (Jeff acts as the Warden for the US Embassy, which means he facilitates communication to the Americans living around Uganda.) At the same time as we were resting as a couple, much Ebola information was circulating and perculating. When we reached home, Jeff called a meeting of the ex-pats in Ft Portal to verify facts and allow for discussion and questions.
The meeting filled our living room. Jeff shared information given to us by the head of the CDC in Uganda. There seemed to be relief in receiving credible information. At the same time we are all coping with the unsettling feelings brought on by discussion of the sickness.
We provided Christmas cookies and drinks during the meeting. Most of those gathered do not meet on a regular basis. There was an odd inconsistency of festive gathering with people of like culture amidst the intensity brought on by the concerns of a serious disease.
The next morning, after several days of upheaval in the scheduling, the children and I finally set our hands and minds to school. We tackled the study of France, division, multiplication, the letter “C” , the physiology of cows and an overview of some endangered species. Isaac started reading sentences and Kinley and Alex wrote wonderful two-point paragraphs. Interspersed in the schooling, I rearranged and cleaned the guest room, worked on Christmas gifts for stateside family and moved the stack of Christmas card supplies from table to desk to kitchen counter...
School was completed. The guestroom is not. Gifts are completed. Cards are not.
The joy of a task marked off the list, accompanied by sighs over the items still remaining on the list.
There is great joy in our home with Christmas décor and lights. At the same time, there is a somber cloud pervading our thoughts as our friends in Bundibugyo battle against a terrible disease and our Ugandan friends struggle through fear and feelings of panic.
We rejoiced over the new life growing inside of a dear friend. (It’s a girl!!!) At the same time, we’ve shared in the grief of the passing of a doctor and hero (Dr. Jonah in Bundibugyo).
We’ve empathized with the intense and painful experience of the last weeks for Andrew, Aimee Jo and their families and friends as they’ve said goodbye and packed up to move their lives across an ocean.
At the same time, we’ve counted the days with joyful anticipation to welcome them here.
Incongruity. Contradictions.
Life.
So many things happening at exactly the same time…
The past week seems full of that word.
Jeff and I began the week with a much anticipated over night trip without our kiddos to a nearby game park. The trip was a wonderful blessing. We did rest and were blessed by delightful meals alone, completed conversations and even some blissful silence. Our time was marvelous.
We arrived back home to Warden duties. (Jeff acts as the Warden for the US Embassy, which means he facilitates communication to the Americans living around Uganda.) At the same time as we were resting as a couple, much Ebola information was circulating and perculating. When we reached home, Jeff called a meeting of the ex-pats in Ft Portal to verify facts and allow for discussion and questions.
The meeting filled our living room. Jeff shared information given to us by the head of the CDC in Uganda. There seemed to be relief in receiving credible information. At the same time we are all coping with the unsettling feelings brought on by discussion of the sickness.
We provided Christmas cookies and drinks during the meeting. Most of those gathered do not meet on a regular basis. There was an odd inconsistency of festive gathering with people of like culture amidst the intensity brought on by the concerns of a serious disease.
The next morning, after several days of upheaval in the scheduling, the children and I finally set our hands and minds to school. We tackled the study of France, division, multiplication, the letter “C” , the physiology of cows and an overview of some endangered species. Isaac started reading sentences and Kinley and Alex wrote wonderful two-point paragraphs. Interspersed in the schooling, I rearranged and cleaned the guest room, worked on Christmas gifts for stateside family and moved the stack of Christmas card supplies from table to desk to kitchen counter...
School was completed. The guestroom is not. Gifts are completed. Cards are not.
The joy of a task marked off the list, accompanied by sighs over the items still remaining on the list.
There is great joy in our home with Christmas décor and lights. At the same time, there is a somber cloud pervading our thoughts as our friends in Bundibugyo battle against a terrible disease and our Ugandan friends struggle through fear and feelings of panic.
We rejoiced over the new life growing inside of a dear friend. (It’s a girl!!!) At the same time, we’ve shared in the grief of the passing of a doctor and hero (Dr. Jonah in Bundibugyo).
We’ve empathized with the intense and painful experience of the last weeks for Andrew, Aimee Jo and their families and friends as they’ve said goodbye and packed up to move their lives across an ocean.
At the same time, we’ve counted the days with joyful anticipation to welcome them here.
Incongruity. Contradictions.
Life.
So many things happening at exactly the same time…
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Prayer Cover
Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him. James 1: 12
To choose to serve is not the easy route. There are no promises of ease. Or even visible results. In times of testing the promise of our unseen eternity can become our anchor.
Over the mountains from us is a district called Bundibugyo. Some fellow sojourners on this soil are the World Harvest Mission Team. They have served in Western Uganda since the 80’s. They began in Ft Portal and then migrated west, to Bundibugyo.
We have known and respected the team members for all our years in Uganda.
Through the rebel crisis of 1998-2000 we leaned on each other. We prayed for each other. And we commiserated and learned from each other during that very strenuous time.
Several days ago, we received difficult news from over the mountains. A mysterious sickness originating in a village outside of Bundibugyo town, was confirmed to be Ebola.
The World Harvest Team was faced with many difficult decisions. The Team Leader and his wife are physicians. They have many years of experience in Bundibugyo and with tropical medicine and illnesses. They had been helping with the mysterious disease and now find they have been in contact with Ebola.
In a painful few days, it was decided to evacuate their team from the area, including their children.
As of yesterday, all the team is out of Bundi except for the Scott and Jennifer Myhre and a visiting doctor, Scott Will.
Tonight, we received more difficult news. Dr. Jonah, the Myhre’s coworker and very close friend, has died from the Ebola virus. He had fallen ill in Kampala, (he was in Kampala on personal business) put himself into the isolation unit of Mulago hospital and we all began to pray for his healing. The reports were encouraging…he was still eating and drinking. But it was confirmed tonight that he has passed away.
I am asking you to pray for Scott Will, the Myhres and their children. Scott and the Myhres have taken precautions, wearing protective gear as they have treated this sickness, but they are at risk. The death of Dr Jonah, no doubt, increases the fear for them and their children. They have been drained already from a very trying and exhausting situation. The grief will add a crushing weight to their shoulders.
Also, please pray for the entire World Harvest Team as they are facing an indefinite evacuation from their homes during the Christmas season. Now also coupled with the news of the loss of a dear friend. Include in your prayers our friends, the Chedesters, who serve with the World Harvest Team from Ft Portal.
Finally, please pray for healing and containment of this very serious illness.
Your prayer support for our family overwhelms us. Thank you for spreading that prayer cover over our friends who we deeply respect and are honored to serve with here.
For daily updates please visit the Myhre's blog at www.paradoxuganda.blogspot.com.
Thank you for praying.
Elijah was a man just like us. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years. Again he prayed, and the heavens gave rain, and the earth produced its crops. James 5:17-18
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
We've Come a Long Way
Cell phones in Africa still amaze me.
When we first moved to Ft Portal acquiring a land line phone was of top priority. Jeff had been going on about this new thing called “e-mail” and I for one, thought it would never go anywhere. Especially anywhere in East Africa. But Jeff had high hopes for it and knew the first thing we needed was a land line.
Phone wires and electric wires were delicately draped through trees, tied in knots around poles and, in many other ways, creatively strung all around our town.
But, there were a limited number of phone wires available. We applied for one of the wires and after several months of waiting were given one.
Jeff was with the phone technicians as they ran the wire directly from the phone office to our house. We celebrated victoriously when the dial tone could be heard.
We passed around our phone number and rejoiced in our new accessibility.
Expressed joy…that was only short lived.
Dialing was a test of patience. We had one other friend with a phone line and to call them might require an hour long dial-fest. Driving to their house took less time.
Calling internationally was impossible. First, each call cost a mere $8 per minute (ouch!). Second, dialing and redialing yielded little fruit. Many times, the call just would not go through.
When our families would call us we expected to be cut off numerous times. I would make a list of important points to share and then rattle them off quickly before we would get cut off.
Then came the phone line “issues”. Many times there was a fault in the line. We would call the phone company and they would send the trusty technician carrying…hedge trimmers. We watched in shock as the technician began to cut our line in pieces. His plan…cut and test the line to see where the fault existed.
We lost three phone receivers due to lightning. One of the strikes came through the phone and lit up the hallway. Thankfully we were not on the phone or in the hallway at the time.
Then there was the stealing. Jeff went to investigate the line for himself after a rather long period of phone deprivation…only to discover the entire line was missing. When he reported this to the phone company they only replied that people sometimes steal the wire and that we should just wait until they could secure more wire.
Sigh. Those were the days.
All of a sudden…and I don’t mean that as an exaggeration…
Cell phones. Jeff bought one quickly when they became available and we were shocked at its reliability and function. Eventually, our cell phones connected us to more reliable email services, better communication with our parents and friends overseas and to each other.
For years, when Jeff would head off to the village, I would watch him go, knowing there would be no way to contact me if he was delayed or held up for any reason. As more and more cell phone towers went up around the country, Jeff was able to make contact with me even from remote areas.
We still live in the third world... Which means that unpredictability and dysfunction creep in...always. The cell phone lines are now very over used and the connections can sometimes be the pits.
But the fact that a little piece of machinery with NO WIRES attached to it can somehow link us to people all the way around the world…astounds me.
Over the last few months, as we struggled through rough times, that precious cell phone was a life line.
Jeff and I would squeeze close with our ears pressed against the phone as dear friends and fellow warriors prayed over us and spoke His words of comfort, exhortation and peace over our heads.
One such call was from our Glenwood support team. It was a conference call full of debriefing and sharing…then a prayer.
Our entire family stood in a huddle in our kitchen. Jeff’s cell phone opened in the middle of our circle. One precious voice after another spoke to our Father on our behalf. With each voice we heard, Jeff and I would mouth to the children the name of the person speaking.
“Bill, Dewayne, Cynthia, Charles, Joan, Lori, Kyle, Jana, Jack, Tootsie, Scott…”
Big smiles would follow and nods…
The prayers spoke over many miles overwhelmed our spirits with strength, mercy and hope.
The gentle, peaceful tears flowed from my eyes for awhile after we had ended the call.
We needed what those prayers provided. Available to us, through the miracle of a cell phone.
We have come a long way, in these twelve years…
And I’m not just talking about the phones….
When we first moved to Ft Portal acquiring a land line phone was of top priority. Jeff had been going on about this new thing called “e-mail” and I for one, thought it would never go anywhere. Especially anywhere in East Africa. But Jeff had high hopes for it and knew the first thing we needed was a land line.
Phone wires and electric wires were delicately draped through trees, tied in knots around poles and, in many other ways, creatively strung all around our town.
But, there were a limited number of phone wires available. We applied for one of the wires and after several months of waiting were given one.
Jeff was with the phone technicians as they ran the wire directly from the phone office to our house. We celebrated victoriously when the dial tone could be heard.
We passed around our phone number and rejoiced in our new accessibility.
Expressed joy…that was only short lived.
Dialing was a test of patience. We had one other friend with a phone line and to call them might require an hour long dial-fest. Driving to their house took less time.
Calling internationally was impossible. First, each call cost a mere $8 per minute (ouch!). Second, dialing and redialing yielded little fruit. Many times, the call just would not go through.
When our families would call us we expected to be cut off numerous times. I would make a list of important points to share and then rattle them off quickly before we would get cut off.
Then came the phone line “issues”. Many times there was a fault in the line. We would call the phone company and they would send the trusty technician carrying…hedge trimmers. We watched in shock as the technician began to cut our line in pieces. His plan…cut and test the line to see where the fault existed.
We lost three phone receivers due to lightning. One of the strikes came through the phone and lit up the hallway. Thankfully we were not on the phone or in the hallway at the time.
Then there was the stealing. Jeff went to investigate the line for himself after a rather long period of phone deprivation…only to discover the entire line was missing. When he reported this to the phone company they only replied that people sometimes steal the wire and that we should just wait until they could secure more wire.
Sigh. Those were the days.
All of a sudden…and I don’t mean that as an exaggeration…
Cell phones. Jeff bought one quickly when they became available and we were shocked at its reliability and function. Eventually, our cell phones connected us to more reliable email services, better communication with our parents and friends overseas and to each other.
For years, when Jeff would head off to the village, I would watch him go, knowing there would be no way to contact me if he was delayed or held up for any reason. As more and more cell phone towers went up around the country, Jeff was able to make contact with me even from remote areas.
We still live in the third world... Which means that unpredictability and dysfunction creep in...always. The cell phone lines are now very over used and the connections can sometimes be the pits.
But the fact that a little piece of machinery with NO WIRES attached to it can somehow link us to people all the way around the world…astounds me.
Over the last few months, as we struggled through rough times, that precious cell phone was a life line.
Jeff and I would squeeze close with our ears pressed against the phone as dear friends and fellow warriors prayed over us and spoke His words of comfort, exhortation and peace over our heads.
One such call was from our Glenwood support team. It was a conference call full of debriefing and sharing…then a prayer.
Our entire family stood in a huddle in our kitchen. Jeff’s cell phone opened in the middle of our circle. One precious voice after another spoke to our Father on our behalf. With each voice we heard, Jeff and I would mouth to the children the name of the person speaking.
“Bill, Dewayne, Cynthia, Charles, Joan, Lori, Kyle, Jana, Jack, Tootsie, Scott…”
Big smiles would follow and nods…
The prayers spoke over many miles overwhelmed our spirits with strength, mercy and hope.
The gentle, peaceful tears flowed from my eyes for awhile after we had ended the call.
We needed what those prayers provided. Available to us, through the miracle of a cell phone.
We have come a long way, in these twelve years…
And I’m not just talking about the phones….
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Glory!
It is with great joy and celebration that I announce to you dear blog friends...
"I have completed my family's laundry in my working washer and dryer."
If you are curious as to why this is news...see the previous post.
I don't know what happened, but I'm pretty sure about Who...
We did nothing but pray. Jeff had worked and reset to absolutely no avail when we discovered the problem over a week ago. The machines would not operate. And there was a burning smell...which is never good.
When we got back I waited before facing what I thought was the inevitable. I tried the dryer first...then the washer...and now about 8 loads later...the gentle whir and tumble of my beloved friends fills my heart with praise.
Doing laundry never felt so good...
"I have completed my family's laundry in my working washer and dryer."
If you are curious as to why this is news...see the previous post.
I don't know what happened, but I'm pretty sure about Who...
We did nothing but pray. Jeff had worked and reset to absolutely no avail when we discovered the problem over a week ago. The machines would not operate. And there was a burning smell...which is never good.
When we got back I waited before facing what I thought was the inevitable. I tried the dryer first...then the washer...and now about 8 loads later...the gentle whir and tumble of my beloved friends fills my heart with praise.
Doing laundry never felt so good...
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Too Little...Too Much
Ft Portal is currently undergoing EST. Electricity Shortage Torture. ("Torture" is obviously my own description.) Several months ago, UMEME (the only power company in Uganda) announced that they had to repair a major fault in the Ft Portal power lines and it would take some months. Months. They set a schedule to turn off our power at 7 am and then turn it back on at 7 pm. Everyday. But, unfortunately, they have misrepresented the truth. They rarely turn the power on at 7pm. In fact, it is quite impossible to share the schedule with you. It is a WWAGAR schedule. ("Whenever we are good and ready...") The power often comes after 9pm and goes off again at random hours in the night and early morning.
Which means we are getting very little usable power... unless, I become a complete night owl and never sleep...
To magnify the problem, our house is hooked up to an old, overused transformer which is known to catch on fire. Yep. You read that right. Fire.
When our transformer sparks and shoots out fire, our house looses power. So when the rest of town is using their already limited power, we sit in the dark. And think the loveliest thoughts. ☺
Two weeks ago, as we were preparing for a much needed trip to the capital city, our transformer spouted fire and we sat in the dark. For 4 days. We are a family of six, which means the already overwhelming laundry pile was growing exponentially while we waited for the power to be fixed. (We did wash some clothes out by hand...but that process was also thwarted by the unbelievable deluge of rain...hand washed clothes do not dry out well in such wet, moist weather.)
On Saturday night, our power came back on! Praise! I turned on the washer and the dryer and thanked the Lord for whatever minutes of washing we could accomplish.
Which wasn’t very many.
Our lights started buzzing. The power was spiking so high, our breakers were blowing like crazy. I stopped all the machines…but not soon enough.
On Sunday morning, when the power came back on again at normal volts, my dryer and my washing machine would not work.
To understand the depths of my grief…you need to read my past posts…here and here.
These washing and drying machines have been long awaited in my life and have brought me the greatest joy. That UMEME, who I already have more issues with than I can communicate politely on this blog, may have taken these precious ones from me…
makes me think words I shouldn’t.
Like…”Fooey”…
My tired brain has been on overload following a difficult season of ministry…so all I could do was pray desperate prayers for the healing of our machinery …unplug them…and quietly shut the door. God’s will be done.
I squeezed out water from the dripping wet washing machine load and hung those clothes out with the still wet load from the dryer. Then packed dirty clothes for our trip. Sigh.
In the power spike of that day and the previous weeks we have lost a TV, a microwave, washer and dryer and our inverter.
That is a rather long and discouraging list.
There is a bright side:
Our computers are still functioning--for which we are very thankful.
And we have solar equipment on the way in a sea container.
Which will get us off the spiking, machine destroying, rarely working grid...
Which means we are getting very little usable power... unless, I become a complete night owl and never sleep...
To magnify the problem, our house is hooked up to an old, overused transformer which is known to catch on fire. Yep. You read that right. Fire.
When our transformer sparks and shoots out fire, our house looses power. So when the rest of town is using their already limited power, we sit in the dark. And think the loveliest thoughts. ☺
Two weeks ago, as we were preparing for a much needed trip to the capital city, our transformer spouted fire and we sat in the dark. For 4 days. We are a family of six, which means the already overwhelming laundry pile was growing exponentially while we waited for the power to be fixed. (We did wash some clothes out by hand...but that process was also thwarted by the unbelievable deluge of rain...hand washed clothes do not dry out well in such wet, moist weather.)
On Saturday night, our power came back on! Praise! I turned on the washer and the dryer and thanked the Lord for whatever minutes of washing we could accomplish.
Which wasn’t very many.
Our lights started buzzing. The power was spiking so high, our breakers were blowing like crazy. I stopped all the machines…but not soon enough.
On Sunday morning, when the power came back on again at normal volts, my dryer and my washing machine would not work.
To understand the depths of my grief…you need to read my past posts…here and here.
These washing and drying machines have been long awaited in my life and have brought me the greatest joy. That UMEME, who I already have more issues with than I can communicate politely on this blog, may have taken these precious ones from me…
makes me think words I shouldn’t.
Like…”Fooey”…
My tired brain has been on overload following a difficult season of ministry…so all I could do was pray desperate prayers for the healing of our machinery …unplug them…and quietly shut the door. God’s will be done.
I squeezed out water from the dripping wet washing machine load and hung those clothes out with the still wet load from the dryer. Then packed dirty clothes for our trip. Sigh.
In the power spike of that day and the previous weeks we have lost a TV, a microwave, washer and dryer and our inverter.
That is a rather long and discouraging list.
There is a bright side:
Our computers are still functioning--for which we are very thankful.
And we have solar equipment on the way in a sea container.
Which will get us off the spiking, machine destroying, rarely working grid...
Monday, June 04, 2007
Sometimes the Answer is No
I really wanted to go.
Really.
Some months back, Jeff and I decided it would be wise for him to return to the States and help pack up the sea container we would be sharing with Andrew and Aimee Jo. I think I was even the first one to mention it.
My bright idea.
What I thought would be 7-10 days turned into 24. And I began to stew.
My youngest cousin was getting married during the time Jeff would be in the States and for months I had been asking God to make a way for us ALL to be at the wedding. I wondered, when the plans for Jeff's trip began gaining momentum, if God was planning a big surprise for me too!
I hoped and wished and prayed. Maybe cheap tickets! Someone with frequent flier miles to share. Tickets falling from the sky. Something.
The time came for Jeff's departure and no miracle for me was happening.
Jeff hugged us goodbye in Kampala and drove to the airport. I drove the kids back to Ft Portal. The answer was No. I was not going back to the States this time.
I've been walking this planet for a while now. And I know that things cannot always be just as you want them. Of course they can't.
So, why, sometimes, is that truth so hard to accept?
I have grieved these last few weeks. Not being with family breaks my heart into a million pieces.
Its amazing how I have to continually choose to allow that breaking. I made that decision in 1994 when we left for Kenya. Again in 1995 when we moved to Uganda. Again in 1998 when Kinley was born so far from family. Again in 1999...etc.
I know...KNOW that God is faithful. And will never forsake us. He will never abandon us, or those we love, as we walk the path He has called us to follow.
I also think it is okay to acknowledge the brokenness that takes place every time we miss something....or lose something. Paul had great faith to write, "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish that I may gain Christ.” Philipians 3:7-8
The question “Will you sacrifice THIS for me?” repeatedly arises as we walk in the Way.
“Will Knowing Me be your one pursuit? Above all else?”
It’s not a question you answer once and then you’re done. It is often, a daily or even hourly choice.
While I repeatedly fall short of the positive faith Paul expresses throughout that whole passage in Philippians , I can completely concur with verse 12:
"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.”
We press on. Knowing Christ IS the pursuit I value most. Jeff and I have been taught to seek HIm for our entire lives. And now, we long for our brothers and sisters here to choose that also.
To Know Christ. Not just ABOUT Him. KNOW HIM. There is nothing better.
All the struggles, sacrifices, victories and gifts of this life we’ve chosen really boil down to that.
I missed the wedding. But I made a wedding cake for me and the kids on the wedding day. If I had been thinking I would have topped the cake with a Ninja Turtle action figure and maybe a Polly Pocket. When he was young, Tanner loved Ninja Turtles. And now he’s all grown up and he’s found his “Polly”. They are off and running in their life together.
I missed being at your wedding Tanner-Banner. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to say "I remember changing your diapers!"
I guess there is a positive side to everything. ☺
Really.
Some months back, Jeff and I decided it would be wise for him to return to the States and help pack up the sea container we would be sharing with Andrew and Aimee Jo. I think I was even the first one to mention it.
My bright idea.
What I thought would be 7-10 days turned into 24. And I began to stew.
My youngest cousin was getting married during the time Jeff would be in the States and for months I had been asking God to make a way for us ALL to be at the wedding. I wondered, when the plans for Jeff's trip began gaining momentum, if God was planning a big surprise for me too!
I hoped and wished and prayed. Maybe cheap tickets! Someone with frequent flier miles to share. Tickets falling from the sky. Something.
The time came for Jeff's departure and no miracle for me was happening.
Jeff hugged us goodbye in Kampala and drove to the airport. I drove the kids back to Ft Portal. The answer was No. I was not going back to the States this time.
I've been walking this planet for a while now. And I know that things cannot always be just as you want them. Of course they can't.
So, why, sometimes, is that truth so hard to accept?
I have grieved these last few weeks. Not being with family breaks my heart into a million pieces.
Its amazing how I have to continually choose to allow that breaking. I made that decision in 1994 when we left for Kenya. Again in 1995 when we moved to Uganda. Again in 1998 when Kinley was born so far from family. Again in 1999...etc.
I know...KNOW that God is faithful. And will never forsake us. He will never abandon us, or those we love, as we walk the path He has called us to follow.
I also think it is okay to acknowledge the brokenness that takes place every time we miss something....or lose something. Paul had great faith to write, "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish that I may gain Christ.” Philipians 3:7-8
The question “Will you sacrifice THIS for me?” repeatedly arises as we walk in the Way.
“Will Knowing Me be your one pursuit? Above all else?”
It’s not a question you answer once and then you’re done. It is often, a daily or even hourly choice.
While I repeatedly fall short of the positive faith Paul expresses throughout that whole passage in Philippians , I can completely concur with verse 12:
"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.”
We press on. Knowing Christ IS the pursuit I value most. Jeff and I have been taught to seek HIm for our entire lives. And now, we long for our brothers and sisters here to choose that also.
To Know Christ. Not just ABOUT Him. KNOW HIM. There is nothing better.
All the struggles, sacrifices, victories and gifts of this life we’ve chosen really boil down to that.
I missed the wedding. But I made a wedding cake for me and the kids on the wedding day. If I had been thinking I would have topped the cake with a Ninja Turtle action figure and maybe a Polly Pocket. When he was young, Tanner loved Ninja Turtles. And now he’s all grown up and he’s found his “Polly”. They are off and running in their life together.
I missed being at your wedding Tanner-Banner. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to say "I remember changing your diapers!"
I guess there is a positive side to everything. ☺
Thursday, May 17, 2007
A Quick Trip to the Market
Every Wednesday there is a large open-air market about 20 minutes outside of Ft Portal. There are huge piles of used clothes that you can dig through and pay pennies for.
For our 11 years here, a trip to Mugusu (moo goo soo) Market has been a highlight of the week. The dusty, rutted paths lined with piles and piles of clothes, curtains, material, tablecloths--it’s a virtual treasure trove. You just never know what you will find.
We often go and make a day of it. In an effort to satisfy our “mall shopping--Target bargains –garage sale” cravings, we don long skirts, sturdy walking shoes, tight money pouches that no one can pickpocket and head out to the “Mall of Ft Portal” to discover what gems await.
Its always a fun time.
Except for this week.
My friend needed curtains. So I said I’d accompany her to the market to find some. As we were walking out the door…Jeff asked if he could go with us. He didn’t have anything in particular to find. And he doesn’t normally join us for “ladies day out’. But, today, he just somehow wanted to go.
After we arrived and began digging through mounds of clothes, I heard the loud shouts of a crazy man.
People with mental illnesses or disorders rarely receive treatment in this culture. They are usually forced from their homes and clans and made to live a life “on the streets”. We often encounter “mad men” at markets or while visiting shops in town. A majority of those who roam the streets are passive. If they become aggressive, people usually chase them away.
On this day, at Mugusu, Jeff and I watched the crazy man approach us. We listened for a minute to his shouts and he then began to move past us.
He started walking but stopped immediately behind me. Jeff started towards us quickly, just as the mad man began poking me with the wood stick he was carrying. He was shouting to the crowd with the worst profanity (in English) all that he was going to do to me.
I jumped to the middle of the sellers, to get away from him and Jeff told him to be quiet and move along.
I was very shaken and so was Jeff. The mad man did not become silent at this point. He raised his stick to Jeff and began tossing dirt at us.
Jeff held his ground, we prayed and the mad man eventually turned away. Jeff followed him at a distance this time to see where he would go.
The mad man circled back around to another row of sellers where he began to shout at us again with horrific words.
My friend and I kept moving and he finally went away.
We took refuge behind a row of buildings and began digging through more heaps of potential treasures…trying to calm our pounding hearts. .
As my friend began bargaining for a rug ( a treasure!) we heard shouting and profanity again.
The mad man was in a hut just behind where we were bargaining and shopping. He spotted us and began the profanity again. He came out of the hut and I bee-lined it around a row of clothes. Jeff was pointing him away again which angered the man. In his anger, he began to bang on the metal roof of the hut, toss matoke (plaintain bananas) and cursed like nobody’s business.
One of the most troubling aspects was the response of the sellers and the police who sat lethargically nearby, only mildly interested in the crazy man shouting at the Mzungu (white man).
Jeff approached the police and reported the mad man’s behavior. He asked them to keep him away as he was very aggressive today.
The police laughed and refused to get up.
They acted as though we were nuts to be concerned about the mad man. Jeff found out from these unconcerned parties that the mad man was in fact an ex-soldier from the Ugandan army and that he had been trained in Cuba. The crowd knew this man had fought in the Northern part of Uganda. Yet, they still remained nonchalant at his aggressive behavior.
As I’ve debriefed this market moment, I’ve prayed so much about the incident. And the stories of mad men and Jesus flood my head.
All those stories written in black and white on two-dimensional paper…were three- dimensional stories.
Mad people. Who were scary… and violent.
Jesus often set them free.
Sicknesses of the soul and psyche are no small things.
I was affected by the man screaming obscenities at us.
But the peace of Christ was still anchored in my soul.
You see, I rest in the peace of God. No matter what. Even when my mind spins with worry or I have an angry outburst or I feel afraid.
God’s Holy Spirit is living in me…to take over, control and intercede.
I’ve been surrounded by His Spirit for my entire life. His Spirit lived in my Mom and Dad before I was ever born. His Spirit was in my grandparents. Our close friends were believers. And I chose to follow Christ at a young age. He has been with me always.
When I come face to face with a soul who is obviously under the control of someone other than Christ…I am reminded again of the true treasure I have inside me all of the time.
And I’m heartbroken that this suffering soul doesn’t have Him too. Maybe, that burdened man doesn’t even know that something better exists.
Please pray for that mad man with me.
I don’t know his name. But God does. He created him. Sees him. And longs to set him free.
“Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news about him spread through the whole countryside ….He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue as was his custom. And he stood up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:
“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him, and he began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Luke 4: 14-21
For our 11 years here, a trip to Mugusu (moo goo soo) Market has been a highlight of the week. The dusty, rutted paths lined with piles and piles of clothes, curtains, material, tablecloths--it’s a virtual treasure trove. You just never know what you will find.
We often go and make a day of it. In an effort to satisfy our “mall shopping--Target bargains –garage sale” cravings, we don long skirts, sturdy walking shoes, tight money pouches that no one can pickpocket and head out to the “Mall of Ft Portal” to discover what gems await.
Its always a fun time.
Except for this week.
My friend needed curtains. So I said I’d accompany her to the market to find some. As we were walking out the door…Jeff asked if he could go with us. He didn’t have anything in particular to find. And he doesn’t normally join us for “ladies day out’. But, today, he just somehow wanted to go.
After we arrived and began digging through mounds of clothes, I heard the loud shouts of a crazy man.
People with mental illnesses or disorders rarely receive treatment in this culture. They are usually forced from their homes and clans and made to live a life “on the streets”. We often encounter “mad men” at markets or while visiting shops in town. A majority of those who roam the streets are passive. If they become aggressive, people usually chase them away.
On this day, at Mugusu, Jeff and I watched the crazy man approach us. We listened for a minute to his shouts and he then began to move past us.
He started walking but stopped immediately behind me. Jeff started towards us quickly, just as the mad man began poking me with the wood stick he was carrying. He was shouting to the crowd with the worst profanity (in English) all that he was going to do to me.
I jumped to the middle of the sellers, to get away from him and Jeff told him to be quiet and move along.
I was very shaken and so was Jeff. The mad man did not become silent at this point. He raised his stick to Jeff and began tossing dirt at us.
Jeff held his ground, we prayed and the mad man eventually turned away. Jeff followed him at a distance this time to see where he would go.
The mad man circled back around to another row of sellers where he began to shout at us again with horrific words.
My friend and I kept moving and he finally went away.
We took refuge behind a row of buildings and began digging through more heaps of potential treasures…trying to calm our pounding hearts. .
As my friend began bargaining for a rug ( a treasure!) we heard shouting and profanity again.
The mad man was in a hut just behind where we were bargaining and shopping. He spotted us and began the profanity again. He came out of the hut and I bee-lined it around a row of clothes. Jeff was pointing him away again which angered the man. In his anger, he began to bang on the metal roof of the hut, toss matoke (plaintain bananas) and cursed like nobody’s business.
One of the most troubling aspects was the response of the sellers and the police who sat lethargically nearby, only mildly interested in the crazy man shouting at the Mzungu (white man).
Jeff approached the police and reported the mad man’s behavior. He asked them to keep him away as he was very aggressive today.
The police laughed and refused to get up.
They acted as though we were nuts to be concerned about the mad man. Jeff found out from these unconcerned parties that the mad man was in fact an ex-soldier from the Ugandan army and that he had been trained in Cuba. The crowd knew this man had fought in the Northern part of Uganda. Yet, they still remained nonchalant at his aggressive behavior.
As I’ve debriefed this market moment, I’ve prayed so much about the incident. And the stories of mad men and Jesus flood my head.
All those stories written in black and white on two-dimensional paper…were three- dimensional stories.
Mad people. Who were scary… and violent.
Jesus often set them free.
Sicknesses of the soul and psyche are no small things.
I was affected by the man screaming obscenities at us.
But the peace of Christ was still anchored in my soul.
You see, I rest in the peace of God. No matter what. Even when my mind spins with worry or I have an angry outburst or I feel afraid.
God’s Holy Spirit is living in me…to take over, control and intercede.
I’ve been surrounded by His Spirit for my entire life. His Spirit lived in my Mom and Dad before I was ever born. His Spirit was in my grandparents. Our close friends were believers. And I chose to follow Christ at a young age. He has been with me always.
When I come face to face with a soul who is obviously under the control of someone other than Christ…I am reminded again of the true treasure I have inside me all of the time.
And I’m heartbroken that this suffering soul doesn’t have Him too. Maybe, that burdened man doesn’t even know that something better exists.
Please pray for that mad man with me.
I don’t know his name. But God does. He created him. Sees him. And longs to set him free.
“Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit, and news about him spread through the whole countryside ….He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue as was his custom. And he stood up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:
“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him, and he began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Luke 4: 14-21
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Sousa and the Bride
Last Saturday, we attended a wedding in town. Jeff was the minister, I was the "send 'em down the aisle" lady and Kinley and Alex were the CUTEST members of the wedding party!
There are many interesting tid-bits about a Ugandan wedding...
1. Weddings are expected to last up to 4 hours---the church ceremony folks. Exactly what is there to say in 4 hours that you can't say in 30 minutes? I do not know. Jeff's ceremony on Saturday lasted one hour and a half. Everyone was amazed and said it was the best wedding EVER!
2. The bride gets her hair done in a Saloon. That's how they pronounce it. Saloon. I wonder if they drink out of shot glasses and play poker while their hair is done?
3. The bride is, on average, over an hour late for the wedding ceremony. At least.
4. Everything and everyone MUST move SLOOOOWWWWLLLLYYYY. There is no real way to give you a clear picture. It almost defies nature. The flower girls were going so slow down the aisle...they almost weren't going. The bride walked in slow military fashion ALL DAY. When she went down the aisle, when she entered the photo shoot, when she entered the reception, when she walked to the bathroom... SLOW.
5. The music for the wedding was Pachebel Cannon off of one of our CD's AND various selections played by the St Leo's Secondary School Marching Band. Yep. You heard me. Marching Band. Complete with bass drums. Cymbals. And a brass section that would send Charles Nail's moustache into MANY convulsive twitches. (FYI Mr Nail was my beloved band director at Permian High School. We didn't only do football, ya'll.)
The most amazing moment of a very full cultural experience of a day...was the MOMENT when I thought..."Wow. This marching band is a nice touch."
Culture stress can send your brain into upside down logic. Even after 11 years.
There are many interesting tid-bits about a Ugandan wedding...
1. Weddings are expected to last up to 4 hours---the church ceremony folks. Exactly what is there to say in 4 hours that you can't say in 30 minutes? I do not know. Jeff's ceremony on Saturday lasted one hour and a half. Everyone was amazed and said it was the best wedding EVER!
2. The bride gets her hair done in a Saloon. That's how they pronounce it. Saloon. I wonder if they drink out of shot glasses and play poker while their hair is done?
3. The bride is, on average, over an hour late for the wedding ceremony. At least.
4. Everything and everyone MUST move SLOOOOWWWWLLLLYYYY. There is no real way to give you a clear picture. It almost defies nature. The flower girls were going so slow down the aisle...they almost weren't going. The bride walked in slow military fashion ALL DAY. When she went down the aisle, when she entered the photo shoot, when she entered the reception, when she walked to the bathroom... SLOW.
5. The music for the wedding was Pachebel Cannon off of one of our CD's AND various selections played by the St Leo's Secondary School Marching Band. Yep. You heard me. Marching Band. Complete with bass drums. Cymbals. And a brass section that would send Charles Nail's moustache into MANY convulsive twitches. (FYI Mr Nail was my beloved band director at Permian High School. We didn't only do football, ya'll.)
The most amazing moment of a very full cultural experience of a day...was the MOMENT when I thought..."Wow. This marching band is a nice touch."
Culture stress can send your brain into upside down logic. Even after 11 years.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Thanksgivings: Past and Present
We've had about nine Thanksgivings in Uganda. And sometimes I forget what is interesting about that. Thanksgiving outside of America...
Here are some remembrances from Uganda Thanksgivings past...that I think are pretty interesting...
**Jeff and I had fish fillet for our first Thanksgiving here. It was at the LakeView Hotel in Mbarara.
**Our second thanksgiving was also in Mbarara...this time I baked pies and took them with us to the LakeView.
**Our first actual turkey to cook in Uganda had such tough meat...we could not even carve it. We both knawed on a hard fought slice for Thanksgiving sake...then gave up and ate pie.
**We watched the same football game on Thanksgiving...three years in a row.
**I finally mastered corn bread stuffing about year 6.
**Our friends, the Chedesters, began hosting Thanksgiving some years back and inviting all the Americans from around.
**We now share the Turkey meal with between 8 and 20 people...some of whom we meet on the day and never see again.
Yesterday's celebration had all the important ingredients...friends, laughter, yummy food, really good coffee and LEFTOVERS!!!
We missed our families in the US, Macy's parade and a current football game...
Nonetheless, our list of Thanks grows longer every year...
I hope your Thanksgiving week is progressing nicely and that the spirit of gratitude remains with us WAY longer than the calories from the pies! :-)
Here are some remembrances from Uganda Thanksgivings past...that I think are pretty interesting...
**Jeff and I had fish fillet for our first Thanksgiving here. It was at the LakeView Hotel in Mbarara.
**Our second thanksgiving was also in Mbarara...this time I baked pies and took them with us to the LakeView.
**Our first actual turkey to cook in Uganda had such tough meat...we could not even carve it. We both knawed on a hard fought slice for Thanksgiving sake...then gave up and ate pie.
**We watched the same football game on Thanksgiving...three years in a row.
**I finally mastered corn bread stuffing about year 6.
**Our friends, the Chedesters, began hosting Thanksgiving some years back and inviting all the Americans from around.
**We now share the Turkey meal with between 8 and 20 people...some of whom we meet on the day and never see again.
Yesterday's celebration had all the important ingredients...friends, laughter, yummy food, really good coffee and LEFTOVERS!!!
We missed our families in the US, Macy's parade and a current football game...
Nonetheless, our list of Thanks grows longer every year...
I hope your Thanksgiving week is progressing nicely and that the spirit of gratitude remains with us WAY longer than the calories from the pies! :-)
Monday, November 13, 2006
Smooth Sailing
Tarmac.
Black,sticky tar. Crushed gravel.
I just plain love it.
For nine of our years in this country, the road to medical care, fellowship, groceries, pizza and ice cream wasn’t even paved with good intentions…
It was dirt. Rutted. Pitted. Narrow. And dusty.
Unless it was raining. And then it was muddy. Rutted. Pitted. Narrow. And slick.
Our trips to the capital city from our small town took 5 and ½ to 6 hours, then. Hard hours. That left us utterly spent, covered in dust and exhausted.
Not so, anymore.
Trips to Kampala take three and a half hours. On smooth tarmac road.
Delightful.
I haven’t ridden the road once without an overwhelming sense of amazement. Covering ground minus the bone jarring bumps and dangerous curves.
It is a gift.
As with most good things in the third world…they are temporary. The heroic men who laid the road have gone. And will not be maintaining it. The huge overstuffed lorries will continue to roll. And eventually, the potholes will develop.
But, in this moment…the road to good things is a smooth one. And that is a precious blessing.
Three things (of a very long list) that I will never take for granted after this jaunt into the third world:
1. Time with family
2. Hot baths
3. Paved roads
Black,sticky tar. Crushed gravel.
I just plain love it.
For nine of our years in this country, the road to medical care, fellowship, groceries, pizza and ice cream wasn’t even paved with good intentions…
It was dirt. Rutted. Pitted. Narrow. And dusty.
Unless it was raining. And then it was muddy. Rutted. Pitted. Narrow. And slick.
Our trips to the capital city from our small town took 5 and ½ to 6 hours, then. Hard hours. That left us utterly spent, covered in dust and exhausted.
Not so, anymore.
Trips to Kampala take three and a half hours. On smooth tarmac road.
Delightful.
I haven’t ridden the road once without an overwhelming sense of amazement. Covering ground minus the bone jarring bumps and dangerous curves.
It is a gift.
As with most good things in the third world…they are temporary. The heroic men who laid the road have gone. And will not be maintaining it. The huge overstuffed lorries will continue to roll. And eventually, the potholes will develop.
But, in this moment…the road to good things is a smooth one. And that is a precious blessing.
Three things (of a very long list) that I will never take for granted after this jaunt into the third world:
1. Time with family
2. Hot baths
3. Paved roads
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
On Radiators...Fish Eyes...and the Internet
Hitting the Highlights:
3. Our internet quit last week just as our power became more reliable...bummer. But as we returned from our Game Park excursion today...we found the interent working well again.
I have just spent some delightful hours perusing blogs...and now have a brain full of thoughts to mull over and enjoy.
2.Fish eyes...our dear four year old...amazed,astounded and somewhat disgusted our visiting companions by eating the fish eyes out of Jeff's lunch today. Isaac's analysis, "Yummy!....But now they can't ever SEE anything again!"
1. Radiators...The one on our Hilux pickup died today. Unfortunately, well before we reached our gate. Jeff and Billy waited with the vehicle on the side of a dirt road...(and by waiting I mean...pulled the broken radiator--way to go boys!) while Ronald scurried about Ft Portal gathering mechanics, tools and a working radiator. Ronald managed to rent...(read: talk one of his friends with a matching Hilux to pull his properly functioning radiator from his properly functioning car and RENT it to us for one day) a radiator and rushed it with our mechanic to Jeff and Billy who watched as our mechanic tied in the radiator with Sisal rope :-)
It worked. Remarkably. And everyone is now home. .J and B are tired...Brenda and I are too (at one point I think we had decided fixing the radiator would have been the sweeter deal...we ended up driving home with all the kids in one car...)
The scrambled eggs,waffles and smoothies have been consumed...the kids are finally quiet and our pillows are calling us.
The rented radiator...to be returned tomorrow.
Unbelievable!
3. Our internet quit last week just as our power became more reliable...bummer. But as we returned from our Game Park excursion today...we found the interent working well again.
I have just spent some delightful hours perusing blogs...and now have a brain full of thoughts to mull over and enjoy.
2.Fish eyes...our dear four year old...amazed,astounded and somewhat disgusted our visiting companions by eating the fish eyes out of Jeff's lunch today. Isaac's analysis, "Yummy!....But now they can't ever SEE anything again!"
1. Radiators...The one on our Hilux pickup died today. Unfortunately, well before we reached our gate. Jeff and Billy waited with the vehicle on the side of a dirt road...(and by waiting I mean...pulled the broken radiator--way to go boys!) while Ronald scurried about Ft Portal gathering mechanics, tools and a working radiator. Ronald managed to rent...(read: talk one of his friends with a matching Hilux to pull his properly functioning radiator from his properly functioning car and RENT it to us for one day) a radiator and rushed it with our mechanic to Jeff and Billy who watched as our mechanic tied in the radiator with Sisal rope :-)
It worked. Remarkably. And everyone is now home. .J and B are tired...Brenda and I are too (at one point I think we had decided fixing the radiator would have been the sweeter deal...we ended up driving home with all the kids in one car...)
The scrambled eggs,waffles and smoothies have been consumed...the kids are finally quiet and our pillows are calling us.
The rented radiator...to be returned tomorrow.
Unbelievable!
Friday, September 29, 2006
Reality
Have you ever had a gun held to your chest? Or soldiers mad at you, following you....calling for your death?
Have your children hid under their beds...in dead electricity transformers...or in ceilings... to escape the AK-47's and pangas (machetes) brandished by those who hate them....simply because of their tribe?
Have you ever moved three times in a year in order to evade and avoid slaughter?
Kibi has. All of the above.
Life in Eastern Congo is quite beyond my understanding. Extreme Anger. Evil Unchecked. Death.
Today we reunited with Kibi and his wife.They arrived in Ft. Portal after two days of travel. She is suffering from what sounds like ulcers and gall stones. She has been in physical distress for a long time. And has one more day of travel to get to a hospital that can help her. She fears the surgery, but can no longer abide the pain.
Kibi, Angelika and their children were faithful members of the church here for several years. They were refugees from Congo and together we dreamed of furthering His Kingdom in their home place. For about two years Angelika and I would meet to study. Kibi had to translate for us. And over time our study grew to include other Congo refugees and all of Angelika's children. I would share a lesson. Then we would sing.
The glorious sound of Congolese voices. Those folks can lift the rafters (or mabati roof as the case may be!) They revolutionized our worship as a church. And the Swahili and Lingala songs they taught us are still favorites.
That was two babies ago for me. And, what probably seems like a lifetime, of fear, panic, physical suffering and loss for her.
Yet, today, again, we sat in a living room here in Ft Portal...listened to promises of hope and faithfulness from our King and sang... of our need, our love...His Ableness.
We also shared in prayer. Derrick, Jeff and I prayed for her. She prayed for us.
She and Kibi shared of their horrors. And God's Hand...protecting them even up to now.
They spoke of their Savior. The prayers that have protected and prolonged their lives. And His sustaining embrace.
Nothing like a huge dose of real world to set my attitude in place. When I came home...I held my children tighter. Praised God for the security of our last few years. And decided that power outs and the complications those involve...really don't matter at all.
Angelika would be blessed by your prayers. Please pray for her physical healing. Pray for her children waiting for her in Congo. And pray for courage.
Please also pray for Eastern Congo. We have an Enemy, friends. And he isn't Congolese.
He is Hate. And Lies.
Love and Truth...destroy all he sets about to do.
Our true reality is that Our Hero stands ready. To redeem whatever crisis or evil we choose or fall victim too. He is always watching...always caring...always there.
Have your children hid under their beds...in dead electricity transformers...or in ceilings... to escape the AK-47's and pangas (machetes) brandished by those who hate them....simply because of their tribe?
Have you ever moved three times in a year in order to evade and avoid slaughter?
Kibi has. All of the above.
Life in Eastern Congo is quite beyond my understanding. Extreme Anger. Evil Unchecked. Death.
Today we reunited with Kibi and his wife.They arrived in Ft. Portal after two days of travel. She is suffering from what sounds like ulcers and gall stones. She has been in physical distress for a long time. And has one more day of travel to get to a hospital that can help her. She fears the surgery, but can no longer abide the pain.
Kibi, Angelika and their children were faithful members of the church here for several years. They were refugees from Congo and together we dreamed of furthering His Kingdom in their home place. For about two years Angelika and I would meet to study. Kibi had to translate for us. And over time our study grew to include other Congo refugees and all of Angelika's children. I would share a lesson. Then we would sing.
The glorious sound of Congolese voices. Those folks can lift the rafters (or mabati roof as the case may be!) They revolutionized our worship as a church. And the Swahili and Lingala songs they taught us are still favorites.
That was two babies ago for me. And, what probably seems like a lifetime, of fear, panic, physical suffering and loss for her.
Yet, today, again, we sat in a living room here in Ft Portal...listened to promises of hope and faithfulness from our King and sang... of our need, our love...His Ableness.
We also shared in prayer. Derrick, Jeff and I prayed for her. She prayed for us.
She and Kibi shared of their horrors. And God's Hand...protecting them even up to now.
They spoke of their Savior. The prayers that have protected and prolonged their lives. And His sustaining embrace.
Nothing like a huge dose of real world to set my attitude in place. When I came home...I held my children tighter. Praised God for the security of our last few years. And decided that power outs and the complications those involve...really don't matter at all.
Angelika would be blessed by your prayers. Please pray for her physical healing. Pray for her children waiting for her in Congo. And pray for courage.
Please also pray for Eastern Congo. We have an Enemy, friends. And he isn't Congolese.
He is Hate. And Lies.
Love and Truth...destroy all he sets about to do.
Our true reality is that Our Hero stands ready. To redeem whatever crisis or evil we choose or fall victim too. He is always watching...always caring...always there.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Fixin' Up
We are feeling quite accomplished. In the last week we've (and by we, I mean Jeff) repaired three generators...our television...and set up inverters to run a few lights and electronics.
In the amazing spirit of all Americans...we've given ourselves OPTIONS! Choices!
At least, for the time being.
We haven't nailed the internet yet. It clicks off and on over and over as we blog and email...making for many happy moments.
We discovered the source of the problem though. Seems 7 spans of phone wire were stolen between here and Kampala. That's alot of wire. And makes connecting...ummm...impossible. It seems the phone fairies have been at work...because we have the connection back.
I love it when something broken gets fixed. I think I have a running repair list in my head. I don't even realize its there until I can remove something from it. I feel a definitive release of burden.
So the generators are running, the inverters are set up, the television works again....and the internet is surfable for the moment.
We've done great with the electronics.
Now, can someone tell me how to keep a two year old in his bed?
In the amazing spirit of all Americans...we've given ourselves OPTIONS! Choices!
At least, for the time being.
We haven't nailed the internet yet. It clicks off and on over and over as we blog and email...making for many happy moments.
We discovered the source of the problem though. Seems 7 spans of phone wire were stolen between here and Kampala. That's alot of wire. And makes connecting...ummm...impossible. It seems the phone fairies have been at work...because we have the connection back.
I love it when something broken gets fixed. I think I have a running repair list in my head. I don't even realize its there until I can remove something from it. I feel a definitive release of burden.
So the generators are running, the inverters are set up, the television works again....and the internet is surfable for the moment.
We've done great with the electronics.
Now, can someone tell me how to keep a two year old in his bed?
Friday, January 06, 2006
Zowee!!!!!
All these years in Uganda, I've admired plaited hair from afar. (Braided with extensions) I've always thought it was gorgeous. I've had several American and European friends who had their hair braided here. And I loved it!
Well, in all the admiring...my sweet friends left out one MINOR detail about the whole braiding, plaiting phenomenon....
IT HURTS!!!!!!!
Oh my goodness.
I started at 9 AM and the first little bit pulled and smarted pretty good. But I was set to be tough. I was ready...excited to see how it would all turn out.
Well..that optimism degenerated over the next 5 increasingly excruciating hours into HATE. I hated the lovely girls yanking and pulling on my head, I hated the other 20 women on the porch braiding or being braided....I hated the world. No kidding.
I'm sure I'll get over it. It has now been 6 hours since the tortuous task ended and....my head still hurts. All my friends have said I'll feel better in two days and not to expect to sleep well. Great.
So the up-side:
*I have a really cool do...that I am proud of.
*I feel like I have sort of stepped through an African woman's rite of passage...
*I am now well aquainted with every teeny little nerve in my scalp....I mean EVERY ONE.
*I have officially forgiven my Mom for all those painful, pointy-hot-roller episodes. You were right Mom, it COULD be worse!
Now I'm going to go take some Ibuprofen and try to sleep. On my face.
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