Shoes

Some of you smiled when you read the title. You are my soul mates. Shoes are good. Buying new ones, unbelievable.

We've been in the States for 4 1/2 weeks. I have purchased 11 pairs of shoes.

My husband thinks I may be insane. Honestly, that could go either way, depending on the day and at least I'm happy. A happy insane person is manageable. :-)

And speaking of manageable--I'm not sure how to stop. I enter Target, I head for the shoes. K-Mart--shoes. Outlet malls, department stores, you guessed it...

In order to assuage a mild guilt complex I took back two pairs of shoes this week. Returned. Got the money back. Reported in to my husband. :-)

But he knows me well. And he understands.

I'm not turning back.

I'm only making room for the shoes I'll buy in Texas.

:-)

(PS I hear they let you where those cute plastic Croc shoes in mental institutions...)

Shall We Dance?

For the first time since I entered this blog land I don't know what to say.

Its not for lack of thoughts. There are plenty of musings, considerations,  exasperations, confusions, and humorous antecdotes muddling through my mind.

But how to say it? I am at a loss.

I think it is officially called Culture Stress. And it occurs both when entering a new culture and when re-entering your home culture.

Culture stress for me looks a little bit like handing a ballerina a pair of army boots and telling her to dance. What was once delicate, graceful and coordinated becomes clunky, messy and kinda funny to watch.

I've never been an actual ballerina, but when it comes to coping, living life and functioning in society I used to feel coordinated. (:-)) Now, I cognitively know the steps, but can't manage the dead weight tripping up my feet. The heavy, burdensome "shoes" which are protective and important in one environment are frustrating my moment right now.

I've danced this dance before. And the outcome is always unique.

I probably won't ever be the "ballerina" I once was. I have to learn to dance a new dance. Learn how to manage the new shoes.

The key is really the music. And there is one Song that never fails to inspire.

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Zephaniah 3:17

Can you see me dancing now?

My Safeway Card

I've forgotten the rules.

And I need rules. Guidelines. Directions.

I want to know where I am going before I disembark. I want to clearly understand all expectations for my behaviour. I want to know what the right way is. And I don't want to hurt anyone in the process.

(Please, graciously allow me to forgo a discussion/confession of my obvious "people pleasing" issues...:-) ...and say...

I really have forgotten the rules. All cultures, families, communities, churches...have rules. And while there are a few guidelines that carry over from family to family....community to community...
MANY rules are unwritten...unspoken...just KNOWN and uniquely different from any other set of rules. Which is the rub.

Landing in my American Homeland immediately enforces a new set of rules. Interacting daily with family, American community and church involves understanding, accepting and acting in accordance with The Rules. Most of The Rules aren't even acknowledged by the community..until...they are broken. Then people get upset.

And that is hard. But it is a part of this vagabond life. And truly, learning and understanding The Rules of different places...enriches and blesses my life.

Its just the initial moments that are hard for me.

Which is why I love Safeway.

We went to the coast with Jeff's family this week. And Jeff and I were in charge of lunches.
So we went to Safeway.

I was proud of us because we made it in and out of Safeway in less than 45 minutes. We bought what was on our list and didn't stray much...though the amazing array of junk food available does tempt us to indulge!!! (Little Debbie's---Yummy!)

I feel lost in American groceries. So many choices. So many options. I have no clue what to pick. So I flounder through. Manage. Gather. Discard. And finally...the golden moment...

Checkout.

My Safeway Club Card. I swipe it through the machine trepidly (am I doing this right?) and the sweet lady at the register says..."How are you Mrs. Cash?" (she knows my name!)

"Did you find everything okay?" Um. yes.

"Thank you for shopping with us Mrs. Cash."

That kind woman thought I was a member. A Safeway shopper.

She didn't know that I didn't know the rules. She didn't know I live on another continent. She wasn't aware of the mind boggling flustered thoughts tumbling in my brain...

With one swipe of a red Safeway card....I belonged. I was well within the Safeway rules. I did it right.

It was moment for me. And at this point...I'll take those moments where they come!

So, for now, I'll keep floundering through...rediscovering rules and expectations. Learning and growing....

But, when it gets to be too much...you can find me at Safeway. I'll be eating Little Debbie's Banana Twins and swiping my card!

Impressions from the Fog

It is 7 PM. The frozen pizza has been bought and baked with much anticipation but only barely touched as we are all too tired to eat. The whine in Isaac's voice has become a permanent fixture and crying outbursts are happening every second. Baths await and Bible time...but we try to put it off as long as possible in order to force our body clocks into a new timeframe . There are piles of clothes along the wall. Jeans and sweatshirts bought at the village market in preparation for the New England cold. Every eye is heavy, and every light is on in an effort to keep ourselves alert. The boys are cradling new Knight swords and Kinley organizes her new Polly Pockets. My Real Simple magazine awaits me at my bedside and Jeff is enjoying his Mountain Dew. The clock ticks slowly as we await a reasonable bed time hour...

Jet lag hurts. Alot. For some odd reason...the pain is forgettable. I don't usually remember the unique brain numbing/yet nerve sensitive irony of jet lag. But I am currently in the throes of it and I can't wait for it to be over.

3Am. It is the time we actually got to sleep the first night in America. And it is the time all our children woke up the second night. Ready to party. "Where is the food Mom?" "Can I have juice in my cup Mom?" and "Why aren't the birds singing yet Mom?"

The roads are all smooth. I understand most of what people say the first time. Roads have signs and maps are correct. Internet, phone service and electricity are always on. And so is the water. I have so enjoyed hot showers. And drinking water without boiling it. I feel like I'm breaking a rule everytime I drink from the tap :-).

Food is easy. When we are hungry...we find food. And it is YUMMY! McDonald's fries are just always RIGHT. Chocolate milkshakes, Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream, and the Dr. Pepper I just finished have been delightful and required no forethought. I didn't plan at 10:30 am this morning that I would make the ice cream and cookie dough. I just wanted it, went down the hall and bought it. And ate it ...all by myself.

Magazines are affordable. And the news is American. David Letterman is on at night. And there is every re-run imaginable on television.

People here always wear shoes. And I haven't seen dirt on the ground yet. Cars are large and colorful.

There is a price for everything. It is clearly marked and there are no negotiations.

Everything is for sale. I flipped through over 30 channels today and only found 3 with actual shows on at one moment. The rest were commercials.

And while on the subject...commercials are funny. Hilarious really. This, in case you were not aware, is unique to American consumerism.

There are so many things made for kids. Museums, aquariums, restaurants, stores...all geared for kids and their learning and development. It is valued here. And I am proud of that.

I am moved to tears when I see the flag.

The homeless people we saw today were...wearing coats and gloves and appeared,to me,to be well fed.

We are in a very historical place. And I have found myself relating stories to the kids all day. Tomorrow will bring more stories. I am so thankful for our heritage. The men who argued and debated and decided what our country would be founded on.

Other parts of this culture will also be impressionable in this fulrough experience...but overall....this is a phenomenal country. And it is good to be here.

The crying has started again. It is turning into a wail. I must go help my kids to bed.

Everything will look even better on the other side of a complete night of sleep...:-)

Benadryl anyone?

My Girl

Monday was a great day around here. We celebrated eight years of our sweet Kinley's life.

...Kinley's beginnings took alot of extra care. And every single day with her is a witness to God's healing, blessing and perfectly timed gifts.

I simply do not know what I would do without her. Her passion for living, her heart that actively seeks God and her amazing creativity make my world more beautiful in every way.

And I'm not the only one. Jeff was the first one to call her by name....she lay screaming in the hospital bassinet. He spoke her name, "Hey Kinley..." and with one suddenly silent head turn ...Jeff's heart was gone. "She knows who I am!" He was never the same...:-)

Amazing how one tiny bundle can change you forever...

Happy Birthday Kinley. We love you very, very much.

Check out http://www.missionaryjournal.blogspot.com for Jeff's thoughts on this day.

Tick...Tick...Tick...

Do you hear it too? It is the clock (currently sitting at some minutes after midnight). And it quietly, rythymically reminds me...our departure is nearing.

I am really tired. REALLY tired. My pillow is calling me and my brain nudges me to allow it to rest.

I am very thankful, sitting here tonight. First, the lights in our home are bright. Power is on!
Second, my "for better or worse" man paid to have two tanks of water brought to our home...some laundry has been done and everyone has had a warm bath.
And three, almost every essential for our trip has been completed.

God is good and gracious.

Tomorrow is the final day. I'm feeling pretty good about what we've accomplished so far...And I am basking in the realization that a Burger King Whopper is in my very near future!

Now if I could just get all those piles of clean clothes to walk themselves into a suitcase...:-)

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

So, our friend and truck driver, Ali Baba (yep, that's really his name) had mercy on us. He lives around the corner. He shared some water. Enough to fill our tank again.
Praise the Lord!

And, I woke up to trucks rolling in front of my house...

I don't know how long their fuel will last. But at least its a start! (or a continuance as the case may be...)

AND, we were actually able to complete a few loads of laundry, a finance report and a yearly report for the government here.

When Silas ran into our room this morning with the excited announcement "Sump Shruck!!!" (that's "dump truck" for all you non Silas-ese speakers)....I had to smile. First, because the two year old living in our house is just TOO CUTE! But second, isn't it...um...a tad ironic...that after I hear from several of you that you are praying...those cemented-to-the-soccerfield trucks started moving again.

I know the Creator of the Universe does have a few things to attend to right now...and my water issues really aren't the most pressing issue... yet, He acts on my behalf.

May YOUR day be full of the astonishment of His care...

Off

Everything is off. (except for my children's energy level--that is very ON and LOUD at the moment)

I've already discussed the power issues we have been facing. And while my ingenious husband continually pulls tricks from his hat to keep some light and power flowing into our home, currently I am typing off power from a car battery and inverter. Our power woes have increased.

We are given less and less power each week. And for the last four days, when the town has had power, our house has not. Just our house. I cannot tell you how happy this makes me.

Our transformer and power line have problems. Fire problems. Which is not only a tad concerning,but apparently, not a high priority for the power company in it's present state. It is time for a new transformer on Njara Lane. Any chance of that happening in my lifetime? I'm not holding my breath.

Except when I walk past the bathroom.

Because our woes do not only include power.

Early last week huge trucks started rolling by our house. The road in front of our home is being paved. (amazing!!!) So the grading and dumping and hauling began. And in the process our water line got cut. It is sticking up in two pieces on the side of the road.

Remarkably, they informed us of this predicament and we began rationing the water in our tank. I was proud that we made it last about 4 days.

Everyday, I woke up and watched for the trucks to roll again to finish the job. But, oddly, the trucks have permanently camped out in the soccer field around the corner. Seems you can't operate huge bulldozing trucks without diesel. And the truck people ran out of money for fuel.

So the water line remains severed and the road unpaved.

The mounds of laundry in our home are almost as overwhelming as the scent from unflushed toilets. (sorry to be so graphic)

Did I mention, also, that in 9 days, I am boarding a plane with my four children and husband to be away for some months.

That at some point we have to pack these soiled garments to take with us. And that without basic necessities like water, primarily, life feels a little off.

It is not the first time we've dealt with such things. And, in the end, we will survive.

But every once in a while, in the process of handling it, I feel the need to be really mad. That has been this morning. Then after the 'mad', I need to laugh. And then--back to handling it.

My dear friend gave me the keys to her house so I can haul the mountain of laundry her way and use her water and power.
And clean clothes or dirty clothes, we WILL board the plane for the Homeland.

Which I am REALLY looking forward to. Family, friends, Blue Bell ice cream and a VERY full Bathtub with HOT water!!!!

Lost

It all started on Monday.

I was gathering furlough things. Kids clothes, swimsuits, credit cards, checkbooks... and it happened.

The inevitable.

The smallish Eddie Bauer bag...which is home to our five remaining passports...(Jeff's new one is still at the embassy)...was gone.

It is, obviously, an important bag. Not one I carry with me always. And it has its place. But it wasn't there. Or under....or behind....

I checked a few, more obvious places...but went to sleep, SURE that the bag would appear quickly, the next day.

Tuesday morning found me determined and focussed. Jeff awoke to me emptying drawers, bags and moving shelves. He generously joined in the hunt.

By the time he left for his lunch meeting...there was no Eddie Bauer bag to be found. I was beginning to be VERY concerned. Our plane leaves in 2 1/2 weeks. Replacement passports take 3 weeks.

We intensified the search. By the time Jeff returned in the evening, I was barely staving off panic.

The passports are my responsibility. They are IMPORTANT. WHERE ARE THEY?

I could not remember the last time I held them in my hand. I could not back track because I couldn't remember.

And mostly, I could NOT stop looking. And neither could Jeff. Under beds, in toy boxes, in trunks we haven't opened in years...

We cleaned out backpacks, dressers, shelves and cabinets. And by midnight on Tuesday. That elusive bag was still AWOL.

I did not sleep well. I tried to DREAM where it might be. We brainstormed options. When do we declare them gone and call the embassy?

Wednesday morning, everyone was in on the hunt. At 6:30 pm on Wednesday...I sat in the middle of a VERY clean living room and desperately pleaded with God to take me to the bag.

I stood up to do one more quick sweep, before the power went off.

My hand went into the diaper bag and....OH MY GOODNESS....and PRAISE THE LORD...

My hand felt the zipper of the bag that had become my entire pursuit for two whole days! In a diaper bag we had emptied several times. It was stuck at the bottom and its black cover blended VERY WELL with the inside lining of the bag.

I have not been that excited over a passport wallet....well...ever!

No police reports...no investigation...no missing passports...no trip postponing...no disappointment... all was right in the world again.

And there was much rejoicing!

You Win Some, You Lose Some

Bad hair day.

I was never a hair color gal. For a long, long time I held out. But then, I got brave. Tried a little. A little more. You know how it goes.

Well, my hair was kinda boring after the braiding frenzy. So I decided to be bold.

I asked for dark brown with a hint of red.

Ahem.

NOT what I got.

It's red with a hint of brown.

Everytime I look in the mirror I wonder who put their hair on my head.

Kinley said, "MOM!!! Your hair!"

Alex said, "Way cool Mom. But, um, if you go back to Kampala to color your hair again I suggest black."

Jeff said, "you are always beautiful to me."

Good thing.

My Fort Portal friends have been encouraging but I'm a little concerned about furlough.

"Hi. I'm Jeff the missionary, this is my punk rock wife and these are my four adorable children."
Ah well.

"Rock on."

The Domino Line

My Grandpa had a card table with dominoes on it, set up ALWAYS. He and his buddies could shuffle, draw their dominoes and, just from looking at their hand and observing the first domino thrown... tell you every domino in the other players hands. Amazing.

When the games had died down and the table was abandoned for a moment, we kids would make the domino line. We'd line the dominoes up strategically to make some interesting shape. Then push the first one over and watch them fall.

It was a tedious process, because if one domino fell unexpectedly, the whole line had to be re-set.

Furlough planning---a missionaries "domino line".

When should we leave? When should we arrive? What is best for us? What is best for our families? When should we speak at churches? Are we going to try to rest? When do we need to be back? How much can we spend? Is this a schedule four kids can hold up to?...And on it goes...

One domino set deliberately and painstackingly in place...accidently toppled...and then starting over again.

It seems that we almost have our line in place now. We are guarding the table carefully so that no domino falls.

The actual ticket purchases are occurring.

We will be "pushing the first domino" late-March. We pray the furlough falls into shape in a great way....

Ode to a Tough Girl

Missionary Kid's are a tough breed. They really have to be.

Well, one of their number, has now stepped to the head of the game. And endured an excruciating episode.

A 64 hour episode to be exact.

My friend, Laura, was in LABOR for 64 hours.

I've had four and I wasn't in labor that long combined...I hope that doesn't make Laura want to punch me. But you know what, if punching me would relieve some pent up frustration for her...I'd gladly take the hit. (Better yet, hit Rusty. He's a big man. He can take it! Go ahead!)

Bless you, friend. You have truly fought a huge battle and I am proud of you.
And bless sweet Alexander (brilliant parents to pick a name such as that!).
We are so thankful he is here and that you are both safe.

(Laura and Rusty currently live and serve in Japan. Laura was born and raised in Kenya.)

Aunt Nora Belle

This is not a woman you will read about in Time or Newsweek. Her life was not marked by fame or wealth. She lived a simple life. In a simple place.
She never married and never had her own children. But she was ALWAYS taking care of people. Her brother Carl. People in the church. My Granny.

Granny started having strokes when I was really young. She slowly lost the use of her legs, arms and body. She spent her last years bedfast.

Granny was the anchor of Dad's family. There would be no nursing home for her. No sir. The family couldn't stand that. A hospital bed was purchased and set up in the living room. And Nora Belle, Granny's sister, came over every day to bathe her, change her, clean her house, wash the clothes and cook some meals for Grandpa. Grandpa eventually took over most of those tasks...but he wisely knew to leave some of them for Nora Belle. She WAS coming to help. Might as well leave her a task or she would make something up! :-)

What I remember most about Nora Belle was that when she showed up...we all started laughing. She was funny. And she could make her sister laugh even in the most difficult and humiliating of circumstances. (that's something I respect in a sister.:-))

I also remember that everybody loved her. Everybody I knew anyway.

She was easy to be with. Like an Aunt should be.

If you listen close, you might can hear an etheral giggle fest taking place...Aunt Nora Belle went Home last week...and I'm sure that when she arrived on the scene...the Heavenly Chorus was was filled with more laughter. At least from where Granny was standing...

Won't the reunions of Home be splendid!

Where Am I?

It feels like this country has been holding its breath for a week.

The Uganda Presidential Elections.

In Uganda, much information is gathered word of mouth. It is a difficult way to gain understanding. Over time, you can surmise an 'abstract painting' of a given situation but never a clear picture. We've been warned and heard threats of complaints no matter which side won. We were encouraged to stay at home.

Which we dutifully did. Until yesterday. I had a Bible study in town.

I have it every week. Atwooki and I meet at a restaurant. She drinks soda. I drink hot tea. We greet each other, ask about each others children and home and then we study. We are working our way through the Women of the Bible. The restaurant is across from the bustling market.
Everything felt normal.

We were talking about Tamar. Quite a story to tell. To be honest, I never know exactly where to go with Tamar's recounting. What point to make.

Married to a foreigner. A wicked foreigner. No children. Widowed. Given to wicked brother. Deprived. Widowed again. Blamed. Virtual Abandonment. Scheming. Posing as prostitue. Sleeping with Daddy-in-law. Facing cruel death. Saved. Twins. A place in the lineage of Christ. Huh?

I was just making the point to Atwooki that God is always seeing us and paying attention. Even if our life is not in order. And following up with the point that we may not know what God has in store for us or our children even if our life feels humdrum and usual...

And three gunshots punctuated a chorus of screams.

Atwooki and I and the gentlemen at the table beside us were immediately on full alert.

The screams and shouting were taking place at the corner, across from the market. People were running and a scuffle had ensued.

After a few seconds of observing the chaotic crowd, the man at the table next to us said, "they are arresting someone."

I scanned the area for a barricade to hide behind and my mind raced to determine if the man's analysis was accurate.

There was a police truck at the center of the struggle and two piki-piki drivers were yanked into the back of the truck and raced away. (piki-pikis are motor scooters used as inexpensive public transport)

We all let out a collective breath and tried to regain our composure. I think my heart pounded for a good 10 minutes.

We prayed together and calmed down tremendously. I finished my tea. She finished her soda. We paid our bill, sent greetings to each others families and went on about our day. The market sellers were shouting out their prices. The remaining piki drivers were discussing politics and calling out for passengers. Atwooki went to the market to see her friend. I got in my car to check the mail.

And I couldn't stop thinking, "WHERE AM I?"

A gun was just fired into a crowd of people at the market. Two men were roughly beaten and hauled away. My danger sensors were already on high alert because of possible rioting due to the results of free democratic elections. And yet we all drank tea, studied the Bible, went to the market and checked the mail. Life going on as normal?!

I've lived here awhile now. But the revelation never fails to be shocking. I am a foreigner in a very different world. Whew.

As I drove home from the post office I wrestled with the surrealness of it all.

And through the fog of the surreal Tamar's story emerged again.

She is listed (a woman?) in a very important family lineage. No one is quite sure how she got there. A foreigner in a different world. No rights to speak of. Succumbing to and even choosing one undignified situation after another.

Forever linked by blood to the Messiah.

Life is foggy sometimes. No clear understanding of why. Maybe not even a place to lay blame.
Even worse, sometimes, the blame placement is crystal clear!

Nevertheless, the question "how did I get HERE?" very often demands to be heeded. Processing and analysis follow. Sometimes answers. Sometimes acceptance. Sometimes silence and a void.

How incredibly grateful I am that despite the fog and whatever the processing brings me to,
the Lord steps in to remind me. Often, chapters after the initial question is posed.

"You matter so much. I'll join you, wayward one, to Me. In an unquestioning and irrefutable way. By Blood."

"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ....Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow-citizens with God's people and members of God's household...with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone." Ephesians 2:13,19-20
(you can find Tamar's complete story in Genesis 38 and her name in Matthew 1)

(President Yoweri Museveni was declared the winner last evening. There were no riots in Ft Portal, only jubilant celebration. Thank you for your prayers.)

We Laughed

We had a Jeff and Cheryl retreat this week. We got a room overlooking Lake Victoria. (Even with 8 feet of her missing...she was breathtaking.) We read, talked, absorbed the silence, napped, ate....and laughed. A whole lot.

I forget how truly great that feels. To laugh. There are myriad opportunities for laughter in this third world. The steak we ordered that oddly resembled French Toast. The horse statue that made us think....what WERE they thinking?!?!? Indian soap operas. My husband's stories. And, probably my favorite of the chuckling repetoire, the late night--I'm exhausted--EVERYTHING is funny--"my side hurts" laughter.
Ahhhhhh....the satisfaction.

It is healing and replenishing. Invigorating and cleansing.

And, just plain fun.

Sometimes, from surviving the crushing defeats to celebrating the air punching victories--and cruising through all the blissfully regular in between---I forget to embrace the hilarity.

I think its always there. You just have to be watching.

May God bless you, blog friends, with side splitting laughter today.

Chuckle on!

Special thanks to JSC for "observing" some hilarity with me this week. And for providing much as well. I love you.

And MANY MANY WEBALE's to Destiny and Doug--our treasures from California :-). We know God brought you here to proclaim Him...did you know He meant to us? We are so thankful you Calhoon-types are sojourning in Fort Portal. (especially when you offer to wrangle our four rowdies for three days and two nights:-)) Treasures--indeed!

Break it Down

KJ52--Collaborations

It's rap music. (Christian) Ike and Kaelea left it on my MP3. And I like it. Alot. In fact, I can't stop listening to it. In the car. In my kitchen. First thing in the morning. Just before I go to sleep.

I'm a mom. A missionary. I was raised on country music which includes the Grand Ole Opry and Hee Haw ("Salute!")

And somehow rap music has bounced its way into my soul.

This isn't a new development actually. I have secretly loved this stuff for a long, long time. (a jambox and the Permian band bus come to mind:-)) Unfortunately, I have not been able to indulge my love of this music because of the awful themes and language rappers in the secular world choose to "share about". Thankfully, Christian rappers have stepped up with better words and messages. And now, thanks to Rockin' I and K I am in possession of some poppin', hip hoppin' quality tunes!

They say confession is good for the soul.

"My name is Cheryl and I love rap."

Word.

Organization...by Cheryl

What is it about stacks and lists that eases my burden? Nothing truly gets finished with the stacking and the listing. But somehow...the dividing up of the insurmountable into seemingly manageable units makes me able to sleep better.

Our dining room table is covered with stacks of receipts which will, with a little help from Quicken, become a detailed finance report in the next few days.

My guest bedroom closet has four stacks of drawings, birthday cards and other treasures that will become four sentimental and heart tugging scrapbooks for my children.

The corner of my living room has two picture boxes with pictures in sequential order that will fill the two empty picture albums they are stacked on.

My refrigerator has three lists running right now...
*to do before furlough
* to buy while on furlough
* to buy in Kampala next week

My desk in the school room has four stacks:
Kinley's work
Alex's work
Lesson books for next week
And letters to be answered

In my bedroom, by my glider rocker are three stacks:
magazines I love (Real Simple!)
Bibles, journals and current study book
thank you notes and list of names

To my left, right now, is a list of 5 tasks I MUST get accomplished on the computer before the power clicks off again. (nope. Blogging isn't really on that list. Sigh)

And to be completely honest...just writing this "list" of all my organizing efforts...well, it leaves me with an odd sense of...tranquility and peace.

In truth, it is that whole "intention vs actual behavior" discussion that is worthy of our time. But, not right now. It isn't on my list and I have a foreboding feeling that it would wreck my temporary feeling of accomplishment.

So for the moment, I'll revel in the facade of manageability. With aspiring hope that soon...I can bask in the glory of actual completion.

Pulling My Hair Out

After 6 weeks of sporting the Africa-do... I have been de-braided. I worked on my braids for about three days and on Wednesday my friend Florence came over to help me finish the job. It took us three hours ...but we got them all removed. My children enjoyed the 'fro I sported until my hair was washed. I was...lovely. Sort of like the eighties and a new crimping iron run amuk. After a good hairwashing...I am back to my own soft locks.

The Homeland

On Monday, we hosted a meeting for American Citizens in our home. There were 15 of us gathered...including the Consular from the Embassy. He drove in just for the meeting and shared information on several important topics.

Here is my summation:

1. Stand Fast--I think this phrase sounds so military and important. It basically means "stay home"....but that sounds so ordinary.
This was the reccommendation concerning the day of the Presidential Election next week and the days following...especially the day the results are released.

2. Sell the Poultry Farm--We don't actually have one...but there could be very tough times ahead for those who do. The Bird Flu has reached the Africa Continent (specifically Nigeria)...so task forces are being formed, money is being doled out and precautions are being taken. We were advised not to handle live poultry and to prepare to (ahem...) Stand Fast in case of quarantine. There is a large CDC (Center for Disease Control) office in Kampala so Uganda should be well equipped to handle problems if the need arises.

3.Electricity Joy--We were told it would probably get worse before it gets better. Apparently, diesel generators have been brought in to provide the little power we are currently receiving which in effect means--- diesel shortages. No generators...less power. That is unless God graciously dumps eight feet of water in Lake Victoria soon.

I have been about this international living for over 10 years now. And I always enjoy the dynamics of American gatherings overseas.
In our living room were:
-- four 20-something Peace Corp volunteers...living on nothing, serving, sharing, volunteering, missing home.
--one single woman, who in her 50's decided to take all of her money, leave her home in Hawaii and move to Fort Portal....to help orphans. And she has...
--seven missionaries...from California, Oregon, Texas, Pennsylvania and South Africa...from different backgrounds, doctrines and training...but (check this out) One Christ
--one Catholic sister...she came to Ft. Portal for 3 years and has stayed 34. Amazing.
--and one American Embassy consular staff person...willing to drive to our town to give us information....

We shared something. Citizenship.

We are all foreigners, stand-outs, Mzungu (white men). We exist and cope in surroundings and world views that will never be our own. We came because we CHOSE to. We stay, because we feel we have something to offer. And yet, we all maintain citizenship in a place that means the world to us. Home.

For one hour on Monday, we gingerly stepped back into the bounds of American politeness and greeting. We told American jokes. We wallowed in the joy of information...true, factual and precise. Our greetings were shy at first. We were shifting our minds back to our American rules of social order. But we got there and in many ways, relaxed into the social acceptance we understand.

I love the diversity our life here allows. I love the international understanding I have gained.

But I adore the American-ness of me. I am a West Texas born girl. Who always sings the National Anthem at football games(though I haven't been to one in awhile). And whose heart races everytime she sees Old Glory waving in the wind.

I'm glad for all the flavors of this life. And for the joy of being a Citizen.

"Ohhhh, Say,can you see...."

Rain, rain, come our way...

Scheduling, predictability and time conciousness....non existent in a Third World country...FYI.

I am feeling the love today...with kind regards from our Uganda Electricity Service.

There was an official announcement two days ago. AFTER three weeks of horrible power outages, our Electricity Experts declared "we have a problem."

Indeed.

The hippos are drinking Lake Victoria! Or something...

Because five feet of water from the mammoth lake have disappeared. Evaported. Gone...

So now, the generating dams are not...generating that is.

We are without power for 12 hours a day...or WITH power 12 hours a day...depending on your outlook. Or your hold on reality.

Because, what they don't tell you... is that your 12 hours will be delivered in any increment they deem appropriate....

For instance, last night our power went off at 5pm. Came back at 5:10. Went off at 5:20. Came back at 5:45. Went off at 6:00. Came back on at 6:15. Went off at 7:00. Came back on at 7:05. Went off at 8:15. Came back at 8:30. Went off at 8:45. Came back at 9:15. ...whew.

To give you the visual. Power clicks off. I huff and look at the clock (why?). As I hunt for the matches that mysteriously walk away from where I last put them, my mind clicks off 12 hours from time on clock. Before I get one candle lit, power clicks back on. Sigh. Wait for everything to click back on, settle back in with movie. Power clicks off. Louder huff. Matches? Candle...Discuss generator option. Walk out to generator room...power clicks on before generator turns on. Deeper sigh. Back to the house. Settle back in...power off...Huff and special words :-)...skip candles...straight to generator...many kind comments floating about...generator won't start...check oil...fiddle with wires...power clicks back on. While power is on...quickly locate flashlight...more matches and candles...light them and leave them lit for the duration...beg husband to please take a look at the generator...starts right up for him (argh! and Yea!)....settle back in with movie...can't even remember what we are watching...town power returns...do we turn off the generator or just run off generator?...generator dies...back to town power...prepare for bed...crawl under covers...power clicks off...children begin to cry...out of bed...WHERE ARE THE MATCHES?!?!?!....light the lantern...pull blankets off bed...try to sleep in the heat with no fans to cool you...

Are you feeling the love too?

We have been told that this power service will not change until it rains in Jinja. I'm not sure if that is the Ugandan equivalent of "when donkeys fly"...but I'm kinda scared that it might be.

So for now, we resign ourselves to the inevitable. Try to laugh about it. Apologize to our family when we forget to choose a good attitude:-)...dutifully pay our electricity bill...and wait for the rain.

I sure hope its coming...