How's the weather?

When we were home in Colorado I paid too much attention to the weather.  The weather forecasts actually, and the discussions about weather.  I also had the ‘news’ playing on the TV and radio enough to be reminded of how much of the broadcasts are dedicated to weather.  And I allowed myself to be influenced by them, making and changing plans based on the forecasts of cold and snow.  I was again frustrated by how much time and energy we spend on something we really have no control over, and why do we (I) allow it to be the topic of so much of our (my) conversation?  Well it’s not just in the US, it’s here as well.  When we returned it was the beginning of the ‘rainy season’.  But it wasn’t raining.  So many of the conversations were about, or included the need for rain. Even on the drive from the airport; our driver was very soft spoken and hard to understand so we didn’t talk much, but when we did it was about rain.  It also influences the behavior here; preparation for planting, what to plant, where to plant, when to plant, as well as how to navigate the roads.  Well I’m happy to report the rains have (mostly) come, planting is occurring, and navigating is interesting.

a rainy season garden

It’s been relatively quiet since we’ve been back.  There’s not a lot happening with Homes of Hope, the next building team isn’t scheduled to come until August.  Also, I’ve made it known I don’t want to be as heavily involved, so I think that will be respected, but for now I’ll be part of the planning and logistics until roles are more defined.  Which is the reason for weekly meetings which happen on Mondays: except when they don’t, because some or all of those scheduled to be there don’t show up; as was the case last week.  The next order of business is to get feedback at an all staff meeting (Wednesdays), and maybe get a clearer idea of the way forward for Homes of Hope at Hopeland.  We’ve also begun weekly meetings (Tuesdays) to work on establishing the Men’s Vocational School which is where my heart is.  It’s been said that YWAM may stand for youth with a meeting; which may be based in reality, but if it results in action that’s okay.

 

The last week Beth and I were pretty sick, and for Beth a trip to the hospital was in order as she became very dehydrated.  (First we had to navigate the road from the base which was ‘suffering’ from the first rains, and required maneuvering around a mired bus.) There are many ‘clinics’ and several ‘hospitals’ to choose from; we chose the brand new Nile International Hospital.  It is run by Turkish doctors, is very modern and boasts four floors with an elevator, and several departments including; L&D, radiology (with a CT scanner), emergency, a surgery theatre, pharmacy, and even a cafeteria.  We’re still in Africa, but it really was impressive.  I think most clinics use a dart board to diagnose (“You don’t need stitches, you have malaria.”), but I’m pretty sure this place uses a modern Wheel of Tropical Diseases which they spin to get their diagnoses.  Actually the consulting physician suspected Typhoid which was ‘confirmed’ by the blood and stool samples taken and analyzed in the lab.  Beth then spent several hours in an ER bed receiving IV fluids and medicine, after which we were sent home with a round of antibiotic and two additional meds.  The total cost for the doctor’s consultation, lab work, in patient care with IV fluids and meds, and prescriptions from the pharmacy was 75,000 Ugs, about $23.  (At that rate we can afford to drop our health insurance, right?) Though we’re pretty sure we didn’t have Typhoid, we do suspect a water or food borne illness, as several others here have had similar symptoms.  We hope we won’t be needing medical services again, but should the need arise we would return to that hospital to take another chance on the Wheel of Tropical Diseases.

Missionaries

Used t’be I coont even spell it, now I are one!

As a child, up to the age of about 13, I attended Catholic church and Catechism with my mother and brothers and sisters, and I remember hearing a lot about missionaries.  I was also raised in California, and the fourth grade curriculum included California history which was full of information about Father Juanipero Serra who established missions along the California coast.  (We got to build sugar cube models of some of those missions, and even took a field trip to visit one.)  I’m sure it was in that context that I formed my perceptions about what a missionary is.  I had, and still have, to some extent, this vision of priests and nuns going into unchurched native cultures and converting the population.  That was accompanied by then ‘civilizing’ that population; meaning forcing them to give up their native beliefs and practices, put on clothes, adopt western ways, and be ‘Christian’.  My early days in the evangelical Christian community did little to change my perception of what a missionary is, except now in my mind a missionary didn’t wear frocks and collars or a habit, but rather they were a conservatively dressed white family who were civilizing the natives.  Because of this perception, for most of my life I’ve struggled with the term ‘missionary’.  Yet now, as it comes up in conversation, we refer to ourselves (and others do, as well) as ‘missionaries’.  Not because we feel like we’re missionaries in what our traditional perception of what that means, but really because it’s easier.  Rather than try to explain why we are in Africa and what we’re doing, it’s easier to say ‘we’re missionaries’.

But aren’t we all missionaries?  Whether it’s actively or passively, we’re all representing someone or something we believe in.  And by our words and actions we demonstrate our allegiances.  You won’t find the word ‘missionary’ in the Bible, but you can find ‘ambassador’.  It’s actually the word I prefer for what we’re doing here, Beth and I are ambassadors of what we believe in.  As Christians, we’re all certainly called to be Christ’s ambassadors, wherever we’re at.  For some it means ‘going out on the mission field’, the way we’ve been taught to believe (like going to Uganda or some other foreign place, wow), but I believe your mission field is wherever you’re at.  I know that what we’re doing here is what we are supposed to do, but it’s no more important than what anyone who is following Christ is doing.  It’s easy and tempting to say ‘I’m a missionary in Africa’ (maybe even impressive to some), but really we’re only doing what we know we are supposed to do.

Sometimes we hear how what we’re doing must be ‘so difficult; missionaries, in Africa!’  I probably haven’t done much to dispel that, but it’s just not true.  First, when you’re doing what you’re supposed to, God is not going to let it be too difficult.  That said, life here (for us) is not difficult anyway. Often frustrating, inconvenient at times, even mystifying sometimes (“really?”…), but overall pretty simple.  Uganda, and Jinja in particular, is easy.  Jinja is home to hundreds of missionary and humanitarian organizations, which means a large western presence, which results in a cottage industry catering to the westerners.  Restaurants, supermarkets, recreation, tours, and etc, are all available. And while Beth and I try to integrate ourselves with the local population, we certainly take advantage of those things.  On the YWAM base itself we have all the comforts of home. (They’re just not very comfortable, or well done. Actually what I’m hoping to change as part of my ‘calling’.)  What we’re doing is not for everyone, but it is for us, and it’s not hard.

Which is why, as of yesterday, we are back in Uganda.  After a great visit ‘home’ we’re back to a much quieter base than when we left.  The VTS girls are gone on holiday before going to their internships, the performing arts DTS is away on outreach, and there are no visiting teams.  On Monday we’ll get back into our routines (or maybe start new ones), but the weekend is for getting over jet lag, and reconnecting.

Thanks for all who made our visit home special.  It was great spending time with the family and friends we were able to, and apologies to those we missed.  The generous hospitality and sharing of time and resources we received is greatly appreciated.  The perks of being missionaries…

Suffering through another missionary meal  (At one of the restaurants we frequent in town) while playing peek-a-boo with a child at another table.