What's My Story About Where I've Been

So I think I must be the worst blogger ever.  OK maybe not the worst but of course I have fallen into the pattern I think many new bloggers develop – getting off to a good start and then trying to figure out how to find the time to make regular posts.  Well and then there’s this thing calling living in Africa that makes it a bit challenging.  Lack of reliable power and intermittent internet access always provide me with a convenient excuse to procrastinate writing a blog post.  Yes I must say that even though I know how to use a pencil and paper there is something not quite right about drafting a blog post in the dark on paper (!) and then typing up and posting when there is power again!  And I don’t feel like I can think without typing my stream of consciousness as I go along.  Of course this has surprised me a bit that I am that dependent on technology to get something done.  That is a trait I generally have associated with a crowd younger than myself.  Live and learn I guess!

The excuses kept coming.  On days when I wasn’t buying my own “living in Africa” excuse I had others.  I told myself that it has been so long since I’ve posted anything so no one will really be interested anymore.  However on my recent trip to the United States I had so many people tell me how much they enjoy reading my blog and seeing my posts on Facebook.  I have more followers than I realized who are truly interested in what I am seeing and experiencing while I am living in Uganda.  Many times though I think to myself I don’t have time to be inside writing about what I’m experiencing – I need to be out experiencing it! 

You have to know though that blogging is not one of those things that comes second nature to me.  I am not someone who has kept a journal for any regular amount of time.  I have good intentions.  You should see all the journals I have started and then put to the side only to pick up months or even years later.   The problem is that I am extremely extroverted and would rather be interacting with people and engaging in conversation rather than conversing with my own thoughts.  Honestly writing a blog for me is work!  Like all extroverts I am energized by engagement with people rather than by down time alone.  While introverts can be energized by a time of reflection and solitary activity, for me time spent doing something alone does not recharge me.  And here in Uganda every day presents its own set of challenges that usually drains me before I make it to the end of the day.  I find it takes a lot more effort to just get through the day here so I am constantly seeking out more and more social interaction with people around me every day to recharge rather than spending time writing or reading.

Once I got out of the habit of writing my blog it was hard to motivate myself to get started back up again.  Where to start – do I try to start where I left off and fill in everything in between?  As every day passed the space grew from when I’d made the last blog post and I knew I’d never be able to cover all that had happened in the past and still keep up with the present.  It seemed to make sense that I would just start from where I am.  But I still felt like something would be lost if I didn’t somehow cover the in between. 

This led me to contemplate the concept of time.  In one of my earlier blogs (A Future that is Not My Own) I wrote about the need to balance between worrying about the future and living in the present.  My observation was about how much the culture and shape of society in Uganda forces a focus on the present as compared with the way US culture and society tends to focus people on the future.  My point was that the balance between planning for the future yet remaining in the present that is important. But what about the balance between the past and the future?   I think for people in the US, the tendency is to discount the past more than the present or the future.  In some ways it can be a helpful to have an attitude of thinking that you can overcome an unfortunate history or bad childhood or disastrous marriage or whatever past to have a successful future.  The American Dream is based on just such a notion.  But here in Uganda I think the stories about the past are valued differently.  The story of what someone has seen or experienced is the source of great wisdom.  It is also tied up in the concept of age.  Ugandans give great respect to those who are older because of their experience.  Their past is not something to be overcome but to be valued. 

This past Sunday in worship a college-aged intern worshiping with me made a comment about the experiences of some of the older people here.  We were worshiping at a church in Gulu located within a former refugee camp for people displaced in Northern Uganda in the 1980s and 90s by the activities of the Lord’s Resistance Army.  She was looking at a woman who must have been somewhere in her 70s.  The intern commented that when she sees this woman who has reached that age in Uganda she can’t imagine what all this woman has seen in her lifetime here.  The reality is that she is right – she can’t imagine it.  This woman has tremendous experience and wisdom from her lifetime of living which is recognized as valuable to the community.  It is tied up in who she is and in her story.

This is why I think I didn’t want to leave out part of my recent story.  Something of great value can be lost if we skip over some of our history.  I thought if I didn’t record every last bit of what I’ve experienced and seen over the last few months it would be gone.  But I think I forgot one vital point.  History is the past taken as a whole and that whole resides in who I am and how I act in the present.  I even made that very point this week.  I had an opportunity to address the children at Humble United Methodist Primary School on the occasion of the farewell ceremony for the interns who had been working there for the last 8 weeks.  I reminded the children that while they will miss the interns after they have gone back to the US, they will always carry a part of these two young women with them.  Their interactions and stories they created together are bound up in who they are in the present and the future.  The whole of who they are includes a piece of their experience with these interns.

So over the last few months I’ve been really busy.  I spent two weeks focused on a crisis related to a project with one of our US partners which kept me busy 24/7 and then off for a two week vacation out of the country.  I returned to Uganda to spend a week to participate in the East Africa Annual Conference (including a brief stint presiding over the Conference!) and another week traveling in eastern Uganda visiting churches and communities in rural areas.  That left another week for me to catch my breath before returning to the US for the North Georgia Annual Conference and what was supposed to be only a three week trip.  I ended up having an extra week in the US because of a problem with my flight and difficulty by the airline rebooking my return.  Most recently I have been involved with assisting two visiting interns in their last days in Uganda.   

While you may not know all the details of what I have seen and experienced over the last few months it is a part of me.  No one will really know how my life and who I am has been shaped by these experiences - as it is with anyone.  How does this relate to the innate human need to be known? Does it mean we can never really satisfy that need?  Does it mean that we can never truly know another? I think if we carry around an expectation that we want everyone we encounter to fully understand us then we will be sorely disappointed.  I think if we can modify our expectation to hope that others are open to see how complex each person really is then we can satisfy that need to be known.  But I think that is a topic for another blog.  As for the life lesson for myself on today’s topic, I have learned  to trust that you will encounter my story in the whole of who I am in the present and the future.

A Future That is Not My Own

I had intended to write on a different topic Thursday evening but before settling down to write decided to stop for a cold drink at a local shop.  Sodas here are served in glass bottles which require a deposit so small vendors expect you to consume on site and return the bottle when you are finished.  While enjoying my drink I struck up a conversation with two young men in their early twenties which covered so many topics I had plenty of different things to ponder.

One of the young men lived in the back of the shop.  I assumed the woman who owned the store was his mother or his guardian.  He had been injured about a month ago and was recovering from surgery on his leg.  His friend had come for a visit.  Most of the conversation was initiated by the friend.  We talked a good bit about religious topics and theology.  This young man was struggling with the concepts of suffering and punishment in Hell, poverty and greed and their effects on people, and the importance of a personal relationship with God versus what corporate or organized religion provides.  Underneath this he was also expressing his feeling of despair or lack of hope for himself and for people in Uganda.  Wow – and I just stopped for a cold drink!

At one point he asked me why I would choose to leave where I am from, where I have everything, to come to a place like Uganda where there is so little.  I told him that I wanted to come to see if I could help people find a way to make their lives better.  He didn’t ask specifics how or who I was working with but seemed to accept my answer as enough.  It was almost as if he meant it as a rhetorical question.  So he didn’t know the specifics of my calling, that I’m here serving with the UMC and that I’m on the ordination track to be ordained as a minister.  I think that by engaging him in conversation he realized that here was someone who actually will listen seriously to his concerns and questions and that is what he really wanted.  It didn’t matter to him what my background or role was but that I was fully present with him to hear precisely what was on his mind.

I stayed much longer than I intended – well after I finished my drink – but staying somewhere longer than I intended seems to happen frequently here!  I was there so late that the pending blog post did not get written.  Actually that is how many of my days play out here.  I can start out with an idea of what I will be doing each day but usually my program (that’s how people here describe an agenda or plan for the day) gets interrupted with something else, like this exchange with these two young men.  I am fortunate that I have the flexibility to adjust my schedule pretty quickly in response to a situation like this where I want to spend some time. 

I did the same thing very often when I was living in the US but find it even more natural here in Uganda.  The culture here just seems to lend itself to that type of ordering of the day.  Most of the time is spent thinking in the present.  The trick though is figuring out how to maintain balance between being in the present and planning for the future.  How do we experience the moment while not losing sight of the future?  In the US the culture makes it easy to spend too much time worrying about the future with the emphasis on deadlines, outcomes and production rather than seeing the real needs right in front of us.  Here in Uganda the opposite is true where I find myself spending more time involved in the issues of the day rather than looking at tomorrow, next week or next month.  But without some planning and focus tomorrow, next week or next month eventually comes with a new set of issues that could have been prevented with some forethought.

Neither culture provides an exact fit.  And in both countries the way of ordering the day is a product of the culture.  The expectations about how people go about the day in the US are a result of the social mores and values of the country that are shaped by a results-driven society. The context in Uganda with its challenges of poverty, poor transportation, unreliable power etc. has created a climate where the focus is on getting day to day events accomplished in light of the sometimes unpredictable challenges that present themselves.  The approaches are not interchangeable in the other setting.  If I try to operate in Uganda with the same expectations I might have in the US, I will set myself up to fail every time – I will never be able to accomplish here in one day what I can accomplish in the US without significant effort and additional resources.  On the other side if I attempt to function in the US with a day to day focus without thought for the future I will find it hard to manage in a society that emphasizes individual success and upward progress.

I am appreciating being in a society that values taking the time to be fully present with others.  While I do have programs and events that I must plan for, I have room to be flexible and engage in unexpected opportunities that present themselves.  When people ask me what I expect to accomplish while I am here  I explain that I am training leaders in the United Methodist Church on what it means to be United Methodist as well as developing leaders in the community who can spearhead community development and income-generating projects.  While those efforts can be measured in specific outputs, I think some of the best results will be on the individual level as I interact with the people in these programs.  I am sure I will have many more opportunities like the one I had with the two young men last week.  All that was needed to help the young man was a willingness to listen and be present so he could realize he was not alone and someone cared about his struggle.  These are the moments that are most important to me.

I do not know if I will meet that young man again in the future or if I will have a chance to walk with him further along his journey.   I trust that he will find someone else who is willing to help him find his way along the path when he needs help again.  What I do know is that God has called me to keep my eyes open to see what is happening around me each day so I won’t overlook an opportunity to love my neighbor as myself.  I know what I do is very small compared to the needs here and some may wonder if it makes a difference.  It made a difference to that young man. 

Today I came across some words in a prayer by Archbishop Oscar Romero: “A Prayer for Workers, Prophets and Ministers & All Those in Outreach Ministries.”  Part of Romero’s prayer says, “We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.”  My hope is that I am a prophet of a future that is not my own.

What's in a Name?

Today I’m puzzling over what it means to be a muzungu in an African country.  I’ve mentioned before that here in Uganda people have a name for white people – muzungu.  Every time I walk to the corner to buy a loaf of bread or go for a run over the dirt roads of my neighborhood, children greet me waving and smiling with a cry of “Bye Muzungu.”  Children wave at me and shout muzungu when I am riding in the car through the neighborhood on my way to work.  It’s not just limited to children – adults use it to get my attention as well.  If I’m walking along the road near the taxi lot the matatu taxi drivers will shout to ask “Muzungu are you going to Kampala?” or wherever they are heading.  People in shops will see me walk by and call “muzungu” to get my attention or just to tell each other a white person is passing by.  The boda boda drivers (motorcycle taxis)  call “Muzungu, tu gende?” meaning “White person, shall we go?”  Everywhere I go I am greeted by strangers calling out to me.

The word muzungu can have different meanings depending on how it is used.  One thing is certain though – it is always understood by the person using it to be said with a positive inference.  It is never considered an insult to call someone muzungu.  This is quite a change for someone who grew up in the aftermath of the racially segregated South in the United States.  What a taboo it would be in the US to call someone a name that is based on the color of their skin!  But here it is not so – the Ugandans aren’t burdened with the same set of cultural baggage that we have in this area.  This is not to say that they don’t carry around their own sets of mores and social cues.  For example, the other meanings laden in the term muzungu relate to socioeconomic status.  It is entirely possible for someone who is not white to be labeled a muzungu.  Muzungu literally translated from Kiswahili means “someone who wanders” which was first used to describe European explorers, missionaries and slave traders who wandered through East Africa.  The term implied a certain level of wealth or high economic status to be able to afford to move around in what appeared to be an aimless manner.  So now the term can be used to describe someone with money or the person who is paying which means that even Ugandans can be considered a muzungu.  It can be descriptive of socioeconomic status not just race.

This complicates matters for how people here perceive me.  When people here look at me and label me muzungu, I usually assume it is the obvious usage of the term.  They are calling a spade a spade.  Look, there is a white person.  We see that you are different based on your appearance and we are labeling you that way.  However, it’s not usually that simple.  Usually the secondary meaning of the word also is attached because of culturally conditioned expectations of how white people or other foreigners (who get lumped in to the muzungu business too) act when they come to Uganda.  It’s not just a label that is descriptive of my appearance.  It says something about how Ugandans expect me to act and who they think I am.

Children expect me to wave back and smile because all muzungu do it.  Boda boda drivers expect me to want to ride rather than walk because no muzungu would need to walk.  Most people assume I wouldn’t be able to greet them in Luganda when they ask “how are you, muzungu?” because no muzungu would bother to learn to speak in their language.  The most prevalent expectation is that I would have money to pay for anything I want without a thought and that I don’t need to budget and be prudent about where my money goes.  Sometimes it gets to the point that merchants will try to overcharge me based on the color of my skin or people persistently ask me for handouts in all kinds of forms.

It is human nature to categorize based on prior experience.  We make sense of things by relating to what we already know.  It’s a component of our learning process.  The normal pattern is that if we come across something unfamiliar we seek to make a connection to something we know.  From this connection we form an observation.  Then we can test our observation over time and with repeated experiences to see if it makes sense.  Connecting to what we know is how we make meaning of what we experience around us.

We also can describe something new or unknown by relating it to something we do know.  Similes and metaphors are extremely useful in this way.  If you want to describe something new to someone you can say it is like something else.  There isn’t really a way to fully explain something that is completely foreign without relating it to something the person already knows.  But you can never really understand without actually seeing or experiencing it in person.  You can come close but without the personal experience of fully engaging with the unfamiliar, the description of it will fall short.

This brings to mind the tale of the blind men and the elephant.  The short of the story is that six blind men go to “see” an elephant for the first time.  The one who felt its side thought it was like a wall.  The one who felt its tusk thought it was like a spear.  The third who felt its knee thought it was like a tree trunk.  The fourth who felt its tail described it as like a rope.  The fifth man who touched the ear said it was like a fan.  The sixth man who touched the trunk decided it was like a snake.  Of course the moral of the story is that each man’s experience was in some way right but no one of them had a complete understanding of what an elephant really is like.

So with people and relationships the problem comes when we happen to stop short with our first observation.  We make that first connection but leave it at that.  We don’t engage the other to discover if what we think about someone by this associative process is accurate or captures the complete picture of who they are.  These misperceptions become barriers to real relationship with each other.  So earlier I said it is never considered an insult by the speaker to call someone a muzungu but does that mean it is a compliment?  It may not be an insult but I don’t think it is a compliment either.  I think that when we insist on dividing ourselves into us and them, we shortchange our experience with one another.  Labels become a crutch we use to make us more comfortable that we know who someone is.  By seeing someone only through the lens of that label we are saying they are less than who they really are.

Most of the people in Uganda have very few opportunities to engage with a muzungu one-on-one for more than a brief exchange so they don’t have an opportunity to look beyond the label because of lack of first hand experience.  Their perceptions will be slow to evolve and I certainly won’t be able to make a sea change in attitudes all on my own.  Most people will continue to see money first when they see a white person and to continue to think that is who the white person is.  But as I move around in my neighborhood I try to engage with another person each day to show there is more to me than what the muzungu label implies.  I can’t say I am making a big dent in the barrier that stands between me and the people here in Uganda who see me as a muzungu but I am chipping away at it right where I am, one exchange at a time.

Planting a Mustard Seed

I have been meaning to write a post for several days now. The whole week before I’ve had plenty of moments that I’ve wanted to reflect upon and share and I really wanted to stick to my promise to myself that I would blog once a week. But there are many things that I’ve been meaning to do for the last week that can’t quiet seem to get done. Last week was particularly challenging logistically between the power not cooperating and not having reliable transportation. Then again this week the power was off for almost two days straight. So blogging got pushed down low on the priority list – OK it got shoved right off the end of the page! For good reason but that’s a story for another post. For now I’ve got a short update on some of what is happening in my ministry.

Last week was my first opportunity to engage in a training session with some of the pastors here in the East Africa Annual Conference. Most of the pastors who are leading congregations here are not ordained. One of the main reasons is education. Some of them have been able to get as far as an associate’s degree but most are lucky to have completed secondary school. And seminary training is limited to only a handful of ministers in the conference. Getting the necessary education for ordination will take years if it is possible for any of these pastors to achieve at all. So, as an interim step, the EAAC decided to provide additional training opportunities for local pastors to teach them about theology, doctrine, Methodism and leadership skills. The past two weeks were the inaugural session of a two year plan for a Bible College for local pastors. For two weeks at a time throughout the year, a small group of pastors and leaders have been invited to participate in the Bible College. The Bible College meets at Humble School, which is a primary school established by the UMC for orphaned and vulnerable children. When the school is not in session for holiday breaks, the Bible College meets using the facilities.

I didn’t find out that I was expected to teach until just over a week before the Bible College started. I was assigned Methodism. We decided that I should teach a series of courses similar to what is expected of those who are seeking ordination in the United States – a series of classes on Methodist history, theology and polity (or in other words church governance and structure). As a candidate for ordination in the US, I was expected to take the same series of courses in my seminary education. The only problem now was that I did not have any materials. The other instructors were using a predesigned curriculum that had been obtained from a local Pentecostal Bible college so I was on my own to design the course. At the same time I had already scheduled travel the week before the Bible College so by the weekend before I had only had time to identify some online resources and obtain a wealth of electronic resources from a former professor at Candler. That meant I was designing my lesson plan the night before or the day of the class I was leading.

Day one of my class, I was standing in front of 27 local church pastors from four countries most of whom spoke English as a second (or third, or fourth) language. I had a Methodist history lesson plan in hand and some trepidation of how well I would be able to communicate, whether what I had to say would be relevant and how they would perceive my teaching style. As I worked through my lecture and they asked questions I began to get a sense for how the week might unfold. I knew I was going to have to design my lesson plans each evening in response to the speed they were learning and what areas needed further background.

Not knowing much about the group before the classes began, I had to guess at what they already knew before coming to the Bible College. Many questions they asked pointed out to me areas that I needed to expand on because I designed my course assuming a certain level of background knowledge which they clearly did not have. I quickly discovered the wide variety of experience and education level in the group. What they had in common though was very little exposure to what it means to be United Methodist. For me, I had learned about the UMC by attending church in my teens and 20s while listening to preachers and leaders who had been trained in Methodist theology and practice. Many in this group were the first generation of United Methodists and they lead congregations of new Methodists. The United Methodist Church is a relatively new presence in Uganda and some of the other East African countries.

Another thing I discovered they had in common was an eagerness to learn and to do well in the course. Truthfullyn history of any kind can be a bit dry at times ,but this group was engaged and listening. My class period was late in the day so it was hot and they were tired from their other lessons earlier in the day but the questions kept coming from them. After the first reading and writing assignment I had asked them to complete, I was amazed to see how anxious they were to get their papers returned to them. They excitedly gathered around the class leader waiting to get their papers back to see what marks they had received. And the anticipation of the final exam created a good deal of stress for all of the students who really wanted to be able to show what they had learned. The value that they placed on education and learning seemed much greater than what I have seen from my peers in the US as I completed my studies. I can imagine it has to do with the scarcity of education.  Opportunities to study somewhere like a Bible College are much harder to come by and much more rare here than for students in the US. This class was only about 25 out of the approximately 500 pastors in the East Africa Annual Conference of the UMC. That means for each person who was able to attend there were 25 pastors who were not able to participate because of the budget limitations for the Bible College.

So for now I've gained more clarity about a need here but I still need to do some more work to get a better understanding of the context and the issues at hand. In the days and weeks ahead, I will be exploring how to work with the people here to help the Conference move forward with the Bible College as one piece of a larger leadership development program. While this may seem like only a small drop in a big bucket it is at least a drop that wasn't there before. I actually see it more like the parable of the mustard seed that Jesus tells about the Kingdom of God in Mark 4:30-32. The mustard seed which is the smallest of all seeds grows into the largest of all the trees in the garden with branches so large birds can perch and nest there. In this tiny seed of knowledge and education, we are giving these leaders a start of something that will grow into much more than we can ourselves imagine.

Christmas in Uganda

I moved to Uganda less than two weeks before Christmas.  While packing and getting ready to move from the US to Uganda I wondered what Christmas would be like.  I knew it wouldn’t have the usual wrappings of the Christmas season that I was used to in the US.  Christmas carols, wreaths, lights, poinsettias, greeting cards and newsletters, parties, gift exchanges, and the Christmas Eve candlelight service were things I knew would be missing from my Christmas in Uganda.   I wondered how I would experience Christmas without the usual cultural symbols and activities that make up an American Christmas.  

Before I left for Uganda I knew I would be giving up one of my favorite parts of Christmas – decorating my own tree.  This would be the first time in over eighteen years since I graduated from college that I did not have my own tree.  Out of all the Christmas decorations the most important to me is my tree and the process of decorating it.  The reason is that most of my ornaments have some special significance to me.  I have ornaments that I made for my mother and father when I was a child.  The brass ornaments etched with my name that my grandmother gave me each year tied to my Christmas present as name tags decorate my tree.  Ornaments made by my grandmother hang alongside ornaments I made with my brother and sisters.  I have ornaments that I bought from places far and near from my travels both on my own and with friends and family.  Friends gave me ornaments as special gifts.  Some ornaments I bought to hang low on the tree that would survive a random swipe from my dog’s tail.  Decorating my tree is a special time of year that I spend reflecting and remembering family and friends and how blessed I’ve been with all the wonderful people in my life.  It is a tangible representation of all the relationships that have shaped me into who I am.  It is a reminder of those present with me and those who are only with me in spirit - all together at once.   For me it means Christmas is here.  But all of those ornaments are packed up in storage.  I knew I would miss this in my move to Uganda. 

The other part of Christmas that resonates with me is the Christmas Eve candlelight singing of Silent Night.  The whole service of worship and the celebration of Holy Communion really communicate to me the meaning of Christmas.  But that moment of looking out over the congregation and seeing all the faces lit by candlelight joined in hushed awe to sing of the birth of the Christ child seems to open a window into the heart of God for me when I can really feel what God’s love means.  For Christians in Uganda, Christmas comes in the daytime, not at night.  So without my tree and without my candlelight service where was Christmas?

On Friday before Christmas I still didn’t know where I was invited to celebrate Christmas but I felt sure that my new colleagues and friends in Uganda would make sure I had somewhere to be.   By Sunday morning it was all worked out that I was to join in worship in Jinja, an hour north of my home, and that I would be picked up and transported to spend the day there.  The trip to Jinja was amazing – traveling through central Uganda past sugar and tea plantations and over lush rolling hills.  We passed by several churches on the way and there was an excitement in the air as people walked along , road on the back of boda bodas or crammed into shared taxis to go to worship in their communities.  Everyone was in their best clothes, both traditional and modern attire, many as if they were attending a formal party or wedding.  I sensed an anticipation of celebration that I’ve never experienced on my way to Christmas Eve services in the United States.

By the time we arrived at the church, the Bible study before the service was just wrapping up.  We were just in time for worship.  I think that they were waiting for us to show up before starting the service – Africa time means that starting times for services, meetings or anything else are merely suggestions depending on who is present.  They knew we were coming and would be helping to lead worship so once we appeared they decided they could begin the worship service. 

The service itself was amazing!  I am still adjusting to an entirely different style of worship since I have always been more comfortable with a traditional order of worship and traditional music.  Here praise music rules the day!  It is not worship without a rousing round of praise music both in English and in their native languages.  I didn’t know the tunes and sometimes I didn’t know the words but I couldn’t help but join in.  ME!  Yes - the one who doesn’t feel comfortable clapping in church after a wonderful anthem or inspirational soloist.  Or the one who feels closest to God in the quiet moments of a reverent prayer, in the singing of the good old Wesley hymns I’ve sung over and over again, in finding the words from the scripture reading echoing in the anthem and when the sermon ties the whole service together in a way that feels very personal to me.  There I was learning new ways to say thank you God (Webale Jesu) and doing it in song without giving it a second thought.  I was enjoying the young adults singing and dancing in church (really - dancing in church??) and laughing at the skit they performed about going to church.  It was FUN!

But there was more to it than just singing and fun.  While I have come to expect the traditional narrative about the birth story of Jesus, this worship was about celebrating that Jesus had come into the world for us.  It was amazing to hear it in the sermon, the praise music, the hymns and through the celebration of communion.  I was humbled to be asked to assist at the table for the Lord’s Supper.  Because of the lack of ordained ministers here it is incredibly rare for congregations to have communion as a part of the service and I couldn’t believe that I was being asked to assist the minister who was there for the day.  As I led the people through the liturgy for communion, I couldn’t help but think what a special time it was for this congregation to celebrate the sacrament of Holy Communion.  While I am always moved when I have the honor to serve Communion to the congregation, on this day I could actually see how God’s grace moved through the sacrament when particularly eager faces looked up at me to receive the small piece of bread to dip into the cup.  Communion was really God with us.  The symbols that represented the body and blood of Christ for each person really made a difference in the lives of these people.

A friend of mine recently commented that moving to a different place opened her up to new experiences and new ways of thinking.  I can say the same for me.  Completely removing myself from all that is familiar by immersion in an new culture has forced me into discovering new ways of doing things and pushed me out of familiar thought patterns.   Let’s face it – human nature is to be lazy at times.  The path of least resistance is very tempting.  We get comfortable in our habits and ways of thinking and we have to be intentional about challenging ourselves to grow and change.  I am lucky that while I am here to serve I also have an opportunity to grow.   So the person who came out of seminary a couple of years ago who was sure that traditional worship was the right fit for her is beginning to rethink how other forms of worship might be the right size for her at times too.  And the same one who thought that blended worship (services with both traditional and contemporary elements) just made a mess of things now can see that when this type of service grows organically out of the right context it might just fit!  When it is honest worship from the heart of the people God is there.

Where was Christmas?  Was it on a shelf in a storage unit with all of my ornaments?  Was it in the candlelight shining on each face on Christmas Eve?  Did it come in the same package as last year or show up as something unexpected?  Was it in the songs of the people praising God?  Was it in the laughter?  Was it in the eyes of those who waited to receive the elements from Communion? God came into the world anew for me in fresh thoughts, new ways of thinking and seeing again that God’s Love and Light came into the world for me and you.   I don’t know where Christmas was for you but for me Christmas was here in Uganda.

Our Daily Bread

Since arriving in Kampala a little over a week ago most of my daily activities have involved settling in my temporary housing and determining all of the logistical items that must be resolved to get settled more permanently.  I’ve been working with people on the ground here to address issues of transportation, accommodations, meals and cultural differences in ways of doing things.  While I have done some short term travel in parts of Africa, living here and going about day to day activities is entirely another story.  I had some experience with “Africa time” (things move at a very different pace here and with different understandings of time!), the traffic, the noise, the dust, the power outages, and such on my previous travels along with all the sights and pleasures of leisure travel.  However, the impact of all these factors while trying to begin a new job and settle in a new place to live is entirely different from how these things impact the leisure traveler.  Yes there is a good bit of culture shock in a few areas!  And my to do list is so long – work permits, furniture shopping, grocery shopping, household items, finding my way around, discovering where to buy things, and learning how things work. 

Doing all this in an unfamiliar city is one thing but it is extra challenging here in a completely different culture and environment.  Things that people here are used to dealing with aren’t part of my natural way of thinking because I’ve learned how to function in another environment.  One of the primary challenges I continue to struggle with is daily meals.  What is a relatively simple task for me in the United States consumes a large part of my day here.  It is not just any one factor that makes it so challenging.  When I first arrived, we made a quick stop at a grocery store to pick up necessities.  However, since I hadn’t even been to my temporary apartment I didn’t know how it was outfitted and had to make assumptions about what I would be able to prepare.  I bought some cereal and milk for breakfast the next day and some noodles and sauce to make a simple spaghetti dinner for that evening.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered that I did not have a refrigerator!  So breakfast became dinner and I figured I would have to improvise for the next morning with dry cereal. 

I had a sense of uncertainty I’ve never experienced about my daily meals.  I did not have any transportation.  I was unfamiliar with my surroundings and whether I could safely venture out.  I didn’t even know if there was any food within walking distance of my apartment.  Knowing this was not like the US with plentiful restaurants I didn’t know what I might find.  I wasn’t even certain when I would next see any of my hosts after they left me the first night.  For the first time in my life, I went to bed not knowing whether I would be able to have my daily meals.  It really made me think about what it means to pray the line in the Lord’s Prayer “give us this day our daily bread.”  For many years for me, this had meant not so much physical bread but the spiritual needs that God provides us every day.  But this day I knew what it meant to pray to God for my daily bread in a physical sense.

Even so I had to count myself very fortunate because I knew that mine was a temporary situation that would be resolved in a few days.  Unlike many of my neighbors here who know that feeling because they do not have enough money to feed themselves or their family, I had the security of knowing eventually I would find a way to get have some kind of food so that I would not go hungry each day.  But because of my situation I still have to think about food on an almost daily basis.  After two days of no refrigerator, we finally located one.  I felt I had at least a temporary fix of how to store some basic items like milk and yogurt for breakfast with bread or bananas.  Then the next challenge became how to work the stove so I could make tea and cook some simple items for myself.  No one seemed to know how it worked since most people here don’t use a gas or electric stove.  After some consultation, we discovered that the electric side was faulty and the starter didn’t work for the gas side so we resorted to manually lighting it with a match.  With new-found confidence I felt sure I could cook a few things for myself just as I did at home and started with a few basic items to test the waters – ramen noodles, pasta and pasta sauce. 

After a couple of evenings of simple items I decided it was now a good time to do some real shopping to prepare myself “real” meals.  On Wednesday evening, I loaded up my refrigerator with chicken, ground beef, milk, cheeses to snack on, yogurt and some vegetables.  I was ready to feed myself all the way through the Christmas holiday weekend.  And then the power went out.  Well the power had gone out before but only for a few hours.  This time it was out for over 12 hours overnight.  By Thursday morning all of the meat and dairy I had hoarded away in the small refrigerator had gone to waste.  Just like manna from heaven, that which I could not consume by evening had been ruined by morning.  I was back to focusing on my daily bread.

Thursday my goal was to find out what could be done about power generation during power outage periods - what they call “load sharing.”  I had originally thought that a generator would be the answer but they are loud, cumbersome to use by yourself and you need to be around when the power is out to connect the generator to the house.  Another solution that is used here is an inverter.  The inverter stores electricity in batteries while the power is on and when power is lost will switch to the batteries as emergency power.  Ultimately this is what we will end up installing in my apartment but for now I am at the mercy of intermittent power. 

By Thursday evening I had learned my lesson and thought I would just get some milk for breakfast Friday morning and some meat to cook a nice dinner Friday night.  Surely since the power had been out the night before I would have power Thursday night, right?  Apparently I’m a slow learner.  Yes, the power went out again late Thursday night and had not returned by Friday morning.  In the morning, I had my cereal and milk and gave the rest of the milk to Wilson who works in the garden to drink since it would spoil if the power did not come back on.  Friday night I just gave up on the nice home-cooked meal and picked up a piece of fried chicken on the way home to go with a bowl of ramen noodles.  All of this is of course a foreign concept to my neighbors who can’t imagine that this would be a problem.  Refrigeration is a luxury here - out of reach for most people. 

So back to my daily bread.  For me it is another opportunity to reflect on worrying about the future.  I have always been a planner and forward-thinker.  Of course it is important to set goals and to be prepared for what may come but it is also important to live in the present.  I try to keep a balance between thinking ahead and being present in the moment but usually one is winning out over the other.  And at times in our lives we can’t help but focus on one versus the other, particularly in times of uncertainty.  For me this week, my daily bread is a reminder to evaluate that balance between thinking about the here and now and what may come next week or next month or next year.  And for now I’m OK with where I am - focusing on my daily bread, spiritual and otherwise.