Graduation!!

I took a whirlwind trip to Uganda for graduation, and what a trip it was!  I also went to be interviewed by the University Selection Committee to work at the University.  While I knew this would be a fast trip, I thought the days would be relaxing.  Silly me.


The first flight was delayed because of air traffic congestion over New York.  The second flight was delayed due to the air traffic controller strike in Greece - we had to wait for them to return to work.  With all that's been going on in Greece, I never would have thought that they'd interfere with our travel.  Who knew?


I arrived at school midnight on Tuesday, and the interview was at 9:30 on Wednesday 29 June.  Well, they began at 9:30.  I hung out in the chapel with the other interviewees until I was called in around 1.  The interview went very well.  They interviewed me for "administrative support," not lecturer.  I'm still not very sure about what went into that decision, but I'll be helping out the school with technology-type stuff, liaising with the publishing companies that send books to students at the seminary (inherited from Rosie Button, another missionary), helping students with their English, and other duties as assigned.  My ego is still coping with not having the lecturer title, though I hope that I'll be moved into that role gradually.


Had lunch with friends, then I had to go to Accounts to get my balance (=refund).  Spent some time bouncing between offices, but ultimately had to return on Thursday.  I visited with more friends in the late afternoon, then it was time for bed.  Thankfully.


Thursday morning was chapel, then something in the morning that escapes me, then rushing to Accounts before the Commissioning Service (like a baccalaureate).  I forgot that this was going to happen.  Fortunately, the chaplain asked me to take a reading, because then I got to sit on the stage.  For the three-hour service.  Despite its length, it was a lovely service with Eucharist, and the time passed quickly.  Then supper with the Provost of the cathedral, then it was time for bed.  Thankfully.


Friday morning we were to report to the field at 8:00 so we could go through the metal detectors, then find our seats in the tents.  Someone had placed our names on the chairs so we knew where to sit.  Since there were in excess of 1,000 of us, I pity that team.


Graduation was a lovely affair, with the deans of the respective schools reading the names of their graduands. We had been given "Graduand" nametags as part of our graduation packet (mortarboard, gown, hood, invitations, nametag), and we whipped them off as soon as the Archbishop conferred our degrees.


That was actually fairly surreal - when our names were read, we walked up, and assembled before the Archbishop, Vice Chancellors, and other VIPs.  Those naturally included a half-dozen bishops, several of whom I knew, such as Bishop Muhima.  My name was the fourth one read, so I had a few minutes to search the faces and surreptitiously wave to the people I knew.  The we marched off stage right.


The video below is from Agatha, whom I had charged with taking both still pictures and video.  She did swimmingly, especially since she was doubly charged.

Then we all traipsed to our respective faculties to get our degrees and transcripts.  Apparently this is fairly rare in Uganda if not in Africa:  I have a friend who graduated from Makerere University, the top school in the country, and he's been trying to get his transcripts for months.  Combined with the bachelor students, there were about 60 of us trying to get our folders from poor Gertrude.  I cannot imagine how it went for the larger faculties, like social work or law.  That makes me shudder.

Then it was off to the international theologians luncheon.  Due to all the traipsing it started late, and since I had to leave for the airport at 5, I didn't get to stay terribly long.  Note to self:  when traveling for a major event, do not flit in and out quickly.


Despite all that, I'm so glad I went.  I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Home safe

Greetings from the US!  


I'm trying to figure out how to fix the clock on my VCR; sometimes the menu won't let me in, and apparently, this is one of those times.  It also took me rebooting my modem three times to realize that perhaps the Standby button was pressed in, and maybe that was why I couldn't connect to the internet last night.  Mercy.


I'm grateful for safe and easy travel back here, and that all the USPs got situated.  I still didn't sleep on either flight for any meaningful amount of time, despite being in business class.  Murphy's Law dictates that if there are two seats in business class that don't fully recline, you will pick one of them.  And I am powerless to resist Murphy's Law.  Mercy.  But at least I was comfortable while I was awake, and I am so, SO grateful for the frequent flyer points that made that seating possible.


Now to tighten the kitchen faucet, and continue to unpack...

Statement on Thursday's events

This is a statement released by the government about what took place on Thursday.  Since it was written by the government, they glossed over the fact that, as illustrated by the picture, the police broke into Besigye's vehicle and sprayed pepper spray and tear gas inside.  Well, spray is a bit of a euphemism.  They drenched the occupants.  The US has expressed its concern over how Ugandan forces handled the situation.


Besigye sustained serious burns because of this, and was later cleared to go to Nairobi for treatment.  There are serious questions of why he had to go to Nairobi for treatment, and why he could not/chose not to be treated here, but earlier, talks between the opposition and the government had been proposed to take place on Monday.  Who knows whether that will happen now.


One sad irony of this is that the officer who smashed the car window graduated from  UCU in 2006 with a degree in social work.


The situation is tenuous, and when Besigye returns, who knows what can happen.  Please continue to pray for peace, wisdom, and appropriate restraint for all involved.

Peaceful demonstrations

Ever since the elections in February, the opposition has been threatening peaceful demonstrations.  The demonstrations started a few weeks ago, ostensibly to protest rising petrol (gas) and food prices.  Actually, they started during exams.


Mondays and Thursdays were deemed "walk to work" days as a protest, and succeeded in gnarling up traffic in the usually jammed Kampala quite well.  The police, in an effort to keep the peace and protect people as spontaneous demonstrations/riots popped up, have been arresting opposition leaders.


I've not mentioned the demonstrations here yet because 1. I hoped all would settle down (silly me), 2. I didn't think it would escalate (sillier me), and 3. I didn't want to freak out my mom.


Mom - I'm very safe, though clearly housebound, at the Muhimas.


Things escalated badly yesterday, and continue today.  I won't link to any articles, but please pray for peace and safety.  The police overreacted yesterday, and badly mistreated one of the opposition leaders in order to arrest him for like the fourth time in two weeks.  Parliament, and clearly the public, is outraged.  I've not checked the news yet, but I'm sure that's the root of today's demonstrations, that are all over Kampala.  We had an interesting discussion about the situation and civil liberties over dinner last night, but clearly, everyone is in the wrong here.  The opposition is being provocative, and the police are overreacting.

The president said the other day that he would meet with opposition leaders, though few hold out hopes for this being productive.  


Uganda is called the "Pearl of Africa," and the [fairly] peaceful elections served as a model for the continent.  Please pray for people not to get swept up into the rebellion that is sweeping the north of the continent.

Forgetfulness and finalist parties

I was chatting with Sara as I was typing the Easter post, and completely forgot that we had to be frisked before we could enter the church compound proper.  I think it was because it was a large gathering of people (to their credit, the Ugandan forces have been pretty consistent about this since the bombings last year.  Your car gets a cursory search before you can enter the parking lot of a shopping center, and it's normal to see the riot police walking around), but there were also several members of Parliament in attendance.


As I mentioned previously, finalist parties are held prior to exams, mostly because everyone disappears at different times after their exams end, so there's no way to hold them post-exams.   I just posted these on Facebook, and am a bit too lazy to repost to Photobucket, and am also not sure whether I have the bandwidth for Photobucket today.  And this way, you get to read better captions, too.

Something funny happened on the way to church

Jesus Christ is risen today!  Alleluia!

Since I’m currently staying with the Muhima’s, I went with them to Easter services at All Saints’ Kampala, along with roughly one third of Kampala’s population.

This is Gideon, Mark, Sara, and Peter Muhima, in a photo that I grabbed from Facebook.

Actually, we had to divide and conquer, since the car wouldn’t hold six of us.  Sara and I had planned to attend the 9:30 service, but ended up attending the 11:30 service.  This actually worked out well, as they boys went ahead to the 9:30 (by taxi), and I was able to visit after the service with one of my friends who was posted to All Saints’. 

This was abundantly helpful, as when Sara and I went to go to the service, the car died while trying to get to the main road.  I thought the car stalled, but no.  It was dead.  This is Africa, as so a couple guys helped us push jump-start the car.  I fancy in the US that they would have just looked at us and kept going, but one of the guys got in the car with me, rolled back down the hill, trying to jump start the car while it was in second gear.  It eventually happened, and we rolled on to church.

All Saints’ Dale City has parking challenges, especially on holy days.  But holy days in the US are typical parking days at All Saints’ Kampala.  On holy days here, there ain’t no chance of parking anywhere close to the church; we had to park three blocks away.  Which worked out well, because once we turned the car off, it refused to restart.  So we met Mathew, Sara’s boyfriend, had the boys meet us, then dumped the car on them, with the plan to ride home with Mathew.  See how the Lord provides?

Even though we were ridiculously late, we arrived during the readings, which means that the service also started late.  There are usually four tents at All Saints’, because the congregation can’t fit in the building, hence their building campaign.  Hmmm… that sounds familiar… except for the tent part.

For Easter, they added another tent, and we found two seats (miracle number 2?  3?), nestled between the children’s church building, the youth tent, and the sanctuary.  We couldn’t hear the readings or the first five minutes of Archbishop Orombi’s sermon, but the young ones eventually went radio silent, and we were able to enjoy the sermon. 

There were probably eight clergy there, including the Archbishop; I don’t think all the cathedral clergy are there at one time except for holy days.  Hey – Bishop Zack (the assistant bishop of Kampala Diocese) wasn’t there, but the rest were.  Since there were oodles of clergy, five remained inside to distribute Eucharist, and the rest came out to the tents, which was wonderful.  And we sang one of my favorite hymns, as illustrated in the first line of this post.

The car is fine; it turns out that one of the connections to the battery wasn’t properly secured, and therefore wasn’t giving any juice to the engine.   We’ve had a four-day holiday, as Good Friday and Easter Monday are public holidays here.  I think I have vague memories of that being true in the US while I was in elementary school.

Back to the grind for all.  I need to finish my sermon for Sunday.

Blessings this Easter season!  He is risen!  Alleluia!

Safely at the Muhima's

I'm mostly unpacked in "my room," as Bishop Muhima calls it, and am ready to rest and write for the next two weeks.  It's going to be a good time.

And Gideon let me drive to the house!  Yes, I have my international driver's permit, so this time it's legal.  Last year's driving back from All Saints' Kampala, not so much.  But we rationalized that since it was a Sunday evening and there were no traffic police on duty, that it would be fine.  

Onward, ever onward...

Tonight was the USP farewell dinner, and with that, I think the semester is officially closed.  I finished clearing today (and apparently have a balance with the University; it's rather large, so the gentleman helping me wants to check with someone before he gives me a whole bunch of money.  I appreciate that.), and am currently packing.


Tomorrow, I'll shift to Kireka (CHIR-eka; suburb of Kampala) and hang out with the Muhima kids for two weeks, then leave for the US on 3 May, arriving on 4 May.  Perhaps at the Muhima's the sleepless conspiracy will take a break, but that's not likely because the nearby mosque blares it's prayers rather loudly, especially in the morning.  Oh well - a girl can dream.


And a girl can grieve, in the midst of completing my missionary application and writing a sermon and resting and trying to find decent times to go into Kampala to go shopping since I haven't done that this semester.  And I'm trying to put out of my mind that everything here is really over, because I can't process that yet.  One of my friends accused me of leaving him; I'm coming back, but he'll be off in his diocese, and I'M the one leaving?  That's actually how I feel about my friends, so I suppose it's fair.  But I'll unpack all that, along with my suitcases, at the Muhima's.

Congs!

That's how one expresses congratulations here, though to me, it sounds like a plural of King Kong, like Kongs, and I always have to think about what someone's said.


But it's getting easier to decipher, because I'm done with exams, and am almost done with clearing through the school, so I've been hearing it more and more, though I've not yet adopted it as a saying myself.  I've decided that the clearing exercise is a bit like an administrative version of Capture the Flag.  There are five places to go for signatures to prove that you have no issue with the department.  That requires that you know who the right person is.  For example, I assumed I'd check out of the dorms with Rev. Susan, because she checks us in.  Turns out that she's delegated this aspect (which is GREAT for her, and I'm really pleased to hear it.  The vast majority of the students are women, so she's plenty busy).  She seemed surprised to see me for clearance, and when she asked who said that I needed to see her, I told her everyone.


And if you know the right person, they may or may not be there.  I've only had one misfire that took three attempts to get a signature, but the rest have been blissfully painless.  With the exception of the sunburn I might have on my face from crossing campus so many times on a day when I forgot to apply my moisturizer with SPF.


I still need to process all the emotions running around, but right now, I'm thrilled to finally be finished.  It's been such an amazing journey, and it doesn't seem quite real.  


And yet, it's bittersweet.  I'm always the first done with my exams (my explanation is that I think in English, which probably has quite a bit to do with it), and when I went up to drop off my answer book, my friend Isaac waved.  Then Beatrice waved.  I waved back, and it hit me:  this is it.  


And it hit me hard, and it still is.  I'm thrilled that I'll be coming back to lecture, but it will be so different.  My friends won't be here.  I won't be living in the dorm.  I won't be eating in the DH (not a complaint, but I'll have to buy food and cook).  Yes, I'll make new friends, and build a new life as a lecturer, not a student, but many of the people who made these two years so special won't be here.  So I'm grieving that.


And I'm hoping that after a great night's sleep with no reading for exams, I'll be rejoicing.  I think my Kindle's been missing me.  The feeling is mutual.

Palm Sunday

Last week, I told Canon Titus that I would be coming to the cathedral to worship, even though my time of Sunday placement was over.  He said I would take one of the readings, and then he told me to bring palms.  Now, I knew that today is Palm Sunday, but I thought he was kidding.  Until I remembered that I’m in Africa, where there are tons of palm trees.  Of course, many of them are tall like these in front of the library.  Clearly, I cannot take a palm from the tree in front of you (with apologies to "The Princess Bride").

But some are smaller, like this one in front of Bp. Muhima’s house in Rukungiri.

Even with the instruction, it seemed strange to pluck some palms from a tree (all the ones around me are tall; there’s a short one on the cathedral grounds, but I didn’t want to take palms from there).  And yet, about 2/3 of the congregation came with palms.  Fortunately, someone shared her palms with me so I wasn’t bereft (after all, this is Africa).  I’m just so used to being in a place where they don’t grow.  I’d love to know how much the Prince William Marina spent on their failed attempt to grow those palm trees here, as well as how expensive those ugly plastic replacements were.

Back to Africa:  The children came forward to sing some songs, somewhat akin to how we have the children marching in procession around the church singing “Hosanna.”  I wish I had my camera; imagine close to 200 children of various sizes, up near the altar rail, then going down the main aisle to about halfway down the church, waving their palms as we sang.  Naturally, they were compacted together, which made for a good number of palm tips to the eyes, but no one seemed to mind too much.  One dear little girl kept blinking because she kept getting swatted.  Poor thing couldn't move away either, because they were fairly well packed in.

I wish I was going to be there for Easter, but I will be at another cathedral, All Saints’ Kampala.

Oh!  As I was checking my wash on the line, a futile prospect to be sure, because it rained yesterday while we were in the exam, then early this morning, I noticed some lilies up the hill a bit from where the wash dries.  Perfect timing for Easter!

Isn't it BEAUTIFUL?!

Ignoring the light and color issues... ta da!

My dissertation is finished!  I figured out today, as I was schlepping these across campus, that there's a certain prestige in having your dissertation bound.  It symbolizes so much... that you've finished your work, that it was approved and received, and that you're FINISHED.  As I ran into friends, they congratulated me.  Those who had not yet bound their volumes seemed a bit envious, even though they're on the same path.  Strangers looked at me, looked at the volume, then looked back at me (probably thinking, "she's a student?").

Ah, to have the book received!  Sweet sigh of relief!  Now copies of the volume go to the faculty, the library, and the Department of Postgraduate Studies.  To do what, I'm not very sure.  I reckon mostly that they'll gather dust, but that's what we do.

I return to reading for my exams.  Two down, four to go.  The first was somewhat tragic; I completely forgot the major point for situational ethics.  I apologized and repented to Rev. Omona, and he said he'd give me a mark for spilling my ink.  Yesterday's exam also featured heavy rain with hail, which was rather loud on the insulated corrugated iron roof of M block.  Today's exam wasn't that bad, which is remarkable.  Miracles will never cease, for which I am eternally grateful.

More sad news

I learned yesterday that one of the law students committed suicide last week; he was the classmate to one of my dear friends here in the dorm, Agatha.  


Please pray for the students, as they grieve and complete their exams, and for his family.  Agatha and I talked tonight, and the situation may be much more complicated than it appears to be, which is often the case.

Yet another cultural divide

Last week I received a wonderful package from a friend at Christ Our Lord (thank you, Bethany!) that contained some promised Avon mosquito towelettes, the Nyquil I had requested (from when I was so sick), a wonderful surprise:  Breathe Right strips.


I tried one, and I fell in love.  I slept well for the first time in months.  I know my allergies are acting up because my eyes itch, but since I didn't feel stuffy, I didn't think they were affecting anything respiratory.  Apparently, I was wrong.  

So last night, I was peering in the mirror to be sure to put the strip in the right place on my short little nose.  One of the Ugandan students came up, and asked me what was wrong.  How do you explain a Breathe Right strip?  I muddled through something about how it helps you breathe better during the night, and she looked a bit skeptical, then said that there were interesting things in the world.  The look on her face told me that she didn't entirely trust these interesting things, though.

Conspiracy theories

Now, I am not a conspiracy theorist.  I believe that Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.  I believe Lee Harvey Oswald killed JFK (well, I'm at 90% on that one.  We can argue that 'til the cows come home, but it was feasible.  Unlikely, but feasible.).  I don't believe that the US government shot down TWA 800.


I do, however, believe that there are two conspiracies afoot:  one to keep me from sleeping in on Saturdays, and one to keep me for reading for my exams.


The last three Saturdays I have tried to sleep in.  Valiantly.  The first Saturday, someone knocked on my door, wondering if I was getting up.  I reckon that since I'm always up, she was concerned.  That was very sweet, but it woke me.  The second Saturday, I received a text at 6:30 AM from my tailor (imagine me yelling that) to tell me that my dress was ready.  I vowed to turn off my phone the next time I wanted to sleep in, and then I forgot. Last night was the finalist party here at the Honours College, and the kids were playing loud music until 11:30 or so.  That's fine.  I think I went to bed at around 12:30.  Then I received a text at 7:30, asking me to make the program for the international theologians' handover, as well as be the emcee.  


And now there's a farewell from the faculty on Sunday at 2:00 that goes until our service at 5:00, so Sunday is now basically shot.  Praise God that the exams for my class begin on Tuesday, then marathon through until Saturday, when we get a break on Sunday to read for the last one on Monday.  I've been trying to read for Christianity in Uganda in lulls between the other 5,000 things going on.  A friend pointed out that it's a story.  He's right.  And it's a good story, one of which I basically get the gist of.  But I don't necessarily remember names and dates, things that history lecturers look for in an exam.


But I also believe in a greater conspiracy theory, that God is for me, so who can be against me?

Chicken is meat clarification

Initially, I thought that the chicken-isn't-meat issue might have been similar to the town-means-Kampala issue, in that in the vernacular, there's one word for town/city, and when you're in the village and you're going to town, you're going to Kampala.  


Not so.


Apparently, some people just think chicken is chicken.  Meat, therefore is the red meats, like cow meat, goat meat, and pork.  This means that white meat is chicken and fish.  Yes, we call pork the "other" white meat per Madison Avenue (though if you think about it, it's pink).


Many thanks once again, to Joan with specs (JWS) for straightening me out.  Here's JWS, naturally, without her specs, but it was the picture I could most easily put my mouse on.

I was able to reciprocate by explaining that what they call primary school, we call elementary school.  Grade school also equates to primary school.  I cannot tell you how gratifying it was to provide an answer rather than just incessantly ask questions!

Protein-laden weekend

This makes for one happy seminarian.  Two parties this weekend meant chicken and chicken (I passed on the liver), and both also featured green beans - wow.  I've never been so happy to see a green vegetable in my life.  They were delicious.


Then Mama Christine, the head of laity for the English service at the cathedral, invited me over for tea this evening.  She served me chicken wrapped in bacon and a banana with my tea; I'm calling that supper.  Yum!


There's quite a debate here about eating pork, whether it's proper for Christians to do so.  This is a summary of a conversation I had last year with a friend about it:
Me:  So, why is it that you don't eat pork?
Friend:  Because it's an unclean food.
Me:  Have you read Acts 11?  Kill and eat... do not call anything impure that God has made clean?
Friend:  That's about the Gentiles, and bringing them into the church.
Me:  Yes, but don't you think it's also about food?  Peter was instructed to eat foods that the Jews considered unclean. God wouldn't tell him to do that if the food was still unclean.
[several other volleys]
Friend:  Can't we agree this is about the Gentiles?
Me:  No!


So today I had, and ridiculously enjoyed, bacon.  Not everyone feels this way about pork, clearly, but it can get interesting.  So if the subject comes up, I stay quiet.  And then dream of bacon.


The other interesting protein discussion I had this weekend was with a classmate who doesn't eat meat.  That's fine.  But he was enjoying his chicken at our party on Friday.  I asked him why he was eating meat.  He said he wasn't; he was eating chicken.  I asked if he was serious.  He was.


I then conducted an informal poll of the class to see whether they thought chicken qualified as meat.  Apparently not.  Meat comes from cows; chicken comes from chicken.  Who knew?  It would appear that I am in the vast minority here who think that flesh food qualifies as meat, like chicken, and fish.


Looks like I still have lots to learn.

Carry me through

Dave Barnes is my latest musical infatuation/obsession:  this is on his "Me and You and the World" CD.  I'm definitely doing this with strength not my own.


Carry Me Through


There's a mountain
Here before me
And I'm going to climb it
With strength not my own
He's gonna lead me
Or the mountain beats me
Carry me through
Carry me through

There's a river
Here before me
And I'm gonna cross it
with strength not my own
He's gonna save me
Or the river takes me.
Carry me through
Carry me through

Oh Lord be gentle
I'm just a man
Please don't crush me 
With your heavenly hand.

Oh Lord remember
I try so hard
I walk and talk
Your kingdom love

There's a sinner 
Here before me
And I'm gonna give them
Strength not my own
He's gonna carry me
when I get weary
Carry me through
Carry me through

Oh Lord be gentle
I'm just a man
Please don't crush me
With your heavenly hand
Oh Lord remember
I try so hard
I walk and talk
Your kingdom love

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Carry me through

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Lord Sweet Lord
Carry me through.

Amen.

I'm preaching to myself here, and wanted to share with you.

Still pray for rain

Thankfully, the rainy season appears to mostly be here in Mukono, and even more happily, much of it happens overnight, and generally stops by the time it's time to start moving around.  

However, the rain hasn't come everywhere, and food prices are rising.  This is obviously hurting everyone, and since much of the population are subsistence-level farmers, the delayed rain, and therefore harvest, is hitting them hard.  Please continue to pray.

Exam prep

This week closes out the official lectures.  Of course, we have three lectures next week, but we’ll ignore that.  This is when lecturers prepare students for exams, hopefully by giving us “areas of concentration” for our study.  Thus far, only one lecturer has been so inclined.  We’ll work on the other three next week.

Canon Musiime, when we asked for areas of concentration, asked if he should leak the exam questions to us.  We say yes; his exams are tough.  I pointed out that Professor Byaruhanga gave us the questions, and then he STILL slaughtered us.  Canon Musiime laughed, but hasn’t leaked anything yet.  But he’s one of the three, so perhaps we’ll be able to wear him down a bit.  John and Romans both are quite a bit of material, yes?  Goodness.  Or “banange,” which is mostly untranslatable, but is a way of sighing (ba-NAHN-gee, hard g).

Canon Kasamba, on the other hand, has never lectured us before.  The other lecturers have the (mis)fortune of having had us in their classrooms previously, and are used to us.  God bless them.  Canon Kasamba has been lecturing us in Christianity in Uganda, a paper (exam) that were I not so fried from my dissertation, I would have asked to have written another paper rather than sit for the paper.  Especially since his is the fourth in our five-day marathon.

Canon Kasamba did not give us areas of concentration, though he did talk to us about making thoughtful and supported arguments.  Fine and good.  Then he said that no one should leave the room before 2.5 hours into the three hour exam.  Someone said “Jessica,” and we all had a good laugh.  My average is 1.5 hours, and since I’ve not been learning the history of Christianity in Uganda since secondary school like all my classmates, I’m not certain that I’ll have a whole heck of a lot to write.  I tried to negotiate him down to two hours, but he didn’t seem willing to bite.  I tried to explain that I think in English, and that contributes to my speed.  I’m not certain he heard me; it was pretty loud in the room at that point.  Clearly, I’m going to need to talk to him before the exam.

Party like you're graduating

This is Africa, where we celebrate everything.  And that’s a good thing.  Since it’s the end of the semester, there are finalist parties everywhere.  And they all seem to be this weekend.  Friday evening is the party for MDiv 2 (my class).  Saturday afternoon is the BD 3 party, which was originally envisioned to be for BD 3 and MDiv 2, but that didn’t quite pan out.  Sunday afternoon is a party for all the ladies.  I’m a bit fuzzy on that one, as I thought it was for the ladies in theology, but it’s on the football pitch, which implies a lot more than just our group of 15 or so.  Nope – the ladies in theology is Monday evening.  Sunday is just a party for all the finalist ladies.  Apparently there will be all sorts of speakers coming.  Hmmm…  Next Friday night is the party for finalists at the Honours College, where I live.  Next Sunday is the handover for the international theologians.  And then exams start.  Lord, have mercy.  Please!

In other news, I’m still looking for someone to tell me when afternoon stops and evening starts, then when evening stops and night starts.  I’ve got the break between night and morning down, and fortunately, don’t greet anyone in that time frame.  I’ve heard many different answers, and it’s vexing, because people greet you by the time of day.  Good afternoon, good evening, good night… all depends on what time of day it is.  I’ve given up trying to explain that for Americans, good night is a farewell.  I fear greeting someone with a time reference anytime between 3-7 pm because I have no idea what to call that time of day.  Silly and neurotic, I know, but in two years, if I’ve not gotten this straight, will I ever?

Things of beauty

It's 11:00pm, my ability to hold thoughts together on my analysis of Christianity and Islam is waining, yet I'm not quite ready for bed.  This must be the Protestant version of purgatory.


Here are some random thoughts of things that have struck me/made me smile this week:

This is the place where I buy airtime for my phone, and the yellow is probably in honor of MTN, the largest cell carrier.  But Harriet has everything.  Note how tiny the little shack is; Amos is standing nearby for perspective.  There are about three of these right next to each other, but Harriet gets the most business.

Sure, she sells sweets too (in the containers; you can see more of them above), but I bet it's because she's a gem.  How she can be so upbeat while sitting in that little shack for at least nine hours a day is beyond me.  When I first started going to her, after I had been there about twice she started telling me I had been lost (she'd not seen me in a while).  When I was sick, I fell into a coughing fit in front of her, and she promptly gave me a set of cough drops, and didn't charge me.

A few weeks ago, several of these little guys were planted around the Honours College, and this one has started blooming already.  Lovely!

Do you see the different colored dirt?  That nasty slope was filled in this week!  Hallelujah!  It's still at an interesting angle, but it's MUCH better to climb and slope now.  

Here's a close-up - rather than nearly a two-foot drop, now the dirt practically comes up to the step.

This not-so-little guy (four inches across!) hung out on this corner in our common area for a couple days this week.  Unfortunately, it was a corner next to the toilet, and he was just above eye level.  At four inches across, he gave me a bit of a start every time I walked by.  Last I saw, he had shifted to another wall, higher up.

I've never seen this bird before, and I saw him land, and before I could grab my camera, he moved a bit.  It doesn't show very well here, but his beak is incredibly yellow.  It was just beautiful.

Agony as foreign students adapt to Ugandan culture

This is a piece written by one of the Honours College students, also an international student (from Kenya, in case you wonder about the Kenyan slant).  Intrepid Joan is one of the main characters!  I just wish they'd posted the picture of her that appeared in the print edition:

Press On

From the "oldies but goodies" file, this was the first song that played in iTunes when I sat down to (try to) knock out the last three assignments.  God really does have a sense of humor.  And encouragement.


Though the days seem like years...
There may be giants in our fears...
Ah, but they who sow in tears
They shall reap in joy
They shall run and leap for joy!


Press On, Billy Sprague (Amy - I immediately thought of you)


I was down in the valley
Of the shadow of death
Where the passion for life
Drained like blood from my chest
And it took more than my will just to
Take a step
When the compass of hope
Was gone

In a silence so black
That I wished for the blues
Every desperate prayer
Seemed like Heaven refused
And some days I found faith meant just
Tyin' my shoes
And it was
All I could do
To press on

Press on me amigo
Press on mon ami
Walk on in the face
Of the mystery
Though the night hides the light
Through the darkness still dawn...
Tie your shoes, my dear friend
And press on

On the ocean so lonesome I was not left alone
Had some heavyweight friends
When my heart was a stone
And they carried my heartache and
Made it their own
When the current of sorrow
Was strong
(and one said)
'I pray your memories will not drag you down
Not be anchors but treasures
Of the love that you've found'
And His kind words turned hurt into comfort somehow
And the wind in my sails
To press on

So press on me amigo
Press on mon ami
Walk on in the face
Of the mystery
Though the night hides the light
And the journey is long...
Lean on me, my dear friend
And press on

Though the days seem like years...
There may be giants in our fears...
Ah, but they who sow in tears
They shall reap in joy
They shall run and leap for joy!

So press on me amigo
Press on mon ami
Walk on in the face
Of the mystery...

Though the night hides the light
And the journey is long...
Lean on me, my dear friend
And press on me amigo
Press on mon ami
Walk on in the face
Of the mystery
Though the night hides the light
And the journey is long...
Tie your shoes, my dear friend
And press on! 

Cappuccino muffins

Could someone please make and enjoy these in honor of my dissertation, exams, etc.?  Lori - I'm especially thinking of you.


Don't forget to tell me how they are.

"Prepare for slaughter."

That’s what Rev. Omona, my supervisor, told me when he cleared me to give the first presentation of my dissertation.  I was prepared for slaughter.  It wasn’t that bad; I have one very, very small change to make.  Praise God for that.

The slaughter comes in the next week in a half, when I have to have my dissertation finished.  So much for the grand plan to finish it at a nice pace after exams.  Rev. Omona ambushed us with that after our presentations.  Turns out that the Senate might be meeting early, and they don’t want anyone to miss graduation because their dissertation isn’t finished.

I appreciate that bit of altruism.  I really do.  But I was hoping to use reading week for, you know, reading for my exams.  Not finishing (Rev. Omona: "You need to find more words.  The minimum is 50 pages."  Me:  "..."), printing, binding, and defending my dissertation.  Next week is the last week of classes, and I’m wondering whether one or two classes may spill into reading week anyhow.  And there are a couple pesky assignments to finish, though I’ve found of late that if I leave an assignment for a couple days, when I return to it I suddenly like it a lot more than I did previously, and it’s miraculously ready for submission.  Odd.

Yes, I’m incredibly whiny right now, and after a good night’s sleep (I’m not setting my alarm in the morning), I’m hoping to remember that God has carried me thus far rather well, and that He won’t leave me or forsake me, and that this is just another opportunity for Him to remind me who’s really in charge here.  Right now, it’s 5:45 and I’m trying to discern whether I have the social energy for that event called supper.  The big mug of Cadbury’s Drinking Chocolate (hot chocolate – YUM) should help a bit.

From zero to presentation?

On Saturday, I joyfully received the news that Rev. Omona, my dissertation supervisor, approved my grand plan to present my dissertation prior to its actually being complete.  That left the question of when the presentations would actually occur; several of the lecturers have been in and out of the field, and we need them to receive and critique our presentations.

It turns out that the presentations will be this Friday and next.  Whoa, baby.  I'm fond of quoting Duke Ellington - "I don't need time.  What I need is a deadline."  I just got it in spades.  

This is fabulous.  Truly!  It makes me really finish interpreting my data (one of my least favorite things), and get a draft to Rev. Omona so he can see whether I'm on the right track before getting chewed up by the students and faculty.  Of course, there's no guarantee that I'll present this Friday, but the possibility is making me a bit giddy.  Adrenaline rushes are good things.  


We're all quite relieved that presentations are starting; usually they're dispersed throughout the semester, and we were beginning to despair that we'd ever present, or even graduate.  Now we know they want to get rid of us.  : )

Hangin' with the Catholics

Saturday was the annual Ggaba Mukono Ecumenical Contact (GMEC), our partnership with Ggaba National Seminary.  I wish it was more than just the Anglicans and the Catholics, but we take what we have.  We are in our 41^st year of this contact, which is wonderful.  Several of the lecturers from both institutions were involved with GMEC while in seminary themselves.

Since we alternate the hosting responsibilities, this year we traveled to Ggaba (though the planning meeting was in Mukono).  The day started off rather wet, and I was wondering whether we’d be able to play football, and whether the denim skirt that I had put on the line the night before would ever dry, since it rained.  All.  Night.  And most of the morning.  The answer to both questions is yes, by the way.

Though we arrived late to Ggaba (this is Africa; we left an hour late), we were able to do almost everything on the schedule.  Rev. Omona presented a paper on “The Call for Ecumenical Pastoral Action in an Effort to Build Peace in the Great Lakes Region,” then Ggaba presented a response.  We handed over our roles, responsibilities, and authority to the incoming executive committee, and received certificates.  We had a fabulous skit about the conflict and the church’s role in it, and then a joint service in the chapel. 

We broke into regional groups to discuss how we can build peace in our region.  The international students clearly don’t have a region, but I was coopted into the group from the West.  I suppose that works; I’m just further west than the rest.  Due to time, we weren’t able to discuss, but after introductions, someone observed that they realized that there were people there who were related (I’m guessing that they must be in the same clan), so that was wonderful to see people connect.  All went well until I mentioned really being a Muganda – that didn’t go over so well.  Even mentioning my Mukiga (pronounced Mu-CHI-ga; I have no idea why the k sometimes is pronounced with a ch) nose didn’t seem to patch things up.  Whoops.

Of course there was food, and football.  What is fellowship without food?  Sometimes it’s called swallowship if there are only drinks.  We were defeated 3-2 in football, though it was a good game.  Perhaps next year… 

I must remind you that football (soccer) is a national obsession here.  To say that there was a football match means that everyone was coaching the players, the coaches, and the refs.  My friend Esther had a branch in her hand; I went over to be sure she wasn’t going to cane anyone.  Dr. Opol went to assist with the halftime pep talk, after coaching from our seats. 

Ggaba is in the part of Kampala that is right next to Lake Victoria, and it is exquisite to see the lake from the campus.  Augustus appreciated the peace and quiet of the Ggaba campus, which was indeed lovely.  And to be on the lake… that would be a great seminary environment.

Draft exam schedule

The draft exam schedule came out a little more than a week ago.  I thought it was posted early, but apparently not.  I must just be in denial that the semester has passed so quickly, especially since it got off to such a rocky start.


Our timetable is jammed.  We're ending on a Monday, when we usually end on the last day, a Wednesday.  The only thing I can figure is that it's Holy Week, and they want the reverends to get home to celebrate the season.  Another reason may be that the married finalists have a conference in which their spouses are coming after exams.  Then those reverends need to get home for Holy Week.  I'm just making that up, but it sure sounds viable to me (and the conference is real - maybe they want us to go so the spouses can come).


Jammed.  This is terrible, I tell you.  At least we start on Tuesday, but I'd rather start on Monday and get a break rather than FIVE EXAMS IN A ROW.
Tuesday 12 April:  Christian Ethics 2pm
Wednesday 13 April:  John and Romans 9am
Thursday 14 April:  Christian Leadership (with something to represent Finance) 9am
Friday 15 April: Christianity in Uganda 9am
Saturday 16 April: African Traditional Religion/Islam 2pm
Monday 18 April:  OT Wisdom Literature 9am


Aside from the five in a row, I'm not fond of going from an afternoon exam on Tuesday to a morning one on Wednesday, especially since Wednesday's should be fairly tough.  As much as I love Canon Musiime, the man is stingy with his marks.  And he's steadfast when we beg for mercy/grace.  Good for him.  He expects a lot of us.  This is good.  Going into his paper (exam) right after another - not so good.  I am, however, grateful that the Saturday exam is in the afternoon to give me more time to prep for ATR/Islam.  I've enjoyed the class tremendously, but I have no background in either topic, so I'm at a bit of a disadvantage.  Dr. Opol and I are friends, but he marks fairly.  And he's tough, though not as tough as Canon Musiime.  I also have some angst about Christianity in Uganda, because again, I have no background in this.  Since the class started late, we've only moved through about 35-40 years.  This will be an interesting exam.  I'm told that Canon Kasamba is generous with marks, which I fervently hope so.  I'm the only one who doesn't have a clue in that class.

Happy snack!

First of all, since it’s rained every day this week, I think it’s probably safe to say that the rainy season is here.  Please join me in a rousing hallelujah!  There are areas that still need much more rain, but this is a good start.  Now we have to get creative with when to do wash, but I'm so happy that the rain takes away the heat and dust, and allows people to grow food that I don’t care.

Friday I went to the supermarket in town, and saw a bin with these little Gala apples, which are my favorite.  Emphasis on little; my cell phone is there for comparison, and it is 4 inches long.  I wish I’d paid attention to how much they charged me for this mzungu fruit, but again, I don’t care.  Now, the peanut butter is only 250 grams, and you may be able to see that I paid 4200 for it.  It’s a bit pricey ($1.80 or so for that little jar) because it’s American-ish (the African kind would have been cheaper), and comes from Kenya.  But the ingredients are roasted peanuts, sugar, stabilizer (E471), and salt).  That’s it.  YUM.

Another hallelujah is that my supervisor approved my grand plan to do enough work on my dissertation to present, then be sure to finish it before I leave.  WHEW!  This approval has unleashed a wave of optimism and hope, aided by knocking out five assignments last week.  That leaves four, though they seem so much more manageable now.

Hallelujah.

And yes, I do know it’s Lent, but I’ll take the liturgical pause to thank God for all He’s doing.  We actually had a great sermon on repentance today, and here I am typing hallelujah like it’s not Lent.  But then again, we won’t have communion in church, but there are flowers on the altar.  This is Africa, I guess.