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.

Waxing nostalgic

This week, my class started talking about a farewell party.  Yes, it’s a bit late to be planning such an event.  Yes, this is Africa, but the BD 3 class has been planning for a month (that’s another story that I won’t get into). 

So we were talking about whose responsibility this was, and someone said it was Jackson’s, because he’s our chaplain.  I said that we didn’t have a chaplain.  Then someone said, “Don’t you remember?  When we were over in that room (pointing in the general direction of Walker) and we made Jackson our chaplain?”

Oh yes, now I remember.  As time moved backwards, the memories flooded, I remembered the first semester, sitting in that room, wondering exactly what I’d gotten myself into.  Wondering what a chaplain should do for the class, and why we needed one.  Wondering if I’d ever get used to being stared at (not really).  Wondering if I can handle rice and beans ad infinitum.  Trying to write down everyone’s number that was written on the board (after I found mine, and wondering if I'd ever learn it).  Trying to figure out if I’d ever be able to make it through classes that were two hours long.  Wondering if the rooster will ever figure out that the sky doesn't change enough at 4:00 to merit telling me about it.  Trying to figure out if I’d ever fit in, if God really had the right idea by sending me to UCU.

And then it hit me – I know that I’m in my fourth and final semester in seminary, but it’s been two years since I came here.  Two whole years.  I’m absolutely stunned to think of it chronologically like that.  So much has changed, so much has changed in me, and it’s been such a joy and honor to be here.

My friends have been talking about getting me to stay for some time; Paulson talks of hiding my passport, and I remind him that I’ll just go to the embassy to replace it.  Since I don’t have a firm job from the Dean, I’m reluctant to tell them that I’ll be back, though I do tell them that there’s no way I can stay away from Uganda.  That’s the truth, and is sufficient for now.

Earthquake in Uganda

Of course, whenever there's an earthquake, it shakes the earth.  An earthquake of the magnitude of the one that shook Japan will clearly have repercussions across the globe.

I heard that there was an earthquake in Texas, and there was one here in Uganda early this morning.  It was a 5.0, in the west, near Lake Albert (about 132 miles northwest of Kampala, so quite upcountry).  Cindy Larsen is a missionary running one of the diocesan training centers there, and she reports that all is well; it was just scary.  They are examining their buildings for damage, though.  Please continue to pray for safety for all.


We have another day of rain, which is wonderful.  The drought has been so extreme that I would not dream about complaining about the mud.

Tugende!

The state of the union is that I have eight assignments (in various stages of completion) in the works, and my dissertation, to finish by the end of March.  Lord, please have mercy.  One I plumb forgot about, so we're tackling that right now.   Because it's due on Monday.  I have no idea how that fell off my radar screen, but the deadline was set about four and a half hours ago, so here we are.


But something funny happened in class... we have John and Romans with Canon Musiime, whom I absolutely adore, and would love to sit at his feet and learn from, for, about, forever.  He's got a wicked dry sense of humor, and can be a bit strict, but he's been loosening up a bit this semester.  I presume it's because he's retired from active ministry; his last assignment was as the Diocesan Secretary for the Diocese of Kampala, which kept him pretty busy.

So, we were having a student presentation today, and for some reason, the presenter stopped what he was doing and got into a small side conversation about something.  Me, being tired and somewhat exasperated, told him "tugende!" (two-GEN-day, hard g, like guess), which in Luganda means "let's go!"


My Luganda vocabulary is around 15 words.  I know the basics... sir, ma'am, let's go, thank you, how are you, OK.  By far, my favorite is tugende.  My class is used to hearing me say it.  Canon Musiime isn't.  I thought the poor man was going to fall apart he was laughing so hard - to say I caught him off-guard is a bit of understatement.  Seeing him laugh made me laugh, and I wish I could have taken a picture of the look on his face.  Priceless.


In other news, we had rain.  Hallelujah!  It was a nice, rainy season-type of rain, which we desperately need.  I hope the trend continues.

I think the rain came because Sarah Olmstead came to campus for a visit; she's in Mukono for about three weeks on her world race, before they take off for India.  It was great to see her, give her the tour, and get stuck in the dining hall during the monsoon.  Maybe I'll ask her to come back next Monday to test the correlation does not imply causation theory.

Second cathedral sermon finis

I’m not sure that I’ll ever get used to preaching in the cathedral; that elevated pulpit is still daunting.  It’s great because you can see the entire congregation, save the folks who are seated behind the pillars, but golly.  The steps felt less like a plank today, but it’s still strange to me to climb steps like that.

Since the USPs weren’t around this weekend, Agatha recorded my sermon so they could see it.  Rev. JJ, my cathedral supervisor, came into the service to listen, and gave me an index card with his feedback, which was both very encouraging and wonderfully sweet.  Sidenote:  last fall, Rev. JJ and his family were in a terrible accident, and his wife was killed.  Rev. JJ was hurt, and I’ve inferred that his jaw was wired for some time.  His physical recovery is progressing nicely, though when he talks too much, his jaw obviously pains him.  Keep in mind that he has the children with him at home, alone, to include an infant who was born not long before the accident.  Rev. JJ had led the first service on Sunday, and asked to sit out of the second service because his jaw was paining him, yet he came in later (unvested) to hear me preach.  He may have had other reasons, but I loved seeing him sitting there.  He’s such a wonderful man.  I’m really glad he was there, because there was a baptism that surprised everyone (another ambush, though one of the priests knew about it) and threw off the service, and then a thanksgiving after, so it threw off when I thought I would approach the pulpit, and Rev. JJ was there to tell me when to go.  [Thanksgiving is just what it sounds like; when someone has something to give thanks for, like the dedication of a baby, or surviving an accident (we had one of those last week), or something for which you’re grateful and you’d like to thank God publically, you have a thanksgiving, in which you kneel at the altar rail after the offering.  The priest offers the prayer of thanksgiving, and those kneeling often give a thanks offering.]

This is all very normal, after all; this is Africa.

The baptism wasn't the only surprise; when the reader read the lessons, they were not the ones I’d been given.  Apparently, there had been a meeting in which the lessons were revised, and no one had informed me.  This is Africa, after all.  The ambush (as we say here whenever you’re surprised by something) turned out not to be as bad as I feared as I was listening to the reader read from the “wrong” chapter in Leviticus, then from 1 Peter instead of Romans.  Actually, the 1 Peter reading was easy to fold in, though I would have loved to have done more with it than a passing mention.  But we live and learn.  I folded in the Leviticus lesson too, though that was a bit more of a challenge, and makes me curious for the reason for the change.

So, that’s done.  The USPs are probably going to have a sermon viewing later.  I don’t think I want to watch myself – Agatha was sitting to my left, and got a good angle, but golly.  Does anyone enjoy seeing themselves on film/listening to themselves?  How to actors do it?

I've had good feedback from people who were in the cathedral, and with several hundred people there, sitting four feet beneath me, it kept surprising me yesterday when folks said they heard me.  Or saw me - Joan With Specs saw the footage.  I'm most grateful for the positive feedback - praise God!  I'd still change some things, but they're mostly small.  Now to get Dr. Olivia Banja, my UCU supervisor's feedback...

International Students' Association Handover Dinner

Saturday night was the International Students’ Association handover dinner, in which the old executive committee (me – Publicity Secretary) handed over authority and responsibility to the new committee. 

This is Africa, so this was done with much pomp and circumstance, and in good time – it took three hours, and that’s because we started two hours late.  But praise God – we still ended at 10.  When I saw that we were schedule to go until 10, I immediately requested that the theologians get first dibs on the first transport back to campus.  The transport to the Rest Gardens only left 30 minutes late, so we did really well on that count. 

The Rest Gardens is where we go for our retreats, and it’s a lovely place.  With fabulous food.  YUM.  The turnout for the fellowships (Association meetings – all the regional fellowships meet on Sunday nights) is pretty abysmal, so I didn’t think that many people would turn up.  I severely underestimated the draw of food.  We had planned for 150, and I suppose close to 100 came, which is great.

Someone had printed out the flags of all the countries represented, which was the best decoration, and greeted us as we entered the meeting space.  Except all the flags hadn’t been posted yet – the oldest and newest countries weren’t represented (US and South Sudan).  Someone brought the rest of the print outs, and the situation was rectified.

Since this is Africa, there were speeches.  And speeches.  I’m amazed that we still ended on time, but some of the speakers did very well with their time.  Perhaps they knew that we wouldn’t be fed until all the speeches were over.

Like last year, we sang the first verse of everyone’s national anthem.  Last year it was a capella, which was fine.  This year, someone had gone to the trouble to find the music for everyone’s anthem.  That’s Botswana, DRC Congo, Kenya, Tanzania, Nigeria, the US, Burundi, and I’m not sure who else.  And the Star Spangled Banner was in a wicked high key.  I hit all the notes, but I’m sure it was abject torture for everyone there.  When the MC asked if there were any Kenyans in the house, about half the group went forward to sing.  South Sudan doesn’t yet have an official anthem, so they played a patriotic song that was used to mobilize people to vote in the referendum.  It was a really catchy tune, and lots of people started dancing.

Of course, there were presents and certificates for the outgoing committee.  And cake, which was scheduled to be served before dinner.  African cakes (at least in Uganda) are generally spice cakes, with a hard icing, and tend to be on the dry side (comparatively).  The cakes aren’t served in slices; the cake is hacked, I mean, cut into cubes a little bigger than a petit four, then those pieces are put on plates that are distributed. 

I have long been a staunch believer that cake only exists to hold up icing, and when I scored a corner piece, that was fabulous.  Everyone around was a bit appalled that I’m only in it for the icing, and when there was extra, the server brought me some more pieces of icing.  I’m sure my body was in overload trying to digest everything.  When I was sick I really didn’t eat much, and then I capped off the week with a fabulous dinner and cake.  Oy vey!

Please click here if you’d like to see other/more/different pictures with longer captions.

Culture shock, revisited

My friend Paul, from South Sudan, has recently been commenting that his eyes are bothering him, especially when he’s working on his computer.  He thought he had an eye infection, so he went to the campus clinic.  The clinic couldn’t help him, and referred him to the eye place in Kampala.  I encouraged him to go, telling him that it may be time for specs.

This morning, I asked Paul how it went at the eye doctor.  Turns out that Paul is indeed short-sighted (which I like much better than nearsighted), and is getting specs in two weeks.  I was appalled that the poor guy has to suffer for so long, and when I asked why, he gently reminded me that we’re in a Third World country, and that the materials aren’t readily available; they have to be imported from Kenya.  I thought that when my friend Amos got specs last year he didn’t have to wait that long, but perhaps Paul’s prescription is more specialized.

Then Paul proceeded to tell me about the doctor’s visit, as they don’t have such equipment in Sudan.  He described the different tests and apparatuses he was experienced as the doctors decided what was going on with his eyes. 

Now, I’ve been subjected to said tests and evaluations (and I consider the field of vision tests I now undergo to be a minor violation of the Geneva Convention, and may have muttered something about waterboarding after the first one – it’s wretched, and nearly drove me batty) for the better part of 28 years, and consider it a routine part of life.  Listening to him describe everything was amazing, as was his wonder at all that the doctor did, from shining the light in his eyes at different angles, to the apparatus with the different lenses to find the right prescription, and being taken into different rooms for different tests.

Obviously, listening to him reminded me of how blessed I am to think of such a doctor’s visit to be something that must be done every year, rather than like him, being so grateful to have the opportunity to have his vision corrected now, while he’s 1. young and 2. in school. 

I need to be a lot more like Paul, in any number of ways.

Speaking of the clinic, I returned for yet another check-up.  The doctor was amazed yesterday that I kept time and arrived at exactly 4:45 for my follow up injection.  And those nurses were amazing – usually I bruise like a banana (or tomato or something else that bruises really easily), but I just have faint bruises.  The doctor has deemed me fairly healthy, saying that the remaining cough “will go away.”  I actually agree with her; today I went down to town to go to the supermarket, though I took a boda back up the hill, and actually had energy left over.  She did give me a steroid (I think).   This is Dexa, and yesterday’s injections were x-pen, a crystalline penicillin. 

My medical knowledge has been growing by the day.  I think I’ll take a break for a bit.

Happy Lent!

Yes, I know that's an oxymoron... and it's one that will probably make it into my sermon on Sunday.  But it bears noting.


As I mentioned last year, we marked Ash Wednesday without the imposition of ashes.  Sandra said that she'll have to find a Catholic church next year because she misses it.  Apparently, All Saints' Kampala imposes ashes, but none of us has time to go there.  I miss it too, but what I really missed is the invitation to a holy lent in the Ash Wednesday service.  Our service was properly meditative, and we had an excellent sermon from Canon Musiime, but I missed the invitation:

Dear People of God: The first Christians observed with great devotion the days of our Lord's passion and resurrection, and it became the custom of the Church to prepare for them by a season of penitence and fasting.  This season of Lent provided a time in which converts to the faith were prepared for Holy Baptism.  It was also a time when those who, because of notorious sins, had been separated from the body of the faithful were reconciled by penitence and forgiveness, and restored to the fellowship of the Church. Thereby, the whole congregation was put in mind of the message of pardon and absolution set forth in the Gospel of our Savior, and of the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith.

I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word. And, to make a right beginning of repentance, and as a mark of our mortal nature, let us now kneel before the Lord, our maker and redeemer.

Amen.

Injections!

Today I learned that the last antibiotic I was on (and bemoaning the three doses) is an amped-up version of erythromycin (sp).  I learned this because while better, I'm still not well, and I returned to the lovely people at the clinic.  They must be tired of seeing me, but are always so cheerful.  It's an incredibly African trait that I hope to export to the US.


Today I also learned that when you receive injections, they're given on top of the hand, not the crook of the elbow.  That solves that pesky rolling-vein problem I have.  And the fact that the veins in my left arm refuse to be used, but they have no choice on my hand.  I learned this because the decision today was for an injectable antibiotic and antihistamine.  Apparently, I'll have two doses six hours apart, and therefore will return at 4:30 for a check up (for side effects, I suppose) and the second dose.


It is ridiculously hot, which I'm sure isn't helping matters.  Please pray for rain - much of the Ugandan population are subsistence-level farmers, and this extended drought is hurting many.  The ministry of the interior has been sending text messages about preparing for the drought to last until May, and to prepare.  That would have been much more helpful before the drought began, but Africans tend to not fare so well with long-term planning, so I don't know how helpful that would have really been.  But please join me in praying - the heat is too much.

International Women's Day

I'd never heard of International Women's Day until last year, as it's not really observed in the US.  I suppose that makes sense, since it originated as a Socialist political event.  Whatever the origin, it's a national holiday in Uganda, for which I am thankful.  


I'm not sure whether this appeared as the American Google doodle for the day, so in case it didn't, this is what we were treated to today:

The google.co.ug (where I'm automatically directed, boo) page doesn't always get the Google doodles, so this tickles me to no end.  Plus, it's a lovely drawing.

You want Ugandan coffee... you want Ugandan coffee...

Since I live in the dorm, I must imbibe instant coffee for my caffeine; I forgot my French press.  I mean, I live in a country that grows some of the best coffee on the planet, and I'm drinking instant.  I will say, however, that it is WAY better than instant in the US.


And you too, can enjoy some of the best coffee on the planet without asking your favorite seminarian to schlep it across three continents and an ocean!  Check out Ugandan Gold Premium Coffee.  Grown in the Bunyoro-Kitara region of Uganda and distributed in the US, the proceeds go to help the residents in Bunyoro-Kitara (where several of my friends are from).  And if you buy three bags, shipping is free!

Eureka!

Yesterday I had a minor epiphany... the semesters in which I had the largest deliverables, my proposal (which had huge influence/impact on my dissertation), and my dissertation, I've been sick when working on them, with malaria and pneumonia, respectively.


God brought me through the proposal (and the malaria, for that matter) rather well.


So, I reckon that He's trying to teach this tired, senioritis-affected, protein-deprived seminarian that He's the one in charge, not her, no matter what her delusion may be about that on any given day.


And exams are coming... [deep breath]

Final diagnosis

Wow - I never thought I'd be happy to hear the word "pneumonia," but here I am, happy, yet dismayed.  Happy to finally have a diagnosis and treatment that will finally clear this up, dismayed that three doses of Azithromycin (I reckon it's a type of erythromycin (sp); manufactured in India) will make it all better.  But we have hope.


Last week my classmate was leading intercessions during one of the chapel services, and she prayed for me.  By name.  It was touching, sweet, and somehow mortifying.  She also hadn't realized I was sick the other week, and  said that she would have come and done my wash.  That is incredibly humbling... she's got an active 18 month old, and stays off-campus.  For the record, the wash situation is under control, though I'm washing my alb and cincture tomorrow so the latter can dry by Sunday.  


The dissertation situation is progressing, albeit slowly.  

I am indebted to the searchable Calvin and Hobbes archive at http://michaelyingling.com/random/calvin_and_hobbes/, as well as the complete archive at http://marcel-oehler.marcellosendos.ch/comics/ch/.  God bless both of these Watterson fans.

Further down the road to health!

Yesterday I returned to class, and though we didn’t have our morning lecture, we had two back-to-back lectures in the afternoon – four straight hours of lecture, then almost right into dinner.  I went seven straight hours without blowing my nose, which since last Wednesday, hadn’t happened.  Not because I didn’t need to, but because I’ve not adopted the handkerchief practice, and nor was I about to carry around a roll of toilet paper, and a bag for the detritus. 

And praise the Lord, I actually slept last night!  It was glorious.  I’m not convinced that the infection has been sufficiently vanquished by the antibiotics, so I returned to the clinic.  The doctor was very nice, gave me some cold and cough medicine, and told me to finish the antibiotics.  The nurse who dispenses meds didn’t give me any more.  I don’t know whether this was a miscommunication, as I finished the antibiotics last night, or intentional, but I took the doctor’s words to heart and went across the street to the drug store (literally – it’s the place where I get my malaria prophylactic, and it's a tiny closet, and all they sell is drugs) and got another five day supply.

The funny thing was that my with my public reappearance today, the theologians who aren’t in my class didn’t know I was sick; many of them thought I was on the mission that went out this weekend.  So when people asked how I was, and in my raspy voice, I replied that I was sick, they’d in turn ask if it was malaria.  I realize that sick is a euphemism for malaria, but aren’t there other sicknesses here?  Perhaps I’ve just got the lingo wrong, and sick is truly reserved for malaria.  But everyone told me I'd be better, and wished me a quick recovery.  I love that so much  more than "get well" or "feel better!"

My guess on Sunday was accurate:  when I went to the cathedral, the provost heard me say hello and asked why I came.  That stumped me.  Then, sweet man that he is, he lamented that I didn’t have his phone number and couldn’t call to tell him I was sick.  True enough, but I literally haven’t seen the man in a month of Sundays – he’s been at other churches.  If anything, I would have called my supervisor, but that was lovely of him to think that I could/should have taken a bye week.  The vicar asked me what I wanted to do in the service, and while I was struggling to find a way to say that I’d prefer to not torture the congregation with my voice, the provost intervened and said I’d just sit there.  The vicar agreed, and told me to be free with them about my preferences.

I shall atone for my silence on March 13^th, as I am preaching on the first Sunday of Lent.  The sermon may well be recorded, as the USPs won’t be around, and they want to see the sermon.  I’ll let you know if it does get recorded, though I doubt it will be posted anywhere – I don’t have that kind of bandwidth.

Yet another election, yet another public holiday?

You know how in the US, we have an Election Day, and we vote for everything all at once?  It’s nice in my district, because we’ve been using a computerized system for several years now, and the program walks me through all the ballots and the options.  None of those silly hanging chads for us in Virginia, no sirree.  I wonder whether Florida ditched the chads, and if so, how long it took them.

In Uganda, ballots for elections have both the photo of the contestant, as well as their name, presumably to allow the less than literate to vote as well.  The presidential ballot, with nine candidates, was rather long.  It turns out that 18 Feb, Election Day, was just for the presidential ballot, and members of parliament at the national level.  The following Wednesday were the elections for LC5, and no, I’ve not yet asked what that means, but it’s a local seat of government.

We all knew the elections for LC5 would be that Wednesday; I even knew it.  Tuesday evening it was announced (by whom, I have no idea) that Wednesday would be a public holiday.  Seriously?  You know it’s going to be a day of voting, and you declare a public holiday the night (NIGHT, not day) prior?  Even better, the faculty announced that we wouldn’t be having classes that day to allow the locals to go vote, but all my lecturers came.  Naturally.

I’m bringing this up because in conversation today, someone mentioned that it would be a public holiday on Wednesday.  Since no one tells me when the public holidays are (and therefore when there will be no class), I asked Mr. Google what they were, and put all of them on my calendar.  Mr. Google, obviously, doesn’t know about random election days.  As it happens, this Wednesday is elections for LC3.  I don't know whether it will be a public holiday, and even if it is, I'm certain we'll have lectures.  But this is Africa, and that's how things go.  One never knows if something will change, and if it does change, whether it applies to you.