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.