Driving in Uganda

This blog posting is the truth.  My biggest complaint is that there are no signs - how are you supposed to know what the roads are??  Otherwise, driving in and near DC has been fabulous preparation for driving in Uganda.  :)

Thank you for praying!

Thank you for your prayers about the car! My little brother and I quickly realized that sharing the car wasn't the answer, and the missionary and I were able to reach an agreement on price. Now to finish the paperwork...

And apparently, it is exceptionally bad form for me to arrive to supervise a student in a taxi or on a Boda. When I first heard that I blew it off, but en the dean, who knew nothing of my deliberations, asked if I had my car yet, and got a bit cross when I suggested that I use taxis for supervision.

So, here it is! Now it needs a name. I'm thinking one of the first names I was given: Mbabazi, which means grace. 

Caught in a rainstorm

Saturday, I took some clothes to be mended to the tailor, and while walking back, got caught in a rainstorm. This is what can happen when one takes shelter in a shop. 

Heroes

Today, one of my students told me that I am his hero because I left the comfort of the US to be a missionary in Uganda. 

This same student has a heart for rural ministry, and will be ordained later this year. He pastors a church with 16 parishes.  He is raising funds for iron sheets for a roof for the church, because they lack one. Some of the lay readers in the parishes walk five kilometers to get to church to lead services. He wants to raise funds to buy them bicycles to facilitate their ministry. 

He is MY hero. 

Wednesday, the new Monday

You know how most people dislike Mondays?  I dislike Wednesdays.  They are incredibly long days, with Bible Exposition beginning at 7:30, lectures, office work, then Discipleship from 4-6.  As a student, I just had to attend and participate, but now I have to lead!

So, yesterday was a typically long Wednesday, and I had been leading Discipleship as we reviewed the liturgy for the Eucharist and gave the finalist students their Sunday placements.  After, they naturally had questions, so by the time I left, I was pretty much toast.

But God is gracious, and He can give encouragement just when it is needed most.  One of the students had a question, which I answered, then was talking with other students.  He was still standing around, and when I was finished, he said, "Reverend, I want to walk you home."

As I'm typing this out, it seems a bit silly, but last night, those seven little words were balm to my weary soul!  I think it must have been the offer of giving me something rather than taking.  

Got wheels?

May I ask you to join with me in prayer?  I have an opportunity to purchase a vehicle from another SAMS missionary who is leaving Uganda.  The timing is remarkable, as I will be visiting students at their Sunday placements, and need to get there somehow (I can take taxis, but it's not always a straight line getting there from here).

My little brother and I have toyed with the idea of going in together on a car, and now the idea is here.  We're going to talk this afternoon, and yes, there are many things to be ironed out. 

I do have a provisional driving permit, and will get the real one in two weeks (don't ask why there's a month between the two).

Could you please pray for wisdom, and financial provision, if I do go this route?  The vehicle is by no means necessary, though in many ways, it will make life easier.  And cost money.  I know that nothing's ever easy.

Keeping time

It is generally accepted that Africans aren't known for keeping time; announcements for events often come with the reminder to "keep time," and I have been told on more than one occasion that "you people have watches, but we have time."  It's common for people to arrive at all times during services, as well as for lectures.

I'm the kid who was born 28 days late, and I am fond of saying that I've been making up for it all my life; I am generally early for, well, everything.

When I was a student at UCU, one of the lecturers refused to admit students who were more than five minutes late to class.  I agree with this principle, I think it's rude to come to class when it's a quarter over, and asked the class to agree that we will not allow anyone in the class after five minutes.  They protested, and we agreed on 10.

Most of last week and early this week, someone would come in at 12 or 13 minutes late, and I'd let them in, as these are the days of grace as they adjust.

Yesterday, one person came in at five minutes, and that was it!  Everyone else was on time.  I was incredibly impressed.  At the end of the lecture, I thanked the class for keeping good time, and you should have seen the smiles!  One student looked particularly relieved; at what, I'm not sure.  I think they were just happy that I noticed.

Lecturing Biblical Interpretation

This semester I am co-teaching Psalms and Wisdom Literature (which was basically handed over to me), and Biblical Interpretation (which due to scheduling conflicts, as mostly been me thus far).  Both classes are with the Bachelor of Divinity year 2 students, so we have plenty of time to get to know one another.

Today in Biblical Interpretation, in which we had just finished discussing relative and absolute (for the audiences of the original books only, and for all of us, respectively) messages, one of the students raised his hand and said, "Madam, according to 1 Corinthians 14:34, don't you think that you shouldn't be teaching this class?"

1 Corinthians 14:34 says "women should remain silent in the churches.  They are not allowed to speak, but should be in submission, as the Law says."

I thanked him for illustrating our earlier point about the importance of understanding the context of the original message.  And I noted that we were in a classroom, not in church.  :)  

Verse 35 notes that "If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church." In my quick explanation, I noted that it was rather novel for women to be in church in the first place, as they had been separated in the Temple, and that the noise was from them asking questions in church, hence Paul's instruction in v. 35 for them to ask questions at home.

He was engaged all lecture, so I really don't think he has a problem with me.  I think he just likes to push the envelope. 

New fruit!

Yesterday afternoon, a friend brought me some fenne (fen-NAY), or jackfruit.  It is wonderfully delicious, even if the fruit itself is absolutely nothing to look it.  The smell reminds me of honeysuckle or honeydew, and the taste is very light.

As I was walking home from the office I met some students on the road, and one of them asked what I was carrying.  Being the savvy Ugandan that I am, I told him it was fenne.  This particular student is Rwandan, and had never heard of fenne or jackfruit.  I was rather surprised, as I assumed that all Africans would have access to it, and therefore know it.  He tried it, and seemed to like it.

Later in the conversation, one of the Ugandan students asked me where my compound is.  I pointed up to my place, and he laughed and said that was "just a plot."  He suggested that I buy 20 acres.  When I asked him what I'd do with 20 acres, he said that I'd plant trees, and would have someone nurture and prune them for me.  He then noted that it would be a good source of income for my retirement.  I was ordained not too long ago; I'm not ready to think of retirement yet!

You know my name?

Today was my first real lecture with the Bachelor of Divinity 2 (BD2) students, though I only kept them for one and a half of the two hour lecture, and most of that was making groups and assigning the topics we will cover in Psalms and Wisdom literature. One of the benefits of the day was learning the names of some of the students I had seen last semester, but had not had the opportunity to properly meet. 

Later in the evening, we had our first Eucharist, and as I began walking home, I noticed that one of my students was a couple steps ahead of me, and I wanted to ask him how he found the lecture, especially taking notes while listening to me and my accent. 

So I called out to him, and he turned, saw that I was the one who called him, and his face full of wonder, asked, "you know my name?!"

I assured him that I didn't get all the names in class today, though I did get his, then lost the heart to ask him my question. 

 My heart melted when I saw how happy he was that I knew his name.  At the end of the day, don't we want to be known?

Humble thanksgiving

One of the things I admire in the African church is the thanksgiving:  when people want to publicly thank God for something in their lives.  Often, when the priest announces that there will be a thanksgiving, others come up to the rail to give thanks, which involves collecting the thanksgiving, often money.  Or a gift.  Or a chicken that's left in the vestry (which I saw.  Once.).

This Sunday, the Provost announced that there would be a thanksgiving.  I have to admit that since we started 30 minutes late, I wasn't terribly amused.  At the appropriate time, he announced the thanksgiving, and the family, and others, came up to the rail to give thanks to God.

Then the Provost said that Sarah (the woman) was giving thanks for having delivered her baby, even though the Lord took the baby just a few minutes later.  

So my heart broke in a million pieces.  I infer that it had been a difficult pregnancy, and that the church had been praying for her for "some good time," as we say.  But she had just delivered a baby, just to surrender him or her to God right away.

And there she was, giving thanks.  For her life, for surviving the pregnancy, for the goodness of God in the face of tragedy.  And I was completely humbled.

Digging ditches

No, not me!


We've just wrapped up the "short holiday," or two weeks between semesters, and in this time, the University decided to do some maintenance on the roads.  One morning I went to work, and that afternoon there was a huge trench dug.  It's impossible to walk to the library from my place for the mounds of dirt (which should portend good things!).

The road that runs by my place also was graded; seeing the dirt pushed over reminded me of snow removal.  This morning, I saw the fruits of the labor:  a cemented drainage ditch, with rocks to make it attractive.  Well, there are probably more practical reasons for the rock, but I appreciate their beauty.

And I've heard that the roads/streets on campus will be named, and there will be signs.  Be still my heart!