Emmanuel's ordination

On December 14, I went to Soroti to attend Emmanuel’s ordination.  Emmanuel was in my discipleship group, and I supervised him for both his Sunday and block [diocesan] placements.  When I thought I had a conflict and wasn’t able to attend, he reminded me that he is my son, and gets first preference.  He’s right, and thankfully, the conflict resolved itself.

Happily, I now know the way to Soroti, and it’s actually pretty easy:  go east on Jinja Road, and after Iganga, branch left to go to Mbale.  At Mbale, go through the town and take the road to Soroti.  The cathedral is just after the middle of Soroti town.  There are precious few road signs in Uganda, and last year I missed the branch at Iganga (I expected a roundabout, and it’s just a street) and took the long way to Mbale.  This year, I took the branch, but had some issues at Mbale because the entire town is being repaved.  Once I got through that, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the road to Soroti has been tarmacked, at least a rough paving.  That turned a horrible road into a good one, even if I wondered if I was on the wrong road for about 90 minutes.

Since it’s the dry season, it tends to be hot, but Soroti is warmer than Mukono, so it was about 90 during the day, feeling between 95-97.

The Soroti cathedral is a simple building, but holds about 2,000.  The church was packed for the ordination, naturally, and while there is no air conditioning, there are a plethora of fans working hard.  The service was to start at 10, but began around 10:30, and the service itself probably ended around 1:30.  Given that there was a reading, a sermon, commissioning about 15 lay readers, ordaining two deacons, offertory, and Holy Communion, that’s not bad at all.  However, then there were the introductions (to include yours truly), and the bishop had some announcements, which carried us to 3:00.  One of the announcements was that he expects all clergy to vest for the ordination, though visiting clergy (like me) are exempt.  I leaned over to Godfrey, one of my current students, and whispered that I would vest for his ordination next year.  After dismissing us, the bishop looked at the clock, saw the time, and exclaimed “we can’t be in this hot cathedral at 3:00!” 

Bishop George of Soroti; Rev. David is holding his staff; David is the vicar of the cathedral, and is a friend from my student days at UCU.

The newly ordained Rev. Emmanuel, with the Dean of the Cathedral to his right, Canon Abraham.

Emmanuel had asked me to come to a thanksgiving service at his home; what I missed is that I was the chief guest (guest of honor).  My challenge with that was that I had intended to be in Mukono before it gets dark at 7:00, and it’s at least a four-hour drive.  Since we got out of the service late, I begged Emmanuel to let me come and make my remarks, then go.  He agreed.

After a stop to get plates for the lunch that was to come after the thanksgiving, we arrived at Emmanuel’s place around 4:30.  We were greeted on the road by a group of people cheering, yelling, and waving makeshift banners. 

This is some of the crowd that welcomed us; you can see the tents on the compound to shelter the guests from sun or rain. 

They absolutely crowded the car, and I felt like I was driving a VIP.  I reckon I really was; one of their own had reached two milestones, a university degree and his ordination.  One of the women holding a banner was on my side of the car, and was fond of inadvertently covering the windshield, and I was afraid I would run over one of the kids. 

When we reached the compound, it had been closed off with ribbon for Emmanuel to cut, much like is done at wedding receptions here.  Emmanuel knelt in prayer, and seeing him shed tears while he was praying reminded me of how overwhelmed I was at my ordination.

Emmanuel kneeling in prayer outside his compound.

Like any good function, we began with the Uganda national anthem (in English, which I mostly know), then they sang the Ateso anthem (which I didn’t know; I do know the first verse of the Buganda anthem, however).  The emcee announced the agenda, and Emmanuel asked if we could break protocol and I could make my remarks first, as I had wanted to be on the road three hours ago and was getting quite antsy that I wouldn't even make it to Mbale before dark. 

In my speech, I thanked everyone for their sacrifice in letting Emmanuel come to Mukono for three years; it is hard on extended families while our students are with us.  His wife even delivered a child when he was with us, and while he traveled for the birth, he had to come back to school.  I’m sure I said some other things, but ended by charging Emmanuel to continue to be faithful to Jesus, to continue to love the Christians in his care, and to preach the Gospel faithfully. 

Emmanuel had been translating for me, and when I was finished, he gave me a big hug, again with tears in his eyes, which brought tears to my eyes.  He then told me how much being his lecturer and discipleship tutor meant to him, and how much he has learned from me, and then translated that for the crowd.  If I’d not already teared up, I certainly would have then!

I write that not to say that I think I’m a terribly important person here, but to tell you that I’m grateful to have the opportunity to have an impact on my students.  They mean the world to me, and I treasure teaching them, talking with them, and learning with them.  Being able to celebrate with them is icing on the cake.

Ah, English

Today I went into Mukono about 8:30am to go to the ATM, thinking I'd be ahead of everyone else.  Silly me.  It's nearly Christmas, and everyone is at the bank.  It took me an hour and a half yesterday to get my ATM card from that large international bank, but that's another post.

Mary Jane came with me, and as I was standing in the queue [line] with the other fair citizens of Mukono, and several other UCU staff, I looked around at the environment, as there's not much else to do.  People were chatting with the bank guards, taxis were honking, bodas were swerving, and it was a normal day.  I looked across Jinja Road, and noticed a sign that I've seen before, but it's not registered.

Yes, Caesar is misspelled.  Only half of the possessives are correct.  But it's the bottom that caught my eye:  "for Turkey Wears."

I've become accustomed to things like the expressed imperative ("You come!" Or the one I heard almost daily from a student in the Honours College:  "Rona!  You come and we go!"), and other seeming malapropisms.  But this sign takes the cake for me.  

No, it's not clothes for fowl, but clothes from Turkey.  Mary Jane explained it to me; she met someone who was traveling to Istanbul to bring clothes to sell.  

Since the shop is selling clothes for people, technically, the sign is correct.  But mercy, the English.

Hosting the East Africa Inter-University Games

UCU is currently hosting the East Africa Inter-University Games, with around 6,000 student athletes on and around campus, representing Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda, and Burundi.  The campus is abuzz with cheers, whistles, announcers, music, and the occasional ambulance siren.  The first night, the Chaplaincy led a welcoming service, which was down on the new football pitch, and thanks to an incredible PA system, I could hear rather well at my place.  In fact, I was able to discern that the preacher was one of my students!  His voice, and his preaching style, are distinctive.  :)

That's one thing that I love:  whenever we host an event like this, we do more than just provide necessary services like food, accommodation, and medical care; the Chaplaincy is always present, front and center, to preach the Gospel and minister to our guests.

When I arrived on campus last night from my last supervision visit, there were about six games of croquet (or something that resembled croquet) on the grounds between Bishop Tucker and the theology library; I felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland.  Nkoyoyo Hall, where we have large lectures and church services, has been transformed to a badminton arena.  The library grounds are host to kickboxing matches.  Every inch of available space is being used.  

The Games will conclude on Sunday; a photo album of the opening ceremonies is here.

Jesus, take the wheel

I’ll write something more thoughtful about Emmanuel’s ordination in a bit (and post photos), though I’d like to highlight something first:  I loathe night driving in Uganda. 

The good part about night driving:  bodas and people tend to stay on the shoulder properly after dark, whereas during the day, they take up whatever space on the road they want.  I think they realize that death may find them more easily at night when drivers can’t see them.  Now if they’d only realize that applies in the day as well!

The down part about night driving:  no or little ambient light, no or few lines on the road, and any that 1. exist and 2. are visible certainly weren’t made with reflective paint, vehicles with dim or nonexistent lights (front and/or back), and drivers who have an unusually strong affinity for driving with their high beams on, or switching them on right as they reach your vehicle.

I needed to be in Mukono on Monday, so I planned to leave Soroti after Emmanuel’s thanksgiving service, especially since I wanted to get through Mbale before it was dark, as there was a diversion because the road is being worked on (this time, I only had to ask directions once, and didn’t have to take anyone with me.  Hallelujah!).  Well, naturally, everything was delayed, and I left about 5:30 pm, and therefore had a good 3.5 hours of driving in the dark and very near dark, as the sun sets at 7 pm.  Yes, I probably should have stayed one more night in Soroti, but the advantage to traveling on Sunday night is that there is less traffic. 

Traffic jams in Uganda rival the DC area, and unfortunately, that doesn’t just apply to Kampala.  Therefore, one plans journeys around the jams as much as possible.  However, sometimes that means driving in the dark with all it’s, ah, contributions to the driving experience.  It brings new meaning to “Jesus, take the wheel.”  I think I've posted this article before, but it's simultaneously hilarious and spot-on.

Want to open a bank account?

Q: How long does it take to open a bank account in Uganda?
Short A: A lot longer than you would think.

Long A: Once a year, I receive a disbursement from the University to go visit my students on their placement, intended to cover transportation costs and per diem.

I’ve been quite reluctant to open account here for several reasons, chief of them being IRS reporting and the fact that this only happens annually. However, this year, the University began to disburse funds electronically, and I had to open an account.

I changed banks while I was in the US, and that was a fairly quick and painless experience (my old bank levied a 3% charge on foreign ATM transactions, and when one draws her salary from the ATM, it’s a bit painful). I chose a large and well-known international bank for my Ugandan account, thinking that they would understand an expat account, and that the process would run fairly smoothly.

Silly me.

I went to the bank on Wednesday, 3 December, to open the account, armed with a letter from the University, my passport and passport photos, because they go on nearly everything as proof of identity. My new friend Peter completed the application for me (even commenting, “Eh! Happy birthday!"). For salary, he figured out how to explain that I don’t draw a salary from UCU, but receive this disbursement annually. He said he would call me with the account number. I took him at his word. Silly me.

The good folk in Accounts have been wanting this account number so they can disburse the funds and begin the process of closing their books. I stopped by the bank on Friday, thinking that perhaps Peter forgot to call. Nope. The application was sent back, because there was an error. So I signed a new application, and Peter assured me he would call me.

I stopped by the bank again on Tuesday, thinking that all was resolved. Silly me. The bank manager assured me that my application was among those that was being fast tracked. I went on Wednesday. Nothing. I stopped by the bank again on Friday (this time in my collar, as I had been supervising a student), as I’d still not heard anything. I’m sure that Peter and the bank manager were quite tired of me, but in my defense, often the way to get things done is to “be on their necks,” as we say. And I so I was.

Happily, Saturday afternoon, as I was driving to Soroti, the bank manager called to say that I had an account number. As I was driving, I couldn’t write it down, and she said she’d send an SMS. That never happened, so I called this morning, got the account number, then fairly ran to Accounts to give it to them. Next year, receiving the disbursement should be a seamless process.

Peter mentioned something about coming to the branch for my ATM card, and I had wondered whether I’d receive it in the mail, as we do in the US. I think I’ll go next week, just to be sure that it actually gets there.

To sum up: 10 calendar days to open an account. Lord, have mercy.

Greetings from Soroti

Greetings from Soroti, where I have come for one of my student's ordination. I thought I was going to have a conflict with today, and when I told him, Emmanuel reminded me that he is my son. And so he is. I'm grateful that the conflict resolved itself, and I was able to come. 

The drive to Soroti can take up to five hours, and people often note that the road to Mbale (the next major town after Jinja) is good, but the road to Soroti is not good. Not good, of course, is code for awful. 

Imagine my surprise, then, when Mbale itself is a hot mess because they're tearing up the road in town.  The diversions got to be crazy, and when I stopped to ask directions, the man suggested coming wih me to show me, and I could give him money for a Boda bak. I didn't love this idea for any number of reasons, but said a quick prayer and unlocked the doors. A few minutes later I was near the road that my new friend promised goes to Soroti, though I was sufficiently confused that assuming I meet the same diversions on the way back, I'll have to find a new friend to guide me. 

Having said that, the road to Soroti is pretty good now. We'd think it is just the rough pavement, but it is absolutely bliss compared to what it was. However, the improvements stop at the Soroti district line; fortunately, I only travel a few minutes after that. 

Since I'm in the diocese where most of my discipleship group is, I've called to say hello. They will be attending the ordination, and I'm looking forward to seeing them. Godfrey already stopped by to greet me, and gave me a bit of flack for not coming to supervise him; I'm glad he's as annoyed as I was at the change of plans. 

Of course, I'm most looking forward to seeing Emmanuel's ordination to the diaconate. He's the new missions coordinator for the diocese, and I know he will do well. 

Recent ordinations and thanksgiving

The second Sunday in Advent is a popular day for ordinations in Uganda; both Mukono and Kampala had their ordinations Sunday.  I had been invited to the Mukono ordination, but it began at 10 (and apparently went until 2 or 3), and I had already been coopted to celebrate both services at UCU.  However, to make up for my not attending the service, I did attend David’s thanksgiving at his father’s house that evening.

It’s always a joy to see my students be ordained; this is what they’ve been studying and working towards.  Several of David’s classmates also came, and it was simultaneously odd (because I’m not accustomed to it) and right (because they’ve been training for this) to see them in their collars! 

My goddaughter, Makable, in front of two of David's classmates, John (front) and Joshua.  They were also recently ordained. 

There were at least 100 people at the thanksgiving, and we were seated under tents on the compound.  When we arrived, the police directed us to the neighbor’s compound to park.  I have no idea how one goes about getting police to direct traffic and guard the cars, but I’m grateful they were there. 

While talking with David, he told me that UCU should have prepared him for his ordination.  I asked what he meant (because everything we do is geared towards ordained ministry), and he said that we had not prepared him for the vows he took.  I laughed, but I know exactly what he meant.

I had read the ordination service several times in advance of my ordination, but nothing can prepare you for actually taking those vows in front of God, the bishop, and the congregation.  It is truly awesome:  inspiring awe, admiration, and wonder, that God would call someone like me to this ministry.  It is also absolutely terrifying that God would call someone like me to this ministry.  There’s absolutely no preparing for that.

Grasshopper season. Yay.

In other news, it's grasshopper season. Fried grasshoppers are a delicacy, and are sold by street vendors everywhere. People set up iron sheets in an inverted come, with a light bulb in the center, to trap them. 

For some reason, the grasshoppers are enamored with coming into my flat. They are attracted by the two security lights at the corners of my flat, and I think they hang out under the window eaves to avoid the birds who also think they are a delicacy. 

I keep this container within easy reach in my kitchen to catch these little guys and return them to the outside. I keep telling them that there's no grass in here to eat, but they keep coming. 

The struggle with two homes

I am so, so grateful for the people in both my countries who love and accept me as I am, even especially when I'm pining for the country I'm not in at any moment.  This blog post sums up my heart well.

http://www.dahlfred.com/index.php/blogs/gleanings-from-the-field/747-why-missionaries-can-never-go-home-again

Going for supervision

In their final year of their studies, our students have two pastoral placements:  Sunday placement, where they are placed in churches in Mukono, Kampala, and Namirembe Dioceses, and block placement, where they are placed in churches for three months prior to their final semester.  When I was a student, my Sunday placement was at the Cathedral next to UCU, and my block placement was at Christ our Lord, in Lake Ridge.  In both cases, the students are supervised by staff who drop by to observe them and see how they are doing.  I’m inferring that I caused a bit of a kerfuffle because no one supervised me while I was on block placement.  Clearly, UCU wasn't going to send anyone to the US to supervise me; I didn’t know I was supposed to find my own supervisor!

Block placement runs from October through December, and since there’s really no point in supervising the students in October, as they’ve just begun at the parish.  I take my annual leave in October/November, so I am falling into a pattern of doing my visitations in early December.  We try to sort our discipleship groups geographically so that we will supervise the students who we disciple.

I’ve been assuming that I would return to Soroti this year to supervise my students, and I was quite looking forward to it, as I’ve had those students in my discipleship group for two years, and know them well.  I was very much looking forward to meeting little Luke, who was born in June, and for whom our group had prayed.

When I returned from the US, I learned that I’m not going to Soroti; I’m visiting students who are near-ish to Kampala.  To say that I’m disappointed is a great understatement.  Apparently, some of the students had to be shuffled.  It happened while I was gone, so I don’t fully understand.  I had tried to lobby to have this settled before I left; I’ll try harder next year.  I really want to be in Soroti to see my students be ordained.