Whom shall I fear?

Some friends have been posting about the threat to Christian church services in Uganda and Kenya of late, and earlier in May, the State Department issued a warning with wording about a "specific terrorist threat" against churches in Kampala.

I do take these warnings seriously, though honestly, to what extent can you let a threat inhibit your life?  The larger churches, like cathedrals and All Saints' Kampala, have had security at their services for years; in 2010, at the last Easter service at All Saints', we had to pass through proper metal detectors.

Last Sunday, during the second service at my student's placement, I kept hearing a beeping, and assumed it was the electricity going on and off.  I finally realized that it was the hand-held metal detector that the security officer was passing over all the men who were entering church.  I'm going to assume that she wasn't at the first service because it is not as well attended... but my point is that this threat is very real, and security at churches and shopping centers, both to enter the parking lot and the larger stores, is normal here.

Kenya recently legalized polygamy, and yet Al-Shabab, the group focusing on Uganda, Kenya, and other countries that have sent troops into Somalia, declared that they would be focusing on Kenya next.  Clearly, polygamy isn't enough for them.

While the threats are real, I believe all we can do is pray and be vigilant, in that order.  We need to worship, and the terrorists win if we are afraid.

This brings to mind Psalm 27, which is my prayer.

The LORD is my light and my salvation-- whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life-- of whom shall I be afraid? 

  When the wicked advance against me to devour me, it is my enemies and my foes who will stumble and fall. 

  Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then I will be confident. 

 One thing I ask from the LORD, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple. 

 For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock. 

 Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me; at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy; I will sing and make music to the LORD. 

 Hear my voice when I call, LORD; be merciful to me and answer me. 

 My heart says of you, "Seek his face!" Your face, LORD, I will seek. 

 Do not hide your face from me, do not turn your servant away in anger; you have been my helper. Do not reject me or forsake me, God my Savior. 

 Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me. 

 Teach me your way, LORD; lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors. 

 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes, for false witnesses rise up against me, spouting malicious accusations. 

 I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. 

 Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD. 

Shh... the wifi appears to be working!

I've begun working at home twice a week because it's nearly impossible to get anything done in the office.  We switched offices with the chaplaincy in January, and yet the general population seems to not know.  I'm thinking of making signs.  Also, the two other lecturers aren't always around, and so I have to convey that information, as well as directing people to the next set of offices.  To that, add people just stopping in to say hello because that is the African way, and you can frustrate one reasonably Type-A American.

However, working from home has been challenging, because the wifi that was installed last September (and got working November-ish) has been spectacularly unreliable.  I've called to the computer people (UIS) any number of times, but not as often as I would have in the US because I want them to still like me.

So, last week I finally was able to get Dorcas up here to see how bad and inconsistent it was, and she agreed.  She then sent Kenneth a few days later to see what he could do.  Nothing seemed to change.

I had to go to the library the other day, so I decided to drop by the UIS office to see if an in-person plea, coupled with sad Bambi eyes, could make a difference.  While I was talking with Dorcas, she asked someone sitting near her about the status of the wifi here, and he grumbled something about asking someone else.

I really wanted to make a sad face at a technician to try to manipulate encourage them to do something, so I told Dorcas that he wouldn't look at me so I could smile at him (which really is a gentle rebuke; you always greet people when they come).  She laughed, and told him to smile at Rev. Jessica.  So he looked up and laughed, and I made my sad Bambi smile, and we all had a good laugh, and I left with an assurance that it would be examined.

When I got home later that afternoon, the wifi worked!!  Hallelujah!!  I called Dorcas to see what they did, and she insists that no one did anything.  Two days later, and it's STILL working.  I'm putting this one down as a miracle.  

I bounced

"Bouncing" is what we call it when you go somewhere, and don't find the person you were looking for.  I suppose it's drawn on the same concept as bouncing a check: the funds for the check aren't there.  

Sunday, I left campus at 5:00 am to go to Entebbe.  I figured I'd be a bit early since there shouldn't be much traffic (there was NONE!  It was glorious!!), and got to church about 30 minutes before the service.  Whoops.

I had diligently studied my map, and had written directions for going to and fro.  I suspect that the map may not quite be to scale, because when I thought I had passed where the church should be, the lovely petrol attendant told me I still had a ways to go, as the church is near State House, which meant that the church is a lot closer to the airport than I had thought.  Omitting State House from the map is another topic entirely.

So, I continued on for a ways and indeed found the church just fine.  I was indeed asked to come sit in front of the church.  In the part of the service where the priest asks if there are any visitors, he said, "Other than our sister in orders, are there any visitors with us today?  I will ask the vicar to introduce our sister in a moment."  So I got my own introduction, and of course was asked to come give greetings.

All the while, I'm wondering what happened to my student.  He hadn't been in the procession.  He hadn't come in late.  He hadn't informed me that he wasn't coming (and while our visits can be surprises, he knew I was coming this week).  I was getting rather worried, assuming that he had to be sick.

After the service, I went in the vestry to greet the clergy, and lo and behold, there was my student!  I was simultaneously relieved that he was there and furious that I got up at 4:00 to bounce, not find him at the first service.  It turns out that he came a few minutes late, and couldn't vest for the service.

I had talked to the vicar about letting him lead or preach at some point during the semester, so they initially were going to have him lead the second service, but changed their minds, and asked him to take a reading.  

As we were leaving the vestry, I asked him if I was staying, and he just smiled and said, "yes!"  So I got to stay for another service.  Then endure a delightful traffic jam as I approached Kampala.

I must have misread my map, because the way home was slightly different than the way coming.  I have no idea how that happened; the road was just different.  I got to a rather confusing junction, and got in the lane to go straight because that's what my directions said, but realized that I needed to have turned left.

Do I get points for knowing that I was making a mistake, and knowing how to rectify it?

The silver lining in this is that I know how to get to Nsambya now.  :)

Traveling to find students

Another aspect of lecturing in the Bishop Tucker School of Divinity and Theology that I enjoy is visiting my students on their Sunday placements.  All students in their final year of study are placed in churches in either Mukono, Kampala, or Namirembe Diocese, and we rotate among our lot, visiting them, supervising, and encouraging them.

Well, I generally enjoy it.  I do find it difficult to not have a church home, and feel a bit like a nomad. As much as I would love to just slide into a pew or chair on Sunday morning, I do tend to stand out, so I'm often asked to sit up front, pray for the children as they go to Sunday School, or process in and recess out.  Yeah.  That's a bit awkward for me, but when in Rome...

It's becoming clear to me that Sunday supervision is also a plot to make me learn Kampala and it's environs.  Fortunately, in Africa, when you ask a stranger for help (say, to ask directions), the stranger is happy to help.  Unfortunately, street signs are apparently forbidden, and directions can follow the lines of "go to the police barracks, and" "she doesn't know where the barracks are!" "OK, follow the blue fence as it goes around, and when you get to the big tree, branch right."  That is a true exchange, and I didn't know where the barracks are.  Unfortunately, there were several big trees, so I ended up asking someone else where the church was.  That person was going to the service, so I gave him a ride the rest of the way.

Tomorrow, I get to go to St. John's, Entebbe.  As in near the airport.  This is a bit funny because when my bishop was here last year, he was staying in Entebbe before flying out, and he asked me where he should go for services.  I replied, rather cavalierly, I might add, "Oh, St. John's, of course.  It's right next to the golf course.  Everyone knows where it is (if he had to ask for directions)."

I knew about the golf course because we went to St. John's once when I was a student.  Once.  I have flown into and out of Entebbe any number of times, but that has been at night, and I've not been driving.

I've been studying the map, and now that I'm becoming somewhat familiar with Kampala, it doesn't look that bad.  I just don't think that it's right on Entebbe Road, and I'm praying there will be signs because I don't know how many people will be out at 6:30 am (because I want to go to the 7:00 service to get back home at a reasonable hour - all roads go through Kampala, and everyone drives on the weekends).

When I go to Namuwongo, THAT will be exciting.  It's near the International Hospital Kampala, which I have been driven past twice, but again, I don't remember enough about it to remember where to turn.  All the houses and shops look the same as you're going past.  It will take time to remember, "oh, it's the house with the pink wall."

Lord, have mercy!

We have a new baby!

One of the things I enjoy about the UCU divinity curriculum is the mandatory discipleship.  Our groups are a bit large, but I love that we emphasize discipleship.  It also gives the lecturers a group of students who we get to know pretty well during their time here.

One of the students in my discipleship, George, was expecting a child with his wife.  There had been complications with her last pregnancy, so last semester, George had asked us to pray for her and the baby, which we were happy to do.

It was finally time for the baby to be born, and George went home to be with his wife.  I have been sending texts to the rest of the discipleship group, keeping them informed of his travel plans, when his wife went into the hospital, and when they were sent home and told to return the next morning ("the doctor became too busy").  Wednesday afternoon, we received a baby boy.

Baby names aren't always considered before the baby is born; in some tribes, the parents don't even name the baby.  For example, my niece was named by her paternal great-uncle.  Therefore, I really wasn't surprised that George didn't give any details about the baby, even to include his name.

However, I was quite surprised to receive the following text from him last night:  "Give me a name for a boy in remembrance of your concern about him."

I'm completely humbled and honored.  I have proposed Luke as his name.

UCU's international ranking!

Well, they just like us because we're pretty, but that's not a bad start.  The campus truly is beautiful, and I'm thrilled that we've been recognized.  See the whole story here.

Herbal remedies

Another student asked how I was recovering from the crud, and I told him I was trying (which is a typical response).  He offered to bring me some herbs to boil and drink, warning that they would be bitter, but would help the cough.

He returned with, from left, mango tree leaves, agave tree leaves (I didn't know we had any on campus) and leaves from a tree over there (he pointed; it is near my place and no one knows its name; we call it the washing bottle tree, because the flowers resemble the bristles of a brush you'd use to wash a bottle).

The pile here is only a third of what he brought.  He told me to put all the leaves, as well as some bark he included in a pot with two cups of water and bring it to a boil.  When it cooled, I could drink it.

I was a bit skeptical of the two cups of water; that seemed so little for the amount of foliage.  I added way more than two cups for fear of burning the leaves, and let it boil.  It smelled lovely, though I've not yet had the nerve to taste it.  :)

Sharing news

The other day, one of my students, who is also in my discipleship group, stopped by the office to say hello.  Naturally, he had heard about my accident.  He asked why I didn’t send a text to the discipleship group, as I had when another student’s wife was about to deliver their child and the student was traveling.

While I get his point about informing people so they can pray, my fall didn’t seem to warrant an all-points bulletin.  Aside from my pride and vanity taking a pummeling, I wasn’t terribly hurt.  However, even if I had been terribly hurt, I don’t know that I would have sent a text to the discipleship group; perhaps I’m wrong in not sharing something like that with the students.

As I reflected on whether I would share a serious injury or illness with my discipleship group (when they are off-session), I thought about how I struggled with whether to ask Mary Jane to pick up some Jell-O for me while she was in Kampala, not knowing whether she had finished her errands (I did ask, she did bring, and it was good!).  When I was sick with the crud from my niece/goddaughter, Arleen offered homemade chicken noodle soup, which was delicious.  When I was still sick, she asked if she could make me more soup.  Make.  As in, not just sharing what she already had, but making more.  For me.  It was difficult for me to agree to that; I didn’t want to cause her any trouble.   I did agree, and enjoyed another batch of delicious soup. 

Clearly, I still have work to do in asking for and receiving help.  Despite living in a culture where illness or injury to one is felt by all, I still behave like an independent American.  I even preached a small sermon to my class about this yesterday, that when something happens to a student, we need to know so that we can pray and help.  But am I willing to be the one to ask for prayer and help?  Not easily.

Word gets around

Over the weekend, I inevitably saw a few students, and of course, they asked what happened.  Actually, most asked if I had malaria.  I didn't think you got sores on your face from malaria, but then again, it does mean "sickness" here.

When I said I fell, one asked if I fell from a boda [motorcycle].  I almost wish so; it certainly would have been a better story!  I wondered whether I rated high enough for this to be discussed among the students. 

Apparently so.  This morning, one of the students came in to say hello and share his condolences about my accident.  He said that he felt bad about it as soon as Gideon [one of his classmates] told him about it.  Keep in mind, Gideon has not seen me himself.  God alone knows who told him.  Then he wished me a quick recovery from my accident, which made me laugh, and laughing hurts because my lip is still healing.

I'm certainly not going to correct him!

At the dentist

First: the good news. The dentist fixed the chipped tooth, and it looks great! This was a pretty snazzy practice, with an x-ray machine that's nicer than the one at my dentist in Virginia. They took panoramic x-rays, fixed the chip, and examined the teeth that hit the sidewalk, all for 400,000 shillings (about $160).  I'm especially grateful that he was able to do the work without hurting my still swollen and scabbed lip. 

The less-good news: the dentist said that the other incisor is fractured, and showed me the line. The chipped tooth is a little loose, so I can't bite anything for a while to give it time to resettle. 

He's not sure whether the blood flow to the teeth was compromised, "if in ten or twenty years the teeth die, you can trace it back to this event."  Direct quote. 

Amusing moment for me: one technician was doing an inventory of my teeth, and another technician came in. In African culture, it is rude to ignore someone who comes in, so I waved. He waved back. For some reason, that made me inordinately happy.