Village thanksgiving

Sunday, I went to a village about an hour beyond Jinja (which is 1.5 hours from Mukono) to attend a thanksgiving service.  One of my students, David, was the lay reader at this church, and now serves as its deacon, and will soon serve as its vicar.  They have been slowly building the church, and “for some good time” (several years) and were worshipping in the church without a roof.  That meant that prayers began at 7:00am so they could be finished by 10:00am, when the sun was beginning to get hot.  In all that time, David reports that it never once rained during Sunday morning prayers, which is especially miraculous during the rainy seasons.  It reminds me of God making the sun stand still for Joshua while he was in battle – truly God is God over meteorology!

The roof was completely installed earlier this year, and David finally decided to have a thanksgiving service.  I love the concept of a thanksgiving service; whenever someone wants to publically thank God for something He has done, they request to have a thanksgiving.  There doesn’t have to be a lot of pomp associated with it; the priest can just give a short summary of why someone wants to give thanks, and people come up to the front of the church to join in giving thanks, placing their shillings of gratitude in the basket.

Since much fundraising had gone into paying for the roof, this service had to be something.  A guest preacher and choir contingent came from Namugongo, where David did his diploma (similar to an associates degree) studies.  I came from Mukono, and while I wasn’t officially representing UCU, I am a muzungu (one who traveled a long distance, or a white), and that lends a certain je ne sais pas to any event.  I wish it didn’t.  Anyhow.

Now that the church has a roof, the congregation is now fundraising to repair the vicarage.  After the offering, they had the thanksgiving, and then had a harvest celebration, in which members of the congregation brought what they had, mostly crops, to sell.  The proceeds then go towards repairing the vicarage.  And did they bring.  There were seven chickens (one of whom made decent progress towards freeing her bound feet; two others were noshing on the loose maize on the floor), probably 100 pounds of maize, a tray of eggs (30), and I don’t know what else.  David asked that I participate in receiving the thanksgiving, which consisted of receiving bags that were brought, and passing them to whoever was standing behind me to be stacked (and praying that the people with the chickens would give them to David).  When we were done, several people came up and started sorting everything:  all the maize went in a huge bag, all the potatoes together, sugar cane together, eggplant together, etc.  Then the auctioning began.  It was rather impressive, actually.

Another student had accompanied me to the church so I wouldn’t get lost, and he accompanied me to [the nearest] town so I wouldn’t get lost going home.  We were discussing the thanksgiving, and he asked me whether it was appropriate theologically.  Apparently, those who come from the East African Revival consider it to be along the same lines of what caused Jesus to overturn the tables in the Temple courtyard.

I explained to him that part of what got Jesus upset was the outrageous exchange rates for Temple currency, and when I asked whether things are sold at fair market value, he said it was.  For example, one of the chickens went for 15,000 shillings (about $6).  I couldn’t keep up with the rest of it. 

And I’m still pondering whether this is acceptable.  The visiting choir purchased most of the goods, and several eggplants were placed at my feet, apparently a gift from someone.  But the congregation usually purchases everything; my comment was that it was like their own market.  If they’re purchasing, they have the money.  So why go through the bringing what you have and buying something else? 

The eggplants given to me are at the top (even the little green ones; apparently, they're bitter).  The oranges given to me later are at the bottom.

I’m sure some members really don’t have much, and are literally bringing what they have, like the widow in Mark 12:42-44.  I believe, no, I know that God honors that.  As for the parish market, I’m still pondering that.

Finding joy through justice

I am so honored to play a small role in what the International Justice Mission (IJM) is doing in Uganda.  IJM is partnering with churches to preach about God's heart for justice (and His heart is big!), and then interview potential land-grabbing cases, and conduct will writing clinics.  

The vast majority of Ugandans do not have wills, and therefore it is common that when a man dies, the family comes to take over the land, displacing the widow and children.  Though it seems odd to us, without a will, the widow and children (now considered orphans because they have lost a parent; those who have lost both parents are called total orphans) really have no recourse.

We piloted this program last semester, and will be expanding to more churches in the January semester (Theology is currently off-session).  My students reported that both they and their message of God's heart for justice were received well at the churches.  I am excited for how God wants to work to bring justice to His people, and am honored that I can play a role, no matter how small, in that.

If you have a Facebook account, you can see the picture they posted yesterday here; if you don't, you can see what IJM is doing in Uganda here.

Rosemary weds Solomon

Last weekend, I traveled to Hoima (about four hours north by northwest of Mukono) to attend one of my student’s introduction and wedding, and to visit my friend, the Rev. Cindy Larsen.  Cindy’s been on my neck (as we say) to come upcountry, and Rosemary’s nuptials provided the perfect opportunity.

At the reception with Cindy Larsen, my gracious host. 

I’ve attended other introductions, but this is a different tribe, so I wasn’t quite sure how things would progress.  In the main, it worked as I expected:  the bride’s family and friends were seated, and then the groom’s family entourage arrived.  Different groupings of females (usually beginning with children and working up through teens to women) came out of the house, dancing, and then knelt on the mat for the groom to determine whether the bride was there.  Of course she’s not, but the girls were rewarded with small gifts.

The girls were so lovely in their gomesi (traditional dresses)!

Since Rosemary is ordained, one of the groups that came out was a set of Anglican priests!  It was just fabulous.  It was all the more fabulous because the one designated to give the ladies their gifts was a Muslim man.  Oh, the irony!  I was laughing too hard to take pictures at that point.

Each side has an emcee, and towards the end of the parade, the groom’s emcee implored the bride’s emcee to bring her, whether by car or by helicopter (accompanied by sound effects, because there’s always a DJ).  And so Rosemary emerged, accompanied by her maids, to much fanfare and cheering.  

Solomon then followed the procedure for “choosing” Rosemary, and then the groom’s entourage went to get the dowry.  The Western influence has caused there to be some consternation over the word dowry, so now I hear it being referred to as “gifts” rather than a dowry, though that is what it is.  The bride price had been negotiated previously, and had Solomon failed to bring the entire gift, there would have been serious repercussions. 

Then certificates were signed and exchanged, and Rosemary and Solomon were be considered to be culturally, or traditionally, married.  However, since they are Christians, they must be wedded in church.  To me, being married and being wed are synonymous, but in Africa, the distinction is critical.

Another joy was seeing several of my students, who are Rosemary’s classmates, as well as a couple graduates.  Denis, one of my students, saw me, and his eyes lit up.  When he came to greet me, he informed me that I made his day.  That, of course, blessed me tremendously. 

L to R:  Eriab, current student; Flossy, graduate; someone’s wife and daughter; Denis’ wife and daughter; Esther, current student.  Back:  James, current student; Denis, current student; Asaph, current student; a first year student.

We were blessed with a short rainstorm (because rain is always a blessing) while Rosemary and Solomon went from one side to another, being received and welcomed into each family.  While those of us in the tents scooted back to avoid getting wet, the maids had to stand in the rain and wait for Rosemary to finish.  I hope they get extra rewards in heaven for that!

The wedding the next day was lovely.  Rosemary has served the diocese faithfully for many years, and she is dearly loved.  The cathedral was completely full of people who came to see “their girl” wed.

Clearly, I took this when we arrived, but by the time the service started, the cathedral was packed.

The reception was a joyous extension of the service; the tents were labeled, which assisted greatly with seating.  

The emcees returned for the reception, providing a running commentary on the proceedings (“Rev. Jessica from UCU is being served the cake!”  I kid you not.).   Cakes here are not sliced individually, but are cut into bite-sized pieces, and the plate is passed around.

Notice how the cake is pre-cut, even for the bride and groom.  Traditionally, the bride kneels to feed the groom.

When it was time to bring the gifts, I joined the line to present the gift to Rosemary and Solomon, and the maids formed an assembly line to stack the gifts on the stage.  

The maid brigade was hard at work; I joined the line early.

The line is rather long here, and it had to have repeated itself at least twice.  Cindy and I were joking that they won’t ever need anything, because they’ve been given everything they need.

It was a lovely weekend of fellowship and rejoicing.  Please join me in praying for Rosemary and Solomon as they begin their new life together.

Noticing multiculturalism

While replying to an email from a Rwandan student, I noticed that the header from the last email I sent is in French. How cool!

So he's fluent in his local vernacular, French, English, and probably Swahili.  And that's just what I can think of off the top of my head.

Back to the real world

I'm just back from a weekend upcountry for a student's introduction and wedding (upcountry being anything outside Kampala and it's suburbs, like upstate New York is anything outside NYC).

It was a wonderful weekend of celebrations, visiting with my friend Cindy Larsen, and seeing students who also came, and I will be posting pictures tomorrow.  

First, I'd like to pass on some prayer requests.  I don't know whether you saw that the Ugandan authorities broke up an al-Shabaab cell this weekend; please join me in giving thanks for this breakthrough, and continue to pray for those who are working hard to fight terrorism, wherever they are.

Second, I know that I live in an idyllic nature bubble, and that dead animals happen.  However, Thursday, when I left, there was a dead frog on the verandah, and today, I came home to a dead bird in the hallway (I assume it got in the attic somehow, and there's no cover to the attic).  I find the timing of this a bit odd, especially how closely they happened.  

Banner Day

Yesterday was quite the banner day:
1. No rain.  It has rained nearly every day since July.  It’s kept things cool, for which I’m grateful, but washed towels don’t dry when it’s raining.
2. I survived our faculty board without getting in trouble.  Getting in trouble was a distinct possibility.  Actually, I had to take the minutes, so there’s still a possibility of catching flack the next time we meet and review the minutes, but I warned them that they really didn’t want to entrust the minutes to me.
3. My supervisor has elected to let me begin my doctoral proposal rather than let me flounder in my non-conceptual thinking for an outline.  HALLELUJAH.

It’s still going to be quite an effort to complete an acceptable proposal by mid-January, but that’s the goal.  Please keep praying, friends!

This is Africa

So much of what happens here can only be filed as TIA:  This is Africa.  It's a comforting acronym, reassuring us that some aspects of life, thankfully, cannot be replicated anywhere else in the world.

In the TIA category, Kenya's president's car was stolen in Nairobi, and recovered in Kampala.  Yep.  This story lacks some of the humorous flavor of the Ugandan pieces, but really.  SO many questions!

Mzee Kitty

For the last couple days, this feline gentleman has been camped out on my verandah.  I was inside when I noticed him here, and then I moved out to take the picture.  Clearly, he's not the least bit impressed with my presence.

This guy looks like he's been around the block one or fifty times, so I've dubbed him Mzee (muh-ZAY; old man) Kitty.  Mzee doesn't act like a typical feral cat; this afternoon, he was meowing and winding himself around my ankles.  Cute as that was, it was also a bit disconcerting.

Any number of cats like to hang out on the verandah because it gets warm in the afternoon.  Well, that assumes that the sun is shining.  We saw the sun for about three hours today, and two hours yesterday, so perhaps the rainy season will end.  However, I think Mzee Kitty's going to be owning the verandah and the seat.