Chikaste Yesu

 PRAISE the LORD.

So, this past week, I took a break from what has become routine to me in the last two months. It’s hard to believe that I’m half way through this beautiful experience, but reality hit as we drove away from campus; I will be driving away again in two short months, as I say goodbye to Uganda and come back home to a new season of life. SO quickly time can escape me—I like to think ahead. And although I’ve already learned so much from Ugandan culture about simply being present, God had more to teach me last week.

A little more background; every year around this time, the Uganda Studies Program drops off all the students (social work and other tracks) to different homes of a rural village in Uganda. The students all stay a full week, learning about a different culture, and experiencing rural life. Mukono, where the campus is, and Kampala are both fairly westernized in terms of culture, but most Ugandans staying in those places “go home to the village,” as they would say, every so often to visit the family and tribe they’ve left there.

Kapchurwa, the district that we went to last week, features Mt. Elgon right on the border of Kenya and Uganda. The village is called Sipi—also the name of the waterfall that comes down the mountain in three different spots. So essentially, I was living on the side of a mountain, surrounded by waterfalls for a week. I NEVER got used to the view from my backyard.

A new language, a new family, and a new culture. I still don’t know if I was excited or not—certainly, I was amazed to be in such a beautiful setting, but as we passed the grass huts and mud houses, I couldn’t have ever anticipated the challenges and joys I would face that week.

I am already starting to forget the first night; I’m forgetting the thanksgiving-size meal that I was welcomed with. I can barely remember the crowd of 40-some kids that followed my mother and I to the market—poking me whenever they got a chance to see what I felt like.

I’m forgetting my thoughts as I lay in my bed, next to my newfound sisters. They were squirmy enough not to fall asleep. I couldn’t talk to them, but communicated enough to play a game with them of steal-the-blanket-from-whoever’s-underneath-it-by-any-means-necessary. The scratchy voice of Fene, as she spoke to me through Elizabeth, my interpreter for the next few days, barely exists in my memory anymore.

I am already starting to forget the voice of my host Father, which once seemed impossible. I’m forgetting the annoyance that I had as he made a million incorrect statements about American culture.

“I think in America, you don’t farm…”

“I think in America, you don’t have mosquitos…”

“I think in America, you don’t have potatoes…”

“I think in America, families can’t have more than 2 children…”

“I thought white people didn’t have tears…”

“I thought in America, people built houses in the air…”

“I think in America, everyone has a job… no one is poor…”

I’ll NEVER forget the lesson it taught me about ignorance. As I lay in bed, venting to God (the only person who would listen… hah…), I realized that I probably could have made just as many ridiculous assumptions about Africa. My family laughed at me as I tried to split wood- as I tried to stir their staple food, failing because smoke got in my eyes- as I wore myself out walking… a short distance in their opinion. Who was I to judge this man’s life and knowledge? God started to open my eyes to the beauty found in simplicity, as I was forced to approach every new situation with humility.

I am already starting to forget the small playful voice of my 3 year old host sister, Tracy, who I swear God placed there just to get me through the week. The look on her face as she copied me, “how are you?” not knowing what on earth she had just said, the giggle she had as I threw her up in the air, and the way she melted my heart with her pudgy little tummy as she spoke to me in Kuksabiny, the local language. She was convinced I knew what she was saying. I might forget the way she counted in English, and the way she followed me around, and poured me tea any chance she had. I might forget all those things, but I’ll never forget the relief God gave me through the way she treated me like a regular old person; not a rich, unknowledgeable Mzungu.

What will never leave my mind is the fact that the 3^rd day with this family, my Father said to me, “Mary—Here is your land. Come back and build someday. Whenever the Lord leads you. I know He will lead you.” I have land. In Uganda. With coffee plants on it. What?

What I will never forget is the amount of kindness the family showed to me every day—the night before I left, My mom prepared chapatti for dinner because it’s my favorite, my Dad meanwhile was hard at work grinding coffee beans for a good two hours so I could take them home with me. The plan for the last day was to get up early and make cassava chips for me so that I wouldn’t go hungry after I left.

What I won’t forget is how quickly I became part of the family. I simply was accepted because I was there. I was loved because how else would they welcome a guest? The incredible hospitality they showed me while I was there reflects Christ in such a beautiful way.

There are a few things about Rural Home stays that I was relieved to leave. I was tired of feeling like an outsider, and tired of being misunderstood by the end of the week. But as I left this family that I would possibly never see again, I couldn’t help but consider for a moment the offer my host father gave me... “Mary… they will come for you, but you must stay here… we will dodge them as they come for you…”

There was something so beautiful about the simplicity they lived in. Yes, it was probably one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done in my life, and it brought up a million questions in my head about globalization and westernization (that’s a whole different conversation... ask me bout it sometime J). But other than the intense processing that went on in my head during the time I was there, it was refreshing to focus only on the necessities— farming, cooking, and being with each other. The kind of lifestyle they lived would be considered poverty in America, but they literally had everything they needed. They ate like kings and owned little, but enough clothing. The land they farmed was large enough to give me my own piece, and school fees were difficult, but God was providing. 

A classmate of mine said it succinctly when reflecting on the experience:

"If I were to give something... what would I give them? They have all that they need. Nothing I could give would really be useful to them."

As I get back into the routine of internship and school and a little bit of a busier Uganda, I thank God for the challenge that Rural Home stays brought, and the joys that I couldn’t have ever anticipated about rural life in Uganda. It challenged my perception of Africa, and my perception of myself. 

J ANYWAYS. Beyond this explanation, ask me more if you’d like more… see below for some pics to get a visual of my week in Sipi, Kapchurwa.

Some of the kids that followed me around all week :) On the far right is my little sister, Fene. What a face.

Haha. Camera love there on the far left.

And THIS, my friends, is a coffee plant :) To be specific, it's one on my land...

One of the many washing areas in the village.

Tracy and I cleaning the chicken that I slaughtered a few minutes earlier.

On Mt. Elgon... yep. God's pretty beautiful. 

LOOK at that smile. I miss it already.

This is my yard. The house on the left was a storage area for vegetables, etc. It will soon be turned into a home-- one of the nicer ones in the area.

Emmanuel being a crazy dude. Little brothers. Gotta love em. 

Coffee beans that my dad was drying... I would later pound my own coffee from these :) . 

And here's my backyard... that's my bathroom right there. 

And of course, the calf that my dad named after me... I didn't want to take pictures of the birth, but I had to document in some way, as this little guy is my namesake...

And, my family. From left to right, Michael (Dad), Brinik (14), Bauel (12), Fene (9), Emmanuel (7), Annette (Mom), Tracy (3)

He makes ALL things New

This week has been beautiful. Last weekend, another girl went in to have her baby. I went to visit them in the hospital, and the first thing this new mother did was to praise God—I asked her how she was doing, and her response was this:

“Good. I had to have an operation, but God gave me strength. I am so thankful because both me and my baby are healthy. In birth, this doesn’t always happen. Many times the mom walks away alone, or the baby is orphaned. But God watched over me.”

I started to tear up as I watched her and the baby. She asked me to give the baby a middle name, and I couldn’t believe she was serious at first. She thanked me for helping, even though I feel as though I’ve done close to nothing in helping her. As I came back to Mirembe House and celebrated a little bit with the other girls and staff, I thought about the beauty of the situation. This particular girl had come from a very dark past. Her mother died when she was young, and situations since have been against her. I could not believe the gratitude she has shown God even despite the still difficult circumstances in her life.

I’ve gotten to know the girls so much better, and now feel extremely comfortable around them. I already can’t even think about leaving; I start to feel a little helpless. But God’s doing work through Mirembe House, and I’m so glad to be a part of it.

As this week continued, I found myself wishing I could stay here for a year or so, just to really be able to dig into the lives of those here. Not every situation turns out beautifully; and I’ve seen some of those stories play out as well, but God has a knack for giving hope where there is none, as I’ve mentioned before.

Another girl that just blows me out of the water is the 15 year old there, who recently opened up to tell me that she was pregnant because her uncle, whom had taken her in as a child had raped her. She explained that her aunt would not believe her, and that she couldn’t go back afterwards, which is understandable. What was not understandable in my own eyes was the part of the conversation when she said, “But I told him, I forgave him.” She said it with the calmest demeanor you can imagine, no doubt hurting inside, but extremely sincere. She had an opportunity to send him to jail, but did not want to—because she forgave him.

Words cannot express how my heart felt in that moment. There’s no way I would have reacted as she has, but that’s Christ.

I realized that this is what I love about social work so much. God’s ability to take death in the spiritual, emotional, and physical sense, and turn it into life is just astounding. The literal metaphor sunk in a little bit this week—these girls are coming from a place of emotional and spiritual death, quite possibly. But God brings them life—literally, in the form of a child. This obviously doesn’t mean everything is easy, but it’s a beautiful reminder that He makes all things new.

Pray for:

-God’s Wisdom! As I continue to assist in teaching the girls about themselves, God, and the world around them.

-Strength

-Energy

This post will be short, and I won’t update for a while—as we’re doing Rural Home stays next week. I’ll be out of touch, but will hopefully have pictures to attach of both Mirembe House, and the experience we’re diving into now.

Thanks again for all the prayers—hope to see another update sometime in late February. J

Mary

"Take my yolk..."

Hello again from beautiful Uganda!

I've been learning SO much in the past few weeks about Ugandan culture, and about Mirembe House as a ministry. This place is amazing.

I guess the reason I haven't updated in a while is that I haven’t figured out exactly how to portray everything that I'm seeing and experiencing. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the situation at Mirembe House is challenging, but also leaves room for Christ to do amazing things.

Getting to know the girls here has been a challenge, but has brought SO much joy to my heart. The small attempts at learning Luganda, the native language, have blessed me with beautiful opportunities to connect in that way. Their faces are now permanently stamped into my brain, and my prayers—I’ve just fallen in love with these girls. They’ve taught me about strength, given me insight on how Ugandans see Americans, taught me how to have joy in dire circumstances, and so much more.

A little bit more about the situation:

Last week was especially draining. All the girls are due at different times, which is exciting. One is due any day now, and a few are due next month. Last week, one of the girls went in to have her baby on Thursday night. This was right before a big celebration and reunion, which was amazing; I was able to hear the stories of many mothers that had been through Mirembe House, and whose children are now being sponsored to attend school. I video taped countless children and Mothers thanking their sponsors for an opportunity that they never would have seen otherwise. It was a beautiful day, but in the back of my mind, I was aching to know about the young girl that had been taken in to have her baby.

The weekend came and went, and I came to Mirembe to find out that she had her baby on Saturday, and lost it on Sunday. Mirembe house is only for those who are pregnant; which naturally means that after they have their baby, they’re gone. This was especially difficult-- knowing that this young girl had been reworking her life and preparing for a beautiful baby, just to lose it… and the people she had been living with for the past half a year couldn’t grieve with her, or pray with her. I thought about the shame and the heartbreak that she had already faced finding out she was pregnant, and just as she was getting used to the thought of a baby, this happened. I was a little upset with God.

It seemed like situations kept piling up on the other. The girl who is due any day went to the hospital, sick from malaria combined with asthma. A former volunteer passed away from complications with AIDS. Needless to say, after a week prior of celebration for what God was doing here, the mood around Mirembe house grew solemn. I suddenly remembered the enormous difference between these girls’ situations and my own. I felt helpless.

The week continued; shock after shock came, with more intense home visits to mothers, and hospital visits that tore my heart apart for the lack of appropriate medical care. Mirembe house is doing wonderful things for these girls; but resources are still slim and funds are tight.

         Mixed in with the challenges are little things that bring large amounts of joy, and moments of obvious God-given strength. Smiles, or jokes, or conversations about how great God is.   

As for what I’m doing, I’ve been given a great amount of freedom. So far, I’ve taught the girls how to make bracelets, taught them a few games and songs, talked about relationships, about God’s beautiful design for their lives, and about encouragement. It’s challenging but really exciting to be given so much freedom. It’s certainly something that I can’t do without God’s grace.

I find myself in circumstances that are simply unbelievable. The day of the reunion, I led a discussion about knowledge and wisdom. I laughed before, during and after about the irony of the situation. I was there, speaking to 30 plus mothers (or grandmothers) in between the ages 20 and 70. I was caught off guard when I was towards the end of my “talk” (speak for 20 minutes, you say? what?! Ok..), and a woman that looked old enough to be my grandmother was staring at me as my words were being translated into Luganda. A smile crossed her face, and she gently raised her hand and added to my comments about wisdom. Praise the LORD -- He equips the called, instead of calling the equipped. There was no other way I would have been able to do that.

I know this has been a long post—but I want to finish with something I’ve been convicted with this week.

All of these moments, even the small ones—when the girls feel comfortable enough to joke around with me, or when a sponsored tells me he’s at the top of his class, or when I’m able to listen as one of the girls pours out her heart, and thanks God for allowing her earthly father to forgive her—these moments would never be possible without God’s outpouring of His love. I was reading to the girls today—speaking about the passage in Matthew that says, “Come, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” I was struck by how much I was trying to do these things by my own strength. I told the girls—God just wants us to come to Him with our hands open, ready to receive HIS rest and HIS peace. As I said it, God was reminding me to rely on HIS strength that is perfect in my weakness.

PRAY :

-That I would continue to rely on Him. He can’t use me if I’m not open to it.

-That the girls would be covered in God’s grace and mercy, and that the truth of that would be made REAL to them.

-For protection over everyone at Mirembe House

-Provision for the ministry: medically, financially, food, etc.

THANK YOU for every kind of support—the messages, letters, prayers, and contributions are all SO SO appreciated. God’s provided entirely for finances—PRAISE Him—and provided so much in other ways as well. Prayers are felt J Love you all.