home sweet home

A while back I made a video tour of my house to show you all... but after trying three times now to load it I have officially given up. Sorry! Hopefully I can show it to a bunch of you when I get home. So intstead, here's a few pictures because they're easier to post.

For one of our classes, Faith and Action, we write short papers throughout the semester, designed to help process different things that we experience/ talk about. One that we wrote was about stereotypes about Africa that have changed because of our time with our host families:

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Sometimes when I walk through the streets I feel like I am in a fishbowl. “Muzungu! Bye Muzungu!” all the children scream with hands constantly waving, and I find myself wondering what all my white skin represents for them. Wealth? Prosperity? The Land of Opportunity? It is more than likely all of them. Can we blame the Ugandans for having stereotypes about Americans, though? Do we not have our own about them?

When I was preparing to come here, I always laughed at the reactions from other people. They all thought it was great that I was studying abroad, but their minds immediately jumped to Europe or some place like that. “No, I’m going to Uganda,” I would reply. “Uganda? Isn’t that in Africa?” Many would ask, “Are there even colleges there?” Can I really blame them for having stereotypes about Ugandans, though? Do we all not have images of Africa, shaped by things like relief commercials with starving children, malnourished bellies pushed out?

While my own stereotypes of Africa were not as extreme, they were still present. I had talked to a few other students who came to Uganda to study, which helped me to better understand what I was getting into. Even still, after living with my family for three weeks my stereotypes have already been shattered. Most of them were eliminated after just a few days.

Walking into my house for the first time, I was shocked. Instead of the few plain rooms that I was expecting to see, I saw a large, decorated, and brightly painted house. On the ceilings, I saw light bulbs; on the walls, light switches that worked; and on the floor in the sitting room, carpet. Much to my surprise I also saw separate rooms for bathing and the toilet, both inside of the house. I was quite happy, actually, to see that we do not have a television, but each morning I continue to find myself laughing to hear American music coming from the radio. Even more, there was a final surprise—the separate cell phones that my mom and several of my brothers use on a regular basis.

At the same time, though, I am realizing how much more we really do have in America, and how in many ways the stereotypes on both sides of the fence are at least partly true. I am reminded each day of how hard my family works just to do the daily tasks without the convenience of technology. Last week Laura and I were able to go home from school early in the afternoon to eat lunch with our family and help with supper. We ate at 1:30, finished clearing the dishes, and immediately began preparing the food for dinner, which would not be eaten for another seven or eight hours. My mind jumped to cooking dinner in my apartment, where after just an hour a meal that was once in a metal can or a cardboard box would already be in my stomach, where there was no smoke from a kitchen house to irritate my lungs and eyes, and where I could choose from an almost limitless selection of things to eat. Tasks that were once so simple—cooking, bathing, and washing clothes—now take up the largest chunk of the day without the convienences of a stove or running water.

I once asked my brother William what he liked to do, and he replied that he liked washing the dishes. While it made no sense at first, I am beginning to understand. I, like William, am learning to enjoy those things I once found un-enjoyable. I am learning that what you do, how you do it, or how long it takes is not as who you are doing it with. In the African dichotomy of modernity and tradition, God is teaching me to enjoy simplicity and cherish the small moments. One night we bopped a balloon around in our courtyard for hours, many nights we play the same card game over and over again, and most nights we sit around with little conversation and great presence, simply enjoying each other’s company. The most amazing thing is that I love these nights as much as I love any expensive form of entertainment in America, maybe even more.

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I have been so blessed by my family. The other day I was able to sit and take tea for a long time with Mama Robinah, and she shared a whole lot of her story... the faithfulness of God in her life is incredible. One thing that she said to me really stood out. "God gave me love for people," she said. I could not agree more. Our Mom has raised up something like 17 or 18 children-- not all her own, but you would never know. She pays for their school bills, keeps food on the table, and fills their lives with the love of the Lord. The calling of the Lord on Mama's life is profound-- the calling to be a mother, the calling to love and provide for her children the same way that God has loved and provided for her.

Tomorrow morning we leave for 10 days for our rural home stays, and I am excited to see what the Lord will do in our time there. God has blessed me with the opportunity to live with and know an amazing Ugandan family... now I get to have that opportunity all over again.

I saw God in 30 tiny faces

With dirty clothes but faces bright and shining, a large group of children sat waiting in a small patch of grass yesterday when we walked home. We looked around, and while we had no idea what was going on, we decided to respond to their cries of "Bye muzungu!" by actually sitting down in the grass next to them. A huge line of motorcycles was forming across the street, a sight strange even for the busy road where boda bodas (motorcycles) freely weave in and out of a busy mess of cars, trucks, and pedestrians alike. A few words of broken English from the kids surrounding was all we needed to find out that a race was about to happen.

While we never actually saw the race (it was getting dark quickly and we decided we should walk home), I saw something even greater. I saw God.

With the 30 tiny faces turned in our direction, 60 beautiful dark-brown eyes, and 300 little fingers touching our faces, hair, and skin, I began to see what God must look like. After all, they were all, like you and I, created in His image.


At one point in the night, one little girl who was sitting beside me turned and looked at me. "Money?" she asked. My heart sank. I had money with me-- plenty of it in fact, because we had just come back from a trip to Kampala. But as I sat and thought/ prayed about giving her some of it, my heart was in deep conflict.


Right now in one of my classes we are reading Ron Sider's book Rich Christians in the Age of Hunger. It is a challenging but incredible book, and reading it while I am here in Africa has made it even more impacting. As I read it and think through things, I keep finding myself paralyzed. It is so easy to be overwhelmed with all the need. The world is fallen, and the sin of this world has caused great suffering. Our sin has caused suffering. My sin has caused suffering. Why was I born into a Christian family in America, instead of one of the many suffering families that I have met here? Abraham was blessed to be a blessing to others. Is this how I am living? And true, in comparison to the great need of the world, I have little to offer. But in comparison to the 5,000 who were hungry, the 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish that the little boy offered (See John 6) were enough to laugh at. But look at what Jesus did with that. Could He do the same with my resources if I let him? What if we all did? And would the glory that God would receive in our faithfulness not be something to speak of in itself?


In Sider's book, I read something that really spoke to my heart this weekend. It was a part of a "membership covenant" for a mission group of The Church of the Savior in Washington DC:

"I believe that God is the total owner of my life and resources. I give God the throne in relation to the material aspect of my life. God is the owner. I am the ower. Because God is a lavish giver, I too shall be lavish and cheerful in my regular gifts."

I don't know how to end the suffering of the billions around the world who don't have food to eat, water to drink, clothes to wear, or a place to lay their heads. I don't even know the extent of the pain in the 30 beautiful faces that I met yesterday in that tiny patch of grass. But I am confident of this: that just as Christ knew the need of the 5,000 hungry who sat on the grassy hill 2,000 years ago, he knows the need of the hungry today. I don't have much to offer him, but neither did that little boy. And if the Word of God says that "whatever we do for the least of these" we do for God himself, maybe I didn't just imagine that I saw God in those 30 tiny faces. Maybe I really did.

Kibaale photos

This weekend we went and visited some missionaries at Kibaale (actually pronounced chee-ball-ee)Community Center in the southern Ugandan district of Rakai. It was a great weekend to see what the Lord is doing down there, and we had plenty of time to just hang out and enjoy how beautiful it was. Here's a few pictures!


We decided to make a pyramid at the top of this huge hill that we climbed


The beautiful view from the top of the hill... if you look really closely you can see the border line for Tanzania. Haha not really, but you really can see into Tanzania because we were so close to the border.


A schoolhouse that we passed on our walk to the school. It was really falling apart, but there was fresh chalk on the board.


The missionaries that we met adopted Mazie from another area of Uganda... we played with her and their other three adorable children all weekend.

I found the source of the mysterious ticking noise

If anyone has seen the ridiculously funny/ stupid YouTube video with the Harry Potter finger puppets and the “mysterious ticking noise” you’ll probably think that the blog title is funny. If not, hopefully you’ll think this story is funny :)

Long story short, I did indeed find the source of the mysterious ticking noise. Actually, the noise was more like a… beep… beep…beep… but it was still very mysterious. We’ve had over three weeks of school now, and the whole time many of us have been wondering what the noise is. You hear it everywhere—in the classrooms, in the IMME room, in the dining hall, walking across campus. It seemed so strange to be in the heart of Africa and constantly hearing this electronic-type noise. Finally at one point last week I decided to ask Phil, one of the interns, if he knew what it was. After laughing at me for a little bit (its ok, I probably deserved it) he revealed the mystery. What is the mysterious beeping noise? A bird. Humorously enough, Phil even called it the “catchphrase” bird, which absolutely describes the sound that it makes.

As far as other exciting on-campus news…
Its been raining for a long time, and not just raining—pouring. I’m sitting in the IMME room watching the lightning flash at the same time as I hear the thunder pound because it is so close. We also have a rushing red river outside of the door, the remains of the red dirt road washed away. The rainy season is not supposed to be for another month or more, but I think it’s come early. The walk home should be fun.

This past weekend was a pretty eventful three days. Because of some classes that got rearranged earlier in the week, we didn’t have any classes on Friday which was incredible. Laura and I decided that because we had the entire day free it would be a great time to plan to make dinner for our family. Two other guys in the program live in the house right across the street, so we planned for a joint meal. Cooking for 16 with nothing but charcoal and firewood proved to be more difficult than we had bargained for, but definitely still just as fun (if not more!) By the end of the night we ate a delicious meal of spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and banana splits for desert (Everything turned out great except that we had a few too many meatballs and not enough sauce so it ended up being more like sloppy joe sauce on top of spaghetti… but they didn’t know that) Our brother William like it so much that he not only ate two huge plates of spaghetti, but he wrote on a copy of the 2006 calendar on the wall: “best supper in the world” with the date and his signature next to it. I bet that calendar will hang for at least another two years.

Saturday, three of us decided to visit CMU, an orphanage in Mukono. It was a great day—we visited with Ruth, a German woman who with her husband founded CMU, helped some of the girls wash their clothes, ate lunch, and had the opportunity to sing with the kids and talk to them after lunch. At first the girls were really hesitant to let us help them wash (who would have known bazungu could wash clothes by hand), but after a while they began to open up a little more. We are looking forward to going back in the near future.

The rest of the weekend was also pretty eventful—while the rest of you enjoyed the Superbowl on Sunday, I went Saturday night with my brother William to watch a football (soccer) game. Laura and I walked in the room, immediately realizing that we were not just the only white people, but also the only girls. It was an experience, all of us in the same room watching the game on a single television, but it was also a lot of fun. Sunday four of us went into Kampala to meet a friend-of-a-friend of one of the girls here. It ended up being a great weekend, visiting the church that he attends and grabbing some pizza and ice cream before catching the matatu home.

This weekend the 16 of us on the IMME track are traveling to Rakai, a rural area of Uganda about five-or-so hours away. Our last trip to Jinja was great, so I’m really looking forward to it. I’ll try to post some more pictures soon!