Home can only be one place? Impossible.

Excerpts from my journal...

...It is undeniably true that my eyes are taking in the most beautiful vision they have ever seen as I sit on the slopes of Elgon in the backyard of my home this week. Never before have I been to the mountains (aside from flying or driving through) and I now understand why my mom misses them so much...

...I have felt at home this week--SO at home. And while my humanness questions why I am only here such a short time when I would love to see Peace, Joanna and Esther grow up, I am learning that questioning why I have the opportunity to encounter so many incredible people is somewhat ignorant...

...For the first time, I know I will miss Africa when I leave. And it will always be a piece of home for me. I don't know if I ever will be here long-term, but I am open again...

...My feet are cracked, my nose is blistered from the sun, my hands are growing calloused, my clothes are torn and I have scars on my legs. Oh, and I can't forget about the recurring stomach issues that are inevitable...but none of it bothers me. Last night Joanna touched my feet and was struck by the fact they are the same as hers, hard and cracked. It was a beautiful moment...

...Life is hard here. In the words of my brother Henry, "It is much like survival. While initially I negated this statement, it soon becomes reality when you really put yourself in their shoes (or lack thereof). But in the midst of that "survival" there is great depth; depth that even they don't see…

...today, home is right here in Kapchorwa...

...I pray this vision will forever be imprinted upon my mind. And yet I wonder as I look down the slope and see people endlessly working to simply live if they even know just how beautiful their home is. Dominated by nature, they are forced to comply...from an objective view, God is impossible to miss...

...Until a moment ago, I genuinely thought I could survive the African life. “Juliet!” called Lilian. Upon coming to the kitchen from which I heard her voice I was caught off-guard to see something green and sloshy all over the ground.
“Ah, Lilian! You spilled the spinach!” I said to which she responded, “Yea!”
The next moment revealed she clearly hadn’t understood me when she pointed to the ground with a bright smile saying, “Cow!”
My disgusted face and “ah, Ah, AH!” simply made her laugh beyond control.
I finally managed to say “Keiitabon!” (well done) and was thankful she didn’t make me join her. Perhaps one day I will be brave enough to immerse both hands and feet in cow dung for a greater cause, but today I will admit my defeat in not being an African woman...

…I slaughtered a chicken and I don’t know if I can ever eat meat again…I was literally praying the entire time…sounds ridiculous, but I’m the girl that cried when I hit a raccoon on the highway!!...

It is a remarkable thing to know you genuinely have family all over the globe. The number of people I address as Mama and Papa now surpass the numbers on my hands and I know at any given moment, home would be with any one of them. I’m continually learning what it means to be fully present in every moment; something so simple, but so so difficult.

We do not make the world go round.

Recently I've found myself tired of processing, tired of entering into deep relationships only to be pulled away again, tired of having to have an opinion, and craving consistency.

So I am writing this blog not to cast off the illusion there are not many positive things taking place or connections being made--for that is far from the truth. I am writing simply to vent and ask for support in prayer and love.

I am acutely aware of the necessity I have to stop, and just be.

Tomorrow morning we leave to go to Kaptura for ten days to simply live among a family and experience rural life without electricity or running water; to "just be" a part of the family for a week.

And it couldn't have come at a better time. I'm sure those who designed this program know all too well the state of students at this point in the semester, and for that I am thankful.

Believe me when I say I love you all far more than you know.

I'm still Alive!

The fact that bungee jumping is all that you've heard from me in the past while does a great injustice what my life actually consists of while here.

I will write more in depth soon but just know I still love you all!!

Just to leave you with one thought--This is the "Mato Oput" being put into action in the communities formerly thought of as most violent here in Uganda:

1. Do not commit the first offence to anybody in the world.
2. Have respect for all the world.
3. Speak the truth at all times.
4. Never, ever tell lies under all circumstances, even if your neck is being cut off. It is better for you to die for the truth than to tell lies.
5. Do not steal.

It is impossible in such a short and brief explanation to describe the depth of the significance of this in the midst of such a tribal culture.

I am more thankful for my life today than I was yesterday.

This past weekend was a get-away to Jinja; an illusion that we were not in Africa for a few moments in time.

Though not necessarily restful, it was EXHILERATING--to say the least.

With solely an oar in hand, we embarked upon our days' journey down the rapids of the Nile River. The greatness of Nature became all too clear as we attempted with all of our might to conquer the great current of water which lay ahead. Failing miserably, we were forced to rely on the kayaker to save us time and time again as we were thrown in every direction off of our "reliable" raft.

And as I say it was an illusion we were not in Africa, it seems all too fitting that we were; having no option but to come face to face with nature.

AND NOW FOR THE MOST INTENSE MOMENT OF MY LIFE...
Perhaps this is an exaggeration, but for that moment in time, I can absolutely say it was reality.

Standing on the edge of the platform, it was all Rachel and I could do not to look down into the River which had shown us grace just the day before. Clinging tighter to her than ever before to anyone in my life, we prepared for the plunge...

5...
4...
3...
2...
1...
BUNGEE!!!

It is impossible for me to describe the feeling to you. All I can say is that Rachel and I screamed the loudest out of all who jumped, tears were running down my face, and I continually held on to Rachel's head to ensure she was still there.

Just do it. And you'll understand.

High school dances all over again and...I'm being courted by a 38-year-old??

It is impossible for me to describe the extent of what it means to be a mzungu (white person) here in Uganda. So I leave you with a couple of stories...

The first question that ever came out of his mouth to me was this: "Do you know Brooke?" Upon my head nod he proceeded to ask, "Have you seen her baby?"

Now Brooke is one of our professors while here who married a Ugandan and has a mixed baby. Beautiful, no doubt. But a hysterical conversation starter.

The conversation ended fairly quickly as I briskly walked away. This was the beginning of several encounters all of which I discounted readily. Until one day, I began my 1.5K trek home and heard my name being yelled from behind. I turned around to discover he who we shall call "Victor" running up behind me and asking if I had time to get some tea and chat. Luckily, it was nearly 7, the time I am required to be home. Sigh; I had a legitemate excuse.

"May I buy you a boda-boda then?" (a ride home on a motorcycle). "No thank you, I enjoy walking;" simple response. But one thing you must know is that African men are persistent. "Well, then I shall walk you." "Really, I'm fine," I pleaded. But like I said, African men are persistent. So he proceeded to walk me all the way home, questioning about my major, education, etc and telling me all of the ways in which that would fit perfectly here in Uganda.

As if that's not enough, he stopped by the side of the road and bought corn and asked me to wait. Little did I know it was for my family! He proceeded to talk himself up and say he had to be honest and let me know where he stands; he wants to get to know me. And to all of this I clearly responded I was interested only in friendship, would be returning to America in December, and certainly would not date him. And was I ever relieved as I finally arrived my house and came up with an excuse not to give him my number.

So, the next afternoon, he came to my house! Luckily, I was not there. And now I know not what to do. Would he have ever initiated a conversation were I not a mzungu? Arguable, but I say "no" pretty confidently.
*************
And for a second story:
Dani and I were standing outside of our brother's school dance party which we had promised to come to when we exchanged looks of anticipation as we had no IDEA what to expect. Upon enterring the room, the music stopped, all the guys gathered around us wanting to dance, and all we could say was "Where's Peter?"

For one of the longest minutes of my life I stood and semi-danced, overwhelmed by the focus of attention until FINALLY--Peter's hand reached through and grabbed us out of the crowd.

Would this happen if I were not white? I dare to say no.
***********
In addition, on any given day at any given moment you hear "Mzungu! Mzungu!" as you walk down the streets of Mukono and the boda-boda men inevitably make some smart comment: "Mzungu, I love you!," "Obama!," or Yes, please!" Honestly, what does that even mean? When kids see you they A) scream B) yell "Mzungu!" C) jump up and down D) cling to their parents, or E) a combination of the above.

Ask any given person on the street in Mukono where they would go if the sky was the limit and 99.9% of the time the resounding answer would be, "America!" Here in Uganda there is an idealization about America--they LOVE Obama. Seriously; there are t-shirts with Obama on the streets. And because we have a black president they assume that America is a utopia. It's funny; everyone over here claims him as their own and love African Americans, but how many African Americans even have a passing thought involving Africans?

It is inarguable that America influences the rest of the world, or at least Uganda. Did I think I would hear Backstreet Boys blaring from the sports bar as I walked down the street? Not quite. And while it's really humorous, it's kind of heart-breaking.

The things which have in the past defined their African culture are quickly disappearing and I am left to wonder what it will be like 50 years from now...

Today I will not lie to you.

I have now been in uganda for a month; the precise amount of time experts say you will inevitably wrestle with the culture you happen to be in and miss deep friendships. While I would love to tell you that I do not fit the cookie-cutter mold, I cannot.

Though I have traveled before and wrestled with things, it does not fail to be true the third/fourth time around. You'll often hear the saying that "'there' soon becomes 'here' regardless of where you go," and it is undeniably true.

There is nothing I want more than to get away for a few days/weeks/months/YEARS (ok, a little extreme) and just acknowledge the fact that life goes on without me. Is it possible that I need a sabbatical just shy of 20 years old? Haha, I laugh. But today i am entirely genuine.

And I don't doubt this will change again; that the things I am finding negative in Ugandan society will soon prove to be signs of hope for me. But there's no way to know when or how or whatever. So you can just smile when you read the positive update and remember I told you the encouragement would come :)

On the bright side, the people here are no less wonderful than they were the first day--on campus, at my home stay, and in the community. We went to Jinja this past weekend and I could talk for hours of the positive and negatives of it, but time does not lend itself to that. I worked in the garden with Mama the other day and anticipate the days that are to come tilling the African soil. It is a mind-boggling thing to consider the process of life; growing and maturing seeds/humans/animals.

I am continually striving to see the connection the underlies all of mankind and life in general; our necessity for each other in order for life to exist at all.

Know that I love and appreciate your presence in my life far more than you know.

Jules.

'I am because we are' and 'We are because He is'

Classes officially started a week ago yesterday and time is anything but endless.

Coming in to the program we knew some, but not all, of what this semester would entail. And I am relieved to know, at least in part (ha), what it is and will be like. I can say in absolute certainty that I am reading more than I ever have before and my mind is stretched CONTINUALLY. The things I have come to accept are once again challenged as I see faith lived out in yet another culture.

I have to admit though, I love the fact that we do not fully know all of what the semester ahead holds. It seems to be the way with African life in general; live for the relationships, the conversations, the present. On the journey of living life as a collective community, I am discovering the depth of the truth in the philosophy that 'I am because we are' and 'We are because He is.' Though in my mind this has always been resoundingly true and i have seen it before, this is perhaps the first time I have actually been a participant in acknowledging it by action.

Some of you may have heard that there were riots in Kampala and Mukono this past weekend. And yes, I certainly was affected by them. Thursday night the seven of us that live 20+ minutes away from campus by foot had to stay with the leaders of the program on campus. We were pampered with some All American goodies (brownies, cookies, muffins...) and under the circumstances were pretty much oblivious to all that was taking place.

It was not until the next day returning to our homes in Mukono that the issue in its depth became real to us. Tribalism runs deep in Africa and there are somewhere around 52 tribes in Uganda alone. In a nutshell, the Boganda king was trying to get to a neighboring village but the President of Uganda would not allow him to pass. This, in turn, caused upheaval and rioting among the Buganda (people of the kingdom) which was demonstrated through stonings and fires in the streets. In order to tame the situation, the police fired gunshots in the air and in extreme cases, used some tear gas in order to keep the people from continuing to cause trouble.

We were absolutely safe, but not unaffected by fires and gunshots both seen and heard right over the fence of the back of our house. At least where we are, people are fine and the issue is resolved; the King agreed not to pass. Through it all I've learned much about Tribalism, though it would be impossible for me to fully grasp it after three weeks' time.

My family here is wonderful; it, in and of itself, is an example of community as none of the people that live with us are Mama Robina's children anymore. But it doesn't matter; all are family. Ah, Mama Robina. I hope I have time someday to elaborate on that incredible woman of faith...

For those of you I've talked to, it's been wonderful to hear your voices!
Love.