The Final Hurrah!

Let me just tell you that I have no idea if you will be able to read this post because I don’t know if I’ll have internet connection ever again in Uganda. The internet has been hardly working since our return from rural home stay.
Well this past weekend our little IMME group took its last trip. We will be leaving Uganda one month from today, which is hard to believe. This weekend, we went to Luweero which is about as far North as we are allowed to go in Uganda and is specifically an area with a large HIV/AIDS rate. Before I get into the details about the weekend I must start the weekend from Thursday.
On Thursday (as many of you know this is lunch with Stella day) my African Traditional Religions class went on a last minute field trip to the Uganda Martyrs Shrine. This was the place that one of the Kabakas decided to burn alive about 35 Christians sparking a region wide killing of the Christians. We didn’t spend very much time there but it was interesting I suppose. As soon as we got home Kiersten and I headed out for lunch. This week we brought with us Justin Lane. I told him that I knew Faith would be terrified. It was a great lunch as I was right Faith screamed whenever she was in the same room as Justin. She was his friend for about fifteen seconds when he broke out some chocolate, but as soon as that was gone she started to cry.
On Friday the ATR class went on another field trip to a Muslim mosque where we talked to some people about Islam and it was really interesting. I learned a lot. Here is where I will enter my toilet trauma stories for the weekend. Upon exciting the toilet at this Muslim mosque one of my biggest fears came true. My skirt was tucked into the back of my underwear. No worries not like I was in a conservative environment or anything. Luckily I don’t believe anyone saw as I caught it pretty early. Later that day I was coming out of the toilet at UCU and a girl started yelling to Kiersten. She looked behind me and died laughing as again I was walking around with my skirt tucked into my underwear. My whole right back side was exposed as I walked by classrooms. I was laughing too hard to be embarrassed. As soon as we got back IMME left for our trip. It was only a three hour drive. I decided that when I finally get home I’m going to be a master at sitting in the car! No problem there! It seems the average driving time here is 6 hours (we have gone for as many as 18) but the roads are always incredibly bumpy. When we got to Luweero we met with an Anglican Bishop who runs the Luweero diocese as well as a couple in the United States, in California and Arizona. He was interesting and served us popcorn and juice and hot chocolate and fried cassava.
On Saturday the USE group came and met us at a house that supplies families with AIDS. We met about four or five families they work with. One was headed by the oldest girl. She was 17 and the family had seven members, all of which had AIDS except for the head. Another family was a young girl who had no shoulder blades and whose grandmother would place on the side of the road each morning in hopes she would get run over by a boda. Luckily the older sister (maybe about 7 or 8 at the time) would go and grab her and drag her to a safe place. The day was really fun. We lead tons of songs and played tons of games. I started holding this little boy (of course only half clothed as most of the children here are) and he fell asleep in my arms. It was so perfect. The house looks forward to our coming each semester as we offer a glimpse of joy into lives that would otherwise not look so joyful. I was wishing my mom were there to teach us some fun games with the parachute as that was a favorite toy of the children!
Later that night a Catholic priest came and met with us and told us of the work his parish is doing in the community. I really appreciated his because he spoke to us from his heart in a real and meaningful way. He was asked the question of how does he fight getting burned out and quite honestly he answered, “I don’t know.” He wasn’t afraid to ask the question of why isn’t God fair or to admit that there are pains in life. For a country so often full of a prosperity gospel this Father was very refreshing. On Sunday morning we went to his church. It was huge and beautiful as Catholic churches so often are, and the choir sang like angels. Of course I didn’t understand anything going on as it wasn’t in my language, but I felt a certain assimilation with the early church goers who had to listen to mass in Latin. Thank you Martin Luther.
As for the rest of my time here my “to do” list is as follows:
- Finish a paper integrating African Traditional Religions, Islam, and Christianity
- Continue to beat Justin Lane in any game possible
- Give an hour presentation on Christianity in Uganda, specifically the East African Revival and write a paper on that… (don’t worry it is a group project)
- Bother Stella as much as possible
- Write a reflective paper on the role of women in missions specifically relating to my life
- Convince Stella to name her first born daughter Kjersten
- Do a project connecting the use of the New Testament in Africa to teenage girls at Fair Haven Camps
- Conquer rafting the Nile River at the height of the rainy season
- Learn how to cook chapatti
- Write a 6 page history research paper on a topic the professor has yet to assign
- Convince Shannon to name her first born daughter Kjersten
- Write a capstone paper summing up my entire experience in Uganda. With academic sources.
- Eat as much pineapple as possible
- Write two missions journals
- Live the moments
- Register for classes and find a place to live next year (pretty easy considering we have no internet connection)
- Make a multimedia presentation
- Continue being victorious in Rook against Justin Struik and Justin Lane
- Be able to walk up the big hill without breathing hard.
That’s all I have! I have a final prayer request… USP is leading worship next Monday and doing the lifehouse skit that I took part in at camp. It is a powerful skit that I’m excited about sharing, but the spiritual warfare is intense! So I would love your prayers for strength and that the Holy Spirit would be moving in powerful ways. Much love and I’ll be home for Christmas…

The Home Stretch

Women don’t have hot flashes. They have power surges.

That quote is dedicated to all the middle age women reading my blog right now. I saw it on the refrigerator at my missionary dinner and thought immediately, “WOW! I can’t wait to put that in my blog.” There I go thinking in terms of blogging. That is when you know you have problems. When you start thinking in terms of blogging. Or when you start thinking in terms of writing to middle age women. ☺ I’m just kidding; I love you all and am so grateful for your prayers.
Let me tell you about the missionary dinner we went on. It was on Friday and the group was Kiersten, Justin Struik, and I. We went and met with Allen and Heather Hall. After a two hour drive to go about 10 kilometers (traffic here is out of control) we came to their apartment. I almost cried as we were served a tossed salad, spaghetti, jello with peaches, and espresso (real coffee not instant!). It seems that whenever I come to a point where I am struggling with my experience here God always comforts me with my favorite food. That is the second time this semester that spaghetti has pulled through. It was great to talk with some people who are putting into practice what we talk about in class every day. Allen and Heather were probably about 60 years old and had been in Uganda for three years. They were completely self supporting and started the mission called Pearl of Africa. We had a great time as our hosts were not shy and felt free to laugh with us and share of their missions work. *Heather laughed at some of my toilet trauma stories and told me that they are so much funnier when telling them to someone who understands what it is really like. They shared a couple with us that left me rubbing tears of laughter from my eyes. At the end of our time Allen anointed us with oil from the Holy Land and blessed our work in the future. I felt so rejuvenated after meeting these people. On the way home our driver played an old country music CD much to the delight of Justin. There were such classics as ‘The Gambler’ and many other old time hits. It made me think of dad.
These weeks after rural home stays have been hard to regain focus and drive for school work. Ick. I have a funny side note for anyone reading this from Minnesota: When we were driving to the top of Sipi Falls and got stuck in the mud my natural response was, “UFF DAH.” To this comment a girl from Oklahoma looked at me and said, “What does that even mean? Did you make it up? Kiersten and you say it all the time.” I laughed hysterically and explained that it is a very common phrase from good old Minnesota. As grandma says, “Uff dah is when you drop your gum in the chicken yard. Ish dah is when you pick it back up.” For the rest of the ride Uff dah was the exclamation of choice. I know that doesn’t really relate to anything except that is my point. I am having a hard time focusing. ☺ I titled this blog “The Home Stretch” for a variety of reasons.
It all started walking home the other day. I was walking with Shannon and we were going up the big hill. Between breathes (as I don’t think we will ever make it up that stupid hill without breathing hard) she said, “Oh what is that thing we say when we are almost done…” I replied promptly, “The home stretch!” In my head thinking about all the pain that little phrase held for me when I would run track in high school. It seems that my time here right would be perfectly illustrated by the use of an analogy. So for those of you who liked my nightgown analogy here you go…
I remember a time when I was running at the sub section meet in seventh grade. I was running the two mile. Gross I know. I was in seventh place with two laps to go. For those of you not familiar with track you have to place in the top six to get a Minnesota State High School League medal. The top four girls advance to the section meet. Since I wasn’t too keen on the idea of having to run the race again a week later at sections, and since I wasn’t a good enough runner to be a place to contend for such an honor, my one goal was to place in the top six and stand on the medal podium. In light of that knowledge, seventh place is not a good spot to be in. My sister was standing at the two hundred meter line. She was always my biggest fan. In this particular instance I saw her out of the corner of my eyes wearing her red clown pants and she yelled, “RUN FASTER KURTY. You didn’t run all this way to place seventh.” I very coolly replied between strides, “Shut up.” I know not very Christian of me. Coming around for the final lap, still in seventh, Kara this time only cheered very loudly with positive comments. I remember starting my kick with about 250 meters left, my eyes on the feet of the girl in front of me. Battling her around the corner (something my coach always says is bad) I beat her to the finish line for that maroon ribbon. Of course I felt completely sick and my legs were wobbling but I did it. Task accomplished.
For me whenever I step up to the starting line of a race there are butterflies going completely wild in my stomach. I remember feeling the same way as I was packing my suitcase and getting the immunizations for this trip. All my thoughts were taken up with ideas about what my family would be like, what would the other students be like, what about the food, and so much more. Then the race begins and as soon as you sprint past the little cones and cut in is when you realize what you got yourself into. Eight long laps of running in circles. Or in this case three and half months away from friends and family, comfort foods and legitimate toilets. At that point it is easy to go into panic mode and to feel every last ache or pain in the body; it is easy to tell yourself things such as, “You aren’t going to make it out of this alive!” But alas as many of you know as soon as you get to about lap three you are in the groove and running isn’t so incredibly painful, for me this came when I found joy in returning home to my family. I started to get into the groove with school work and classmates. Then comes the halfway point. When you run by the little man with his fingers telling you how many laps to go and he says four you do a quick mental calculation and discover… “Hmmm... four laps that means half way... WHAT I’M ONLY HALF WAY!?! I’m way too tired to be only half way…” As anyone who was following my blog may have read the half way point was when I really was struggling with the weight of the world’s problems on top of missing my home. This is the time in the race where you fall on the encouragement of the few teammates who are always faithful. There are always one or two who are sitting in the same spot and never fail to yell, “Go Kurty!” as you run by their zone. It is during this time that you realize who it is that really has an interest in how you are doing. I begin to look forward to those brief moments of connection. So I thank all you at home who in some minor way have been taking the time to run me through the entire race. It means a lot. This is also the time of the race where you put your mind on your placement. The focus turns to capitalizing on every stretch and running in such a way as to get you in a good position at the end. For me that meant living each and every moment from my time here in Uganda. Alright and now finally it sneaks up on you. Before you know it the final lap is here. Everyone picks up the pace. Any thoughts you have had up until this point become vague memories as you fix your eye on the goal. I’m not yet at the sprint leg of the race, but I will predict the ending for you. I see the final 200 meters. My friends are telling me I’m almost done as I reply, “SHUT UP. I’m ceasing the moment and running the race here!” It is that time when the pain in your body becomes overwhelming. As you pump your legs it doesn’t feel like there will be enough to get you through. Then that numb feeling takes over. You no longer have control over moving as you body moves into autopilot and all you are doing is fighting to breath. The pain such as leaving my family here, being responsible with what I have learned, re-entering my old home, being a changed person, finals, and cultural frustrations all fight to take over my body. That is where I stand currently. I have my eyes on the goal, about to round the corner into the numbness. I know how it will feel as soon as I cross that line. For a couple minutes it will feel great. Then the fatigue sets in and I’m sick for twenty minutes. I come across the finish line and fall into one of my supporters arms and stay there. I then lay on the grass and wait for my body to recover. It always does although the effects of the race do not wear off for a long time. On top of that the memories never die. It is then that you think back and say to yourself… TASK ACCOMPLISHED. So there you go. I’m entering the home stretch.

A Week in the Country

It has taken me all day to get up the drive to write this blog. I don’t even think I’ll be able to finish it in one sitting! That how life goes when there is so much to relate! The motivation level for school work has dropped to about nothing among the IMME students after a week off. You know how it goes when the end is near. Who wants to do homework in a little building with only one window and 14 people that we have been hanging around with all semester?!? Let me give you an answer, no one. But in the words of my father, “This too shall pass.” I will now try to tell you about all the excitement that the past week held.
We were brought to our host families on Friday night. The IMME group was in a region called Kapchorwa which is on the slopes of Mt. Elgon near the border of Kenya. It was gorgeous and full of green vegetation and hillsides alive with waterfalls. On arriving I was dropped off on the road with my mom, Miriam, and sister, Lillian. We walked down through a banana tree plantation on a little path that I had to duck to get through and emerged at the place I would call home for the next five days. Talk about a view! The house was on the edge of a cliff. I had two waterfalls in my backyard. Our pastures went all the way to the edge of the cliff and on looking down I could see miles of green farmland and banana plantations. There were monkeys that lived in the trees surrounding us. As far as the compound, it was large, about the size of my front yard at home, on the North side of the driveway. There were two houses, one more permanent and the other only finished with mud and plastered with cow dung. The one served as the kitchen and had a room for the herd man and one for the girls. The other house had Miriam’s room, a sitting room, and my room. That is right I had my own room. It was nice and dark so I slept like a baby!
My family consisted of Miriam who was the main English speaker, Lillian (24) who spoke only very minimal English, Juliet (12) the house help who spoke no English, and Michael (18) who looked after the cows and also spoke no English. I received the name Cheritech which means ‘born when the cows were coming home’ since I was born in the afternoon. My father lived and worked in Kampala while my other 5 siblings were at boarding school in Kampala. I was so impressed with Miriam and her ability to do everything and run the whole farm. She was, in my mind, the Connie Pearson of Africa. She was a hard working individual who always finds the joy in life. I was really bored for the first couple of days because when Miriam would go to town I had no one to talk to! I read two and a half books as well as sat in for hours on conversations I understood nothing from! Oh well, all part of the experience I guess. When we went for walks village people would come up to me and wonder what the heck a mzungu was doing in their village! I even got offers for marriage despite my apparent inability to dig or cook. People would ask my mom what types of food I ate, if I could carry a hoe, or do any work. Seriously they think we have machines for everything. One lady asked a girl in our group about a machine we have for washing ourselves. She said, “I hear you just stand there and a machine cleans you!” The girl replied, “No. We still scrub ourselves.” The African replied, “Oh good. I was wondering how it got all the cracks.”
My days went a little like this… I would wake up around 7:30 and read until tea at 9. For this morning tea I was crammed full of milk tea, bread, jam, and biscuits. Two mornings I helped milk the cow which attracted the attention of all the college boys who lived on the compound adjacent to us. I smiled and waved at the many whistles, all the while thinking in my head, “Seriously. I’m just milking a cow. Keep watching I might do a trick!” After tea I would bathe in the interesting bathroom, which I will tell you about later. Since it is really cold in Kapchorwa they always heated the bath water which was nice. After bathing I would usually read for a couple more hours until lunch. After lunch the afternoons were full of hikes or visiting friends. The gardens were a good mile away and so we visited them. I got to make coffee one morning. Let me tell you it does not smell good for 5/6 of the process and is a ton of work to harvest! She wanted to send some home with me but it didn’t dry in time. It would get dark at about 7 and we would move into the kitchen and hang out until an 8:30 or 9:00 supper. Then I would go to bed. It was nice going to bed so early!
On Monday my sister Winnie (18) came home from school and it was such a blessing because she spoke English very well. She had never spoken to a white person before and I found myself answering some of the funniest questions. We have a bad rep in the world! Among the questions were: Are there black people in America? Did you bring that jerry can of water from America? Does it have special medicine in it? Are there poor people in America? Are there farmers in America? Have you ever seen a chicken? I thought all white people were like the ones I see in soap operas. Are the teenage kids like they are in the movies? Are you going to get a new boyfriend here? Why not? Don’t you like black people? Who cares you’re in Africa! Oh and so many more…
One of my favorite moments was one night waiting for supper and watching the conversations going on. There were four different languages flying around with Miriam the only one able to understand it all. The local language is called Kupsabine and that is what Lillian and Juliet spoke. Winnie grew up in Kenya and speaks Swahili. Michael only spoke Lagisu. I only spoke English. The only one who spoke them all was Miriam. It was fascinating.
All in all my experience was ok. I had many offers to bring my family back and to live in the mountains… So if anyone is interested I know how to get you some land!
On Wednesday morning I packed my things and waited for my fellow Americans to come pick me up. I heard Justin Struik coming running down the path and was so happy to see friendly faces! He ran and gave me a hug and I couldn’t help but think how comforting it is to receive a hug from a friend after a long and lonely week! I can’t imagine what hugging you all will be like when I first see you!
We loaded up in the van and went to lunch at a local place and there I saw Kiersten for the first time and we literally talked twenty miles a minute as everyone was telling the stories of their experiences. We had many people from our group had trouble with medical issues while away and I was thankful that all you people back home have been praying so hard for me! After lunch we went to Siroti where the USE students in our program had their stays. The night was filled with debriefing and storytelling. I couldn’t help but smile as all the people from the city related their experiences about their eyes being opened to the fact that people actually have to work for their food and there is so much that goes into it before it reaches the grocery store. I guess this is where I insert the song “Thank God I’m a country girl!”
We spent the next couple days in Siroti which was hot and so I didn’t really enjoy my time there very much although it was covered with many games of Rook. Justin Lane tried out a couple new partners in a quest to try to find victory. I must admit that he has found some success with Justin Struik. Don’t worry Kiersten and I talk strategy many times a day and therefore the wins are hopefully going to stop for the Justin’s. During our two nights there God put on an amazing lightning show for us. It was beautiful and the most amazing thing I have ever witnessed. We sang a couple hymns and filmed it so make sure to ask to see it when I come home.
On Friday morning we headed back to Kapchorwa as an entire group to stay at Sipi Falls which is a great waterfall in Eastern Uganda. The rooms were a little less than glamorous, but hey what can you do! On Saturday some of us went for an all day hike from the top of the set of three waterfalls down to the bottom. It was beautiful and really muddy. People were slipping and falling and sinking in mud. I enjoyed it and took many pictures. At one point the trip was so steep we had to go down a ladder. It was also an extremely muddy point in the trail. There were many little African children who followed us and tried to help the girls down and make sure we weren’t slipping. Personally they were driving me crazy. Not like I’m independent or anything. They kept stepping on my shoes or hovering and squeezing my hand. Sigh. I just feigned the language barrier thing and pretended I didn’t understand the constant statement of, “give me your hand.” Add that to the vocab list for young children. “What is your name? How are you? Fine. Give me your hand. Give me money.” The phrases I hear the most here. I really did enjoy the hike and it felt good to sweat again and feel the muscles burn in my legs. Ha someone remind me of that in a couple months during my training for basketball.
I feel like now would be a good time for the toilet trauma section although it may have to be modified to bathroom trauma as that is what a bathhouse is called here!
- Day one at rural home stay: I was lead to a bathroom that had no door and cracks in the walls. I hung my towel over the doorway which was great until I realized I had to dry off. Let’s just say my clothes were pretty soggy as I just put them on.
- Day two: I brought my work skirt and used it as a towel because it was Sunday and I didn’t need to wear it that day.
- Day three: I literally rubbed my body against the towel while it was still hanging up. It wasn’t the most effective, but did help a little.
- Day four: I did the rub technique on the top and then just wrapped the towel really quickly around my waist.
- Day five: Almost decided to “throw in the towel” on my efforts toward privacy and rip it off from the door. Instead I did the waist wrap again and when I stepped out saw Michael working in the garden right outside. Thank you Jesus I didn’t go through with my irrational thoughts.
- Random Toilet Trauma: I had to pee in a shack that didn’t have a hole again! I’m getting used to that though and I learned that it is totally normal to double a bathroom and a toilet for ‘short call!’
As for other updates on the world of Uganda most news revolves around the election. For all of you who were wondering who would win the presidential election I want to let you know I have known along with Africa for the past four weeks. Newspapers here are a little biased and I cannot wait until I no longer have to hear about misinformed political insights. Oh and Kenya is having a national holiday tomorrow because an African is now the president of the United States. I wonder if Obama has ever been to Kenya. Also we were eating today in the canteen (Justin Struik took Kiersten and me out for her birthday and Justin Lane came along) and Justin S didn’t eat his greens. Here anything green is called greens with no specific names. These particular greens were very bitter. The waiter asked in amazement, “WHAT you didn’t eat your greens? These are greens from Kenya the greens of Barak Obama!” Justin replied coolly, “I don’t like them.” Seriously.
Ok well that is about all that has been going on in my life. Except that Judith and Rachel my sisters both have malaria. It is pretty serious with Judith and I keep hoping that she will get better soon. The people in my family don’t really sleep because they are all taking care of her and coming into my room all night long. A little fun fact about culture here is that no one cares if you are sleeping and will turn the light on and leave your door open all night long. I got out of bed yesterday at 1:30am to shut the light off. I want to tell my family the healing power in letting the girl sleep!
Well that is about all I have to say besides sorry for the delay in posting this! We have had about an hour of internet connection a day for the week. Frustrating, but such is life here I guess. I miss you all and send you some love and heat from Africa.