a day in the life

Over the past couple of weeks one of the best parts of this experience has been the staff. Getting to know them and becoming friends with all of them is so fun.  It makes me take a step back sometimes when I come back to the realization of how different their life is to mine. There is such a long list of differences from how they wash clothes, to never having a real shower or bath tub, to living in a society where the police are corrupt and being afraid of a rebellion after the upcoming election. They think grasshoppers are the best snack ever and they eat the same meal every day. All of these things are some that I have never even thought about until now. Every day I feel like I am comparing “their” way of life to my own. And then I catch myself. Life is not about comparing your lot against another’s, nor is it to pick whose life is more valuable and rich. The truth is, every Ugandan that I have met has contentment in their lives that would be considered almost silly at home. They are content because they have what they need, a roof, a few meals a day, and couple changes of clothes. Can you imagine if this is all you had? Would I be content, would I still believe that God was my Provider if that is all He had provided me with? I have found myself wanting to tell my Ugandan friends about all they are missing out on in life like movies, internet (facebook), Dr. Pepper, AIR CONDITIONING… ugh, I can be so ignorant sometimes! I am absolutely not preaching against the conveniences of my life, and I am honestly eager to have them againJ But I am thankful for the hearts of the people here, and even more for what they have taught me: No matter how many diamonds you sport, or what kind of car you are driving, or how expensive the wine you are drinking is- there is something that will always matter more. What matters is people, because that is what matters to God.

*************************************************************************************

A funny thing happened yesterday, and I thought everyone would enjoy this story:

Vanessa, she is the cook and is 27, asked Heather and I if we wanted to attend the circumcision ceremony for her little brother. That is a weird question, I thought, but this is Africa…so yes, I do want to go because that sounds interesting. She was explaining that in her tribe the circumcision ceremony is a big deal, and she really wanted us to go. Here, it is not weird for a 27 year old to have a sibling who is 20 years younger because most men have numerous children with numerous women. (Ok, that might have been some cultural criticism). Heather began telling us that she had been to one of the Jewish ceremonies for a baby a long time ago, and wondered if it was the same.

“Do you watch it? Because we did,” she asks.

“Oh yes! Of course you watch it.” Apparently Vanessa thought this was a silly question.

“It made me sad to watch the baby cry though, it seemed so cruel.”

Vanessa says, “Oh no, he won’t cry.”

“Why not?” We both ask.

“Because he is sixteen.”

Uuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmm. We won’t be going to the ceremony. By the grace of God, we have some people coming in from the Orphanage for the weekend so we have plans. Thank you, Jesus.

*************************************************************************************

 I think I have really been desensitized already. Like, today just felt like a pretty normal day when really almost every part of it was not at all. I wake up and get ready in 20 minutes and ride a boda to work. Along the way the town people are going nuts because the rain brought a huge influx of grasshoppers. People are EVERYWHERE with bags catching them. I spend all day in a building with no water or electricity and eat mushy bananas and beans for lunch. I spent my afternoon cuddling with a precious baby who is blind.  After work we went to super market with the simple task of getting materials for crafts, like yarn and coloring books. It was an epic failure because even the biggest store here has nothing of the sort.  On the drive home (on a boda of course) we pass massive poverty, people urinating on the street and children bathing outside in a small bin. We stop at a stand on the side of the road to get rolex, which is a chapatte rolled like a burrito with eggs, tomatoes, and cabbage. The guy at the stand keeps telling us how he loves us, and thinks we are so beautiful. Then he asks me if I can talk to the American Embassy so he can get a work visa in the states. Ummm, I don’t think so. Then it’s time to head home, turn on the water heater and hop in my 4 min warm strategically planned shower. Yep, sounds like just another day to me!