And now it's time for stories that feature exercise, goodbyes, the Avengers (all twelve of them), an insect epidemic, and a reunion... Not necessarily in that order.
After two months here with me in Uganda, Ashlie has returned home to the States. I'm thankful she was with me for the beginning of this adventure, and I definitely miss her.
For her last couple of days here in Uganda, we decided to be tourists in Kampala. We looked around the craft markets, we ensured that she rode side-saddle on a boda at least once, and we went to see the Avengers. Because that is what American tourists do in foreign countries.
Kampala has grown so much since I was last here, and what was already a strange dynamic of first-world-within-third-world is now an even more lopsided balance. For example, the theatre where we saw the Avengers is inside a relatively new mall called Acacia Mall. Acacia Mall is fancy- it closely resembles any nice mall in the U.S., filled with restaurants, clothing stores, and jewelry boutiques. There's a shop with real (real!) ice cream, a party store, and even a Christian bookstore. Places like Acacia Mall would make it easy for any expat living in Kampala to forget where they are.
For as nice as the mall is, though, it still bears the oddities that accompany the first-world-within-third-world dynamic...
Ashlie and I were both very excited to see the Avengers. We had originally thought that she would probably see it on her flight home, and I might see it...one day. But we were presented with the opportunity to see it together at the theatre in Acacia Mall.
Tickets are 15,000 Ugandan Shillings for a regular (2D) viewing, and if you want to see it in 3D, you pay an additional 8,000. (A total of about seven U.S. Dollars for a 3D movie.)
What we soon realized, though, is that if you only pay the 15,000, you're just watching a 3D movie without the glasses...
I'm still trying to figure out why everything in the movie happened twice...
(Wahh, wahh, wahhhhh)
**********
After I brought Ash to the airport, I got the chance to go with Kimberly and a few other Watoto volunteers for their tour of the children's villages. Since I left last time, the majority of my babies moved out of the babies home and into the villages, but there was one in particular that I hoped to see.
Back in 2013, I worked mostly with the Monkey and Hippo age groups (Newborn-2 months and 2 months-4 months) at Babies' home. There was one little boy in particular that I fell head-over-heels in love with- Andrew.
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| Andrew and me at Babies' Home in Kampala, 2013 |
I volunteered to be his godmother when baby dedication came along, and I got to take his pictures and put together a page with his footprint and his birthdate, etc.
And while on the village tour, I got to see my boy.
His new mama woke him from a nap in order to see me, so he wasn't sure what was going on. But I picked him up, sat him on my lap, got some great kisses, and as I was talking to him, he pointed to himself and said, "I'm Andrew."
Excuse me while I go cry.
******
The journey home to Gulu, I was exhausted. I'll be honest, it was about two weeks of crazy, hectic, non-stop stress before I left Kampala, and I was ready to be home, in Gulu, in one place for a while.
Side note- during those two weeks of crazy, hectic, non-stop stress, I experienced grace upon grace. God gave me the moments to breathe, moments of laughter, moments of silence and moments of distraction exactly when I needed them. And miracle of miracles, as I traveled home on the Post Bus by myself, I somehow had two seats to myself. And this girl slept.
I arrived home to an empty house, which was actually okay. My other roommate had gone to spend the weekend with a friend, so I came home to recuperate on my own. I didn't mind. I played music, I finally hung pictures in my room, I unpacked and put my things on the new little plastic shelf I just bought. I settled in, I breathed, I was ok. And then I heard it.
We have three dogs at my house, which I like. One guard dog, Odie, whom I have mixed feelings toward, and Denver and Lilly, whom I love. I assumed that Denver and Lilly were wrestling in the living room, a common game of theirs, but usually not this loud...
I walked into the living room, my jaw dropped, and I quickly closed my mouth again for fear that a white ant would fly inside. There were hundreds of them- swarming around the light, climbing on the floor, zooming aimlessly around the room.
Ummm. What the heck do I do here?!
White ants are common in Uganda- I had seen them probably every night since I got here, but like one or two at a time, not hundreds. They resemble a honey bee with large, white-ish, lace wings, and they're incredibly annoying as a single creature, let alone as an entire plague.
I somehow managed to cross the room, switch on the porch light and off the living room light in hopes of drawing them outside, and then I crawled under my mosquito net and went to sleep.
The next morning, the yard was filled with large, white-ish, lace wings...no bodies. Not creepy at all.
As I returned from church that morning, I passed my neighbour, Vicky, cooking on the charcoal stove outside her house. She smiled and greeted me: "Ah, you were lost!" ("You haven't been around, I haven't seen you in a while, where have you been?")
I smiled and chatted with her about my journey to Kampala, how I'm glad to be home, etc. She stopped to stir something on the stove, and then she held up a spoon. "You taste!"
On the spoon were the white ants.
I felt myself making a face before I could stop, and Vicky laughed. "You fear it? You fear it in your stomach?"
I nodded. Heck yes I fear it in my stomach.
She explained to me the different ways of cooking white ants- fried, mashed in a paste with OD (peanut butter and simsim), or as they are with salt.
I made a face again, and she laughed at me. "For me, I don't fear. This is our food. But for you, you are not used."
I can't say I ever will be.
******
I've learned here in Uganda, in Gulu in particular, that there is an easy way out for pretty much everything. It's in deciding not to take the easy way out that I learn and grow and immerse myself into Ugandan culture. I'm not always good at it. There are days when I'm exhausted from the sun and the walking and the dealing with people and I just want to watch The Office. (Let the judging commence.) This brings a whole new meaning to dying to self, not taking the easy way out. There is a level of cultural immersion that only comes with stopping on my way to and from work to shake hands (often multiple times) with the sticky-fingered children in my neighbourhood, instead of just waving; going into the market every other day or so to get fresh vegetables instead of paying more and and enjoying the convenience of a grocery store; choosing to walk to and from work each day, instead of flagging a boda. I definitely have not perfected this, but I'm learning, slowly-slowly.
Last Wednesday I spent the entire day doing NGO research, walking the entirety of Senior Quarters to make notes of what NGOs are where. It was hot, and I was tired, but I was determined to walk.
I passed a boda stand on my way, and, as usual, the drivers asked me if I needed a ride.
"Madam, we go? Can I take you?"
I shook my head and smiled. "No, thank you."
"You are footing?" ("Walking")
"Yes, I am footing!"
In response, one of them shook his head at me and taught me a valuable lesson:
"You should not foot! It will shape your legs!"
Well, ok.
****
Thank you, friends, for all the love and support! Things are going well, as far as the registration process goes. Paperwork is finally starting to move forward after a brief period of what seemed like hitting a wall. Please keep me in your prayers for continued understanding and strength during this process.
"But He gives more grace." This has been my Scripture lately. There have been moments of discouragement and frustration, I won't lie to you. And when those moments come, I have to cling to Jesus, and remember that He gives grace upon grace.
Love and prayers,
<3 Robin
