Being American: "The Crazy, Wet Mzungus" and Other Stories...

Every time I travel, I like to act as local as possible. (For proof, read this)

Maybe it's ridiculous, but it's my goal, when seen in public in another country, to be mistaken for a local. I adopt the walk, talk, clothing and food as if it were my own. 

However, this time around in Uganda, I've noticed myself repeatedly having "American" moments. 

Moments when I forget about the way Uganda time runs. 

Moments when I really, truly want to wear yoga pants. (Let the judging commence.)

Moments when I want to read a book, but power is not there and my Nook is not charged. 

I find myself feeling frustrated in these moments, catch myself, and then get frustrated for feeling frustrated. 

You know what to expect, Robin! I tell myself. You've lived here before, you know the culture and the customs, and sure, you've been away a while, but you've told the stories so often that you should remember!!

(Because that's valid logic.)

After a few frustrating experiences, a few breakdowns, and a few internal lectures, I finally remembered that I have to extend grace... to myself as well as everyone around me. 

Yes, I am American. It's great that I can adapt so well into other cultures, but it's also okay for me to enjoy those cultures from the perspective of my own. 

For example... the rainy season.

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We are in the rainy season right now in Uganda. What that really means is a consistent, daily downpour (almost at the same time each afternoon and evening...like clockwork), and a perpetual power failure. 

Which brings me to today's story. 

The weather turns from a beautiful, sunny, partially cloudy morning into a downpour very quickly. Ashlie and I were at home this afternoon when the sky changed; we didn't think to start plugging things in... and the next thing we knew was a downpour and a power outage. 

And everything was dead. 

Phones. Computers. Nook. All dead. 

(This is where I experienced one of the aforementioned frustrating American moments. Oh, well, I'll just do some work. Nope, can't. Computer is dead. Oh, well, I'll just watch a movie. Nope, can't. Computer is dead. Oh, well, I'll just read a book. Nope, can't. Nook is dead. Ok, Robin, you're American. Your whole life apparently revolves around technology. What has happened to you?!)

There's a cafe across Gulu with a consistent generator schedule during power outages, free wifi, and good coffee... so as soon as the rain let up a bit, Ashlie and I decided to make a break for it. 

We packed up all of our electronics, donned raincoats (a recent investment which I'm currently very thankful for), and walked out of our little neighbourhood to flag down a boda. 

Culture note: most Ugandans "fear" the rain. They stay out of it as much as possible. Including boda drivers. 

Another culture note: there are few, very few paved roads in Gulu... and even the paved ones are covered in a significant amount of red dust... or mud, during rainy season. 

So Ashlie and I went on a puddle-jumping (jumping over puddles) adventure. 

This is the perfect example of being American and being okay with it. Sure, we stood out... we were laughing, leaping, splashing, cold, wet mzungus! Every time we passed a group of Ugandans huddled under a veranda, I could hear them saying things along the lines of, "Look at the crazy, wet mzungus!" But the laughter was well worth it. 

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I'm still learning to extend grace to myself, to allow myself to be human, to be American, even. It's a muddy process... pun intended. ;) 

But the laughter (and the stories) are well worth it. I'm learning a lot, and leaning on God more than ever. 

Thank you everyone for the love and prayers! We've been here for a month this Saturday, and the journey is still just beginning. More stories, laughter, and updates to come. 

<3, Robin 

Palm Sunday, Pleasantries, Poultry and Paperwork

Gotta love alliterations! 

We've had a pretty eventful week, filled with culture, traveling, and tons of paperwork. 

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Last Sunday was Palm Sunday, as well as our first Sunday in Gulu Town. 

Cultural note: In Uganda, you don't go to church. You "go for prayers." If you want to ask someone where they attend church, you ask them, "Where do you pray?"

We went for prayers at Watoto Church Gulu, where we celebrated Jesus with a combination of Western- and Acholi-style worship songs and a message about giving. 

Watoto Church Gulu is about to shift to a new, bigger location across town, and thank goodness! Both last week and yesterday for Easter we danced shoulder-to-shoulder during worship, and I probably ran into the ladies next to me a dozen times! There were so many people! 

I am overjoyed to be back with my home church in Uganda. <3 

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I've noticed something that I somehow never picked up last time... 

When someone sneezes, I naturally proceed with the pleasantries of "God bless you," and I half-way expect an, "Oh, thank you" or at least a nod of acknowledgment that they received the blessing...which I passed to them... from God... (Our pleasantries seem weirder to me every time I think about them.) 

Here, however, if I say "God bless you" after someone sneezes, that person just stares at me.

Finally, I asked Tony, a friend of mine and our boda driver, whether it was customary to say anything at all after someone sneezes. 

"No, you just look at them!" he replied.

Pleasantries- out the window! 

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One of the biggest priorities on my to-do list while I'm here is the registration paperwork for opening an NGO (non-governmental organization). I'm so blessed to have on my team a few men of God who have "been there, done that," and can offer advice and connections here in Uganda. 

One of those connections is a great guy named Steven who lives in Kampala. This past Monday, Ashlie and I travelled back down to Kampala for a week of meetings with Steven and a lawyer that will be helping me with the registration process.

Traveling to Kampala from Gulu... what an adventure. 

The trip is six to seven hours...

It can be made one of two ways: 

Private hire- this is when you have a taxi service (usually a 15-passenger van) drive your group only the whole way down. It's definitely the more comfortable option, but it can be really expensive. 

The second option is taking the bus. My favourite bus to take is the Post Bus, which goes from one post office to the other, making brief stops along the way. It's cheap, safe and reliable, if a bit slow. However, it leaves at 8 AM, so running late is not really an option. 

On Monday, we took the Homeland Bus... such an experience. 

The bus was scheduled to leave at 10 AM, but did not even arrive until 10:45. 

Ashlie and I ended up at the back of the boarding line, which meant we had no options when choosing our seats. The only two seats together were on the back row of the bus, in the middle of four other people. Every time the bus went over a pothole, we flew at least six inches into the air, crashing into each other on the way back down. 

Now, picture this: a crowded bus comes to a stop on the side of the road. All the windows are at least partially open, because there is no air conditioning. As the bus rolls to a stop, all of a sudden, voices come calling through the windows, and items begin to appear through the window cracks...

"Madam, soda?"

"Ssebo, you want pork?"

"Yes, please, water?"

And my favourite:

"Madam, you want a chicken?"

Not a piece of chicken, not even a cooked chicken... 

A live, wriggling, squawking, upside-down chicken is pushed through the window for sale, and sure enough, the last half of our journey is spent with poultry passengers. 

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The process ahead of us is an adventure... it's been stressful at times, but God has shown us so much favour. 

Currently we are going forward with the registration process, which may take up to two months. I'm also researching other NGOs here in the Gulu area, learning what is sustainable and what has best impacted the community, etc. 

A large part of my job right now is simply living and learning. Immersing myself in the Acholi culture, learning the language, "going to prayers," shopping in the market, walking through town... doing life with the people in my community and building relationships with them. 

That's what being a missionary is, after all: doing life in a way that shines the light of Christ through any culture or circumstance. 

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Thank you, everyone for your prayers and support! There are many more stories to come. 

<3, Robin