Six months in Uganda-UPDATE
I’m writing this from a little place hiding in the folds of the rush of Kampala. It took me two tries and two afternoons to get here, but once you arrive you understand why.
Tucked at the dead end of a street in Kololo, is a treehouse on the ground run by an Indian man and a few Ugandan women who seem to have missed the memo that they aren’t supposed to like each other. The décor is a mix of hand-painted pieces of furniture staged with piles and piles of books on international conflict, poetry and yet it still somehow reminds me of my first job at Java Joes Coffee Shop in Clarkesville, Georgia. My free ear is drinking up the Indian music playing over the ceiling while the other is still on Janelle Monáe's album from this year and while looking for a place to sit I’ve determined I can’t tell if I’m inside or outside; which feels like the perfect way for a restaurant/shop to be.
This place is a charming easy mixture…it’s not trying to be. I’m hoping by the end of all this that’s what people will say about me. I’m six months into my ninth-grade dream, and at least in this moment I can’t help but smile at nothing. I have to say thank you to everyone who’s supported me to be here, because the things you’ve put towards this are for the cause, they are for justice and the work we do, they are well spent prayers. But they are also for my cause. You might not have known that when you gave to support me you were giving to my joy, to my passion, and to a step towards becoming me, but you were and I’m equally grateful for that too.All that to say, it hasn’t been easy. Sitting in orientation in Washington D.C. six months ago they kept trying to prepare us for the lack of comfort and how difficult things that were easy in the states were going to be.
While I suppose that’s true, it’s not the hard part. Living in America let me forget about the little girl in me that would go strap on her yellow gum boots and go ‘exploring’ through her back yard perfectly fine with getting a little dirty to discover something-but she’s still here. The subtle thrill of hearing monkeys on the roof right now beats out the frustration of consistent blackouts, or the fatigue that comes with forcing your body to acclimate to a heat you didn’t know existed. These things are not the hard part (although there have been a few 2:00 am nights where I prayed for a drive-thru to pop up in town).The hard part is that obedience is hard. Going exactly where you’re supposed to go, is hard. And staying there is another battle in itself. This post is less about Uganda, a more about my charge to you to be brave and go. Because my Uganda might be your decision to go back home and make things right, it might be your going sober, it might be your decision to finally love her like you know you’re supposed to. There’s a lot of praise you know that comes when we make big decisions.
There’s a lot of support when you decide to move across the planet, but it’s six months in when you realize the defending of the condition of your heart is your work in all this; and that’s never easy. For me, it’s not the material things that get under my skin, but I think the group of incredible women who I live and work with would agree, it’s the whispers from the enemy that come out at the number one hardest thing out here. It’s the reality that living in a house with six women in a remote part of Northern Uganda isn’t a strategic decision for finding a husband. It's the daily anxieties that come with living off of support money when your counterparts are stepping into paying jobs, buying houses, and forging paths of security. It’s the practice of killing your pride daily and accepting that you don’t know how to do anything here and everyone has a front seat to your failures. It’s bearing the pain that some friendships aren’t strong enough to span the mileage, and that an eight-hour time difference can leave you feeling pretty isolated. These are just my things, but no matter where you are or what you’re stepping into, the devil will try to turn it upside down inside you, he’ll try to make you lose focus.But we can do it. We can hold on. As long as I have breath in my lungs to repent, I have hope for the days to come, and that’s really exciting. It will be hard, but it will be full. And that’s what I know I can’t live without. The struggle of learning the new language is worth it when you see in someone’s eyes that you just made them feel a little more understood, a little more known by not speaking English. The isolation opens up new chances to see that the King of Heaven is still choosing you. The uncomfortable mattress reminds you to pray in the night. It’s the refining that’s beautiful. In a recent phone call a friend asked me, “What are you most excited about in 2019”? My response, in short, was “Braving up to the call.” Seeking comfort over God from the desert road is the overlooked disobedience I'm excited to fight against.
As long as I have breath in my lungs to repent, I have hope for the days to come, and that’s really exciting.
This is a self-reflection I wrote at the beginning of the month. I think it’s for anyone who’s exactly where they are supposed to be, and maybe on the outside looks like you’ve jumped in feet first, but you know your heart hasn’t totally committed to the beautiful/ugly/and growth that you were sent here for. The storybooks made us believe we only have to go on one Heroes’ Quest, but if you let it, life will make you more of Hero every single year.
Dec. 2018God doesn’t send anyone to the wilderness by accident.He knows there’s less. Less structure, less accountability, less comfort,sometimes less hope.You’re here to see that He’s more.Stop blaming bad behavior on the wilderness like He doesn’t know whereHe placed you.You see this as a something to be rescued from-He sees this as His rescue come.Remember why you were sent-remember the scripture He used to send you.Remember the preparation, the prayers, the dreams.He never said it was going to be easy, so start fighting for whatHe believes.Hold on girl this is only the beginning-the beginning of me.
I’ve got to stop writing now because my computer is going to die and my American plug won’t fit in the wall…I guess they were right about things being harder here 😉.*To learn more about exactly what I'm doing in Uganda, or if you want to get involved, click here or check out my Facebook Update Group. Apwoyo! (Thanks!)
