Had a great fall

It was a warm day yesterday--sounds like pretty similar temps to Little Rock, actually. John was scheduled to come home around 3:30 from his second four-day trip in two weeks, this one to a village several hours north where they have plans for a sizeable Christian university. Meanwhile back at the compound, our carpenter, Godfrey, was at our house with his quiet, usually-smiling sidekick, Lamik. They were installing razor wire around the rest of our compound, just for a little added safety with all of the traveling John does--especially with the two vacant lots that sidle up to our property.

Razor wire, cement walls studded with broken glass, etc. are common around here just to avoid theft. We, for example, personally feel like our car runs more efficiently with tires and a battery. So don't get yourself in a tizzy. We feel quite safe here. The concern increased somewhat with a few brave and remarkably effortless forays by our neighbor kids over our wall to "steal some mangoes," or so the story goes. Note, we are definitely trying to build relationships with our neighbors, and met another this morning. We are, however, under the conviction that our relationships can improve in the absence of petty theft.

Point of interest: Godfrey and Lamik insisted that they install the razor wire without gloves.
They kept trying to explain that the gloves got caught in the wire. But I'm thinking, doesn't that mean that your hands get caught in the wire instead? (Silly mzungu.)

But real concern gripped me when B. ran in from outside just before lunch. "Mom! Come quick! Lamik's hurt!" I abandoned the cupcakes I'd been making with Oliver, our female house help, for a baby shower, and ran out wiping my hands on my apron.

"Godfrey, is Lamik okay?"

Godfrey, who characteristically has a mysterious smirk on his face, was eerily calm atop his ladder. "No."

"He fell on the other side," he quietly continued, indicating the vacant lot next door. I noticed a brick missing at the top of our walls, which are so formidable that if you push on them, they wobble. Bananas or matooke from the trees on the other side were peeking over the top. That kind of height was quite a drop.

"Can he get up?"

Godfrey shook his head. "...No."

I ran inside to grab the gate keys, then booked it up the hill to eMi for Godfrey's instruction to grab Stephen, the human resources manager of all our local staff. When we both arrived, out of breath, Stephen hefted another ladder over the wall. I was amazed and relieved to find that after a couple of long minutes, a wincing Lamik appeared at the top of the wall. He had fallen on his back--a good five or six meters down.

Once he was finally laying on our side of the fence, trying to gather his strength to go to the hospital, I asked if we might pray for him. I swallowed tears, then brought him a basin to wash the blood from his hands. Eventually, we got him into Godfrey's car, now loaded down with a bed pillow, whatever I could scrounge up for lunch, and strict instructions to get Lamik whatever care he might need.

After a long afternoon, the three men returned to drop off Stephen. I was terribly relieved to see Lamik gingerly emerge from Godfrey's Caribe. He'd had two injections and some medication, he explained.

"And when you prayed for me, I felt instant...." His hands formed fists in a gesture of strength and fortitude. Relief, Stephen explained later. He told me that when you prayed, he felt relief.

I felt so many emotions in that moment: I was humbled, thankful--amazed, in awe. Later, I was also sheepish, because I don't recall intentionally praying filled with faith that God would take Lamik's pain and completely heal him on the spot (which He didn't choose to do, but obviously could have). Here I am, a "missionary" (ooh, aah!), and still mildly surprised when God does remarkable things because I ask Him, and despite who I am. May God increase my faith!

Godfrey was back to cracking jokes. "He missed the coffin today!" he laughed.

Today, when Godfrey and Co. arrived, I smiled at Lamik. "God certainly has a purpose for you, Lamik!"

He nodded, back to his easygoing grin and ready to go have some more fun with razor wire.

Craftsmanship

John and B. were having this wonderful conversation the other night, which started out with John asking, "Did you know that glass is stronger than steel?!"

John's been reading these books about basic structural/architectural/engineering principles, and with the way B. is wired--some natural architectural and engineering abilities--I'm hoping this is the first of many conversations where they can learn together. Later that night, I found that the guy who had written two of the books John's reading has actually written a book for kids on basic architecture. I was disproportionately giddy.

It spawned a blog post for MomLife Today on helping your kids grow in the way God's crafted them. I thought I'd pass it along in the event you would be interested.

A few small updates on culture and everyday life--from John

From John:

I am learning a little Luganda which is the local tribal language in the region in and near Kampala.   Almost everyone knows English but learning their language is helpful for relating.   Janel is taking off with it which is no surprise.   I am a lot slower but still picking up a couple words each week.   Which I have figured out that just greeting them in their language is enough to make them laugh and smile and engage in conversation with you even if you have to revert right back to English.  

I will actually be taking some Luganda lessons in a couple weeks especially since one of my roles will be so closely tied to working in a pastoral setting with the guys on the worksite who mostly speak Luganda as their native tongue.

I am still not liking driving at night especially when all the kids are in the car.   Soooo much to see when there is so little light to see by.   By the way, there is a poor picture of our minivan taken at night that I have attached – we can’t seem to get away from minivans.

You know you want one, too.

Had a near miss last Thursday night after I'd been driving not yet a week.   A motorcycle was driving down the center line coming toward us when he made a wrong estimation on the space between two cars and caught one with his handle bar forcing his bike into the oncoming vehicle fender and then to the ground sliding toward us.   Fortunately I stopped just before he came to a stop in front of my screeching tire.  I heard a small thud when he hit my fender but never lost site of him.   He popped up clasping his worn hands but otherwise uninjured.   The crowd around yelling at him presumably chastising him as representative of all the crazy boda boda (motorcycle) drivers, seemed to motivate him to jump back on the bike and speed off.    My wife nearly in tears… a traumatic day.   His life saved… a great day! 

Despite the driving, I generally am loving the feeling of adventure of trying to figure everything out and navigate the new landscape.   Even the seemingly backwards way things get done in some instances isn’t bothering me too much… yet.   It is the lack of some creature comforts and the difficulty to really escape as of yet that seems to be building up.   But we are finding some creature comforts that are consoling – some of mine for better or worse:

·         We have found a Mexican restaurant nearby.   We had a romantic date there completed by riding separately on two different bodas to get home (right before we had our car).   The food actually tastes pretty good and fills the craving.   It has a cactus painted on the wall and sumbraros hanging as well.   My favorite part besides the food is that it has a glossary of terms on the back of the menu. Ie. Tortilla – somehow like a chipotte but fried in oil.   Sour Kream – somehow like yogurt but with lime juice. Burrito… Enchilada… etc.  And the check even said Gracias!  

·         I have found a local movie theater, not much selection but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

·         You can get a bottle of coke here (nostalgic glass bottles even) for about 1000 schillings (45 cents) on nearly every street corner.   And the coke is made with cane sugar instead of corn syrup. Course you have to drink the bottle there because they want it back.  The bottles are small enough to drink in 3 or so swigs if you’re not rationing and once finished you can just walk a couple hundred yards until thirst strikes again and there’s another roadside stand with more coke.   Honest admission, I have done this once. J

·         And every third night the power goes out for the evening which kind of forces you to catch up on sleep.

·         There is a pick-up basketball game every Tuesday night at a neighborhood school.  I am pretty inconsistent – some nights I am pretty bad, other nights I am horrible.   And what passed for really hustling just a few months ago doesn’t seem to be much of a contribution here.   But it’s fun exercise.   (I am still looking for the pickup game of soccer so I can really be put to shame at the one sport that had brought me athletic confidence over my sporting career.   Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t heard about that group yet.)

 

Anyway…That was more than you probably wanted to skim and maybe just the right amount to skip!

"How's the new job, John?"

I have started work, but I am really in a learning phase right now. So not much to report about work getting done.  I am reading a book called Why Buildings Stand Up just to learn some basics about structural engineering.   The next book on the list is Why Buildings Fall Down.   Funny, because I would have thought one book could cover both topics….   

I have been making a weekly visit to three project sites a couple hours away in the town of Jinja.   There we inspect the work getting accomplished by another CM (Construction Manager) on our team and his crews on those sites.   I am learning a lot about local methods and meeting the guys on site little by little.   I do kinda feel weird like I am the “big westerner” coming to inspect who never does any work (manual labor).   Kind of an awkward interaction, but I am hoping that will change soon especially once I am working more closely alongside them.   Yet I am not only learning about how to do things, but each week get a course in poor construction methods and what not to do also as we find mistakes and shortcuts.   Confronting such issues is interesting to watch happen between two different cultures.   It is another reminder of one of the many reasons why it is important to really get to know these guys and build a good relationship with them.

Started full time in the office last week but most of that is filled with getting oriented to processes and how things work in the office along with some meetings as well.   Good news is that they have a really easy project that needs done in April or May--and they would like to have me manage it.   Easy as it is, it will be my first opportunity to make a contribution through management.   It includes some finish carpentry which is within my experience, some masonry, but also finishing some grading and putting in a soccer pitch.   This is for a Christian boarding school that you may have heard of; they produce the African Children’s Choir tours around the US and Europe.   So in spite of the lack of technical aspects to this, I am excited about the ministry we’re working with and getting to manage my first project which includes a soccer field--kinda cool!

I am also finding that my HR background is already allowing me to make some good contributions both on the worksite projects, but also in the office as we discuss issues being encountered in both settings.   That has been fun to contribute a little when I otherwise feel like I am consuming more than I am giving for a while.  

I travel this Wednesday through Friday to the western Uganda border to inspect a theological training center that needs some remodel and a new building built.   I am looking forward to seeing firsthand the process for interviewing the ministry, and deciding on how to select projects to work on.  

What one guy and a hand planer can do

Then next week, we are traveling to eastern Uganda for for days to the site of a college that we will be breaking ground on this Spring.   We need to do some trouble shooting on the site prep and find some local resources in preparation to ramp up for this project.   So Janel will be home while I get a lay of the land, literally.   Feels good to be getting out so quickly on projects.

Our house, Part II: A few more photos

Welcome back! If you missed the last visit, you can check it out here. But I thought this time I would take you through our front door. You can see the back door right through it, but I'll take you to the kitchen, which is the first door on your right.

See, it looks normal enough. It is small by U.S. standards, but it's actually been just right. Uh, with the small (and I do mean small) exception of my sink, which is about the size of two cereal boxes stacked on top of each other. Really not a huge sacrifice. Occasionally the sink handle spins off into the dish water and I have to look for it with the water spraying everywhere, but that's kind of the "quirky" adjective I mentioned earlier.

If you turn around in my kitchen, this is what you'll see. The large silver contraption is our water filter. To your right would be our red-painted pantry, which currently holds our fridge and a very unexpected delight: our microwave.

This is the boys' room. Their toys, on the left there, are all organized in African baskets made by local women, which I love. I also love that they have much fewer toys, which makes pick up a ton easier and play not really any more boring, from what I can tell. And you know, that industrial Wal-Mart-style tile has its benefits.

I found this in our bedroom while I was taking photos and thought I could put her to work. Wonder if her parents would mind if I keep her.

...And one of our bathrooms. Just wanted to put any potential visitors' minds at ease that we do have a couple, and they look very normal. Well, in the spectrum of I-have-four-kids normal and I-live-in-Africa normal.

See, we have two! Actually three, counting the Asian-style in the "quarters", but we won't make you use that one unless we're really desperate for humor.This is our master bath.

We converted our garage to our school room--which is really wonderful to have...and sure beats my laundry room, where we kept all our supplies in Little Rock. We throw the doors open and have school that way, which I really like. We have a six-foot table and benches in the middle here. You can see we painted the back wall with blackboard paint. We're trying to get our big map that everyone signed at our going-away party to stay up on the concrete wall, but no luck yet.

This is our daughter's room (the purple is the big giveaway here). You can see some of the built-ins on the right, which we also have in our room.

This loaner was just set up this weekend, and we can still hardly believe it! It has been a great source of energy release and family/friend craziness. John lets the kids play, too.

Glad you could stop by!

An ode to dirt

Red dirt, you are on everything;

My floors, my feet, my driveway.

And after children take a bath

It's red mud that whirls away.

Stuck beneath their nails

And ground so deeply down the hall,

I never actually feel

that I am rid of you at all.

Though you are mopped away each day,

My children's feet are colored rust!

In just a few small seconds

Our house is recovered with dust.

Muddy footprints in the bathroom,

And fingerprints take over too.

It's a good thing our house is orange

And not the yellow we did choose.

So even if my children are only clean

For ten minutes out the tub

At least it means I won

One small vict'ry against the grub.

Church

I'm still processing so much of what I have seen last Sunday, so maybe blogging it will help, as it so often does.

You may remember my friend Lizzy, from this post. I am so delighted to tell you that her adoption of her first daughter, sweet Zoey, was completed a week ago Thursday, and both were our dinner guests the next night! Nothing went as planned, of course—to the tune of us finally getting a call at 5:00 about our car being ready downtown, the power going out as we were sitting down to dinner, etc.—but it was a truly beautiful time.

[Side note: I have got to get more photos on here, I know. Though in the States I could hardly pry the camera lens from my eye socket, here it often seems inappropriate or even to further separate me from a world that basically could see our camera—nothing special in the States—as a few years' worth of income, I'm guessing. So I'm getting out of a habit that I may need to climb back in!]

Lizzy's connections to Kampala began through her church, which also has a church plant in what I am assuming can be considered the slums here. So last Sunday morning, we swung by in our rockin' minivan to pick up Lizzy and Zoey to visit the church. We weren't completely sure that we were on the correct pock-marked dirt road at first. You can imagine it a little, perhaps: shacks and concrete abodes and small shops of all sorts lining the road with tin roofs, tarps, cracking paint, hand-painted signs. The medical center's narrow door was a thin drape of dirty fabric. Everything is tinged the color of rust by the dust. Chickens, goats, and cattle are wandering around, maybe in and out of houses. Children—most with shaved heads, for purposes of school, hygiene, and lice. Adults on their haunches cooking there on the side of the street, all wearing curious faded combinations of clothes that Goodwill would have discarded where I come from. People eyeing one of the only vehicles on this crowded stretch of the city that aren't taxis. Ugandans walking with all manner of things on their heads, some covered completely by the wares they're selling as they walk. (Last night we saw another guy whose job was a walking luggage salesman. Picture that for a minute.) I am not amazed by these sights as much as I used to be, as there are so many versions of it around the city. I am still struck by it. My children have not seen as much of Kampala since we have only had a vehicle the last two days. It was interesting to hear what they pointed out or observed, or simply to wonder what they were making from the mélange of sights in their passenger windows.

Lizzy directed us to a spot we could park. It was strangely only the size for one vehicle. We of course figured out quickly that in this church, we would be the only family driving a vehicle there! The service was on Ugandan time, which meant it started maybe a half an hour later and lasted as long as it needed to—especially with the translation of the sermon from English—the national language and language spoken in schools—and Luganda, the language of the tribes in this region and the language many speak in their homes or among their peers. Not all speak Luganda here, because there are seventeen tribes in Uganda; and not all speak English—at least well. The church was of partially-roofed concrete room, with a gate that opened to the community's bustle, cooking fires, and traffic. People filtered in during the service to sit on the basic benches.

As the music started—voices only except a jimbaye—I was reminded of Isaiah 57: ""I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit." I looked at these brothers and sisters around me and felt grateful that I could be with God's people. My kids munched on some fried cassava that one of their new acquaintances shared with them. I moved with the kids into the Children's Church that met in a small concrete surround. It eventually became packed with children as one of the biggest happenings in the neighborhood.

I watched my kids: This was one of their most extensive cultural interactions since we'd been here. Kids touched their hair, stared at them, or tugged at them. The songs were lively, and although there were no illustrations in the bilingual kids' lesson, the Gospel was fully intact. There was even a kids' offering and a time to pray for the sick. My kids grew restless with the longevity of the service, and I was wondering if I was souring them on the whole experience, just overwhelming them.

But by the end, my kids were teaching the neighborhood kids kung fu moves from their Kung Fu for Kids DVD! I doubt I'll forget the image of all of them lined up there along the dirt road outside the church, passersby gawking, doing kung fu together. My oldest was even using an African accent to more clearly communicate. When he finally climbed into the van, he exclaimed, "Mom! I just made about a billion friends!"

And that was yet another grace-full moment that morning. Despite all their discomfort, my kids ran headlong into a cultural interaction with kids who were almost as different from them as we could find. God was so gracious. He was here, dwelling with these people—just as He'd be there with the rising of the sun in Little Rock in several hours as His people there readied for worship. Seeing His Body in its form here on the other side of the world just increases my worship. All in all, not a bad way to spend a Sunday.