This little light (that keeps going out)

One of the common conversation topics around here is the power. Unlike our vision trip last summer, when we lost power briefly one morning, the electricity has now been absent for at minimum a few hours every day since we've been in our new house, and most of the nights. I could post a photo, but, you know, you wouldn't be able to see anything. We probably have power about 40-50% of our waking hours. It's usually due to "load shedding": They're not producing enough power for the city, so they're shedding your load. It's developed into a joke over here. My friend was having a moment when she couldn't think, so it was, "Sorry, I'm load shedding."

The lack of power can be hard on small businesses here which can't afford a generator. The reasons are multiple and mysterious: By contract Uganda does actually sell a portion of its power to Kenya. The lake levels have been low, so maybe the turbines aren't functioning properly. Or maybe you don't have anyone that prestigious in your neighborhood. Huh. I think that includes us.

Most of us have an appliance they miss the most. Because I'm a cheapskate who hates to waste, I miss my fridge. But this rivals my computer (aka writing device/livelihood/connection to America), whose power is usually exhausted by school activities and kid stuff; I look forward to the arrival of a new long-life battery and try not to get discouraged. John misses the fan in this heat, if you're able to imagine that in February, especially when we're falling asleep. A coworker misses the fan at night for white noise to drown out the noise of yelping dogs, African drums, radios, motorcycles, whatever. (Ugandans can be real night owls.)

Overall, it's changed our lifestyle some. But part of that change is simplifying, as you can imagine life without electronics would be for any family. We get more sleep, because walking around in the dark makes one more tired, and probably a little more bored. Some toes are a little more stubbed. Our (hand-washed) dishes are a little less clean. We spend more money on candles and malodorous kerosene.

But living here of course changes perspective. A lot of our neighbors and even friends don't really have electronic devices to use; some don't have running water. I feel a little spoiled when the power inevitably goes out when I'm doing something that, hey, it would be nice to have a little electricity for. Say, to see. I can't tell you how many times I've sighed in the sudden darkness: "Are you serious?" (This is especially true in the second outage of the day.) But like anything, God uses it to refine me, humble me, and nudge me. Hello, Janel, Philippians 4:12-13. All of us, kids included, are growing in contentment and joy.

Not a bad product, overall.


 

Weird bananas, and a non-banana recipe: African Ginger Tea

Red bananas, courtesy Wikipedia.com

Moment of truth. I'm still working on my taste for matooke, one of the few common Ugandan foods. Matooke (sounds like ma-toke-ay) is a cross between a banana and a cooked potato, the best I can describe. They're sold very inexpensively in huge bunches that look like green bananas along the side of the road, even though they grow like bananas do: A tree grows a bunch, is harvested, is cut down to a stump, and then grows another bunch in about a year. (Isn't it amazing that bananas are so cheap?)

Side note #1: We have planted two matooke trees here already, since they'll grow within a year, and it's kind of fun to give to our house help and our guard.

Side note #2: We have been gifted some banana tree babies that are to arrive tomorrow for us to plant! Well, for the guard to plant, because our guard is also a groundskeeper. (Cool--he takes care of whatever I think it would be fun to plant.) We are actually getting red banana trees: As in, the tree has a red stalk, and the banana peels are red, and I am told the insides are pink! What a great addition to landscaping. They don't transport well, so you don't get them in markets. Ugandans may plant a type of birds-of-paradise (this is a plant, not an animal...) next to it, because there's a bug that likes banana trees, but likes the smell of birds-of-paradise better, which also happens to be poisonous to the bug.

Anyhoo--there is a Ugandan food that I adore: African Ginger Tea.

Equal parts water and milk
Fresh ginger, peeled and minced/mashed
Black tea bags
Sugar to taste

Just boil them together and let 'em steep awhile. Uh, yum.

A Rainy Day Kind of Play

Has the rainy season officially begun or just a spell of downpours to kill the dust and water the crops? Either way it’s welcome relief from the heat. But the uphill neighbors' runoff from their plot makes its way to our backyard and stops. A real problem for sure, but today its a diversion...

 our very own water park!

  
 The kids are now telling everyone we have a pool!





We couldn’t get Janel in the mix, she hid behind the camera.


 
With shouts and cackles like Hoops and Yoyo, the kids were exclaiming our time as some of the best ever. “This is great” cackle cackle. “yeah, this is awesome” hahaha. “Yeah, this is the best day ever… our own waterpark.”

“And admission free to boot” (That was my comment)





God keeps bringing welcome moments of laughter and fun into our days. We are grateful for the rain… today. :)

What I'm thankful for, Part II

This week, around day three or so without power and with ants seriously waging war on my kitchen, I was struggling to persevere and be grateful. A friend had very thoughtfully offered to take me grocery shopping since we aren't in possession of our vehicle yet. We actually got talking about she and her husband's life in Sudan before they came here. It was 120 degree heat, usually. Their little kids were often sick whether because of water filtration problems or food contamination. There weren't really any vehicles... So many things sounded so much more challenging than my fridge that was essentially an expensive cooler sitting in my kitchen.

I do realize that sitting next to the guy with his leg cut off doesn't mean having your finger cut off doesn't hurt. It's important to speak truth about what we're going through, and to fully realize God's compassion on our circumstances;  I believe that truth helps us to "walk in the light as He is in the light." That morning a Psalm someone had stuck in our suitcases reminded me that David prays, "Give ear, O Lord, to my sighing..."

But a little perspective certainly helps the ol' gratitude factor. Slowly, God is replacing my complaining with thankfulness.

Culture shock is like...

I’m realizing that with a lot of my culturally-related frustrations or rather alarming experiences, I deal with them reasonably well in the moment. Well enough, in fact, that I may not actually realize how frustrating they actually are to me. Then at the end of the day, I might, say, burst into tears. Or snap unreasonably at a small child who perhaps had a very reasonable request. Or struggle to keep my eyes open once I sink into a chair. I think, why in the world am I behaving this way?

My mind responds, Well, it could be that. Oh. Yeah. And it was definitely a little of that. And what about that? As my mom would say, it’s a little like being pecked to death by a duck.

Thankful for new mercies every morning that are just right for that day.

What I'm thankful for

I am immensely enjoying electricity after a week of only about twelve hours of it. God's really working on my gratitude and perseverance (hmm. And my perspective). Thankful I won't have to throw out any milk in the morning!

The painters

Often when you move into a house here, it’s painted. John and I certainly didn’t mind this. Our house was kind of a light salmon, from the pictures. Hmm. So we decided to go with yellow on the outside, like our house in Little Rock. (That one used to be olive green, and we couldn’t believe how much more we liked it and wanted to care for it when it was a color other than baby food.) We were a little surprised, then, when our new abode was painted orange. We’re still not entirely sure what went wrong, but lesson learned: There can be a lot of communication problems even when both parties speak English. We were a little more surprised when walking around the house, we discovered that the other side was kind of a vibrant pastel peach. Hmm. At last, we are satisfied with the entire house being one color of orange. Sure, there was a swipe of it on the white garage door and a lot of drips on the brick that no one thought to wipe off. Sure, when they touched up the trim, they used a different color of paint. But you know, there are worse things.

On the inside, we offered to pay the difference between painting the house economy white and painting it colors that we’d picked out. In fact, we altered the colors we’d originally chosen upon the advice that we choose something darker than the color of red Ugandan dirt. (John’s mom is rumored to have gone into a carpet store once with a bag of dirt, saying, “I’d like something this color.) This has paid off. Now only the floors show the dirt, not the walls! Progress.

In Uganda, friends and connections are very important, so the painters were selected for us. Kindly, they decided to give us a little extra: on the trim, my cupboards, the ceiling, the tile. When they asked for more money to buy more paint, later I had the inappropriate little thought that they might take some of the paint from those locations.

Yet to their credit, they did attempt to remove some of the paint from the trim. Uh, some of it. However, this was done by sanding. Therefore the finish was also removed. Therefore the finish was also reapplied by said painters, subsequently dripping on the floor to stain the tile, being removed with one of my bathroom’s washcloths, or even being removed from the trim by my children’s hands and on one occasion, wiped on the walls (a color I did not plan for).

I lack the words to express my inner reaction to what happened next. When the painters were asked for their estimate to finish the job, they gave a figure that was three times more than what we eventually ended up paying. Outwardly, my eyebrows merely raised. I asked the landlord’s representative privately if it would jeopardize his relationship if I declined to let them disfigure the rest of the house for an exorbitant fee. (I was more tactful at that point.) He did not feel any obligation. I was relieved.

Thankfully, eMi had a painter that did a wonderful job on the rest. He even happened to be somewhat of a jack-of-all trades; Godfrey has been here every day this week fixing the weird things that we’ve needed (creating L-shaped shower rods, installing a plug on appliances that whoops! didn’t come with one, putting down some cement where all the cars were bottoming out on the driveway, or installing a circuit breaker because our clothes dryer blew out the power, etc.). Godfrey was discipled and trained by a missionary years ago.

And that’s probably our take-away from all this, even as we look for house help here (—another discipleship opportunity that’s been fun so far). So many of the Ugandans that we see succeeding professionally and spiritually are those who people have taken the time to invest in personally and develop intentionally, one by one. That may sound like some kind of God-complex, but in reality, it’s true for every one of us who have had the power to beat poverties in our own lives. It’s people coming alongside us, showing us Jesus. This week and its bizarre fiascoes and painting chaos have reminded me that what John will be doing in construction management, and even what I’ll get to do in my learning-and-teaching relationship with house help, is a really powerful thing. It’s not just because we found someone who knows how to get wall paint only on the wall and has proven trustworthy with our cash. It means that someone has been empowered to be the fullest version of God’s workmanship to do the good works He’s prepared in advance for him to do.

Guess you could say that’s a house of a different color.