The Team

Here's "a snap" (as they say in Uganda) of the current Bundibugyo Team (minus the Pierce family who are in America for a couple of months)....double click on the picture to see a larger version...

Meditations on Order, Chaos, and Two Transition Mites

Switzerland:  punctual, spotless, quiet, pristine views, cold snow, flowerboxes bursting, cows chiming, abundance, flawless plumbing, anonymity, peace.
Uganda:  the chaos of real life, smiles, mounds of garbage, infestations at all levels of creeping creatures, hunger, struggle, jolting, unpredictable, color, demand.

It would not be easy to find two places upon this earth with sharper contrast.  Though in both we sit perched on the foothills of famous snow-capped mountain ranges . . . That’s about where the similarity ends.  Yet we can slip from one to the other in a mere ten hours or so of flying, less than a day, and the transition leaves me reeling.  Were the walls of our house always this spotted with grime, our floors this gritty?  Transitioning back and forth with any frequency takes a huge emotional toll, one that never becomes negligible.  Deep breath, yes, that is soot pouring out of the fridge which needs the chimney cleaned and re-lit so that two months of meat does not spoil.  Yes, that was a scorpion Jack gallantly killed for his new-to-Africa teachers in the classroom today.  Yes, the humidity has warped a picture frame until it fell off the wall and broke.  This is no alpine meadow, it is a jungle.  This morning I awoke early, and sat in the middle of mounds of dirty clothes and unwashed vegetables and muddy shoes and thought:  how many more times can I do this?  It’s too much to ask, too hard.

I found my place in Luke, chapter 21.  The widow’s two mites.  This is a story that has in the past, always left me feeling a bit guilty, not connected.  Who am I to complain when people around me cheerfully give and share out of their poverty?  Convicting.  But this morning the Spirit gave me another view.  Transition is my two mites.  It looks like nothing to my Ugandan friends and neighbors.  What’s so hard about living in a house with TWO bedrooms and a cement floor, what’s so hard about buying boxes and boxes of food, what’s so hard about driving over the mountains in our own car?  But to me, it is hard. It takes every ounce of strength of will to enter into this grungy mess once again, to organize this chaos of groceries and trunks, to concentrate and respond in a foreign language.  And God was saying:  this is your sacrificial offering, and I see it, and I know it is valuable, it is more than you can afford.  Transition is my mite, and when I give it again and again, the last I have, God provides the strength to keep going.

Near the Top of the World

We walked on a glacier today!  The Swiss, masters of engineering and determination, tunneled a train to the top of the alps, so that mere mortals such as we can ride up above the snow line and walk out onto a glacier field, amidst the craggy peaks of the Eiger and Jungfrau.  I don’t think I’ve ever been above 10,000 feet before, it was exhilarating.  We wore all our clothes in layers and managed to stay out in the cold for about half an hour.  There was a short sled run for kids, but mostly we just walked a carefully marked “safe” path in the snow and took pictures and gawked at the nearness of the sky.  Caleb’s hat blew off and is now a permanent part of the Alpen snowfield.  We look at the Rwenzoris every day, but somehow the distant Alps are actually more accessible.  I saw a plaque at the observation center perched on the top that quoted a Psalm in French . .. This from Ps 66 in the Message:  Take a good look at God’s wonders—they’ll take your breath away.

From Switzerland: family, beauty, and unfortunately one parasite

This blog post comes from Wengen (near Interlaken)...a mountainside hamlet of chalets tucked into a craggy alpine valley, with nothing in view but snow-covered peaks, fir-green pines, blazing geranium porch-boxes . . . Truly stunning.  

We successfully hooked up with the rest of the family in the airport as they arrived, and somehow managed to steer 13 of us (age range 4 to 75 years) and about 2 dozen suitcases, backpacks, coats, carry-ons through the punctual Swiss train system.  Connecting to four different trains within four hours for the total journey without losing a kid or even a bag was a minor miracle.  The last leg was on a tiny three-car train that carried us up to our village (at 4100 ft.), then a ten minute walk to our chalet.  The cousins have been delighted to tumble and laugh and run and play together again, which is a relief to see when they’ve been apart for so long.  The order of the day seems to be hikes, with every direction being nothing but spectacular post-card scenery, cowbells tinkling, and the mountain face changing as clouds pass over and the sunlight fades from white to yellow to pink.

The only drawback so far is that after almost 14 years I came down with my first case of malaria, in Switzerland of all places.  Who would have thought.  It was brewing en route and I pretty much collapsed as soon as we made it to our chalet.  Thankfully we had a test and some treatment.  I’m emerging, but the experience has given me new respect for the disease.  I felt like a plug had been opened in my foot and my energy was completely drained out of my body, wearing a fleece and under four layers of down comforter and still chilling.  Not something I want to repeat.  I’m still getting daily injections (we used all the Artenam tablets on a colleague at our retreat in Jinja).

But as Luke likes to say, no matter the weather, our moods, disputes, even illness...we are in Switzerland with family.  God is good.

Seeing Switzerland, the first hours

Switzerland makes an impression even before we land, dipping below the thick cloud cover on our final descent:   orderly, neat rows of roofs, a winding river punctuated by isolated patches of trees.  The airport feels monstrously large after Entebbe, miles of corridor, spotless bathrooms, punctual buses deliver us to a nearby hotel where we are to wait for Scott’s family to arrive tomorrow.  We venture out for breakfast, disrupting traffic as we wait on the road side and yet cars magically stop for us as soon as our toes touch the yellow striped crosswalk.  Heady with the power to stop traffic (this after days in Kampala, dodging death, running and weaving to cross streets . . . .) we briefly consider just spending the day crossing streets for entertainment, but the bakery across the street lures us on with a human-size croissant statue out front.  Inside dozens of people are taking a morning break, confidently pointing to pastries and counting out their francs.  The clerk addresses us in German—oh, we are invisible immigrants at last, not obvious bajungu!  We choose rolls with crusty crackling crusts, flaky buttery croissants, and a pastry that is covered with berries (black, straw, and ras) so vivid and luscious that it does not look real.  Cappuccino please!  Ahhhhh.  The price is a bit concerning, more than we’d spend for DAYS of food in Bundibugyo.  Yet luxuries like chocolate bars are by contrast cheap.  We stroll up and down the street to such foreign and memorable sights as fresh grapes in the market (!), neat cafes, shiny little two-seater Europe-sized cars.  Back to the hotel for HOT WATER showers with INCREDIBLE FLOW, I feel like I’m being pressure washed like the side of a dusty house.  Quietness.  Forget the Alps, we could probably be very entertained within these two blocks of normal Swiss life.  

I wonder how African immigrants adjust, do they miss the life of bustle, color, noise, the richness of smells and human contact pushing and jostling?  I think even I would eventually.  But for today the contrast is refreshing.

Anniversary Adventures, part 2

2007 is a big year in our family:  Scott and I already celebrated our 20th anniversary.  But since we were married the year that both sets of parents reached their 30th anniversaries, that means that 2007 is a major Jubilee.  Scott’s parents are hosting us as well as his sister’s family for a week in Switzerland to honor their 50th wedding anniversary.  Yes, you can suspend all pity for the next week, we are headed to a chalet accessible only by train in a mountain valley near Interlaken.  I do feel a twinge of guilt, but then again many of the images of the presence of Jesus involve parties and wine, celebration and feasting. . . . So we leave behind our team and work and fly off tonight to a long awaited week of reunion and beauty.  I only wish we could have enjoyed this milestone with my parents as well.  

Sarah and Ashley Arrived!

We headed out to the airport this morning with Stu and Ruth Ann Batstone, big hugs and much thanks, even from our kids, as if we had been family or friends all our lives.  Their visit was a tremendous help to us and a good time of bonding, therefore the goodbyes were a taste of the continual cycle of loss when we leave family and friends.  Sigh.  But as soon as we sent them waving into the security checkpoint for departures, we went downstairs to arrivals to await the entrance of our two newest team mates, teachers Sarah Reber and Ashley Wood.  Though we had met Sarah briefly once we wondered if we would pick them out right away—but it was no trouble since they wheeled carts balanced with oversized cardboard bike boxes.  Those have to be our women!  We ran up for hugs.  After unloading at the ARA and breakfast we dragged them right off to Kampala’s craziness, rubble and bodas and jostle and sweat.  Scott introduced them to the bank so they could cash checks, and then took them to the grocery store at the mall.  Our afternoon strategy is sun to re-set the body clock, and a cold pool to stay awake!  They are lots of fun already.  So goodbye and hello in the same day, trying to remember how disorienting and foreign it is to land here for the first time, the next two years an unknown and no doubt stretching long ahead.

Kampala Days

Life in the city:  throbbing, dusty, colorful, congested.  We’re in Kampala for a few days of errands.  A typical list might look like:

1. Go to the bank.  All transactions in Uganda are cash.  The highest bill is worth about $30 and rare, mostly we deal with bills valued 50 cents to $5.  So spending thousands of dollars on construction, or nutrition, or training seminars . . . Means getting loads of cash.
2. Buy medicine—we routinely supplement the government’s meager supplies of everything from gloves to antibiotics.
3. Buy groceries—besides tomatoes, eggs, potatoes, and flour . . . Almost all our food is purchased out here.  So we load up on two to three months of everything from staples like pasta, butter, cereal, and baking powder to luxuries like frozen meat and fresh oranges and apples.
4. Shop ahead for the next several months of team birthdays, gifts for visits, school supplies like paper or notebooks.  We have one FANASTIC book store in Kampala where we could spend hours. . . And usually treat ourselves to a few new good reads.
5. Meetings—though we live and work in Bundibugyo, any other major organization we partner with bases itself in Kampala.  So whenever we are in Kampala a day here and a day there disappears to meetings with Ministry of Health, or Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation, or UNICEF, or  . . . .
6. Fix the car—whatever quirks and issues have jostled to the surface over the last few months.  This time it was the turn signals.
7. Medical care—anything that requires labs, vaccines, or specialists . . The resources are ever improving in Kampala.  I spent most of the last two days trying to connect with an ENT doctor (I would get to the hospital, they’d say he had an emergency, come back in an hour, etc.) .  Finally today I had a hearing test and thorough exam with a very spiff operating microscope.  Evidently in spite of my continuing symptoms of fullness, mild occasional pain, echo, decreased hearing in my left ear since I perforated my ear drum with a bad infection in early May, there is nothing visible or measurable wrong with me now.  Scott is vindicated, who also has been examining my ear and declaring it to look healed and normal.  It was a day’s investment but I’ll continue to have patience and hope for full healing.
8. Reservations—no purchasing plane tickets on the internet or by credit card over the phone . . . You have to go to the office of the airline.
9. Paperwork—we almost always have some sort of passport or immigration issue to attend to.  This time I’m renewing my expired passport (another decade gone by!), and we had to get Luke’s pass renewed, and renew our National Park passes for another year.  Tomorrow Scott will be picking up finger prints and criminal records for team mates who are renewing their work permits.  Think lines, delays, bureaucracy.
10. Miscellaneous:  everything from spare parts for the airstrip lawn mower to searching for a meter “yardstick” for school.
    

A super-efficient American might be able to knock all that off in a good long ten hour day with a Target, a phone, appointments on schedule, and a good car.  Here in Uganda we can spend all week and still leave things undone.  Traffic is horrendous as the city has burgeoned with unplanned growth and swarms of cars, potholed roads and non-functioning lights.  Lines are long.  One can easily be sent from office to office, or told to come back.  Essential parts are missing.  Every errand can generate two more.  We find ourselves frazzled and grimy and often grumpy by the end of the day.  But then the reward:  restaurants!  Going out to eat, something we can not do in Bundibugyo.  The day is redeemed by candlelight as we sample Thai or Indian or Belgian food, relaxing as a family, thankful for abundance.  

In Quietness and Trust

The week in Jinja was all we hoped for.  Physically we had great rest, away from the constant press of needs and sorrow that weighs us down in Bundibugyo.  We had clean beds and quiet nights, three meals a day prepared by someone else without any struggle on our part, gardens for sitting and praying and meditating, sunshine to invigorate our soppy souls, a pool for splashing and playing and connecting with the kids, spectacular sunrises and slow evenings that slipped into darkness by Lake Victoria.  Socially we had a good stretch of days to be with our family and our team, singing and praying, listening and learning, and having riotous silly fun in a summer-camp kind of way in the evenings.  Spiritually we had challenging teaching about faith, pointing us to the grace of God, leading us through the reality of forgiveness and the impact of grief.  One morning we all sat in a circle around the room and put to words the sadness and anxieties and difficulties we anticipate in the transitions ahead (9 of 16 adults on the Bundibugyo team finishing terms and leaving in the next year . . . ), and then talked about hope and how we could see God drawing us into intimacy with Him through these losses.  My personal analogy was that we feel as team leaders like the parents of adolescents who are gaining independence and moving on (those who are leaving to go into other work or ministries) yet suddenly have found ourselves unexpectedly pregnant (getting ready to receive and nurture 5 new team mates in the next few months too!).  The last half of the week was focused on approaching God as our Father in conversational prayer, using solitude, silence, and Scripture to enter into true communion with Him.

Many people prayed for this time, and from the little I’ve heard from others it was significant in the hearts of other team mates too.  We were greatly impacted by the ministry of the Batstones and Donovan Graham, visits like theirs are quite rare in terms of coming along side us in Bundibugyo and then pouring themselves out for us in leading the retreat.  I’m sure that the prayers of many paved the way for powerful work of the Spirit.  And the kids (21 of them!) were happy too, having a program put together by four Ugandan pastoral/youth workers from a large church in Kampala.  We are grateful for God’s abundant provision of wise counsel and peaceful rest.

Repentance and Rest

(from our prayer update)
The summer ends for us in Bundibugyo tomorrow, and the last week has been full.  Thanks so much for your prayers for us.  We have seen God’s power and mercy even in the last few days as CSB teachers have been challenged and encouraged by Donovan Graham’s teaching, and as our team has walked with Pat through the dying days of her dear friend who succumbed yesterday to AIDS ( see below).  Today we tie up loose ends and clean out our propane fridges and pack up our cars as we prepare to leave en masse tomorrow.  Due to incessant rain and soggy airstrip we are unable to fly some of the people out, so we have to squeeze into available vehicles.  

PLEASE PRAY for the next week.  Jesus set a pattern of withdrawing from the crowds to pray, and to teach His disciples.  We need both in the next week:  rest, relief, restoration, prayer, and solid community building time away from the pressures of daily life.  Pray for Donovan Graham and Stu and Ruth Ann Batstone to lead us in “repentance and rest” as we study Scripture, eat food that someone else cooks, take walks, bask in some sunshine (we hope!) and swim with our kids.  Our team is facing a year of many transitions with half of the long-term “core” families and almost all the short term singles moving on from Bundibugyo.  Though others will be coming, the transitions are in the forefront of our minds and hearts as we go into this annual time of retreat together.

Thank you for your prayers, which are just as needed in times of retreat as they are on the front lines of Bundibugyo.  We are grateful for you.
Love,
Jennifer for the team