4 days, 3 countries, 2 borders, 1 graduation: A thousand kilometers of East African roads

Early Wednesday morning, we packed and cleaned and loaded our car with our foster-son John, his fiancee Paula, their son Jeremiah, and John's mother , our former neighbor, Coslianta, for the all-day drive from our town of Nyahuka near the western border of Uganda with Congo, to the capital Kampala. Hot air blowing in the windows, Jeremiah taking it all in wide-eyed to process later with his mom, stops for the usual fast-food of roasted chicken on a stick and greasy chapatis folded into thin plastic bags, speed bumps and small towns and papyrus swamps and conversation shouted over the noise of a Landrover diesel and the open windows. Scott had decided to treat us all to the Fang Fang hotel, an older Chinese-run establishment in the center of town so we would be close to the graduation ceremonies the next day.  Once we settled in the rooms we regrouped at a restaurant for the celebratory graduation meal, including John's sister Aidah who grew up with Julia and lives in on the outskirts of Kampala, and another foster-son Ivan who now studies nursing in the area. We all asked John questions about his life, allowing him to give testimony to the faithfulness of God in providing for him after his father died and brothers pushed him and his mother off their land. Thanks to good advice and mentoring from then head-teacher Isingoma Edward, after a good six-year preparation from Christ School at O and A level, he took his math skills to a business college and studied accounting.  It is a rigorous course, and I remember visiting him at school at one point and worrying over his health. But he persevered, and after several attempts and retakes (which is standard) passed the CPA exam. That meant he was one of 444 new CPA's certified in 2018 for the entire country of Uganda.

negotiating for lunch

festive dinner

Thursday we were up and out early, as the CPA crowd are counter-culturally sticklers about time. We were to be in our seats at the much fancier hotel a block away by 8 am, for the ceremony which would end at noon. This is actually a pretty inspiring process, seeing someone we have known since he was one year old become the 5th total CPA in our district of 250,000 people. CPA's are the backbone of integrity, the essential guardians of the process of development. Pray for John now as he manages the funds of Christ School, BundiNutrition, Hospital grants, and much more. Hundreds of families, thousands of people, depend upon the accuracy and incorruptibility of this work.

By Thursday afternoon, we left the family in Kampala and it the road again, trying to make it to Mbarara by dark. After a few attempts we found a lovely reasonably priced roadside hotel. We scrutinized the 6-page menu to choose our dinners, only to find out that not everything in Uganda has changed: only three choices were actually available. We ate our roasted chicken and chips in a banda surrounded by flowering bushes and the deepening night.

Friday morning we got an early start for the actual Uganda-Rwanda border south of Kabale, unsure if it would be passable. Due to a diplomatic dispute, Rwanda has forbidden its citizens from crossing there into Uganda, and Uganda had had miles of trucks backed up. We still hoped it would be open for foreigners and for once were thankful for our Kenya tags. It was a ghost town, only a handful of people, no lines. . . but thankfully OPEN.  But no matter what is there, rule #1, you can't rush a border process.  The stamping, waiting, immigration, customs, scrutinizing papers, checking the car, buying new insurance for the new country . . it takes 1-2 hours regardless. And kudos to Rwanda, they checked our temperatures even though there was no actual questions about Ebola exposure.

This perfectly demonstrates where we are here: computerized systems in place, but without the kind of IT support, electricity constancy, training, reliability to make them useful, so the old-fashioned make-do of holding a ribbon to type it in manually. Aspirations of efficiency overlaid with the reality of innovation and spunk.

 We were in Rwanda before noon, the odd switch from driving on the left to the right, the neat paved roads, the orderly towns, rice paddies, terraced hills, noticable decrement in French signage and clay-tile roofs in favor of English/Kinyrwanda and Mbati (corrugated metal roofs). Soon we could see the city of Kigali approaching, a hilltop metropolis of paradoxical wealth. Rwanda runs a tight ship. Rules are followed. It feels like an anomaly, every motorcycle boda with only two passengers and BOTH wearing helmets without fail, extremely conservative speed limits followed closely. I think the sense of predictability and security appeals to Westerners, as there are many in Kigali, with impressive hotels and abundant restaurants.

Kigali in the distance

every single boda, helmets and limited to one passenger

clean streets, bicycles transporting milk . . we saw a billboard for "the land of milk and wifi" which sounded pretty idyllic

In Kigali on Friday we visited missionary friends we had met though our Kijabe/RVA days, another dual-doctor family with kids overlapping ours but younger, and spent the night with yet another family whose daughter was in Julia's class. Through these families we connected with a group of visiting surgeons returning from Goma in the DRC full of stories, and a woman who was moving to a remote hilltop mission station in South Sudan (and who wanted to tour the former president's home-turned into an art museum, which had a lot of genocide history associated). It was an evening to remember the richness of the community of fellow pilgrims and be inspired by what others are doing: hydroelectric projects, outpatient clinics, sewing business for poor women, training pastors, agriculture support, funding hospital buildings, leading Bible studies, chairing an international school's board, etc. just from that group.

Saturday, the final leg of travel, up and out just as the sun rose, with a stop to stock up on water and snacks and fuel for the car because we've done this road before.  Once you leave Kigali and head south, options thin out. Soon we reached the Rwanda-Burundi border, equally slow for no apparent reason as we only saw five other people pass through in the hour-and-a-half we were there. But there were three police inspections including looking through our things in the car in the hundred meters between the border buildings and the final gate, there was the fun of resorting to Swahili with the Kirundi/French speakers to change money and buy insurance, there was the very cheerful Rwandan border clerk who wished me a belated happy women's day. 

Burundi at last, a palpable shift in level of development. Our team uses the hashtag #beautifulburundi and it truly is, rolling hills, lushly green, red clay, winding roads. It is also a place that has suffered, and that remains suspicious. We had at least a dozen police-stops.  Two asked for sodas (euphemism, small amount of money). One went through an entire car inspection, signal lights, brake lights, etc. A couple looked at our import papers.  Most just smiled, wanted to try out their English, entertained themselves with our answers and our car. We began each encounter with "Amahorro" the Kirundi word for peace, used as a greeting, and that surprise generally set a comfortable tone.

Between the border, the curvy roads, the constant police checks, progress is steady but it takes about 7 hours to get from Kigali to Bujumbura. A taste of the roads below:

And finally, our destination since we left "home" Wednesday, Randy and Carolyn Bond's home in Bujumbura. The Bonds are our team leaders here, working with Hope Africa University as Dean of the Medical School (Randy) plus Pediatrics professor, and professor of English (Carolyn) plus running a virtual guest house of respite for our other team in the hills as they come to the city, and many other visitors as well.  We've had long talks, meals, processing and debriefing, talking about the future, meeting their friends, participating in Church and a small group worship time, and just catching up our friendship.  More on Burundi next post! But these connections make the miles worth while.

 Bujumbura International Community Church

View from the Bond's looking north over the outskirts of the city

A Bundi Day. . .

Friday, March 1 (true story)

5 am: the fan is blowing because mercifully, the unstable intermittent voltage from Uganda's over-stretched under-maintained electricity grid tends to be best at night (having the fridge and freezer off all day but functional in the dark maintains a modicum of food preservation). The fan helps moderate the booming base from our neighbors who are burning bricks. They are constructing a new house, so they have formed thousands of rectangular cubes from digging out the clay from one area of their compound, and stacked them into a pyramid, covered it with a different layer of mud, and then lit a fire in a few arched tunnels left at the bottom of the stack. This fire must be maintained for about 36 hours, which spans one full cycle of darkness. Deep in the traditional psyche there is an equivalence between evil spirits and night time, and a faith in the noisy continuous beating of drums to drive that evil away has translated into use of a speaker and boom box hooked up to the same electricity we are using to combat the all-night brick party with our fan. The call to prayer usually echoes up the valley behind this house as well, but this day at 5 am I wake up to the silenced-phone repeated vibrations of our kids in America having a group Birthday chat.  5 am for us is 5 pm for our furthest west (Alaska) birthday boy, and still within the evening hours (7 pm and 9 pm) for the other three. So the day starts with the delight of hearing all four voices, and the heartache of missing another birthday celebration.

this was from the days when we could celebrate birthdays together, right here in Bundibugyo. John, our neighbor, is now the accountant for the mission.

6 am: Our usual wake-up-to-run time in Kenya at the eastern edge of this time zone was daylight, but in Bundibugyo it is deeply dark.  Nevertheless I've adapted to enjoying the hint of coolness, the nearly empty road, the stillness of village compounds, the fading of stars, the eager accompaniment of Nyota our dog. Jogging in the dark, weak glimpse of the road by flashlight, gives a pretty reasonable metaphor for our life. By the time I'm on the return loop the birds are starting to welcome the return of daylight, and I am surprised to encounter a group of teen boys training for football.  When they get a little too close Nyota gives an impressive impersonation of a vicious guard dog, leading to hoots of laughter as they scatter and to a bit more respect as we continue our separate ways.

7 am: Scott makes coffee with our handy travel aeropresses, and we sit on the back porch to read our Bibles and pray, thankful for this home of the Dickensons with its trees and space, the mountain outline deepening with the sunrise.

8am: Hanging laundry on the line, washing dishes, trying to answer a few emails, anticipating the day. We learn that the suspected Ebola case from the hospital the day before, a febrile pregnant woman with profuse bleeding and a dead baby from Congo, tested negative. Whew. The family had lied about her origin in Beni (where there are active cases) and had not respected the isolation procedure, putting many staff at risk. I had been at Bundibugyo hospital that day with Dr. Marc and visiting resident Dr. Alex, seeing a full ward of malaria, malnutrition, septic shock, burns, pneumonia, dehydration, measles. But on this Friday we are planning to attend the Christ School PTA meeting, so . . .

hospital day before

9am: Scott heads down to school to meet with the Head Teacher and staff and prepare for the meeting, which is scheduled for 10 to be followed by lunch. The UACE (A-level) results have just been released from 2018, and the staff are jubilant.  18 out of 19 CSB grads qualified for further education, 8 of whom did well enough to be considered for 7 district-quota university scholarships. The best performing department was mathematics, and later in the meeting the teachers of this subject are called forward for hearty congratulations. They all passed the "general paper" essay quite well, which is a surprise for Bundibugyo and gratifying to the teachers.

math teachers honored at PTA meeting, Desmond in background acknowledged for setting the O-level foundation for students, AND teaching the teachers when THEY were students . . . 

Meanwhile I remain working from home, as we continue our Area Director roles. Teams in Serge are communities, are ways of life. I have a phone call, two long important emails, and one face to face meeting that delve into hard but good places of marriage, future, calling, faith, health, children, etc.

10+am: Scott texts that the meeting is about to start, but I am delayed because our dog seems to be AWOL. The children around the neighborhood like to unwind the chain link fence in spots to come help themselves to the jackfruit tree, and then Nyota finds ways to houdini out.  I give up on finding her and arrive at Christ School to a scene of impending dissolution and disaster.  The program for the day starts with prayer and then "anthems".  Meaning the Uganda National Anthem . . but there is a fight brewing over whether to sing the Bwamba/Babwisi Kingdom's anthem, and if so then to balance with the Bakonjo Kingdom's anthem.  Scott and the Head Teacher are sitting at a table in the front looking alarmed as the two other senior community leaders up front (whom we have known for a quarter century) are both standing, shouting, gesticulating, on opposite sides of the opinion. I sit by Scott and watch for a few minutes, a half dozen men in the parent audience of about a hundred are also trying to insist that this school is on Bwamba (OBB is the abbreviation for the Kingdom) land and events must include their anthem. The teacher trying to moderate is desperate to regain control. Many parents are threatening to walk out. Physical fights feel imminent.  I've only seen the open tribalism erupt like this once before, during the war, at an infamous baptism party in our yard . . anyway it looks like the day is going to end in irreconcilable differences and perhaps violence before it even starts, and in the noise and shouting and chaos I tell Scott I'm going to pray. Being the only female up front, and outside the tribal division, I wonder if I'll be able to put a pause in the melee.  So I stand up and raise my hands and say in Lubwisi, let's pray. To my surprise, people listen. Within a minute it's quiet, and I pray out loud with a translator, a long preachy prayer working in the end of Galatians 3 about how Jesus breaks down all our divisions, and praying for this school to be a place for all the people of Bundibugyo, inviting God's spirit to calm our hearts and lead us.  Then I sit down, wondering what will happen next.  The moderator teacher announces that we have now had the opening prayer and will stand to sing the national anthem, which we all do, and then move on to item three, the first speech. There is no more mention of the Kingdoms, the tribes, the other anthems.  It feels miraculous.

me with translator after the calm descended

11 am, 12 noon, 1 pm, 2 pm, 3 pm+ . . . yes this parent-teacher convocation takes 5 1/2 solid hours. The Head Teacher celebrates the good testing results. The chairman PTA enjoins parents to see this as their school, to not be deceived by taking their children outside the district for poorer quality education, and asks how many of this year's 59 Senior 4 (UCE, or O-level) candidates are expected to pass in Division one? Desmond, that class's senior teacher, answers 59 to an uproar of laughter and hope. Goats are promised for the anticipated party. The moderator explains that the head teacher, the chairman PTA, and the chairman Board of Governors (Scott) are the three stones upon which the pot of Christ School rests (the 3-stone method of cooking over a fire making perfect sense here) and as Scott is introduced he tells the parents the pot is heavy on his head. He talks about our spiritual input, our protection of girls, our results being not just test scores but leaders changing the district, the quality for value ratio, and ends with a focus on the spiritual battle (Eph 6) which has already been quite obvious in the meeting alone! He tells the parents to pay their fees and be our partners, but focuses mostly on asking them to pray every morning and every night for their children and for CSB. There are more speeches. There are reactions, where various parents get their few minutes. There are responses to the reactions. I've been to a lot of these meetings, and usually their are moderately contentious (nothing like the tribalism at the beginning, but an undertone of 'you need to do more for us' from the parents and the staff). This meeting is amazingly supportive. There is no explanation other than God showing up. Multiple parents express thanks, express ownership. A few complaints emerge--that their daughter's drama group should have won the competition last year so we need better judging, or that school ID's have not been given out, or questioning the need for so much paper. But the atmosphere is generally solidly supportive.

Scott speaking as chairman Board of Governors

4pm: the parents line up for "lunch" to be served, and we shake hands and thank them for coming then bike up the road to our team's weekly meeting. Every Friday afternoon the Serge team here meets to consider business (how to support Bible Translation, what's happening with the negotiations for more electricity, praying for various members) followed by either extended prayer, listening to a sermon together, an educational topic, or a fun/fellowship time, and ending in dinner. Thankfully this week is light, after all the drama of the day. We are so thankful for the Serge Apprenticeship program, which brings in 20-somethings and sometimes 30-somethings who want a mentored, 1.5-2 year initial experience in cross-cultural ministry. Two of our new apprentices have planned a fun trivia game, and we relax with popcorn and team work answering questions about music clips and history and milliliters in a gallon and all sorts of random things. The prize is a bag of home made cookies, so teams vie with passion.

6 pm: the meeting is followed by dinner together, and then conversation, stories, laughter. We hear about near disasters that are now just good memories, or talk about life together. The importance of these evenings cannot be over-estimated. Living thousands of miles from family, from familiar worship and language and culture and friendship, means the team becomes a source of staying power and sanctification. And we need each other.  I didn't include above the multiple texts from the team of Nyota sightings, capture, and care. Half the team was involved at one point or another with that pesky dog, allowing us to spend essential facetime with the community and support one of the team's biggest ministries. We were truly grateful for the sense of all-for-one.

Nyota eyeing small children behind fence, planning next escape

? didn't look at the time, but 8 or 9 ish pm: Back home at the end of a long but good day, a little last hour of work looking at budgets and emails, and then a wind-down of watching C blow out his candles (or not) on a birthday cake generously provided by his "host" family in Anchorage, lovely people who have been a God-send, followed by a downloaded epidsode of a netflix series on Scott's phone as we get ready for bed.

Conclusions: this was yesterday.  Every day is different. But this day illustrates the core of life that we are learning.

• First, PRESENCE is our method, and God's. Just being here is 90% of the battle. It's not easy to manage in a place with 90-degree days, no air movement, interruptions to water and power, threatening epidemics, poverty, etc. But again and again, what we know is that simply being present with people in their trouble speaks grace. One line from a parent speech: Dr. Scott kicked Ebola out of Bundibugyo once, and when he came back this time we knew we'd be OK. We know that is not exactly true, but it demonstrates the power and importance of showing up. 
• Second,  PRAYER. We witnessed a prayer usher in God's spirit in a way that averted the escalation of tribally based anger. This is the Gospel: God's power to break down barriers between people. 
• Third, PARTNERSHIP. Our team has the thorn scratches from chasing our dog into the bush to prove their partnership with us during a crucial community time. Our CSB staff are the real reason students performed well on exams. Our supporters are the people whose money and prayers enable us to survive. 

Stick with us for more stories of providence!

Along the Road, Counting it all joy in Kenya

Days on the road: 10

Accommodation: 4 different missionary homes for 1-2 nights, 4 different hotels for a night each in between, yes that's a lot of movement and transition, apologies for what we probably left behind. Mobile office work in between meetings below . . 

Adorable Serge children: a 15, sampling below skewed towards the youngest. Let's be real, these kids are a big part of our hearts and prayer life, they did not choose to be ten thousand miles from grandparents, to be touched and poked and stared at, to bond their hearts to homes that could evaporate into inaccessibility at the whim of politics, to forgo swimming lessons and summer camps and ice cream cones and libraries and a lot of what is considered normal American childhood.  Oh, some of them will need teachers soon . . . contact us!

Heart-to-heart conversations: daily, sometimes hourly, the core of what draws us on trips like this. What a privilege to listen to the stories, to pray, to sometimes give a reality check, to sometimes just give a testimony of empathy.  Yes, life is hard. Yes, God sees. From the struggles of kids to the discouragements of ministry to the bewilderments of language and culture and laws, we try to hear and process and lift up these saints.

 

Hospitals: 2 this trip, Kijabe and Litein. We purposed to thank the administration for their welcoming partnerships, their grace-filled help for our people.  And we tried to work on clarity, job expectations, MOU's, future planning, ideas, vision. 

New ministries: 1 Serge Apprenticeship with 5 Apprentices started in Nairobi in January. These young adults spend a day a week in a structured study of Scripture and discipleship, are mentored in cross-cultural relationship, study a new language, and get their hands and hearts right into the fray. We also have 5 SA's/interns in Bundi doing a parallel program.  It's a great way to test the waters and grow in grace.

Languages: 5, though we only attempted 3 . . and continually confused them.  

Amazing coffee stops: not as many as one might wish . . . but we did squeeze in some Cafe Javas (Uganda) and Java House (Kenya) with more mobile office time . . 

Photography gigs: 1 night, Banquet at RVA, the purported instigator of this entire trip.  Our Serger teens at RVA happened to be on the committee responsible for photography for their big Junior-Senior formal night, and way back before we heard the call to fill in the gap in Uganda we agreed to help them as photographers which would have been a quick jaunt from Naivasha.  So glad we could still come, because everything else in this trip was equally compelling and valuable . . and the BQ night was a treat to witness. Beauty and the Beast themed dinner theatre for a couple hundred people DIY . . no problem. Note Michael Masso's fountain in the background.

Emotional reunions with former pets: 2, though that's a bit of a stretch, we only kept Pili for others for a short time. But Chardonnay nearly made me cry. You can't really go home again, we know it, everything changes.  At least the dogs remain faithful.

Regrets: TNTC, which is medical short-hand for a lot ("too-numerous-to-count").  Honestly, after 25 years, we have a lot of cross cultural relationships that are longer lasting than the teams we supervise, so it is a sorrow to breeze through a place we used to live and only connect with a few people briefly. It makes them feel undervalued and makes us feel the gap. Should we have tried harder to set up a party, a meal, an open house, a meeting point? Probably. Can we be thankful for the glimpses of continuity we DID get? Yes. Perhaps the highlight of the week was Tanya, daughter of a Kenyan paediatrician friend, running out to jump into my arms for a hug when I knocked on their door, and then the next day just stopping by to chat with me after school, all on her own.  I felt loved. Below, Bob and Lilian who welcomed me to Kijabe over 8 years ago and have remained colleagues and friends.

Miles to go before we sleep: approximately 400 km (miles in poetry, km in reality). We drove Bundibugyo to Fort Portal to Kampala to Entebbe, flew to Nairobi, drove around Nairobi then to Kijabe, then to Litein, then back to Kijabe back to Nairobi. Flew back to Entebbe for our car this a.m and are now headed west back to Bundibugyo.

Along the road, your path may wander . . but through it all, a heart held humble, levels and lights the way.  Thanks Dan Fogelberg for the life soundtrack.