As I sit here to write, I am surrounded by small children –some nephews, a little orphaned girl, and a great-nephew, plus some of my own children coming and going. I came to the church building to write, because the internet reception is better, the heat is not as intense, and I thought I would be alone – if I could speak the language I might ask them to leave for a little while, but I think that choosing love, and bearing the noise of all the “emotokars” (cars made of pieces of wood –that don’t resemble cars, but with an imagination and some good sound effects, they become perfect cars!)…in the time that it took to write that, they realized that I wasn’t looking at pictures or doing anything interesting, so they took their cars outside –but left a baby behind to play on the dirt floor.
Actually,
the floor is not dirt, it is made of cow dung. Here is Benjamin’s description
of the [making of the] cow-dung floor: “I
watched one of my cousins make a cow-poop-floor. First, they collect the cow
poop in a broken jerry can, then they put it on the ground, and pour water on
it, and mix it with their hands. They spread it around and let it dry in the
sun. When it is dry it is a hard (and a little bit bumpy) floor.”
What a huge
contrast lies between those last two paragraphs and where I now sit (still
surrounded by my own children), on our third and final flight home to
Vancouver!
Today is
Thursday (In Canada); we began our journey on Monday (In Uganda). We thought
that we would leave Monday morning, but then Samuel needed to bring Papa to a
hospital, which ended up taking all day. The children and I stayed home to finish
our last bit of packing, which included having my sister-in-law hand wash a
small “load” of clothes, and sweeping out our very dusty hut, one last time. By
the time Samuel was back with papa (who actually needed surgery and was told he
would have it the same day, but was lied to about when the doctor was coming),
it was coming to 7pm. Samuel still needed to collect all of the tools that we
had borrowed from friends in Canada, give final instructions to the
construction workers, and we needed to say goodbye and pray with our family.
While Samuel collected tools, I did a “bore hole run” and then packed
everything in the van.
Saying
goodbye is SO hard, especially when we don’t know when we will be back…travelling
is hard too –though God has given us SO much grace, and it IS sufficient. The
children are mostly very patient, peaceful ad obedient, but being stuck in a
car for hours, long flights, short stop overs, lack of sleep, and time change
is still all a challenge! And now, we are almost home.
Home…
But this
blog wasn’t going to be about home or about travel, it was going to be a little
synopsis of our time in the village, and some of our experiences –I have
already shared a bit about lessons learnt, and also about a few cultural
observations, but have been asked to share a little bit more about what life is
like, so, will write a few short stories below:
Dirt
Dirt is
just part of life in the village, and cannot be cleaned away, swept away, nor
really ignored. Maybe gotten used to, but not ignored. It is also the dry
season right now, and the family compound has no grass. Plus, we are building a
house, so there is construction material, cement and sand dust, and lake sand,
and animal droppings around the yard. And then inside the hut, the dust from
the walls and from the grass-thatched roof, are filtered through mosquito nets
onto our beds.
I don’t
even know how it is possible, that even after sweeping off the bed, shaking out
the sheets (having it “made” with a blanket down during the day), that there is
still dirt on the beds when we tuck
the kids in, and even more in the morning when we wake up. I sweep my hand over
it in the pitch dark, and the static electricity in my body lights up the bed,
with finger-trails of light. Then in the morning, my nails are always full of
dirt, and I use(d) orange tree thorns to clean them out.
Coming soon:
Light
Rats
Other critters
Church
banking
(and pictures)