I’d like to think I’m “becoming African” the way the people here tell me. But I think it’s more of an encouragement thing than anything else. Maybe they think it will make me feel more at home and I’ll stay longer, bringing more aid and encouragement to their often powerless lives.
Language study is a constant reminder of just how un-African I am. So much of language centers on culture, ways of thinking, heart orientation to the world around us. While the Babwisi constantly reiterate that “Lubwisi is the easiest language in the world”, I am not convinced. Lubwisi IS astonishingly simple in many ways. The number of nouns in a primitive culture, for example, is just going to be significantly less. Also, a lot of words that they acquired through contact with the outside world can be used interchangeably with English words (radio, video, shirtie, skirtie).
BUT, the big BUT, the African way of thinking. If Lubwisi is your third in a slew of Bantu langugages (as for many here) . . . . It’s so simple. You already have good eighty percent of the language through the others you know and totally key, you know how to think, not to mention, how to assemble your words into an order that makes some sense here.
Yesterday in my language time we were working our way through a role play conversation with a young child. These role play conversations are always such good learning experiences as so much more is communicated than the actual Lubwisi words. The gestures, tone and direction of conversation often teaches me much more than the words themselves. As we continued in the conversation, I learned that for African women talking to young boys in the culture it is appropriate to tease them about taking you as their wife and ask when they are coming to bring the bride wealth to your father. I haven’t decided whether I’m willing to try conversation out yet.
We discussed meeting someone on the road and asking “okwika ha?” Where will you reach? The answer, typically African, goes along the lines of “I am reaching there.” (There, Down, and Up are some of those frustrating African English terms that require further translation for us Americans.) But what really amazed me was the response that I was given and carefully wrote into my language book. It translates like this; “The bird that says ahiahi; you hear it when it’s near but it travels far.” Apparently this translates in American English to ” what exactly do you mean by the word ‘there’”.
Does anyone understand why my brain often feels like mush from daily interactions? Please say yes.

This week our church’s building was finally completed. After many months of worshiping in our “banana leaf church” - made of just reeds covered with leaves, God has completed this “Nehemiah wall.”
About six months ago we bought the land for our church and have been slowly but significantly contributing to building costs, yet we are thankful to see that God has allowed us to help in a way that has also encouraged the congregation to remain independent and self-sufficient. Church members did almost all the labor on the building themselves and contributed substantially to the costs, no small sacrifice.
Imagine my amazement as I saw the completed building on Saturday after returning from Kampala . . . . It looks just as it did in the dream I had, at the time that we had felt the clear calling from God to buy the land for the church; from the placement of the building, the size, the windows and even the shade of the blue paint on the doors (in a place where very little paint is used). What confirmation.
Yesterday we celebrated in the church with a big celebration Sunday. The LC (Local Council member/mayor of the area) came as did many neighbors and visitors. We sang, danced, prayed and heard God’s word. There was a tremendous amount of joy and victory. We had sponsored a feast for the entire church and neighboring community and God multiplied food again to provide for almost 100 more than we had planned for. I love to see people fed because I think it’s such a picture of God’s kingdom come.
Despite Satan’s ongoing attempts to stop the production, through breakdowns in almost every possible piece of equipment, at five pm, after a full day of celebrating, we showed the Jesus film in Lubwisi to about 400 people packed into our church’s building. It was HOT! I love watching the reactions to the film, as people clap and cheer at each miracle Jesus performs and the house comes down when the resurrected Jesus appears. The gestures and articulations of amazement are precious. We pray that God saves hearts and changes lives through the showing.

On May 9th I turned 27. I think my mom is amazed by how old I am and my mother-in-law by how young I am. It’s a good place to be. Birthdays are a big deal to me - growing up the whole day was always sacred to whichever family member was celebrating. David, who in previous years has forgotten his own birthday, has graciously learned to celebrate my day in a way that makes me feel really loved.
This year I had no idea what to expect and was a little sad that my birthday comes at a time in our team calendar when we are all dispersed and traveling. I couldn’t have had a better time, despite a recurrence of sickness on our last night in Bushara, which left me on meds over my birthday for possible malaria (those meds are really a doozy,wow.) It was our first of a two day stop in Kampala for stocking up and we spent the day doing fun errands, including girl time with a few team mates who were also in KLA. I opened several very fun packages from home and got lots of great phone calls from the States including a speaker call from the whole prayer team at Mariners, our home church - talk about a surprise!! What a wonderful gift.
In one of those unmistakable moments when God lets us know that He loves us and knows our hearts, one of my favorite authors was speaking in Kampala the night of my birthday. What are the chances. It was my first time to ever hear an American speaker in Kampala and here it was on my birthday and one of the few speakers I would have really wanted to hear. After that, David and I went out for a late dinner at a darling Kampala restaurant - Thai food!! (Sometimes I am amazed by this city.)
I’m so thankful for the ways that God continues to show me how high, deep and wide His love for me is. I’m thankful for all the wonderful friends and family members He’s given me. I’m thankful for the cards, gifts, phone calls and words that have been spoken to me. I’m thankful for that this life I’m living is dedicated to Him - that I belong to Him.

Continuing east and south across Uganda (from our home in far western Uganda against the Congolese border) we are now in Kabali where we are close enough to the border with Rwanda to see signs leading that way. We reach water and cross by a small ferry canoe over a beautiful lake to a little island. Lake Bunyoni means “the place of small birds” and Bushara Island is covered with them. We stay facing the water in a small and perfectly romantic tent surrounded by flowers, trees, and the fresh, fresh air of the island.
This covered tent is a permanent part of the island and our tent experience is comfortable with a small composting toilet facility and sweet little outdoor shower where they bring hot water and pour it into the small tank below which we bathe. The reed and pole canopy structure that covers our tent extends out to make us a shady stone patio. Here our washstand sits and birds come each morning to perch on our little mirror and sing to us.
We swim in the so-cold lake energized by the glacial feel and come out shivering to look forward to those hot showers - a luxury in our lives. An immense rope swing pendulates from a high wooden platform then over dry ground and past a big and solid-looking tree into deep water. Adults and children alike swing from it, risking sure death to reach the freezing water and prove their strength and courage. We laugh, shout and gasp together. Team and family.
Bushara Island, due to altitude, mostly, is one of the coldest places in Uganda. Today as I sat in the covered dining area soaking in a book, I saw my breath coming in faint white clouds. The rain is falling today making the cold air feel even cooler and my toes and nose feel icy. Not surprisingly we are refreshed by this climate change and water and the plethora of birds. Refreshed by stillness and the silence of each morning and night (except for those birds!). Refreshed as we contemplate little more than what to order for breakfast, lunch and dinner and which card game or book readings to join in on. We swim, canoe, bird-watch, read, walk the small perimeter of our island world, converse, and sleep.

We are on term break right now. The Ugandan school calendar is year round and so is our mission school’s. CSB is on a three week break and RMS takes about four weeks off. Various team members have departed to visit family in countries diverse. Meanwhile a few families and singles, including us, have joined together to enjoy a little down time in our own beautiful country of residence.
Yesterday we departed early, making it over the mountains and into Fort Portal by midday. Later we hit true “adventure” as one of the vehicles encountered serious enough mechanical difficulties to warrant repairs at a local garage. Fortunately we found one that seemed reputable enough. The mechanic seemed to have some idea what he was doing ( we always wonder whether the mechanics themselves have ever driven a vehicle). In fact this guy was quite good. Repairs necessitated looking for the problem, finding missing small parts then heading into the center of town on a motorcycle to search high and low for the part before finally having it made and then returning to put the piece on. This went on twice ( a total of about four hours) before we were finally on our way again. Vehicle fixed, thank you GOD!
Now we were driving through a game park on our way to the little lodge where we spend our first night, Kingfisher West. Since our repairs had taken so long we drove through the park at the best possible time, a few hours before sunset. We saw so many animals including three groups of elephants and baboons, bush buck, water buck, warthogs. What beauty. We crossed the equator and entered the southern hemisphere.
This morning we awoke to the most gorgeous of views. Kingfisher West is a series of bondas or small round grass covered buildings set on a ridge overlooking Queen Elizabeth National Park (the game park we drove through to arrive here.) The tree-covered savannah stretches into the horizon as far as the eye can see. Sunsets and sunrises are gorgeous. If you watch closely you can see elephants moving through the trees, at times, and at night you can hear the calls of lions and hyenas. As the sun rose, David and I wandered out to our tiny terrace overlooking the park and sat in silence enjoying the beauty. Later Naomi and then finally Quinn wandered out to soak in our warmth and remind us how lucky we are to live here as they watched for the kingfisher birds this resort takes it’s name from.

Many months back I wrote about a sweet little girl named Kamala. I think her picture is up on the flikr site somewhere too . . . . Born a twin, her mother abandoned them both at birth. Her father, a soldier, is on duty and thus completely unavailable. The twin, Kiiza, was born healthy and typical, but little Kamala came to us with severe issues from birth. She has a severe case of cerebral palsy and microcephaly and we think it’s likely that she’s blind and deaf too.
I first met Kamala in the nutrition program. Her father’s sister had bravely come far from home to care for the twins. I was won over by Kamala from the moment I laid eyes on her. Since she had aged out of our nutrition program, I bought her a goat to provide her with needed milk. A friend agreed to sponsor her and pray for her and I brought her protein powder I was receiving from the states and tried to think how better to help her.
These physical conditions are terrible in developed countries, but here in rural East Africa they are a fate worse than death, perhaps. With no real hospitals or any kind of therapies available to her, Kamala is simply a mouth to feed and a body to wash. Her hope of any kind of a life is really not there. Each time I would go to visit her I would find her lying on her mat quietly and peacefully grinding her teeth or sucking on her lips. Her family was gentle and kind to her but they had no way to do more.
Now Kamala is dying. She is simply refusing to eat . . . Her body has given up the fight. When she eats anything it comes right back up. She can only handle small portions of water that keep her alive for the time being. Kamala is a little skeleton of a girl now. Though she is two years old she only weighs about ten pounds.
The last time I saw her, I knew she would soon die. I went up today to visit her, to pray over her and say goodbye, to encourage her caregiver. She is even skinnier now. Her little head is just jutting bony plates against each other, her torso a mass of bones and skin and her arms and legs unbelievably tiny.
I asked permission and went inside the hut to pray with her. My translator stood by me, listening and assenting as I asked Jesus to take her quickly, not to let her suffer much longer. I cried like a baby as I held Kamala’s hand and stroked her head. I didn’t want to hold her, it looked too painful for her body. I thanked God for the beautiful gift of Kamala’s sweet and patient life. I thanked Him for what she teaches us about the beauty of trust and of neediness.
I cried all the way home. My poor translator sat beside me trying not to look as awkward as he felt. We talked about crying. About the cultural aversion here to crying. I talked about how healing I think crying is, about how crying lets the sadness out. We talked about why people are afraid to cry here and in America. Why men think it’s not macho.
Then tonight I told Naomi and Quinn about Kamala. They had begun to love her too. Naomi started to cry when we talked about her and quickly said “let’s not talk about her anymore, otherwise we’ll be sad.” And so WE talked about crying, the three of us. Talked about sadness and tears in this culture. Talked about why Kamala came to this world. And again I cried as I reminded them that someday we’ll see Kamala in heaven and she’ll be able to see and hear and laugh and dance and she’ll say to us, ‘ thank you for loving me.’
Pray for my sweet Kamala not to suffer. There is something so precious about standing in the shadow of death and knowing that the one you touch will soon be holding hands with Jesus. Something incredibly heartbreaking and yet confirming about being in the presence of one who is near to leave us for something we can’t manage to get our minds around. Sweet Kamala thank you for sharing some of your life with me. I love you, baby girl, and I’ll see you someday when we’re both standing with Jesus. And I just can’t wait to see you smile for the very first time.