I don't think we're in Kansas anymore...

I’ve traveled to some places that I expected to be vastly different from America, then arrived to find that with globalization these days, I felt like I could have been in America. Sure, things were different. The food was a little different, maybe they spoke a different language, and the architecture was slightly different. But things were developed and bustling, people mostly dressed the same, American music blared and most things were fairly familiar.

I supposed I expected the same before my trip here. “Oh, don’t be naive,” I thought. “People have this stereotypical view of Africa, but it will be less ‘African’ than I’m really expecting."

Wow, was I wrong! I’ve been thinking about this lately, how I could never for an instant be fooled into thinking I’m in America. I think about my boda ride to work, and about the things that flash before my eyes, several things each second that are constant reminders of where I am.

First of all, even being on a boda, a motorbike taxi. The greetings to my boda driver in Luganda. Out the gate and onto a paved road with more potholes than pavement. Then up the hill on a dirt road with poor drainage, with a canyon cutting through it about a foot deep that gets deeper each time it rains. Don’t fall in! Goats, chickens, cows roaming around the roads. Huge bunches of green bananas ready to make matoke. Piles of trash on the road. Boda men washing their bodas in the ditch. Women and children drawing water into jerry cans and carrying them on their heads. Rows of dukkas, little shops, all selling the same items. Stores with random combinations like “Stella’s Salon, Video Store, and Phone Charging” or “Electronics and Dry Cleaners” because one business usually isn’t enough to keep the family fed. Children playing freely and entertaining themselves in the most amazing, simple ways. Children running around with knives. Don’t worry, they’re only off to peel some matoke. Houses left midway into construction, probably because there wasn’t enough money to finish it. Everything constructed of mud bricks, cement, sticks, and sheets of metal. Women with children on their backs, wrapped tightly in a piece of cloth. Women carrying the most amazing things on their heads. A field with huge storks roaming around. Bodas hauling the most unimaginable things, maybe their passengers carrying a door, holding it vertically. Or my personal favorite sighting, a whole other boda hoisted up on the seat of another boda, strapped on and heading probably for repairs. Women hand washing clothes, dishes, or children in plastic tubs on their porch, or sweeping with a homemade hand broom. Children yelling “Bye Mzungu!” Dust flying if it’s dry, mud flying if it’s wet.

I could go on. There’s maybe one place I could maybe feel like I was in America, and that’s a huge shopping center which I refer to as “Mzungu Land.” It’s very Western. I hardly ever see another mzungu except for those I work with, then when I go to this shopping center, I’m like, “Where have all the mzungus been hiding??” (At that shopping center, apparently.) But even there, my dirty feet and face, and my exhaustion from figuring out transportation, haggling down prices, the language, etc, ensure that I don’t forget exactly where I am.

sweet Juma, one of our kids at the rehabilitation home, playing one afternoon

The girls at the rehabilitation home peeling green bananas to make matoke, one of the local staples

a local market along the side of the road

Prayer Notes:

1. My prayer lately has been that God would open my spiritual eyes. DP is a Christian organization, but that doesn't mean everyone who comes across its path is a Christian. In fact, it in a way makes it an easy place to hide, to just blend into the background so no one will bother you. Please pray that God will show me those who are in need of him and how I may minister to them.

2. Please pray for Jeremy, my boyfriend, as he begins his deployment in Iraq. He left Monday morning and will be gone for about a year. I said goodbye to him on a bus from Rwanda to Uganda. Not your typical relationship! Pray for safety for him and that the year will go by quickly!

3. Part of my work here is working with the youth in drama. I would like to lead them in writing their own play, pulling from their own experiences. The truth is... I don't really know how to do that! Pray for guidance as I start this project soon.