Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Number 7, Cheese.

Meeting the many missionaries this past weekend revealed to me one thing (among others)...but one crucial thing: If I am serious about living in Africa one day, I must be willing to give up cheese. Talk about daggers through chests. Cheese is surely somewhere on my top ten list of priorities, and probably in many locations--such as, God #1, Everyone else # 2, Colby Jack # 3, Muenster # 4, sharp Cheddar # 5; I really wish I were joking. This is something I need to think long and hard about, the nearly inaccesability of cheese here in Africa. This is what makes me seriously consider Europe as a possible mission field.
I would have no trouble settling for Greece.

The upside, though, on the flipside of cheese, is: the family-man missionary we met, Mark, father of 4, said Africa was great for raising his children. He said it's a wonderland for them, for obvious reasons, as long as they keep the red mud and insects in moderation.
He also said he is respected a lot here, because of the number of kids he has. They told us that when an African finds out you're an only child, they say sorry. :) I think my 7-children plan will go over well here.
(Mom: the other missionary's wife, who just had a child, said that if she's ever in the states and pregnant, she will fly to Kampala to deliver the kid, because she was that crazy about the doctor. Who knew?)
I almost forgot. We visited one of the missionary's homes--the one I just mentioned about Kampala and delivery. Gorgeous, gorgeous home--and a great size. Beautiful yard, everything. What are the living expenses? 500 dollars a month, to rent. I can't believe this; crazy. What I meant to say, though, was: as you walked into their home, they had 4 clocks hanging, with the different time zones of their family members. It was the sweetest thing ever; I need to start buying clocks.

I forgot to mention the church service from this weekend. Words can't describe, really, so I'll keep it brief. There were so many "special music" slots. They love to sing--and dance! The kids were basically moon-walking, and with such rhythm. Jealousy right here.
The children performed two songs for us, really long songs--and they all had solos. So incredible.
Kyle, one of our guys, preached while a Ugandan man translated. It was such a sweet experience for us; I can't imagine how it was for him.

Two of the missions students here are engaged (they came that way; 2 weeks is quick). What is funny: Scott's family here told him they would be at the wedding. None of us knew what to think about that; Scott didn't know if they expected him to fly them in and all that jazz or what--so he just let it be. Last night they mentioned it again, so Scott said "I have to know if you're serious." They are. His African parents are planning on paying their way to the states, and staying with Scott's family (return the favor, right?), then leaving to visit other American friends once Scott and Betsy leave for their honeymoon. So hilarious, so wonderful.

Speaking of weddings, I get to attend one on Saturday. I didn't think I'd get the chance, for I am missing my sister's by a day. But weddings are constant here. Two other missions students have already been to one; they had to wear the traditional African dress. I'm a little scared about that. But pumped all the same.

I don't think I could ever complain about the bathroom situation here. Actually, "toilet." The bathroom is where you bathe; go figure (skating).
Hole or seat, doesn't matter: what is amazing is that the toilet paper rocks. As in, your main choices are pink or teal. You can't go wrong. White is boring in so many ways.

We watched Africa Cup of Nations last night--their massive "football" tournament. I couldn't believe I was in Africa, with the African commercials, and my African family. Because it all seems normal, similar to home. Aida got a kick out of imitating Ghana's victory dance; it was hilarious. I asked Huntington who he wanted to win. He told me Morocco are northern Africans, Arabs, and Ghana is in West Africa. So, obviously, he wanted Ghana to win. He laughed about this; but he laughs when he says anything and everything. Rebecca kept pointing out one of the players on Morocco's team, who apparently looked like a terrorist. The only word, strung in with her Luganda, that I could recognize was "Taliban."

Speaking of only one understandable word strung in with everything foreign to me, I was able to understand a conversation Huntington and Mom had last night, solely by nonverbal communication and one recognizable word. He came in holding pills. They talked back and forth, he pointed to his nose and his thigh, and I heard "boda-boda" in there somewhere. Boda-bodas, initially "border-borders" are motorbike taxis, not to be confused with motorcycles, which they call "picky-pickies." (Dad: change Leona's name to Picky-picky, please). Anyway, boda-bodas are ridiculously dangerous--and this is why the U.S. Embassy doesn't care if we Americans come in to Africa, sleep around, contract diseases, etc., as long as we don't ride the boda-bodas. Or so I'm told. What I gathered from Huntington's "mime": he had fallen off a boda-boda, hurt his nose and thigh, and that's what the pills were for. Afterwards, Mom translated. And, well, bingo.

Scott Hendricks (I'm sitting next to your sister right now), you wanted to know some of the characteristics of Katonda. :) I will email you more fully later (as I learn more), but one thing that's pretty sweet: the missionaries explained to us that the term "African atheist" is essentially an oxy-moron. That's not to say that everyone here knows Christ, but it says something about how receptive they are to all things spiritual. They are very spiritual people--which has a lot to do with their history with ancestral gods and spirits, witchcraft, etc. But on a good note: it isn't hard to convince them of Katonda, Yahweh, God. Ben, one of the missionaries, told us about a conversation he's had with many Africans. When they find out about the number of Americans who don't believe in God, they get so confused, and indignant. They find it so ignorant. "How could they not believe?!" He compared it to, if it's raining, saying, "It is not raining." Of course rain exists, and of course it is raining.
It makes sense, I suppose. Our country is so centered on the self, our ability and our scientific advances, etc. that allow us to provide for ourselves, to think so highly of ourselves. Here, Betsy's host family tells her, "If it doesn't rain, you don't get washed." Harsh. But really, they are dependent on Him, His presence and His provision are obvious to them, and God's existence is a no-brainer, ("E.T.C., E.T.C." as Professor Mukakanya would say).
I love how simple it all is. I wish we were more like them. They are absolutely right when they call our unbelief ignorant. God is as sure as fire, water: life, of course, wouldn't be possible without Him.

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