ramblings

Uganda is finding a fast road into my heart. Or rather, the people are finding a fast way into my heart...
The nursery school here is right near my room. Yesterday after lunch, I returned to my room and said hi to the children on the way. Instantly about 12 of them were surrounding me, touching my fingernails to see if this muzungu skin was real. I finally mustered up what felt like the heartless strength to say goodbye and shut my door....they knocked and continued peeking into the window...It feels a bit uncomfortable to be such an instant celebrity here. I'm still getting used to that and figuring out how to draw the attention away from myself...

The nuns are wonderful. Their work is centered on prayer and love. Many of them (and the girls, too) are a bit quiet. My tendency to quickly delve into conversation is tempered by the realization that friendship might mean sitting quietly with people each day, and each day sitting a bit closer.
The school's property is beautiful. Everything is spotlessly clean. Today we spent a bunch of time weeding ground-nut plants...I hope that the garden in NC is growing.

The path to my room passes by the basement kitchen and garden where Sophie and Lawena and Amito prepare most of my meals. They often hand me a stool and say "sit!" So I do, talking and sitting and watching how they cook. Last night they escorted me to my room, all giggles. It reminded me of many late night summer walks with Deer Run (my camp) girls.

The highlight of my day today was spending time with the child mothers. There are 9 of them. Tonight while I was sitting with them, they discovered my blonde hair. I had it wet and tied up on top of my head, and we took it down. They combed and braided it, fascinated with it. The law here that school girls cut their hair to basically shaven.

The child mothers let me strap a baby onto my back (African style, with a piece of fabric). The feeling of a child sleeping in the small of my back brings out every maternal bone in my body. Lest I romanticize motherhood, I quickly am halted in reminding myself how they came to be mothers. Luc and Darriel tell me that sometimes the girls have flashbacks in the middle of the night. I am thankful to be spared the inevitable sleeplessness from hearing those screams. They invited me to eat with them, and we ate. They are joyful and beautiful mothers. Life is celebrated. Laughter is abundant. (Maybe I should warn Caleb R-G that I might try to carry him around with a piece of cloth on my back?)

Darriel, Luc, and I are getting along well. It's nice to be three. It's also interesting (and healthy, I think) to be processing all of these things with a college sophomore who is a self proclaimed agnostic. I find a bit of dry humor when we're sitting with these nuns who are wonderful women and pillars of faith, and Luc smiles quietly and replies, to their questions, "I'm an agnostic." God is working on his heart.

We've sat in the clinic for the past two mornings, where one of the sisters (who is a midwife) sees patients and then Katherine (the nurse) dispenses drugs. We help count and dispense the drugs. Mostly, the people who come into the clinic are women with babies. Often, the children have malaria. Their visit to the clinic (and their drugs) costs about $1.50.
We learned how to play net-ball, a version of basketball minus the court, the net on the basket, and the dribbling. I would gladly trade my skirts and chacos for shorts and sneakers, but it's nice to be movin around. We've sung with the girls, walked into Gulu, attended an Anglican church, taken lots of tea, and talked. Right now we're watching local news with the nuns. Everyone over here is excited for the world cup.

Well, I'm running out of steam. I could literally write for hours (and could give extensive theological commentary, but I'll let your theologial minds fill in those details)....my mind and senses are saturated with the beauty of a new place and a new people. But, I'll spare you (at least for now). Somehow I'll figure out how to upload photos and post them on the blog. (My computer charger died -- finally. It was a slow death. Darriel, and electrical engineer, tried to disect and patch the wire, but with no success.) Bye, 12-inch powerbook. It's been real. You've gotten me through 1 1/2 degrees.

love. keep those posts (and sermons) coming.

and Emily, relax and enjoy this time. We are all SO stinkin excited to celebrate your marriage together.