Settling Dust: Coming to Terms
Dearest family and friends,
I’m back for round two. Sorry I’m delinquent. No surprise there, though, I guess.
On the internship side, here's a little of what I've been doing. I have been able to brainstorm with the staff at Uganda Crafts about some marketing ideas and have begun to work on them. Additionally, I have been working closely with Kenneth, one of the staff, on formulating a proposal for a weaving-training program. It is a very solid idea and I think the proposal seems professional. (But then I guess I wouldn’t know…) We have sent it to Ten Thousand Villages (if you don’t know what this is, you should check it out at tenthousandvillages.com) and are sending it soon to a Danish organization. If that project takes off, it could be much of my future work at Uganda Crafts. Also, I have been trying to network with other organizations in Kampala as well as abroad to increase and diversify our export markets. On Wednesday I attended a large meeting with Betty about the government’s desire to assist in developing exports within the handicrafts industry. They recognize that handicrafts provides income for women, disabled people, and many other at-risk groups, as well as very low income people, so as part of their Poverty Eradication Program they have decided to invest in this sector. On top of all these things, I have been able to go to villages multiple times to dye materials (raffia and banana fibers) with women who work with U.C. This has been fun, encouraging and rewarding.
A couple weeks ago, I was really struggling with my relationship with Kookie. I was no longer feeling supported by her, but I felt plenty of pressure to act, dress, give and talk in certain ways. She was very controlling of me and my things, and I found that perhaps my initial enthusiasm about sharing was misguided, because she takes all my things (including my only bra and my only pen) and doesn’t give anything back. I find some of my clothes missing periodically and when I ask, she goes to retrieve them from her box of clothes. I’m not sure what to make of this culturally, since when I talked with Kookie and Esther (another sister), they said that sharing is not really a cultural value here and that they personally get annoyed when people use their things. Additionally, she wants to control my time as well—especially in wanting to bring me to church every night, and every Sunday for like 9 hours. I was basically feeling like an image-enhancer for her. I was her muzungu pet. Additionally, she wasn’t telling me the truth about a lot of things and I didn’t know what to do with that.
But things with Kookie have balanced out such that my feelings about her and our relationship are a healthy mixture of what I wrote the first time and what I was feeling a few weeks ago. I have returned to the hopefulness of my first letter, realizing that the Lord truly did place me in this home and with this girl for a reason. I am continuing to learn much from and with Kookie, and have been convicted about my desperate need for humility in my thoughts towards her and her spirituality. At the same time, I have gained what I believe to be a reasonable understanding of her attitude regarding truth-telling. She tells lies to people for what seem to me to be no reason, but I am certain that within her cultural and personal narrative, they make perfect sense. I am beginning to figure that out. She is very concerned about her image and the way people in Kitemu think about her, and she does use me to a certain extent to enhance her image… but I have come to be okay with that because I do not feel that it would be appropriate yet for me to challenge her about it.
We have many fruitful conversations about spirituality, and I have been insistent on being honest with her about my doubts and concerns and I think my honesty is beginning to pay off. She is beginning to understand the source of my fears, cynicism and hope regarding Pentecostalism. She also has seen the depth of my desire to learn in this area and could not be more supportive—both in prayer, conversation and by bringing me before those who can teach.
This leads me to the next (and perhaps biggest) element of my life right now. I had been struggling very much with desiring discernment from God but not liking the vehicle in which it comes to people in the church here (i.e. very Pentecostal expression). It’s quite uncomfortable to me, but I have known for quite some time that I need to come to terms with this phenomenon, not least because Pentecostals are the fastest growing religious group in the world. Anyway, I have been praying a lot about that for a long time… much of my thought and prayer life centers around this. God has already been very faithful and has begun to grant discernment to me through scripture, other people, etc… I’m not inclined to be too specific here, but if you want to know more about this, I’d be happy to tell you. Just email me. But please pray that God would grow the gifts of the Spirit in me.
Another thing that has been going on in my thought life: Since I have been here, I have been surrounded by what in the US I would define as destitute conditions. No one has money, no one has opportunity, no one has economic hope for the future, though their material desires are great. Many people around me—in my house—are sick all the time and can’t pay for doctor’s fees. The children don’t have money for their school uniforms, and wear the same clothes day after day after day. Most of the mothers I have met have been abandoned by their husbands who left them for another woman. Three people in my close vicinity died this week because of various poverty-related illnesses.
Yet I do not feel it is strange, it just seems like life. I don’t feel the strong sense of injustice I usually have when encountering people living in poverty. It’s like, I’m one of them, and I don’t mind, and things are okay, and we laugh and dance and sing and eat and so life is good. Maybe it’s because I have an escape route planned that my heart is not heavy. I don’t have to stay here, and maybe I would feel trapped if I did. I know many of the people around me feel trapped—and they are. But it is not so bad, or at least it doesn’t seem so bad.
What is wrong with my perspective? Or what is right about it? I am still aware of the strong Biblical injunctions to care for the poor, but my idea of what defines material poverty is changing. My family doesn’t seem poor to me now. Street kids seem poor, some single mothers seem poor, but not my family. I’m not sure anything in my family’s life would be improved by plumbing or electricity. I’m not sure it would make a difference if the kids had their school uniforms or not. Maybe I have yet to see into a deeper realm of poverty, or I have yet to attain the relational intimacy necessary to understand the emotional poverty of the orphans around me (after all, Kookie is essentially an orphan and so are many of the kids in my house). I don’t know.
My biggest concern is—am I failing to enter into my circumstances in some way? I don’t feel capable of answering this question because I don’t know quite where to begin. I feel like I am, but maybe I should be asking more probing questions, being more intentional about discovering the reality of the poverty around me. It’s just that spiritual poverty seems much more pressing to me right now than emotional poverty. No conclusions here, just some thoughts.
A few small things you might be interested in:
1. I just finished plaiting my hair. Now I am a real African woman. It hurts a lot and takes a really long time…. I think it was at least partially because the texture of my hair is so different and soft. I had to sit for more than 3 full days…. And I look like raggedy ann (the doll, if you know who that is). It’s fun.
2. I went white water rafting on the Nile with Dan zeccola and Sam olson (other hngr interns in Uganda). I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. It was one of the more frightening experiences of my life but it was fun. I wish I could have gotten a picture of the rapids to show you… It was so scary. It was a class 5 river and most of the rapids were rated 5... way bigger than anything my family saw last summer in the Grand Canyon. Yikes. We flipped twice and the first time we flipped I was underwater for really long and thought I was going to drown. But I didn’t, so it's cool. Haha. I thought of Alex a lot cause I thought he would have been in heaven. But me, I was glad when the day was over, I have to say.
I’m going to go now, but thank you for reading this and caring about me. I care very much about you all.
Please pray that I would learn Luganda (I think I am slow…), that God would give me a spirit of thankfulness, and that the Spirit would move powerfully in my life, specifically enabling me to walk in the gifts I have been given.
Love, peace and joy,
emily.
I’m back for round two. Sorry I’m delinquent. No surprise there, though, I guess.
On the internship side, here's a little of what I've been doing. I have been able to brainstorm with the staff at Uganda Crafts about some marketing ideas and have begun to work on them. Additionally, I have been working closely with Kenneth, one of the staff, on formulating a proposal for a weaving-training program. It is a very solid idea and I think the proposal seems professional. (But then I guess I wouldn’t know…) We have sent it to Ten Thousand Villages (if you don’t know what this is, you should check it out at tenthousandvillages.com) and are sending it soon to a Danish organization. If that project takes off, it could be much of my future work at Uganda Crafts. Also, I have been trying to network with other organizations in Kampala as well as abroad to increase and diversify our export markets. On Wednesday I attended a large meeting with Betty about the government’s desire to assist in developing exports within the handicrafts industry. They recognize that handicrafts provides income for women, disabled people, and many other at-risk groups, as well as very low income people, so as part of their Poverty Eradication Program they have decided to invest in this sector. On top of all these things, I have been able to go to villages multiple times to dye materials (raffia and banana fibers) with women who work with U.C. This has been fun, encouraging and rewarding.
A couple weeks ago, I was really struggling with my relationship with Kookie. I was no longer feeling supported by her, but I felt plenty of pressure to act, dress, give and talk in certain ways. She was very controlling of me and my things, and I found that perhaps my initial enthusiasm about sharing was misguided, because she takes all my things (including my only bra and my only pen) and doesn’t give anything back. I find some of my clothes missing periodically and when I ask, she goes to retrieve them from her box of clothes. I’m not sure what to make of this culturally, since when I talked with Kookie and Esther (another sister), they said that sharing is not really a cultural value here and that they personally get annoyed when people use their things. Additionally, she wants to control my time as well—especially in wanting to bring me to church every night, and every Sunday for like 9 hours. I was basically feeling like an image-enhancer for her. I was her muzungu pet. Additionally, she wasn’t telling me the truth about a lot of things and I didn’t know what to do with that.
But things with Kookie have balanced out such that my feelings about her and our relationship are a healthy mixture of what I wrote the first time and what I was feeling a few weeks ago. I have returned to the hopefulness of my first letter, realizing that the Lord truly did place me in this home and with this girl for a reason. I am continuing to learn much from and with Kookie, and have been convicted about my desperate need for humility in my thoughts towards her and her spirituality. At the same time, I have gained what I believe to be a reasonable understanding of her attitude regarding truth-telling. She tells lies to people for what seem to me to be no reason, but I am certain that within her cultural and personal narrative, they make perfect sense. I am beginning to figure that out. She is very concerned about her image and the way people in Kitemu think about her, and she does use me to a certain extent to enhance her image… but I have come to be okay with that because I do not feel that it would be appropriate yet for me to challenge her about it.
We have many fruitful conversations about spirituality, and I have been insistent on being honest with her about my doubts and concerns and I think my honesty is beginning to pay off. She is beginning to understand the source of my fears, cynicism and hope regarding Pentecostalism. She also has seen the depth of my desire to learn in this area and could not be more supportive—both in prayer, conversation and by bringing me before those who can teach.
This leads me to the next (and perhaps biggest) element of my life right now. I had been struggling very much with desiring discernment from God but not liking the vehicle in which it comes to people in the church here (i.e. very Pentecostal expression). It’s quite uncomfortable to me, but I have known for quite some time that I need to come to terms with this phenomenon, not least because Pentecostals are the fastest growing religious group in the world. Anyway, I have been praying a lot about that for a long time… much of my thought and prayer life centers around this. God has already been very faithful and has begun to grant discernment to me through scripture, other people, etc… I’m not inclined to be too specific here, but if you want to know more about this, I’d be happy to tell you. Just email me. But please pray that God would grow the gifts of the Spirit in me.
Another thing that has been going on in my thought life: Since I have been here, I have been surrounded by what in the US I would define as destitute conditions. No one has money, no one has opportunity, no one has economic hope for the future, though their material desires are great. Many people around me—in my house—are sick all the time and can’t pay for doctor’s fees. The children don’t have money for their school uniforms, and wear the same clothes day after day after day. Most of the mothers I have met have been abandoned by their husbands who left them for another woman. Three people in my close vicinity died this week because of various poverty-related illnesses.
Yet I do not feel it is strange, it just seems like life. I don’t feel the strong sense of injustice I usually have when encountering people living in poverty. It’s like, I’m one of them, and I don’t mind, and things are okay, and we laugh and dance and sing and eat and so life is good. Maybe it’s because I have an escape route planned that my heart is not heavy. I don’t have to stay here, and maybe I would feel trapped if I did. I know many of the people around me feel trapped—and they are. But it is not so bad, or at least it doesn’t seem so bad.
What is wrong with my perspective? Or what is right about it? I am still aware of the strong Biblical injunctions to care for the poor, but my idea of what defines material poverty is changing. My family doesn’t seem poor to me now. Street kids seem poor, some single mothers seem poor, but not my family. I’m not sure anything in my family’s life would be improved by plumbing or electricity. I’m not sure it would make a difference if the kids had their school uniforms or not. Maybe I have yet to see into a deeper realm of poverty, or I have yet to attain the relational intimacy necessary to understand the emotional poverty of the orphans around me (after all, Kookie is essentially an orphan and so are many of the kids in my house). I don’t know.
My biggest concern is—am I failing to enter into my circumstances in some way? I don’t feel capable of answering this question because I don’t know quite where to begin. I feel like I am, but maybe I should be asking more probing questions, being more intentional about discovering the reality of the poverty around me. It’s just that spiritual poverty seems much more pressing to me right now than emotional poverty. No conclusions here, just some thoughts.
A few small things you might be interested in:
1. I just finished plaiting my hair. Now I am a real African woman. It hurts a lot and takes a really long time…. I think it was at least partially because the texture of my hair is so different and soft. I had to sit for more than 3 full days…. And I look like raggedy ann (the doll, if you know who that is). It’s fun.
2. I went white water rafting on the Nile with Dan zeccola and Sam olson (other hngr interns in Uganda). I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. It was one of the more frightening experiences of my life but it was fun. I wish I could have gotten a picture of the rapids to show you… It was so scary. It was a class 5 river and most of the rapids were rated 5... way bigger than anything my family saw last summer in the Grand Canyon. Yikes. We flipped twice and the first time we flipped I was underwater for really long and thought I was going to drown. But I didn’t, so it's cool. Haha. I thought of Alex a lot cause I thought he would have been in heaven. But me, I was glad when the day was over, I have to say.
I’m going to go now, but thank you for reading this and caring about me. I care very much about you all.
Please pray that I would learn Luganda (I think I am slow…), that God would give me a spirit of thankfulness, and that the Spirit would move powerfully in my life, specifically enabling me to walk in the gifts I have been given.
Love, peace and joy,
emily.
posted by emily "nalubwama" cool at 8:08 AM
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