This is Africa (TIA)

It takes a long time to fall asleep in Africa. At least, that is my conclusion after my first two nights here. It’s very dark, very quiet and very, very noisy. All of the noises that I am used to are missing. There is no dryer tumbling, no air conditioning humming, and no fan blowing. Instead, there are insects and birds chirping that I’ve never heard before, calls to prayer from a nearby mosque, people talking to each other in a language I don’t understand, a wolf howling in the distance, and in spite of all of these noises, it’s just eerily quiet and dark. On the bright side, the darkness is a comforting reprieve from people’s curious stares and friendly visits to our house. We never know when we will hear the “woohoo” of a neighbor at the door. The all want to come in, extend their “you are most wel-o-come here” and “how is America?”, and ask how we are doing. This does not present a problem until the 5^th or 6^th person comes by and you realize that you have not been able to accomplish anything all morning.

We arrived in Masindi late last night and were shown around our new home by the housekeeper, Audrey, who is an interesting character. I think we are both overwhelmed by how big it is. There are three large bedrooms, two bathrooms, a sitting room, and a kitchen. When we first walked in, we were amazed at how clean the whole house was and for the first few hours we just enjoyed the ease of moving in, settling our things into closets, and arranging the few items we brought to make the house feel like home. As it began to get dark, however, my attitude changed. I noticed the spider webs in almost every corner, the lizard poop on the walls, the mud in the bathrooms, and the bugs that crawled out of every cabinet in the kitchen. TIA. As we continued exploring, we also realized that some of the locks don’t work, some of the windows won’t close entirely, some of the lights don’t work, and the electrical outlets in my room are dead. So, the end of the story last night was that in a house with three bedrooms, we both decided to lock ourselves into the one bedroom that had functioning locks and electricity. As we fell asleep to the deafening silence broken only by the howling wolf, I was VERY glad to not be in a room alone. This also happens to be the one room that has direct access to a bathroom, which comes in handy in the middle of the night when you don’t want to have to find the key to unlock the bathroom in the hallway. Every door in this house has a lock and key, so we joked last night that we hope we never have to leave in a hurry, because it would take us forever!

Hungry. That was what I felt all day yesterday and all day today. It is a strange feeling to be almost completely helpless to provide myself with food and water. There comes a point where I get tired of asking for help and just prefer to suffer. I don’t know if there is a psychological explanation for this phenomenon, but I know I have experienced it in other cultures as well. I haven’t eaten a real meal since I left home, and I keep going back in my head to that fondue that my mom made on my last night in the states. Meat. Before we left Kampala yesterday, Michael and Amanda took us to a grocery store to get a few things for lunch on the road. Fortunately, we still had one can of tuna and some bread left over last night and made tuna sandwiches, accompanied by bottles of wine that we hoarded from Delta. We kicked back and watched The Proposal (in the pitch dark, mind you, because the power was out)…and for a moment, I forgot I was in Africa. Then the aforementioned wolf started howling and I remembered, TIA.

Today was market day and we poked our heads in and out of dark and musty stalls, stacked from floor to ceiling with strange looking appliances, bottles, and vegetables. We were happy to find many things that we thought would not be available here…as well as buy a few much needed cooking and cleaning supplies for our house. Shopping in Africa (and almost any 3^rd world country) is a serious case of sensory overload. Most of the shops sell the exact same items as the one next door, so they all want your business. There are chickens, children, and streams of muddy water running through the aisles between the shops and occasionally a swinging machete aimed at a whole cow hanging from the roof will come uncomfortably close to hitting you. Bartering is also a tiring process, especially when Ugandan English can be very hard to understand. All in all, markets are packed with things and people and animals and yet, in the middle of so much noise and commotion, it is possible to feel suffocatingly alone.

I really don’t know how people managed travel and living abroad before there were computer and cell phones. Being here will be a good lesson for me in learning to appreciate solitude. I am definitely NOT there yet, but I think it is something worth pursuing and since I am here in Uganda and frequently find myself without connection or with a sever shortage of human beings nearby with whom I can have deep and meaningful conversation, I have decided to try and learn to value quiet and solitude as an opportunity to listen to myself and to listen to God. I hate it so far. The feeling of being in a city where only 5 or 6 people know me and where I don’t know how to get around on my own is very unnerving. Turning off my phone and computer at night and sitting in the thick darkness, I imagine Africa on the map and imagine how far it is from America…Australia…Mexico…Honduras…the places where I know my way around, know people love me, and know what to expect. And then, I remember that Jesus asked me to be here. This is a perfect opportunity for him to show himself strong in my weaknesses.

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