Dolphin in a Desert

Looks pretty ridiculous, doesn't it?  My crazy little house brother Jack comes up with these hilarious Australian analogies all the time.  His latest, a dolphin in the desert, basically means how at times we feel out of place, foreign, or long for the familiarity of our home countries.  Everyday has at least one dolphin in the desert moment whether it is good or bad.

I never realized how much I thoroughly enjoy and crave introvert hikes out in the wilderness or a lone sit on the beach.  Some of my best conversations with God have been on a walk around Thetis Lake or a run up Mount Doug.  I am missing my independence to walk freely and alone.  Last Monday, I lay on a picnic blanket out in my yard, cranked the Elizabethtown soundtrack and pretended I was at Willows Beach feeling the salty ocean spray on my face and sand between my toes.  As pathetic as I may sound, I really needed that hour.

On Tuesday, my team headed out to a prison for ministry.  The prison we were at is a small jail yard where men and women who committed petty crimes reside.  In Uganda, it is common for people to be guilty until proven innocent rather than the opposite, so some of the prisoners there were wrongly accused and innocent.  Our team split apart into two groups, one to the men’s side and one to the women’s side to share a word on discouragement, sing some songs, and pray with the prisoners.  I went to the women’s side, where I met a group of twenty women sitting on a blanket in the grass.  It was challenging for me as the lesson was spoken in Luganda.  Despite the challenge, the one on one prayer time with the women was so worth it.  Holding the hands of these prisoners, I asked God for favor and justice in the lives of these women.  They have as much dignity and worth as the next person.

Our classes are on the second floor of the Watoto Central Church building and on our breaks, we sometimes look out off the balcony to the busy streets of Kampala.  On Wednesday, a few of us were out on the balcony and witnessed below, a man caught stealing something from a vehicle.  A man held tightly to this thief as other men gathered around the scene, cussing and a few punching the thief.  Eventually a police officer dawdled over to arrest the man and take him off on a boda boda.  After the whole episode, my friend Ritah turns to me and says “Thank God that police officer was there.  The mob would have killed him.”  They would have taken the law into their own hands and would have beaten the thief to death.  I talked to Mamma Shirley about this after and she explained to me that it is almost normal and what is expected.  I can’t even find the right words to describe how repulsive and corrupted that idea of that behavior being normal is.  Please pray for this “eye for an eye” mentality to completely cease to exist here in Uganda.

On Thursday, our team was assigned to visit two women from the Living Hope ministries at their homes.  Living Hope ministries empowers people living with HIV to provide for themselves and their families.  As we taxied and walked along the busy streets of Kampala, I felt an eruption of frustration and hurt by the stares and calls at me because of my race.  I truly am the Kermode bear of Uganda, a spotting of a white person is rare.  I understand the judgments and stereotypes that come along with people from the western world but it still hurts.  I am an ordinary person, not any different or have anything more special to me.   Please do not give me any special privilege, or target me because of my skin color.  As we were walking to one of our client’s homes, we passed a school for deaf children.  The students were out for recess and were smiling and making signs at us.  My friend Rosemary translated that the kids were saying “hello, how are you” to me the mzungu.  As precious as that moment was, I was hurt by the reality that those children probably wouldn’t have greeted my team of amazing individuals the same, if I wasn’t there.  

Even though I feel out of place at times, my Ugandan friends have been very supportive, whispering translations in my ear and getting to know me for my character.  Actually my friends have been way better than I could ever deserve.  I could honestly tell you the number of times a foreign exchange student came to Victoria and I didn’t give them the time of day or didn’t make much of an effort to make them feel comfortable or welcome.  That is one thing I will make a major improvement on when I get back to Canada as I now have some experience as a visible minority.  Another encouraging thing has been church ministry days.  Every Sunday, I have been helping out in the Children’s Church services with assistance in teaching the class, helping with the activities, and taking kids to the toilet. HA!  The children are actually getting to know and remember Auntie Emily… rather than the mzungu teacher.  I am really enjoying the kids in children’s church.

I will leave you with words from Callie’s mom, “For any of you struggling with culture issues… remember that '…all unity will one day be restored.' That's the beauty of heaven.”   In the meantime, we have to show God’s love the best that we can in this world.

Random notes that are completely irrelevant to the theme of this post:

+I have become a hairdresser (stifle your laughter please)…. Me of all people?!  I am currently working on making a single dreadlock in Natalie’s hair.  It’s a working progress…. 

 

-   I have noticed many funny faith-proclaiming names for local stores and things, such as God is Good Taxi, the Gracious Medical Center, and my personal favorite, Jesus Cares Pork Joint.

Peace and love