TRASH TALK

FORTY DAYS!

Yes, forty days from today, Lord allowing, I will step off a plane at DFW International Airport onto American soil -- or in this case, most likely, American carpet.  I will have been away from the United States of America for 390 days.  So is there anything I'm really looking forward to experiencing again?  Any people that I can't wait to see?  Well, naturally.  

I am really looking forward to:

1. Seeing Jenni, Jonathan, & Noah the moment I get off the plane. (Okay, the moment I get off the plane, go through customs, and ride down the escalator.  But you know what I mean.)
   
2. Seeing everybody else from home. (Forgive me for not naming you individually, because I love you all so dearly and can't wait to see you, but I need to keep this list to a semi-manageable length.)
3. Going to my first RHCC worship service.  And my second.  And my third...you get the idea. Worshipping with family and friends.  
4. Sonic.  Everything.    
5. Driving a car with the steering wheel on the correct side of the car.  Driving on the RIGHT side of the road.
6. Wal-Mart!  Woohoo!
7. DVDs for sale that are NOT pirated copies.  Ditto for CDs, although, now that I think about it, I've hardly seen any CDs here.
8. Squirt.  (It's a soda.  You should try it.)
9. Going out in public and not once hearing myself referred to as Mzungu.  Now I don't really mind being called Mzungu -- after all, I am Mama Mzungu -- but not everyone here says it politely.  And I find it odd that when I'm shopping in the market, often the people trying to get me to buy from them will say it quite rudely.  
10. Roads with no potholes.  Roads with stop signs and traffic signals.  (Well, technically, what I need to say here is "Stop signs and traffic signals that drivers actually obey."  You will occasionally see a stop sign or traffic light in Kampala, the capital city.  But no one pays any attention to them.)
11. Salads.  Right now, even iceberg lettuce sounds good.
12. A store that has new clothes available in assorted sizes. 
13. How could I forget?  TARGET!  If you've never been to Africa, it's hard to explain how different the stores are here.  The stores in Mbale tend to be small, dark, and, well, dirty.  Here's a story that might help you understand:  Shawn and Linda Tyler, senior members on the team, once took James and Noeli Luchivya (Africans from Kenya who serve with us here in Uganda) to the States.  During their visit, the Tylers and the Luchivyas happened to go to Target.  Noeli walked in the door, took one look around the beautiful store with its good lighting, big aisles, and spotless, gleaming floors, and asked nervously, "Should I take my shoes off?"  
14. Not experiencing culture stress every time I walk out my front door.  Okay, everyone tells me I'm going to go through reverse culture stress, but I'll believe it when I see it.  I don't think I'm going to cry the first time I walk into Ross Dress for Less...unless it's tears of joy.
15. Stable electricity/water/Internet. And water pressure. (Washers that fill in less than an hour, showers with more than six pitiful streams of water -- wow!)
16. A Pizza Hut Meat Lovers pizza, extra cheese, delivered right to my door.
17. The spice/seasonings aisle at the grocery store.  Ditto for the packaged meals aisle.
18. Microwave popcorn.  (You can get it here sometimes, but it's EXPENSIVE.)
19. Watching a DVD on any screen larger than a computer screen.
20. Store-bought grated cheddar cheese.  Pitted olives. Raisins with no seeds.
21. Chili's, Applebee's, Chinese buffets, Mexican restaurants, Italian restaurants.
22. Dollar stores  (Boy, am I going to hit them before I come back to Uganda.)
23. Not having to answer my door if I don't want to.  (Just take my word for it.  It's almost impossible to hide out, at least here in Welldone Cottage.) 
24. An oven that heats to the temperature you set it at.
25. Homemade Chex Mix. 

I could go on for quite a while, but this is probably a nice representative list.  Look over the list again for a second, especially items 4 through 30.  Do you see anything noteworthy?  

Me neither.  

Everything on that list after No. 3 is completely and totally unimportant.  It's trash.  It's rubbish.  I mean, getting to serve the Lord here with the Mbale Mission Team is so cool, so exciting, how can microwave popcorn or Target compete with that?

Now you ask, what about Items 1, 2, and 3?  All of you, my family, friends, and church?  Ah, you are incredibly important.  You sent me out with your blessing.  I'm so excited to come back to see you all. I get to spend forty days with you.  And then?  Well, as the Lord allows, I will leave you once more (hopefully again with your blessing), and we will all praise God that he has allowed me to give you up -- those whom I love dearly in the US -- so that I may serve Him for one more year with those whom I love dearly in Uganda.

I know I've quoted it before, but it still says it all:  Philippians 3:7-10  "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.  What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things.  I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ -- the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.  I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead."  

"Pretty sure" is the answer

  

Now what was the question?

Before I tell you, please take a look at some photos taken a few Sundays ago.

Phillip and James praying for a new brother and sister in Christ

Gathering at the river

First the brother...

...now the sister are buried in baptism

A final prayer of thanksgiving and blessing

(Not given by me; I was just privileged to be standing near the sister.)

(But I did get to hug her right after the prayer!)

Yesterday I was trading e-mails with a friend back home.  I happened to mention that I was feeling kind of homesick.  Her loving, subtle, understated, and entirely valid response was exactly as follows: "So, if you are homesick, why are you staying another year???? Are you sure that you are up for it???"

With God's help, yeah, pretty sure.

Whilst I work on Chapter Two, Part Two...

DID SOMEONE MENTION BRAVE AND ADVENTUROUS?

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Group Hug Time!

Yes, opening a team account with Barclays Bank was a hard-won victory.  By the way, in the interests of honesty -- and because he might read this blog someday -- I must admit that said victory was due almost entirely to Phillip Shero's valiant efforts, not mine.  In any case, like most victories, there was a price to pay. The price of this particular victory?  Oh, right around $4,200.  

You see, the team money now lives in a beautiful blue and white building several kilometers away from my office. This is a much safer situation than when it resided in a small gray safe two meters away from my desk; however, since Uganda still remains a cash-only society, I will need to visit the money every now and then, partly to make deposits and withdrawals, and partly to make sure Barclays hasn't given the money away to some random stranger.  (See postscript on previous post.)  Unfortunately, as a white female in Uganda, walking to and from a bank on a regular basis will almost certainly begin to invite attention of a sort that I would rather do without, as in attracting would-be African Robin Hoods trying to equalize the wealth at my expense.  

On a happier note, in addition to needing to make frequent bank visits, my job here has grown in other ways to include additional responsibilities besides merely "keeping books." It will hopefully continue to grow over the next year, especially as the team goes forward with work on LivingStone International University. 

Frequent bank visits + added responsibilities = need to be able to travel around Mbale without hitching rides everywhere.  The answer?  

Meet the Mzungumamamobile!

Yes, thank you very much, God has blessed me with a car!  And I do mean THANK YOU!  So many of you have supported me over the past year with your encouragement, prayers, and with your hard-earned dollars.  I cannot say this strongly enough:  I would not be here if not for you.  And now that support has allowed me to buy a car.  When the exact car I needed came up for sale, the funds were already available, thanks to you all.  So everyone gather around.  Are you ready?  Good.  Group hug time! [Insert big group hug here.]  When I come home for a visit, I'll do my best to give each one of you an individual hug.

And now, if you'll excuse me, brave and adventurous Mzungu Mama is going to take the Mzungumamamobile out for a spin!  

Okay, what side of the road am I supposed to drive on?  

And why is the steering wheel on the wrong side of the car????

(Yes, I promise to get back to work on Safari Chapter Two now.)

A random post whilst I work on Chapter Two

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And you thought being a number-cruncher was easy!

As mentioned in a previous post, I don't often write about what I actually do for the team, not so much because I am a diffident, self-effacing, modest person -- although, of course, I am proud to say that I am all that -- but because I have not yet figured out a way to make the trials and tribulations of being the team bookkeeper even mildly interesting.  Because of this literary failing, you have been spared the six blogs I would have loved to write chronicling Phillip Shero's and Mzungu Mama's determined efforts to open a bank account for the team.  Six blogs:  One blog for each visit to Barclays Bank wherein we heroically fought to convince the less-than-enthusiastic manager that he should allow the Mbale Mission Team to deposit thirty-five million shillings with his bank. Oh, it was an epic struggle.  Somewhere around the fourth visit, exhausted and weary from completing yet another set of forms, and compiling yet another list of documents, I was ready to admit defeat and agree with Barclays that certainly the last thing they would want to do is actually allow people to give them money.  But Phillip, who is made of sterner stuff, refused to contemplate surrender.  And so we battled on. Finally, on visit number six, Barclays grudgingly allowed us to deposit the first ten million shillings.  (Yes, we have since deposited the other twenty-five million.)  

I now know what Winston Churchill must have felt like on VE Day...well, no, not really. But I do have that "I'm ready for anything now!" feeling. Mzungu Mama has tracked rhinos in the bush, AND she has successfully opened a bank account at Barclays Bank in Mbale, Uganda.  What brave adventurous thing should she attempt next?

Postscript: I know what you're thinking: Man, I hope she never has to make a withdrawal. If Barclays made her jump through all those hoops before they allowed her put the money in the bank, what in the world will she have to do to get the money back out again?  Blood test?  DNA sample?  (Don't be silly. This is a third-world country.)  Complete another six-inch stack of Ugandan-style paperwork? (Please, please, anything but that!)  Well, strangely enough, two weeks after we opened the account, a wire transfer came through from the States and I needed to withdraw eight million shillings.  When I walked up to the window, I had neither cheque book nor proper identification.  To make matters worse, the teller did not show me as an authorized signatory.   And Barclays still allowed me withdraw the 8,000,000 shillings.  

Another lesson in learning how things work in Africa.

Safari Adventure: Chapter One

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I believe I can see that rhino just fine from inside the bus, thank you.

I had been here for eight months, and whenever Noah (otherwise known as the cutest grandson on the face of the planet) asked me what animals I had seen so far, he heard the same tired litany:  cows, goats, and chickens.  I don't think that was the list he was hoping to hear from a grandmother living in Uganda.  In fact, I was beginning to suspect that he was perhaps a tad unimpressed, so I was overjoyed when Julie Reagan, a teacher at the MK mission school, invited me to go with her parents and her on a three-day safari at Murchison Falls Game Park.  Safari!  That means animals, right? Specifically, African animals that wouldn't look anything like cows, goats, and chickens, right?  I was so overjoyed, in fact, that I didn't bother to get the less important details, such as exactly what we would be doing for three days.  I just packed my bags and hopped in the car.  Murchison Falls and all you gorgeous animals that AREN'T cows, goats, or chickens, here comes Mzungu Mama!

Day one of the safari began as most adventures do in Africa:  with a long drive that starts way too early.  So early, in fact, that Abus, our driver and travel guide for the safari, arrived at exactly 5:55 am, just as Julie and I, the seasoned Ugandan residents, were in the middle of explaining to her parents that nothing ever starts on time in Africa so there was no need to rush to get ready by 6:00 am.  (By the way, Abus evidently did not know any of the rules involving punctuality in Africa, because he not only arrived five minutes early that first day, he spent the next three days trying to make us Mzungu hurry up.) 

It was only after we'd gotten everything loaded and were well on our way -- as in, past the point of no return -- that it occurred to me to request a safari itinerary. Julie happily laid out all the fun and exciting things in store over the next three days: Rhino tracking in the wild, game park tours in a pop-top van, riverboat excursions on the Nile, a visit to Murchison Falls, visiting chimps at the Jane Goodall Institute, a beautiful rainforest lodge to retire to -- it all sounded enchantingly exotic...unfortunately, I didn't quite take it all in.  My mind kept getting stuck on the first enchantingly exotic item on the list: rhino tracking in the wild. Rhino tracking?  In the wild?  I mean, wasn't there some way to do it in the tame?  ("Yes, there is.  It's called the zoo.")  

I spent the next two hours mentally composing brief, but intensely moving, final words to say as they carried me out of the bush on a stretcher. I had just come up with something guaranteed to make me posthumously famous for a week at least -- perhaps more if Reader's Digest picked it up -- when I realized Abus was slowing down the bus.  (Yes, we had a lot of fun with his name.)  There by the side of the road were several monkeys.  Really cute, photogenic monkeys, and they didn't look anything like cows, goats or chickens!  I forgot my impending doom long enough to snap a photo or two for Noah. 

(As always, click on the image to get a high-res version.)  

Is it just me, or do monkeys tend to look faintly disdainful?

Of course, this meant that we were getting close to the game park.  Sure enough, soon we were pulling into Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary. Abus introduced us to Ogencan and Richard, our guides for the rhino tracking, then he solemnly shook everyone's hands and climbed back in the van, declining an invitation to go along.  Hmm.  The guides requested that we sign a "guest book."  Right.  If this is a guest book, why is there a space to write down "next of kin"? 

Before we began the actual trek, the guides explained that rhinos had been hunted to near-extinction in Uganda, not just by mzungu but, sadly, by Africans as well, especially during the Idi Amin era.  Rhinos are still a severely endangered species, so much so that countries such as the US are sending rhinos back here to help with repopulation, which currently stands at a mere six rhinos.  I discovered that Disney has contributed two rhinos to the re-introduction program, a bit of information that seemed vaguely comforting.  I mean, it's rather difficult to imagine being attacked by a Disney rhino.  I decided to try to relax and enjoy the experience.

Disney's everywhere!

After making sure their walkie-talkies were in working order, the exciting moment had arrived:  Richard and Ogencan led us out into the African bush to track rhinos.  Of course, Richard and Ogencan did all the tracking.  We mzungu mostly just tried to keep up while avoiding natural hazards.  

In case you've always wondered, here is what the African bush looks like.

I know.  Bit of a letdown, isn't it?

After about a twenty-minute hike, our tracking efforts led us into a wooded area.  Richard slowed his pace and began softly calling, "Nande, Hasani...Nande, Hasani."   He explained that rhinos don't like to be surprised, so it's best to announce your presence by calling their names.  We were tracking white rhinos, which are relatively good-natured (unlike the decidedly cranky black rhino), but they can get provoked enough to charge.  Some of my original trepidation returning, I asked what should we do on the, ahem, off chance that a rhino charged.  Richard replied, "Don't worry.  You can call their name to try to calm them down, or you can climb a tree.  Rhinos don't climb trees."  I did not find this information particularly reassuring.  One, I hadn't yet been formally introduced to any of the rhinos; two, I couldn't climb a tree unless my life depended on it -- oh, wait.  Counting on the fact that terror would give me hitherto undeveloped skills, I spent the rest of the jaunt loitering around whatever tree was closest, trying to look nonchalant.

By now we were definitely in rhino territory.  After warning us to stay quiet (a totally unnecessary admonition), Richard and Ogencan led us to first one rhinoceros, then another, until finally we were within a few feet of all six rhinos -- excuse me, I mean a few hundred feet.  But take my word for it, it seemed like a few feet.  

I was casually leaning against a tree, trying to decide if these rhinos really looked white, when suddenly it hit me:  I, Mary Beth Bodiford, a grandmother from Fort Worth, Texas, was standing in the middle of Ugandan bush country, staring at a rhinoceros.  Was this cool or what?  Why was I wasting one minute being scared?  I would have burst into tears of joy, but since I didn't know where crying fell on the "Rhino Provocation Scale," I decided that perhaps I should content myself with taking a few photographs.

Click to get high-res, then try to count the rhinos.

A closeup -- at least, as close as I'm going to get.

Hello from Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary!

(Please note the rhino directly behind me.)

After we had had adequate time to bond with the rhinos and had taken about a zillion photos, Richard and Ogencan shepherded us back to Abus, patiently waiting for us in the van. Was it just me, or did he seem faintly surprised to have the same number of people return as had left?  In any case, we gave our heartfelt (in more ways than one) thanks to Richard and Ogencan, climbed in the van, and set off on the next stage of our safari adventure!

Richard and Ogencan

Chapter Two: "Watch out for those rocks, Mzungu Mama! They're very slipp -- never mind."

Better than a Safari!

(Honest, I'm going to write about the safari, but you've really got to read this first!)

Okay, I've been here nine months -- yes, really, NINE months!  Hard to believe isn't it? -- and this is definitely the most exciting news I have gotten to write about.  

But wait, you say.  More exciting than your very first blog written from Heathrow International Airport on your way to fulfill your heart's desire of serving the Lord overseas?  Yep. 

More exciting than reporting that you had crossed the equator and had stood on the shores of Lake Victoria?  Easily.

More exciting than writing about the joy of worshipping with believers from all over the world?  That's a bit of a toughie, but yes, I really think so.

Well, don't keep us in suspense, Mzungu Mama!  Give us the scoop!

Here it is:  On Friday, 13 February 2009, Phillip Shero had the honor of holding in his hands for all to see the Letter of Interim Authority granted by the Uganda National Council of Higher Education to LivingStone International University.  What does that mean?  That means -- well, here you go.  Read it for yourself.  (Hint:  Click on the image to bring up a high-resolution version.)

Letter of Interim Authority (Front)

Letter of Interim Authority (back)

It's true.  The flame of the vision of a Christ-centered, Ugandan university, first kindled in the hearts of missionaries here in Mbale, but now spread to Christians across Africa and to the uttermost ends of earth -- yes, even to the far-off land of America -- God has blessed that flame and ignited it into a fire.  The NCHE has granted LivingStone International University authority to build a campus, hire faculty and staff, buy computers, desks, pens and pencils, and basically do whatever else is necessary to "further the development of the proposed University to maturity."  

Praise God that He has given so many people the vision of what is most assuredly a humanly impossible task. Only God can make LivingStone International University a reality. However, by giving the flame of this vision to his people, God is graciously allowing us, Christ's body, to join him in what he is doing to bring about that reality.  

As a final note, I'd like you to close your eyes and mentally fast-forward about ten years. Imagine the day that, dotted all over Africa, are graduates of LIU: Graduates who have the flame of the original vision; graduates who go to work in businesses and banks and schools; graduates who shun corruption, who seek to serve the Lord in their work, who encourage those who work with them to do the same; graduates who "shine like stars in the universe." Think: How blessed would you feel if the Lord allowed you to have even the tiniest part in making that day happen?  Exactly. So now you know why I believe this is the most exciting news ever.

Postscript: Those of you with good memories may recall the university originally being referred to as Messiah International University. The first time the university proposal (a twenty-page document that covered every aspect of the university) went before the NCHE, it was turned down, partly on the grounds that the council did not want the name of a deity to be part of the university name.  After much prayer and discussion by Phillip Shero and others, the university name was changed to Livingstone International University. This honors David Livingstone, a missionary whose name is still much-revered in Africa and who symbolizes the love western missionaries have for the people of Africa. In addition, check out 1 Peter 2:4-5. "As you come to him, the living Stone--rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him--you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."  

Please pray for God's mighty hand to be on LivingStone International University!

Mbale Sundays with Mzungu Mama -- Part Two

One More Random Thought

3. ...on the collection plate.  (Yes, really.  I said it was random.)

We do the offering a little differently at MCC than back at home.  When it is time to take up the collection, someone sets the plates on the table up in front of the church, then the choir sings while people file up to the front to deposit their offering.  As the person in charge of counting the Sunday collection, I will tell you that Mbale offerings can be quite a bit more interesting than what you'd find in Fort Worth.  For instance, it is common to find two or three different types of currency among the donations.  Also, people here frequently give of their first fruits, so it is not at all unusual to have a bag of beans or a stalk of bananas presented on Sunday.  By the way, let me pass on a rather important discovery I've made: A bag of beans will usually fit in the collection plate; a stalk of bananas usually won't.  

Sadly, a few weeks ago I made another important discovery:  Someone was defining the term "collection" a bit too loosely and was collecting shillings from the plate.  Evidently, we were making it simple for him because everyone here tends to fold their money into a small, discreet, extremely stealable packet before placing it in the plate.  What to do?  Most of the stores in Mbale have armed guards stationed at the doorway to discourage thieves, but somehow I didn't think a uniformed man standing on the platform with a rifle trained on the church members was going to set quite the tone we wanted.  In fact, you could make the argument that it might discourage giving.  I opted for having offering boxes made as our theft deterrent.  The boxes are quite handsome and appear to be working out perfectly, although I am a little worried about how someone is going to fit a bag of beans through the slot.  And definitely, let's hope no one brings a stalk of bananas any time soon.

Offering time

And for those of you who are wondering -- as the MCC leadership committee did -- how I could be so certain that someone was stealing from the offering plate, well, it's quite simple, really.  The burglar made one rather unfortunate blunder:  He stole my offering.

(Coming next:  SAFARI!)