At dawn, You dip Your brush in orange and yellow and red.  I peer from the window with sleepy eyes as you whisper, “I AM faithful.”  For You have brought a new morning.  A second chance.  I praise You, LORD, for You are with me. 

At midday, You dip Your brush in blue and green and paint crisp, white clouds.  I walk along the road as You whisper, “I AM good.”  For You have poured out Your love on me.  You have filled my heart with joy as You have given me strength to obey.  I praise You, LORD, for You are with me. 

At dusk, You dip Your brush in violet and indigo.  I sit on the porch as You whisper, “I AM just.”  For You are our King, and You have called us to obey.  You see the acts and hear the words and read the thoughts of all You have created.  I praise You, LORD, for You are with me. 

At night, You dip Your brush in black and call the clouds and thunder and rain.  The wind whips around the walls.  I lie in bed as You whisper, “I AM forgiving.”  For in my sinfulness, You bend my heart back to You.  I praise You, LORD, for You are with me.

Till the cows come home… 

We are cattle people. 

Our herds need water to drink and grass to graze.  And since we are cattle people, our work is to lead them to water and grass.  Then they will be well-fed and fat.  We move across fields and through villages.  And we keep our cattle well. 

I am a school boy.  But right now I am out of school on holiday.  I like to learn.  My favorite subject is math.  I do well with numbers–adding them, subtracting them, multiplying and dividing.  I like to think about numbers.  I like to make problems in my head and search for their solutions.  Maybe one day I will be an accountant, but for now I am a school boy leading cattle to water and grass.  And for now, I count our family’s herd. 

At home, mama works with my sisters.  They wash the clothes and sweep around the house and dig in the shamba (garden) and cook our meals.  When I am not leading our cattle, I like to sit outside with mama and my sisters and stir the beans in the pot.  I like to cook, but I don’t know how to make very many kinds of food.  Really, cooking is a woman’s job.  And if baba saw me outside next to the pot, he might give me a stick and send me out with the cattle.  Leading cattle is a man’s job. 

Sometimes, men have to cook for themselves.  Sometimes leading cattle takes a man to lonely places where there are no mamas and sisters.  And even though baba thinks that cooking is a woman’s job, even baba knows a man has to eat when he is alone.  So it was baba who taught me to cook rice.  When I reach a lonely place beneath the stars in an open field, I build a fire.  Three rocks surround the fire, and on the rocks, I place a pot.  I use my cup to measure the rice, and then I pour water over the rice.  When I dip my finger into the water and the water reaches my second knuckle, I know that there will be enough water to cook the rice.  And then I wait for the fire to get hot and the water to boil.  When the water has disappeared and only the rice remains, I know it is time to eat my meal under the stars. 

The stars aren’t completely lonely.  Even in the silence I can hear my sisters talking and snickering.  I can hear mama washing the pots.  I can hear baba talking outside the door to an uncle.  I hear the school boys playing outside on the football pitch in the school yard.  And I hear the teacher lecturing about algebra and geometry. 

School will start in three weeks.  And I will leave the cattle behind for about three months.  I will sit on a bench during the day with my classmates and at night I will study by our parafin lantern.  And in between listening about algebra and geometry and solving problems from the blackboard, I will think about cooking rice under the stars.  I will think about leading cattle to water and grass.  And I will even think about some of those lonely places. 

After all, we are cattle people.       

usually, i finish my breakfast and sneak out the door before mama sees.  she might tell me to wash my face.  and i don’t like to wash my face.  the porridge is sticky, but i don’t mind. 

but today, i washed my face.  today is special.

usually, i don’t wear shoes.  i finish my breakfast and sneak out the door in just my bare feet.  actually, i don’t have shoes, but i don’t mind.  my feet are tough and strong.  and they carry me where i want to go. 

but today, i put on shoes.  my new friend gave me a pair of shoes.  black shoes.  i don’t know how to fasten them yet, but i don’t mind.  they are so black and shiny.  and today, i am wearing my new shoes.  today is special. 

usually, i wear a dirty dress.  mama washes my dress for me.  but it doesn’t stay clean for long.  sometimes i fall and it gets dirty.  sometimes i spill some porridge and it gets dirty.  sometimes i sit on the ground and it gets dirty.  but i don’t mind.

but today my dress is mostly clean.  and i get to be measured for a new dress.  i will have a new dress.  and i will wear my new dress everyday.  today is special. 

usually, when i sneak out the door before mama sees, i forget to take something with me.  i have two small hands and i have two small tough feet.  they get me into just enough mischief.  and i don’t need to take anything with me.  usually i don’t take anything with me, but i don’t mind.

but today, i took something with me.  i get to carry a backpack today.  and in my backpack i have some pencils.  and i am so happy.  i have a new backpack.  today is special. 

usually, i go to the school and peek in the gate.  i watch the teachers and the other kids.  sometimes i even go inside and sit.  some of the teachers will let me sit for a long time.  if i don’t get into mischief i get to sit for a long time.  but sometimes i get into mischief and i’m not allowed to sit any more.  the other kids know how to speak. and they know how to read.  and they know how to write.  i’m good at getting into mischief, but i don’t know how to speak or to read or to write yet.   

but today is special. 

today i washed my face.  and i put on shoes.  and i am getting a new dress.  and i am carrying my new backpack.  today is special. 

today is my first day of school.  i will learn to speak.  and i will learn to read.  and i will learn to write.  just like the other kids.  today is special.

Writing the letter A.

Every Thursday, I go to a local school with Fred.  Fred helps with a Sunday school that meets inside the school compound every Sunday morning.  For the first couple of weeks we simply went to spend time with and read to the kids, but now I am teaching lessons from the Christian Religious Education curriculum.  When we arrive at the school, the children run outside the compound to greet us.  Many of the young kids begin chanting, “Teacher Jamie, Teacher Jamie, Teacher Jamie!”  They welcome us with hugs and hands and smiles and laughter. 

When I walk inside the compound, there is usually a little girl in the director’s office or in one of the classrooms.  Her name is Nagawa.  Nagawa most probably has Down syndrome.  She is seven years old.  She grunts when she tries to speak.  Usually she boasts a porridge moustache, a dirty but well-loved dress, and bare feet.  She often gives me a hug or grabs my hand to follow me into whichever class I am teaching on that particular day. 

Last Thursday was different.  Nagawa was wearing shoes and a backpack.  When I went into the office to greet the director, Nagawa also went inside.  One of the teachers told me that Nagawa had begun school; someone was sponsoring her to learn.  Nagawa stood with Fred as I heard her recent news.  She had begun learning in Top Class (preschool), and within her first week, she was already trying to say her vowel sounds as well as write the letter A.  I turned to Nagawa and asked her in Luganda to write the letter A for me.  She unzipped her backpack as she looked for a pencil.  I offered her a piece of paper, and she determinedly began drawing circles across the page.  Then, in an effort to describe what she had just written, she began saying, “Ooo, ooo, ooo, ooo…” 

Another little girl, who had also come into the office, stood next to me as she watched Nagawa write.  She was anxious for a turn to show me that she had also learned to write, and she grabbed Nagawa’s pencil from her.  Nagawa, in turn, hit her.  I reached for Nagawa’s hand and said, “Mpisa mbi (Bad manners).”  Recognizing her mother tongue, Nagawa smiled and then began rubbing my face, showing me “mpisa nungi” (good manners).  For the next twenty or so minutes, Nagawa wrote the letter A and recited her vowel sounds.  She also finally let her classmate write with one of her pencils.  Nagawa took her pencil and put it in the other girl’s hand.  She folded her own hand around the girl’s hand, and began moving their hands back and forth, as if she was teaching her classmate how to write for the first time.  After her break time, Nagawa went back to class.  And by the time I left, she was being fit for a new school uniform–blue–to match the other children.        

Dry windows.

Last night, a storm hit. 

We have been waiting on the rain for a few weeks.  It’s been a little dry and dusty.  And the temperatures have risen slightly from their near-perfect degree.  Sometime around this time of year, we make the transition between dry season and rainy season.  People will begin planting when the rains come, and then it will be time to wait for the crops to grow and food to become plenty once again. 

Last night, Mark and I woke up to the sound of wind and rain.  We jumped out of bed and began closing our bedroom windows to keep puddles from forming beneath them.  After all the windows were closed we climbed back into bed.  But it still felt as if it was raining inside the room! 

There are ventilation bricks positioned above the windows, which are not closable.  Realizing that the ventilation bricks were the inlet for the shower, we moved the bed into the very center of the floor, and climbed in once again.  Because the wind was so strong, we still felt the pitter-patter of rain drops on our faces.  We pulled the covers over our heads and then began an almost uncontrollable laughter.  It was like camping at home.  A leaky tent–a leaky window. 

And we finally fell asleep to the sound of a hefty wind and hard rain as it brought nourishment to the earth. 

We attend a Life Care Group every Wednesday night with a small group of other members of the Kampala Church.  Each week we begin our time with singing.  And tonight we sang…

About His exaltation. 

He is exalted!  The King is exalted on high!  We will praise Him!

“Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;
Let your glory be over all the earth…
For great is your love, reaching to the heavens;
Your faithfulness reaches to the skies.
Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;
Let your glory be over all the earth.”

Psalm 57:5, 10-11

The sun setting over Lake Saaka.  A glimpse of glory…

Flat Stanley came to us with colored green and yellow clothing.  And we took him on a few adventures in Uganda and learned a little more about this interesting place. 

So if you would like to learn a little more about Uganda second-grade style, here is the return letter: 

Thank you for sending Flat Stanley to my husband and me.  We have enjoyed having him around for a few adventures. 

Flat Stanley arrived at the post office in Kampala, Uganda.  Uganda is a country in East Africa.  Kenya borders Uganda to the east, Sudan to the north, Democratic Republic of Congo to the west, and Rwanda and Tanzania to the south.  Lake Victoria is the southern border of Uganda.  It is one of the biggest lakes in the world!  Lake Victoria is also one of the places where the Nile River begins.
 
Flat Stanley’s first adventure was in the city.  Kampala is the capital city of Uganda.  It is a very busy city!  There are many cars, motorcycles, and bicycles on the roads carrying many passengers.  Some of the bicycles have cushions on the back, and people sit on the cushions for a bicycle taxi called a boda-boda.  Many people also walk to the places they are going, so the sidewalks are also very crowded.  Stanley and I walked to the market where fruits and vegetables are sold.  When we crossed the street, Flat Stanley almost became flatter!  He walked into the street in front of a boda-boda.  He thought he was checking for traffic in the right direction, but in Uganda, vehicles drive on the left side of the road instead of the right side.  Be careful, Stanley! 

After Flat Stanley and I went to the market, we drove to our home which is on the top of a hill.  From our house, Stanley could see Lake Victoria.  There was a ferry (cargo boat) in one of the ports that travels back and forth between Uganda and Tanzania.  We could hear the horn of the ferry all the way on the top of the hill! 

Flat Stanley on top of Konge Hill–Lake Victoria behind him. 

We have a dog named Leo.  Leo is the Swahili word for “today”.  Leo wanted to be Stanley’s friend, so he greeted him with a big, wet dog lick!  Ewww!!!  Greetings are very important in Uganda.  When people meet here, they greet with a long handshake and many questions like “How are you?”, “How is home?”, “How is your family?”, ”How are your goats?”, “How are your bones?”, etc. 

Flat Stanley and Leo.

Not too long after Stanley became slobbery from Leo’s kiss, he was rinsed off by a rain shower.  When Stanley left Texas, it was winter.  But the seasons are different in Uganda.  Thank you for dressing Stanley in short-sleeves!  Because Uganda is on the Equator, there is no winter, spring, or fall.  It feels like summer all the time!  Instead of having four seasons, Uganda has only two seasons—the rainy season and the dry season.  During the rainy season, it rains every day at least one time during the day.  And during the dry season it sometimes goes for several weeks without raining.  Right now we are in the dry season, but we have gotten a few rain showers. 

Stanley’s next adventure was climbing trees, but not just any trees—fruit trees!  First Stanley climbed a banana tree.  Banana trees are everywhere in Uganda.  There are many types of bananas.  Some are sweet and some are bitter.  Matooke is a bitter kind of banana that is steamed and smashed up like mashed potatoes.  Ugandan people love to eat matooke with beans or a sauce made of groundnuts (peanuts).  Stanley tried matooke.  It tasted a little funny at first, but after a few bites, he decided that he really liked it! 

Flat Stanley swinging in the banana tree!

Flat Stanley under the papaya tree.  Look out for falling pawpaws! 

After eating matooke, Stanley climbed to the top of a papaya tree for another taste test.  Papaya trees have long trunks with few branches.  Most of the leaves are at the top of the tree where the fruit also grows.  Papayas are smooth and green on the outside, but when you cut them open, they are bright orange and have small, round black seeds.  Papaya fruit is very sweet and soft, even a little squishy.  Stanley decided that he like papaya even better than matooke. 

Stanley’s last adventure was to a local primary school called Coronation Memorial School.  I took Stanley to a Primary One class (like kindergarten in the U.S.).  Here is what Stanley had to say about his time in the P1 class:

“When I got to school, I saw a lot of kids sitting on long benches inside a small room.  They were all wearing blue uniforms.  I got to sit next to a girl named Sylvia.  At first, I didn’t know what the kids were saying because they were speaking a different language called Luganda.  But Teacher Florence began speaking in English so that I could understand.  She always teaches in English so that the kids can learn English as their second language.  The kids were asking me my name.  I told them, ‘Erinya lyange nzee Flat Stanley.’  That means, ‘My name is Flat Stanley.’  After all of the kids told me their names, we read a book together.  It was called Monday Morning.  It was a funny story about the Dakile family.  They woke up late, and as they were trying to get ready for school, everything went wrong.  The baby was crying, the dad bumped his head, the porridge burned, the water spilled over the sink, and the bus left.  But a nice man in a cart pulled by horses stopped and helped, and then everything went right.” 

It sounds like Flat Stanley had a good day at school! 

Flat Stanley with the P1 class at Coronation Memorial School in Kampala.

I hope this letter finds you well in Texas, and I hope you enjoy reading about Flat Stanley’s adventures in Uganda.  Have a good day!

MTN is one of the cell phone companies in Uganda, and every year they host a marathon event.  (For non-marathoners, there are also half-marathon and 10K options.)  As soon as I saw the event advertised on a billboard, I wanted to give it a whirl–not the marathon, but the 10K.  (I’ve got to start somewhere!)  And, seeing it as an opportunity to join with some guys from church, I announced that Mark and I were running and then twisted a few arms to join us.  We totaled eleven on December 9th–Race Day. 

 Top row from left to right:  Jamir, Peter, Joseph.  Middle row from left to right:  Ellen, Moses, Darla (standing behind Moses), Isaac, Fred.  Front row from left to right:  Abel and me.  Mark took the picture. 

MTN’s colors are yellow and blue (mostly yellow), and, upon paying our 5,000 Ugandan shillings (/=), the equivalent of about $3, we were awarded a yellow MTN jersey, a yellow MTN visor, a yellow MTN arm band, bag, water bottle, number, etc.  And on race day, we were among the sea of yellow.  In fact, anyone not sporting their yellow MTN gear was in the minority. 

Mark, me, Ellen, and Darla–the Kampala Mission Team–among the sea of yellow.

There were more than 7,000 participants in the run.  Our group gathered together before the race began, but before we even crossed the starting line, we were scattered among the crowd as people ran in front of us and behind us and in between us. 

The yellow sea washes toward the starting line. 

Kampala is a city made up of many hills.  Fortunately, our running route was not too terribly steep, but as we descended a small hill and runners ahead ascended the hill before us, we appeared to be a yellow wave moving through the city.  And from the start of the 10K to the finish, the wave moved steadily, spreading only gradually. 

 The yellow wave. 

Each member of our group crossed the finish line.  Some ran the whole race and some walked the whole race and some walked and ran.  And we all finished.

Mark and me at the beginning of the race.  (The “after the race” picture is not nearly as flattering!)  

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” 

Hebrews 12:1-2   
  

And Leo is our dog. He is a Black Lab/German Shepherd mix.  His sister (not by birth, but by proximity) was called Kesho which means “tomorrow”.  Unfortunately, she is now Jana (“yesterday”).  Kesho’s original owners liked the sound of the Swahili word “kesho”, so that is how she got her name.  And when Leo came along, it was only natural that if “tomorrow” was present, then should be “today.”

Leo

 Leo has a black coat.  He sheds when you pet him, so he sheds often.  Every morning we unlock the back door, and Leo whines because we don’t unlock it quickly enough.  As soon as the door is open, he comes into the kitchen (but only onto the first terrazzo square), and Mark scratches his ears until he begins groaning.  Then, usually, we unlock the front door, and by the time we have walked from the kitchen to the living room, Leo has already run around the house and is there to meet us as the door is being pushed open. 

Leo has had two baths in his entire life.  He is now five years old, and both of his baths have occurred in the last few months.  One morning it was raining, and Mark and I decided that since Leo was already wet, the timing was perfect for his first bath.  So we went outside and pet him for a few minutes, and gradually, the petting turned into rubbing of dog shampoo.  Getting Leo sudsy was no problem.  Then we subtly brought out the water hose and slowly sprayed his body to try to rinse the suds.  However, water spraying from a hose and water dropping from the sky are apparently two different sensations.  Leo recognized the difference.  So I held him down and pet him while Mark sprayed the soap off of his fur.  And, of course, as soon as the whole event was complete, Leo promptly went to his favorite grassy area and rolled around trying to remove his new scent.  I know that he would never actually admit it, but I think he secretly liked it, because for the rest of the day, he pranced around as if to boast, “Look at me!  I’m clean and handsome!”  And bath number two wasn’t nearly as difficult. 

Yesterday, when I came home from a long day of working outside at our property, Leo greeted me at the gate.  When I had parked the car and realized that I didn’t have my house keys, Leo and I went to the top part of our compound and lay down on the grass, waiting for Mark to also return home.  I was beat, so I lay in the grass on my back and put my hands behind my head.  And Leo lay behind me on his back with his head next to mine.  He pushed his eyes completely to the top of his eyelids so that he could see me, and then he smiled.  He thought we were playing a game, so after a minute of lying down, he wanted to wrestle.  I think he won. 

Leo is a part of our family–part of our today. 

Romantic anniversary dinners.     

 Mark worked out at our property in Kira today.  Between the rain showers he and the few guys who he was working with were able to pour concrete around some more of the base of the fence that is quickly going up, keeping the goats out and beginning to create our new home. 

I had a Luganda language lesson this morning, followed by a planning meeting for our upcoming ladies’ retreat.  And from there I went to Coronation Primary School to read a couple of picture books with a class of kids. 

So sometimes, after a day of hard work, a simple meal, even warmed up from the night before is enough.  Sweet conversation and an occasional hand squeeze.  Our five month anniversary.  We’ve had five good months. 

 (I just forgot the candlelight.) 

Honeymooners