Mwesigwa

A couple of weeks ago I was given the privilege to travel to Jinja with my good friend John. It was a great time of bonding, adventure and healing. I never quite realized what the Lord had in store for me, but because of my willingness to follow him, despite my feelings, he did a great work that weekend.

The week prior I had just finished my project trip in Mityana. This trip was in many ways a short term mission trip. During this trip everyone bonded closely and a lot of work was done. I personally got a lot of time to hang out with John, who is the Ugandan executive director of Father to the Fatherless. Near the end of the trip he asked if I wanted to go to his hometown of Jinja the next weekend.  I was not quite expecting such an invitation from him, but I said yes anyways. I was hesitant to exchange phone numbers at first, but I had committed to going so it would not make any sense to hold back my number from him.

At this point I remembered an incident that occurred to me about four years ago. I was in Haiti on a two week trip and I gave my phone number to the translator I had been working with that week. His name was Johnny. He was expecting me to send him some “help” once I got back to the US. A week or so after I arrived back in the States he starts calling me. Somehow a miscommunication had happened and he was expecting me to send him $200 via Western Union. There was no way I could do this, and I decide to ignore his calls. That day he called me 40 times. I never quite realized, but that event ruined the way I was willing to open myself to relationships cross culturally. This scar needed to be healed, and so the Lord decided to get to work.

I spent a week fretting about whether I should go to Jinja or not. I had no idea where I was going, or even where I would be sleeping Saturday night. There was not a single person I knew going to be there, except for John who I had only met the week before. My gut feeling was telling me to just call John, and tell him I was busy or something. At this point I decided to pray, and the Lord reminded me of something. The very reason I wanted to go to Uganda with Engineering Ministries International (eMi) was because I wanted to build relationships with people form a culture different from my own. Up to this point I had grown close to my fellow interns and co-workers at the office, but I had not really sought a friendship with any Ugandans. The Lord convicted me to go, despite my desire to be comfortable. So that Saturday morning I woke up before sunrise, and took a taxi to downtown Kampala where I was supposed to meet John.

My weekend in Jinja was amazing. I saw the source of the Nile, rode boda-boda’s, had goat for lunch and slept at the Jinja scouting campsite. All this time I did not talk to a single white person. I really was immersed in Ugandan culture, and was able to spend a lot of time talking with my new friend John. We visited his mother (who lives in a mud hut) and attended an awesome church service that was pretty much 3 hours of worship and dancing. These are some of my favorite pictures from Jinja.

Tea fields and sugar cane stretched across the landscape as we traveled to Jinja.

There were many of these guys roaming the campsite where we slept.

I'm glad John got to take some pictures too, or else there would be none of me.

Mr. John himself.

The mighty "Eye of Eagle" on the banks of the Nile.

A local passing by fields of sugar cane in rural Uganda.

During our many conversations that weekend, John decided that I needed a Luganda name. His Luganda name is Michibi, which is what I would often call him. I tell him that I want a good Luganda name, and that I want him to think about it. So at the end of trip he turns to me and says:

“Mwesigwa.”

“What?” I respond

“Mwesigwa, that’s your Luganda name.”

“What does that mean?”

“Trustworthy.”

I could not believe it. The one thing I was having so much trouble with that week was trust. I was so hesitant to go with him, and I had so much trouble being open about myself and really loving him like Jesus. I think of Paul in his letter to the Thessalonians, in which when he says he shared not only the Gospel with them, but his life as well. The Lord restored in me the ability to be trusting towards others that weekend, and he told it to me in the most blatant way possible. Through Johnny the trust was hurt, but through John it was restored. 

Culture Shock

I got my fair share of culture shock during my week in Mityana. I did not think it would hit me hard, or even at all for that matter, but it did. It was good. The Lord know how to refine us, and he is more than willing to move us outside our comfort zone to grow and become more like him.

I believe it was Tuesday when it happened. In the morning devotional we had talked about culture shock, and particularly in terms of food. Often locals will offer food, and regardless of your physical state it is respectable to eat what they give you.  So low and behold lunch time rolls around and the granny of the village "Jaja" leads me into a building on site. There I see some banana leaves on a table. She uncovers a huge pile of "Matoke" which is essentially mashed potatoes made from non-sweet bananas. Probably my least favorite Uganda starch at this point. She proceeds to scoop huge lumps of the stuff onto a plate. I just ate lunch at the hotel in Mityana, and was really not looking for a second lunch. After the Matoke she pours some good looking meat stuff over it all. Being culturally sensitive I smile, bow my head slightly and say "Wabale Nyabo" (thank you mam). She smiles back and proceeds to watch me eat. I smile some more to indicate that it tastes good, which stratifies her. So next I sit down outside and try to down as much of the stuff as I can. At this point I realize the the meat is actually pork. I also realize that the pork is mainly fat cubes. "Not the end of the world" I think and so I keep eating. "If I just imagine its not pure fat it actually does not taste so bad." At this point I look at the cubes and think "That's weird, it kinda looks like a wart or....a nipple." I took me a while to actually believe what I was seeing, and then I just had leave and not look at the plate, in the fear I would start to initiate some sort of gagging reflex. I still feel a little bad just leaving my plate without eating the food she so lovingly prepared, but at least I ate some of it.

God still had some more culture shock in store for me that day. In the morning John had given me a letter he received from a local girl. He translated it verbally for me, and told me it was a marriage proposal. The girl wanted for our parents to meet, and for us to marry in the name of Jesus. I could deal with a letter, it was quite funny actually, but God had more planned. John called me into a the same building from earlier that day, and made me sit in a chair on his right. On his left was a girl sitting, with a shy look on her face. John turns to me and says: "Alex remember that letter from before?" Before I can really answer he grins, and the glances to the girl to his left.

Shock

No better word describes what I was feeling at that moment. All I could do was stare straight ahead and make no eye contact. Answer questions as short as possible. Show no emotion.

"She says that she loves you more than her life."
"What?! how am I supposed to respond that?"

I decide to just tell John my current views on marriage, and tell him to just tell her in his own words.
He did not really do a good job at it, since she thought I just did not have the time to get married. So she insists that it won't take long, and we can skip the meeting parents part.
So I continue to stare at the doorway, without any emotion on my face. I was waiting for anything that could get out of this situation.
Darren and Brett walk in. Completely oblivious to what is going on they start some small talk and what the rest of the day will look like logistics wise. Brett turns to me asks:
"I think we're pretty much done here. Alex, so you want head back soon?"
I look him straight in the eye and say:
"Yes, I would very much like to head back soon."
He had no idea how much I meant that at the time, but I took this chance to walk out of the room without looking back.

Fortunately there were no huge consequences from that conversation, but the whole situation was being played over and over again in my head. Now that its been a few weeks I can look back and laugh and see how God is great at putting people in uncomfortable positions to reveal lordship issues and cause us to become more like him.

That pretty much sums up my time in Mityana. It was a great time of engineering, and spiritual growth. The exact two things I asked God for in January this year. It did not end there obviously, God continues to work here in Africa. I was planning on leaving this story for another blogpost, but I'm going to do it know since its been a month since its happened, and I don't know the next time I will have internet.

When we got back to Kampala, We visited a church in the slums. I have been volunteering at Doors, and mist of the street kids there come from this particular slum. It was my first in a big-city slum, and it was just as you could imagine; The smell of feces and burnt plastic in the air and muddy streets winding through the
buildings constructed from trash with no structural value. We come by this small wooden shack from which we can here shouting and load, rapid drumming. I must admit that I was unaware of the presence of voodoo in Kampala. But then I realized this was the church. and all 10 of us white people squeeze in side a small opening on the side. I tore my shirt on a nail on my way in.

The entire congregation. The team was behind me, lined up against the back wall.

The service was amazing. There was dancing, singing, and shouting to the Lord. We were given a time share testimonies in which a women told us about w friend they had been praying for died and came back. Watching these people sing and shout for joy despite there physical situation brought tears to my eyes. There is nothing more beautiful than a group of people worshiping the Lord, when pain and affliction is so close you can smell it.

We sang some American worship songs, and they respectfully listened. Our songs were noticeably quieter and slow, but they were beautiful nonetheless. 

Robert, the translator then turns to Jeff and asks if we wanted to share. Apparently we were running the service that day, and it was time for a sermon. I was the only one who mentioned that I would be willing to talk the day before, but I was surprised nonetheless that they were going to let us speak. Jeff gave me the look and I knew it was my turn.

The Holy Spirit is awesome, and gives us things to say when needed. That morning in that African slum I shared the story of the prodigal son, and how the Father covers our sin, adopts into his family as children, and provides us with our needs. You can really see the beauty of the Gospel, and the Majesty of God's love when sharing his word with the people who are open to listen.

Thanks for reading, and I hope that you will be encouraged to know God is powerful, and he wants to use you, if you let him.


In the dust of His feet,
-Alex

Engineering in Mityana, the Village of Forty Trees

I meant to post this last week, but someone stole the internet cables down the street. We're still trying to get that fixed so in the meantime I'm using the office 3G internet stick. Anyways, enjoy this blog post.

I hope you've enjoyed the volume of pictures that I have been posting, but I figured I should take the time to tell you about my experience of the past four weeks.

It started with a week of "getting settled." There were some routines I was trying to get in, like volunteering at the "Doors" ministry, or getting 8 cents somosas for breakfast. It involved familiarizing myself with the public transport, and learning ways to greet people in Luganda (the language spoken here). I started to understand how office work at Engineering Ministries International works, and how to interact with people.
All the while a question kept floating around in my head:

"Can I do this for the rest of my life?"

I have found myself asking that question a lot. Not every answer is the same, but it is amazing to see how God keeps throwing things my way, refining my character.

An ant hill overlooking the "Father to the Fatherless" site.

Once that routine started to feel comfortable, it was time to shake it up again. We left for our project trip at the end of that week, and Gods timing could not have been better. The trip was quite an adventure. I am so grateful that as a civil engineer, I was able to spend a lot of time on site, and not in a room like the architects. We were about 2 hours north west from Kampala, near the city of Mityana. Father to the Fatherless wants to build a ministry for street kids and widows there. In order for the architects to effectively create a master plan, Darren, Brett and I conducted a variety of tests on the soil. We determined the permeability and bearing capacity in multiple locations on the site. In addition, I spent a good portion of time surveying the land. I used 15 year old GPS-RTK equipment. It wasn't working properly and we had to splice some wires on site, which had us seriously concerned. Nobody had thought of packing electrical tape, and we had no idea where to get any. Fortunately our local friend and Father to the Fatherless executive director John did it for us with just a match and a plastic bag. It worked like a charm.

Muchibii "John" fixing the survey equipment for us.

The next few days were similar in terms of engineering. We finished up the survey and tested the water quality of a variety of water sources. First we tested a hand dug pit that was absolutely disgusting. Cows with 3 feet long horns were drinking from the muddy water at the bottom of the pit. I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that the villagers had been getting their drinking from here for most of their lives. The water turned out to be filled with E-coli, which is a serious health hazard. Probably the craziest thing about the whole situation was that only 200 meters downhill was a borehole with a hand pump that had clean, bacteria-free water. It was put in by Living Water International a few weeks before. Some of the people still got water at the hand dug pit for whatever reason. Maybe it was habit, or maybe they were lazy, or maybe they were not going to drink it, I don't know. If I could have I would have closed that pit of muddy water right then and there. I realize now that I was not culturally sensitive, and there are much better ways to encourage the villagers towards a healthier lifestyle.

The next day the villagers selected a council to govern the new borehole. Not only did most of the village attend, but so did a representative of the Buganda Kabaka (the tribal king). After the peaceful elections there was a ceremony and the borehole was prayed over. It was a privilege to be a part of the ceremony, and it made me realize just how big of a deal it is for them to have this water. Everyone still has to walk a kilometer into a valley to hand pump the water, but it really is a huge step up from what they previously had. It was a wonderful sight.

At the end of the ceremony the Kabaka representative (who had been very serious before) stands up with a huge smile on his face. He throws of jacket to reveal a shining white football jersey. Demanding for attention he yells: "Now who is ready for some Football!"  Our team had been setup for a soccer match against the village team, and we were not expecting this level of excitement from the village. The entire village watched as we were beat mercilessly. The final score was 3-0 for the home team.

Despite the beat-down, it was an amazing opportunity to gain trust from the community. Any time any of us would refer back to the game later that week, it would always be responded with laughter and smiles. This allowed the final presentation for our design to run more smoothly, and the community was more accepting of the big changes we had proposed.

That was a pretty broad look the first half of my project trip. In my next post I will share with you how God used culture shock to refine my character. In the meantime allow me to leave you with some additional photo's from the project trip.

Surveying the property.

My typical breakfast that week: passion fruit juice, African tea (with milk, ginger, cardamom, ect.), pineapple, and usually an egg.

Cutting a Jackfruit, like a boss.

Macro Jackfruit

Our Football team...

...And the community team.

 (the last two football photo's were taken by Brent Randal, our teams Master Planner)

The Ceremonial handing over of the football to winning team.

I love this picture, it looks like Brett and Darren are about to beat me with the DCP and wrench.

 We didn't see any live elephants, but this guy kept us company all week.