Ants, Quail and Swamps
Ants, Quail and Swamps
Any of you reading this who know me well, know that I delight in experiencing the world through my senses, as any child should. There are countless smells, sights, sounds, tastes and even feelings in this beautiful yet broken land. The ebb and flow of good and bad washes over me every moment of my day. But It is hard sometimes to distinguish the two, because this place, overflowing with the endless tides of people, is inherently beautiful, with many just waiting to be revealed for who they truly are.
… you are no longer orphans.
In the good though, there is joy in building relationships and discovering the ‘gold’ in this place. Every day more and more hugs are being added, more and more joyful exclamations of “teacher Haley!”, and more and more giggles and grins erupt. There is so much to learn as well! Oh what joy for my heart to be presented with the Ugandan “feast” as Charlotte Mason would say. But true to my child heart, I am soaking it all in like the hot African sun.
Today, I have encountered a number of interesting and educational moments, some of which surprise even me. You see, I went on a walk, which is a rare treat because there is nowhere to walk in the city that is not overrun by cars and bodas. Today however, I was at our Boarding School, Busiika, and I felt close to the scripture reminding me that He has indeed set my feet on a wide path. (Psalm 18:36) In Busiika, the air is fresh, fruit is plentiful, and the sounds are peace. It is the ideal place for children who have broken free from the Kamwokya slum.
As I went walking, I was grateful for my new friend, Teacher Dikkie, because he offered to walk with me, instead of taking his teacher break. Though time was a bit short, it struck me that he had heard me say that I wanted to go on a walk, and out of kindness, acted on it. Overwhelming. I knew I wanted to see what was ahead on the red dirt road. This would have not been possible a few days ago, before the start of rainy season, because everything was red, filthy and too dusty to see five feet in front of us if a car went by. The earth felt as if it was going to crack open as it begged to be quenched. Thankfully, the rains came in like a mighty torrent and washed it all off so that our walk would prove to be a success.
As we walked, I learned that he had seven brothers and sisters, until one died when she was small. He wasn’t forthcoming about much else about his family though… for this I will be patient. We walked and talked and enjoyed the scenery together because it was actually breathtaking. Our school borders a swamp, and my goal was to see it with my own two eyes. Those of you who know my whole story know that it was a vision of me and Jesus in a swamp boat, and the word Kampala that got me to Uganda in the first place. Discovering that our school was on a swamp, both in the slum, and on the new land, is proof enough, if anyone needs it, that He has me where He wants me for now.
We neared the swamp, and the first thing I noticed was that it was burned. I discovered that it was a practice here to encourage new growth. There was so much papyrus that I wanted to gather it and try my hand at paper making, or mat weaving, but alas, I will save that for another day. Last week, Dikkie explained that the whole road was flooded, along with the swamp and that he saw a boat riding through it. It is hard to believe that based on what I saw today, but God has a way of restoring all things. I can’t wait to see what it will look like in a few months.
Regardless, after I admired the swamp and marveled at how the Lord had actually brought me to a swamp x2, we began our journey back to the school. It was time for him to teach PE, which of course the children adore. We have a soccer pitch down past our bore hole, bordered by our coffee farm, our matoke and bananas, and guavas… well, you get the idea. As we walked, I noticed a mama bird and her babies crossing the road ahead of us. Dikkie spotted them as well, and dashed off, up the side of hill, exclaiming that he was going to catch her. I of course, thought he was just being funny, because, my, how Ugandans love to laugh and joke around. #ilovethis
Suddenly, the mother darted away, likely terrified, and before I knew it Dikkie had me chasing the chicks around while he shouted, “I am going to take them all!” It was one of those hilarious on the inside moments for me, because heaven forbid that I get so lost in my world that I fail to accept his, and he was dead serious. So, one by one I helped him to collect these tiny chicks, which were Quail by way, and we carried them chirping for their long lost mother all the way back. I said, “Dikkie, what in the world are you going to do with four chicks?” To this he proudly announced that he planned to raise them, sell their eggs which are extremely valuable, and then when they are grown enough, of course, have meat for dinner. Enough said.
My sensibilities had by this time flown the coop much like these stolen babies, and I suppose this is why I landed in the next cultural spot, feathers a bit ruffled. There are three mama’s who cook for our children in an outdoor kitchen over an open fire that faithfully prepare food for all of our boarding kids, and the whole staff. Today they had a local dish called posho, or in Kenya, ugali with red beans on top. But today, Mama Harriet, walked up to me with a gallon ice cream container and a fork, with my own personal lunch. She smiled as she opened the container to my excited eyes. She remembered! I LOVE LOVE LOVE Jack Fruit! and our land supplies us with endless supplies of this delight. She had taken a whole jack fruit, and one by one removed the seeds for me, leaving only the treat behind, and filled up the whole container just for me! Of course, I shared with my friend Sam, but OH MY GOODNESS. I felt like a kid in a jack fruit candy store. She shared the bounty of her land with me, excited that I loved it as much as any normal Ugandan. This kindness was an open heart door to relationship with this mama, and who knows what glorious things she will let me share with her?
However, my feast had only just begun. By this time, my friend teacher Jordan had arrived. He asked me if I liked ants. I wasn’t sure how to respond to this, so I simply smiled, but then he explained that he was talking about eating ants. Well, I haven’t eaten ants, but when in Rome, yes? So, he brought out the whole container that my friend Alfred had recently caught so the mamas could cook them, and offered me some. Naturally, I ate them. Now I am sure that this is old news to some of you jet setters out there, but for me, all I could think about (besides the fact that they were tasty) was that he wanted to share his culture, and something that he truly loved with me. This, my friends, is where it is at. When we allow for give and take in relationships, especially in a culture not our own, we create space for dignity, humanity shared. Authentic relationship will surely grow in such rich soil.
In the end, belly full of unusual surprises, and memories galore, we drove away while my heart remained in awe that God has invited me to this place, at this time, for reasons only He knows. I was chock full of sights and sounds and new tastes, but the memories with my new friends made it all come alive. I am sure that I could have found ants in the market to try, or held a baby quail at a local farm, or even visited the swamp on my own private journey, but where is the joy in that? It is the sharing of living that our hearts remember, and I for one won’t forget the way the my Ugandan friends reached out and invited me into their beautiful, wild and brave world. Let us love one another.
There is much more of this to come I am sure… next week, the guys offered to take me to the meat shop on the side of the road to give me a taste of the meat they roast there daily… to be continued, of course. ;-)
