08 July 2011

Mullings and Musings...

"Mawanda says he earns about two million Ugandan shillings (about $780) per season from grasshoppers -- more than double Uganda's GDP per capita -- and though he still lives amid a clutter of rooms along a garbage-clogged canal in Natete, he has constructed a row of stalls now being rented out as a salon, pharmacy, and drug shop.

He's ventured into poultry and is putting his five children through school. Grasshoppers have relieved him of driving his truck, he explains.

But the trade is also wreaking havoc on the capital's power grid and hindering economic development in a country where electricity distribution is around 8% -- among the lowest rates in Africa."

“ 'Your dress…' he says it again so I hear, his accent heavy. 'It looks so… spiritual....'

'So what kind of spiritual are you?' He moves to my right, trying to make eye contact. And I straighten.

'I’m a Christian.' The words come… without fumbling, surprisingly. This is who I am: loving and serving One who is Faithful. I am His. This is the important part.

'But…' he’s circling his hand again, wanting more. 'What kind of Christian?...'

'I’m an evangelical, born-again Christian.' I say it quietly, searching a stockbroker’s face. 'I believe on the Lord Jesus Christ as our only Saviour.' It’s startling how right the words feel in me, out loud.

Why don’t I say these words aloud to strangers more often? Why don’t I live them more clearly? I am ashamed of how many times, unlike the apostle Paul, I have been ashamed of the gospel, the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes (Romans 1:16)

The dress may have appeared (for some inexplicable reason) spiritual — but what about my bare soul?"

  • "He loves you" (The author says it so well... "I have enough to know that what I don’t know is safe.")
"I lost her. I cannot see her again in this life, but I am not tormented as I was because of those three words that tell me I have nothing to fear.

He loves me, loves me, loves me. Over and over and upside down and in every way I can’t get my arms around.

And this new little love shows me breath and smile and tears. I have lights of my own, this house full of blessings.

I have enough to know that what I don’t know is safe.

One day I will meet He who says it is so. I don’t know that I will ask the questions I think I will. What’s the point of why when you have the Who?

I might just bow down, down, down…And before the King I will whisper with the stillness of heaven’s peace-if I can stammer the words. Sweet, sweet girl…how I have wanted to hold you again.

I wanted to be there, no question.

I wouldn’t have missed it for the world."

  • "Home" (Our friend said this so beautifully...)
"When you come home people tend to ask about 'the culture shock.' I suppose in transit even I had to kick a habit or two. I had to stop waving to white people once I hit the London Airport, because there were just so many of them! I suddenly realized I probably wouldn’t know them all like I would have, were it Niamey. I also tried to prevent a small skirmish between my mother and sister during the car ride home and suddenly realized how long I’d gone without direct confrontation living in a much more passive aggressive country for the past year. Oh, and it’s also very cold in this country.

That’s about all the culture shock I’ve got for you really.

I almost wish it was more of an affront..."

Photo by AC.

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