An Update on Registration

“You faithfully answer our prayers with awesome deeds, O God our Saviour. You are the hope of everyone on earth…” – Psalm 65:5

It should not be surprising, His favour, since we are beloved children of His, and yet, still, I gaze at Him with eyes wide with wonder :)

Last week the Lord has brought us along the process of registering Racham Ministries in Uganda full speed ahead. Our awesome Ugandan friend Isaac, whom the Lord provided at just such a time as this, knows exactly who to see, and takes us right there, visiting one official after another, getting forms signed and stamped. He’s also helping to edit the ministry’s constitution. We’d be lost without him. What has taken other “mzungu” (white) ministries half a year to process, we have come through in 2 weeks. God’s hand is upon us! How exciting is that?

And His hand of provision is here too, just pouring out for each need as He moves people’s hearts to give—some people Gabi has never even met!

Again and again, He moves to teach me that “[He] is committed to providing abundant resources in support of those who are living according to His purpose” (David Platt). Whether its finance for a ministry, a kind, knowledgeable, trusted friend to gives us guidance in a confusing process (or 2 or 3, even! He has provided us with so much generous help!), or the emotional support of a phone call from a much-missed, wise, and loving boyfriend a million miles away.

This is my Father. He calls me His. And what can I do with such grace but share it to tell of His glorious hope to everyone on earth?

Serving in awe in Uganda…
Love,
Leah

This and That

Uganda continues to enthrall me with all the mysteries of stepping into a culture I don’t know. I feel like each day is welcoming me to come out and greet it with wonder, and so I do. But with a wonderful sense of peace walking through the unknowns, which is only Him teaching me to rest inside His faithful heart which knows this place with as much intimacy as I don’t. I live in wonder of Him, really.

Jinja Town

This week has found us wandering through the colourful, dusty market in Jinja, the nearest town, many a day in search of items as we set up Gabi’s house in preparation for the girls arriving. The market is an area the size of a city block or two, and packed out with makeshift stalls set up in something resembling rows in the dirt. The smells that greet you at the market range from mouth-watering to stomach-churning, and you must watch where you place your feet in the dirt. You can find almost anything you can imagine in the claustrophobia and chaos of the market—from rice, fruit, and veggies (some with names I’ve never even heard before) to toothpaste, pots and pans (with no lids), shoes, home-sewn sheets, and buckets full of grasshoppers… which they eat like a tasty little pop-in-your-mouth snack…  I always want to take photos of the market and the magic of all of its cramped and overflowing stalls but I already feel so conspicuous just being “mzungu”, and haven’t gotten quite bold enough yet :) If we show any interest in anything on the stands, we are swarmed by people trying to sell their wares. For some strange reason, they call us “Mama” when they address us.

The shop names in Jinja continue to delight me. Yesterday we saw two electrical shops and they were named “Care of Hope Electrical Centre” and “Faith Electrical Shop”. Hehe. They just seem such mismatched concepts :) I’ve seen another something along the lines of “Jesus is Lord Clothing” :) Uganda is full of such signs—the back of nearly every Coaster (mini-bus) says something about God’s goodness. I should think it would be really comforting,  but I don’t find it so. It feels a bit like empty words splashed across everything this way…

Church

On Sunday we went to our first church service. The first Sunday we were here, Gabi was a bit under-the-weather so we stayed home to rest. This Sunday we went along with a missionary friend of Gabi’s, Katie Davis, an awesome American girl no older than I am who has adopted 13 awesome Ugandan girls (who wrap our hearts around their pinky fingers! On Sunday morning, Katie’s 4-year-old Grace plopped herself in my lap, leaned against my chest, and started singing, “This is my friend, this is my friend, this is my friend” :) Oh!!), to a mainly mzungu church run by American missionaries, so Gabi could see some friends there. The chairs were set up in the garden, under tall, shady trees, and out in the beautiful open Ugandan air and I thought, “Mmm, I could get used to this!” until I discovered that the MASSIVE palace-like structure we were sat in the yard of was the pastor’s house…. I could hardly concentrate on worship then, and I chided myself for being judgmental, but it disturbs me so much that, anyone, let alone Christian missionaries representing Jesus, could live in such a place in the midst of such poverty, when just down the road the very people they’ve been sent to serve are living in disheveled shacks of every description. Even living in an ordinary house in Uganda you’re better off than most of the homes I’ve seen. It just upset me so much. I realize that I don’t actually know the situation—I’m just a visitor one Sunday and the pastor and family weren’t even there, but back in America on furlough, and when Katie and I were discussing it afterwards (and she finds it equally frustrating, but appreciates that it’s an English-speaking church) she said that they explain that they need it in order to host mission teams once a year and I obviously don’t know all that that entails. But without knowing the full details, I just felt sickened by the disparity between this gated palace of the missionaries’ and the reality of the people outside those gates…

Nonetheless, the pastor speaking, another American, gave a great sermon and afterwards the whole church was introduced to a young Ugandan man whom had just come to give his life to Christ. I am so thankful for the way He works through us in spite of us!

Last night we found our way to a Muslim hospital in town where a group of missionaries were having a Bible Study, strangely enough. Most of these people Gabi knew from previous times in Uganda, and I’d met a few from church or around town and been drawn to them immediately. I love missionaries! It was a beautiful thing to sit in the middle of that run-down hospital courtyard with all of these strangers from all these far distances, drawn to this country for a common purpose—to serve Him. As we sang some worship before having a teaching from The Word, patients and staff were drawn out by the music and sat with us on nearby benches.  You could hear sick people being violently violently violently ill in a room off the courtyard, and nurses and doctors rushed by at various times, and yet there was such a beautiful sense of peace, sense of community, sense of fellowship with this group of strangers (most of them American). Such an honest and genuine desiring after this God Whom has so captivated each of our hearts. If you don’t already know and support a (genuine, humbly seeking Christ) missionary, I encourage you to get out there and find one. He teaches me so much through such recklessly abandoned souls.

Racham Business

Yesterday we found ourselves back in the presence of The Chairman, seeking his good favour over Racham Ministries, and his stamp and signature on the forms to be registered as a Community-based Organisation in Uganda. Knowing his importance in the region, and having heard from other missionaries the difficulties the officials give Westerners coming in to Uganda to start ministries, it was a bit nerve-wracking to sit in his “office” (a dingy, dusty stationery store on a crazy market street) and wait as he looked over the constitution and contemplated signing and stamping the form before him. To our surprise (though, why should we be surprised with such a God as ours?), not only did he stamp and sign it with a smile and no questions asked, but he waived our offer of payment—as they normally require 2,000 to 10,000 shillings for this service (about $1 to $5), something similar to what we would call a bribe, I guess, but so ingrained in the culture that it’s just like an accompanying fee. Isaac, the Ugandan social worker friend of ours, couldn’t believe he didn’t require any money. He’s never seen him do that before :) Thank You for Your favour, Lord :)

Isaac took us around to another “LC”, local council member, in our own little village to get another signature (it pays to know someone who knows everyone :)) and it was surreal to me the way this business works. We went to the home of the LC, a dirt enclosure with chickens wandering in and out through the open door. They brought out 3 plastic chairs for us to sit on in the red dust and all the family members around came out to shake our hands and make us welcome, their clothing ripped and caked with dirt and dust. I find Ugandans so friendly and kind, so welcoming. What a different world, what a different world…

On the house front, God is coming through with needed funds just as quickly as we run out in preparing the place for the girls (the kitchen is nearly finished so the immediate construction needs will be out of the way, but we need to get beds for the girls, pay the salaries of various staff, pay the administration fees to get the paperwork done, plus all the little extras which pop up!…). The other day it was a random donation from Gabi’s friend, whose fiancée is on the Ugandan board of directors. And, one couple in America Gabi knows whom have been unemployed for a long while have just found a job and are giving their whole first month’s salary to God and supporting various ministries with it—Racham will be one of them! Keep praying for this practical need, friends! And praising for how He comes through too.

Ugandan Wildlife… in our room

The last few nights I have woken in the darkness to the sound of scratching and scrambling by some little creature about our room. I didn’t feel too apprehensive about what African wildlife we may be dealing with, just curious, and the curiosity kept me from sleep. I wondered if it could be the shy little gecko who often visits our bathroom walls but I thought he would have to be getting mighty bold to come into the bedroom! This morning my curiosity was assuaged when I opened my suitcase to find clothes for the day and had the quickest little brown mouse I have ever seen jump out at me and scurry away! Needless to say, I will be zipping my suitcase closed from now on…

Far worse than that, last night I reached my hand into the toothbrush cup to get out my toothbrush and the toothpaste, and THE MOST GINORMOUS cockroach greeted me, and crawled up my hand!!!! Ugh…. It was massive, and with antennae as long as its entire body or longer, just to complete the hugeness. It was disgusting!! Goodness, it was huge. But I strangely feel as if I took it in stride more so than I would expect, and same with the mouse. It’s just part of the life here, so I just accept it and move on. But oh my goodness—moral of the story? Cockroaches in Africa are MASSIVE.

And She Rode Side-Saddle

I am SO thankful for “my” internet cafe in Jinja where I’m able to go a few times a week so far and send emails, touch base with Facebook, and upload photos! It’s run by the nicest Ugandan ladies and situated right off the main street. Because Gabi has a personal modem on her computer, I tend to need more time there than she does, so have managed a few afternoons there on my own—even getting some writing done and sent out to editors—and then making my way back out to our little village on my own after they close. Now, I LOVE the boda-boda, which are just ordinary, rather well-used motorbikes used as taxis (You wouldn’t believe all they fit on ordinary motorbikes here. Today we passed another boda-boda carrying a whole sofa and two chairs tied on behind the driver! Another day I’d seen a family of 5 crowded on the back of one boda!), but I have only ever ridden on them with Gabi, and taken the coaster—a mini-bus taxi—when I’m on my own. Since there have always been two of us riding behind one guy, I have only ever ridden astride, despite the fact that the Ugandan way is for ladies to ride only “side-saddle”. For some reason, the thought of riding with both legs to one side has frightened me from day one! Just… such an unstable way to ride on the back of a little, fast-moving motorbike and I was a bit nervous about it. But culturally, it’s not appropriate to ride astride without a reason for it. So… today, for the first time, I breathed a prayer, and politely perched myself on the back of a boda-boda… side-saddle!

It WAS precarious-feeling, as if you truly are perched, and you must use your whole body to maintain balance, especially around the roundabouts :) But the breeze on the back of the boda wiped away the burn of the blazing afternoon heat, and as the beautiful Ugandan landscape passed by with the goats and cows roaming freely about the ditches, I closed my eyes and smiled at the feeling of freedom and wonder at this strange world I find myself in and this huge God Who put me here.

He spoke to me of trust in the experience. Of taking a deep breath, hopping on behind Him, and letting Him carry me away. Letting go and trusting Him often feels precarious, whether it means following Him to a new culture and new country, or following Him into a whole new level of self-awareness or emotional healing or relational vulnerability—either way, it’s following Him into a whole new world where you must rely on Him and not yourself. It’s surrender. And it’s scary. But it’s beautiful and freeing… and I don’t want anything less.

Oh Uganda, the lessons you have to teach me of His heart :)

The God Who Sees Me

“We are not an afterthought to God. We are the point of His involvement with this planet.” – B. Moore



I am eating up my bible study on Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob these days in Africa. It’s Saturday today and Gabs and I have been able spend a rare day at home doing all of our laundry by hand while the carpenters work away on the soon to be built kitchen and the heavy Ugandan rain breaks up the sky! Unreal.



The lesson on Genesis 16 has floored me today. It’s a familiar story. Abram and Sarai are getting on in years and still haven’t been able to bless their marriage with a child. Sarai, growing impatient, tells her husband to have a baby for them with her servant Hagar instead (…Seriously…) but after Hagar becomes pregnant with Abram’s child, Sarai changes her mind (yeah, anyone might have told her it would be a mistake!) and begins to treat her now despised servant harshly—so harshly that the young, overwhelmed, mistreated Hagar runs away, trying to get back to Egypt where she came from.



But there in the desert, a loving God seeks her out. She is met by “an angel of God” (but when you read into the Hebrew wording, you realize it is God Himself in the form of a man appearing like an angel) and He speaks with her. Hagar was Egyptian. She didn’t know this God of the Hebrews, so didn’t believe in Him and seek Him out. He sought her. That thought moves me so much. And it did Hagar as well. Gen 16:13 says, “Thereafter, Hagar referred to the Lord, who had spoken to her, as ‘The God who Sees Me,’ for she said, ‘I have seen the One who sees me!’” Hagar had been used like a piece of property, “used” in every sense of the word. Her personhood completely overlooked. Except for by a God she didn’t even know, but Whom had always known her.



What I’d never realized before was that when Hagar gave God a name—“The God Who Sees Me”—she was the first and last person, male or female, to ever give Him a name in the whole of the Old Testament. He could have appeared to any of the 3 characters in this story—Abram and Sarai were Hebrews, at least!—but He chose to speak to the down-trodden Hagar. Hagar, the Egyptian maid-servant. The foreigner and the slave and the woman, the runaway, unmarried, pregnant woman at that. In such a culture and day in age, she was the lowest of low nobodies. To my God with His heart of love and compassion, she was of utmost value. And He saw her. (And gave her even scholarly significance as being the only recorded OT character to give Him a name!).



I am awash with wonder when I think of it in light of the majesty I know He is made of. This is what I love most about my Highest of High God; His attentiveness to the hearts of the nobodies like me—and the half-naked children hauling water home in dirty jugs from the water pump just outside our gate here; and the carpenter who only finished our bathroom door before he had to stop work to go to the hospital with a suspected case of AIDS, which strikes “nobodies” all across this continent like nowhere else; and the beautiful, old-as-time lady with the deepest lines in her face whom we saw on the street yesterday, carrying a massive load on her head wrapped in a dirty cloth and holding out her hand saying her well-practiced bit of English, “Give me money”— He sees each individual nobody; we are the point of His involvement with this planet in coming as Jesus Christ to die that we might know Him and live. He sees us when all is well, and He smiles with our smiling hearts. And He sees us when we are hiding behind a frail smile, and kisses at the wounds hiding there. He sees every single effort we make which goes unnoticed, every varied emotion which rolls through our souls and rocks us with it, every tear of frustration shed or left inside. He sees every kind of joy dancing in our spirits which we cannot put to adequate words. He sees it all. He always has. El Roi—The God Who Sees.



And I cannot respond with anything but love. And praise. And a grateful life of serving Him because of Who He is and a desperate desire for others to know Him too. This God who sees them and loves them, no matter the state their in.



This God who sees you and loves you, no matter the state you’re in.
The next time you find yourself run into your desert, notice Him there. He’s sought you out. You are the point of His involvement with this planet.

He sees you.

Onward we Press...

Yesterday, with the gracious help of a new friend, we went to the probation office (which is, apparently, the sort of head of social work here) to get the proper forms for establishing Racham Ministries as an official outreach project here in Uganda. This God-send of a friend, Isaac, drove us to and fro to collect various things and meet various people. Various Local Council members must read Racham’s constitution and sign off on the form, including a rather mysterious (to this westerner) man known as the village chairman. 

Visiting the village chairman was rather surreal. His “office” was in a stationery shop, unlit but the open doors at the front and back letting in natural light from the Ugandan sun—a dusty place with shelves along each wall, sparingly filled with stationery items the likes of which I’ve not properly seen before. All forms of paper were to be had there, apparently. Even toilet paper. Everything duly coated in a film of red dust. The Chairman was seated at a rather stark desk, and he and Isaac spoke together in a language Gabi and I can’t understand but seeing how long it was taking, I whispered to Gabs, “Just pray…” and at that very moment from some room at the back “Living on a prayer” began to play over the radio :) We tried desperately not to look silly giggling like the girls we are :)

It really is a matter of living on a prayer as every day holds a new unknown. We are so thankful for the kind men the Lord has put in our path who know the system and can help Gabi get everything going. We must visit the Chairman again, whose opinion of Racham Ministries will greatly effect the opinion of the other local council members, we are told, before meeting the other LC’s on Monday.

We appreciate all of your prayers and count the days til Gabi can bring home the little girls the Lord has in store for Racham!

Trust is The Same Across the World

“If any should read these lines who have come into positions of extreme difficulty, through following the simple path of obedience, let them not look at God through difficulties, as we see the sun shorn of splendor through a fog; but let them look at difficulties through God. Let them put God between themselves and the disasters which threaten them. Let them cast the whole responsibility upon Him. Has He not thus brought you into difficulties, that He may have an opportunity of strengthening your faith, by giving some unexampled proof of His power? Wait only on the Lord, trust also in Him… He will provide.” – F.B. Meyer

I was sitting in the sun doing my bible study yesterday when I read this quote, the birds roosting in the gorgeous tropical trees about the garden providing background music (I LOVE the sun here. It makes me go straight to golden, no sunburn necessary in between :)) in between meetings with various potential staff. I’ve just started a new Beth Moore workbook—The Patriarchs. The lesson was on Abraham and how they settled in Egypt for awhile during a famine. Scared for their lives, Abraham passed his wife Sarai off as his sister to the pharaoh, who quite fancied her, and let her be taken into his harem, as it gave their entire party favour and security. Of course, the Lord fought for Sarai, and made the pharaoh’s whole household ill on her behalf until the pharaoh was made known of the fact that he’d been deceived and rectified it (You can read this story for yourself in Genesis 12:10-20).

The lesson was about trust. Does it not look as if Abraham was just simply ‘freaked out’ and desperate and scrambling for any way he could avoid disaster (in this case, starving and letting his whole family starve in the famine)? He was a man of God; surely in his heart of hearts he knew that lying to save themselves wasn’t the best way forward. But surely too, trusting God and choosing obedience seemed the much harder way when this quick fix was in view, especially as acting with integrity held potentially fatal consequences.

As we work toward settling Racham Ministries in-- preparing the home to begin taking in Gabi’s little ones hopefully at the beginning of February, if not before—we are running in to so many unforeseen costs and stresses. I suppose it was to be expected, only working a budget on theory before, and never knowing what the actual experience would bring once in Uganda. Yesterday we were meeting with potential staff (indispensable people, like the security guard….) as well as getting an estimate for putting in the kitchen and spent time adjusting the budget to find that it simply won’t stretch. You can only imagine the disappointment of the realization that God has brought Gabs this far only to face the pressure of too small a budget. And it’s all pressing.

The first reaction is to fall into discouragement. Or attempt to cut corners however risky (like cutting medical expenses out of the budget to reassign the money elsewhere :() The first reaction is to find some way to humanly fix things, to find a way to stand on steady ground again.

But the deeper reaction we know we must choose… is to trust Him. To look at the problems THROUGH God, instead of looking at God through them, like “the sun shorn of its splendour through the fog”. We must take a stand to put God (knowing all that He is and all that we aren’t) between ourselves and the impossibilities before us, knowing that with God there is no such thing as impossible. Let them put God between themselves and the disasters which threaten them. ”Let them cast the whole responsibility upon Him. Has He not thus brought you into difficulties, that He may have an opportunity of strengthening your faith, by giving some unexampled proof of His power?” How little we would worry and stress if we truly took to heart the fact that “nothing is impossible with God” (Luke 1:37), as He has shown us again and again and again and again throughout history, and throughout our own personal walks with Him, whether they’ve taken place in America, England, Sweden, Romania, N.Ireland, or Uganda… to name a few places He’s asked me to trust Him just in my walk alone :)

Oh Lord, we are trusting You. Strengthen our feeble little threads of faith. Provide for Your kingdom work with Racham. You have our willing hands, You’ve walked our feet in obedience all the way to this beautiful plot of land in Your Africa from whatever corner of Your world. Now may You come through once again to the praise of Your great name. You know all the needs of the children you mean for Racham to reach out to. And your word says that you “will give [us] all [we] need from day to day if [we] live for [You] and make the Kingdom of God [our] primary concern” (Matt. 6:33).Thank You for Your extravagant love. Teach us to trust You in all that You are with all that we are… Amen.

Please pray for Racham with us, friends. We’re expecting a timely miracle of provision to continue this work!

May you move to know this incredible God, may you let yourself experience the love of this Lover. O, how you and your life will never be the same…!
Love from Uganda,
Leah

“…Freely we’ve received
Now freely we must give
We must go
Live to feed the hungry
Stand beside the broken
We must go…”
-- Tim Hughes, ‘God of Justice’

Welcome to The Pearl of Africa

As I disembarked the plane in Entebbe, taking a stairway straight down to the tarmac, I was greeted by the humid Uganda-at-2am air and a massive sign on the side of the airport saying, “The Pearl of Africa”—a title Winston Churchill left Uganda with after he visited in the 50’s. The interior of the airport was certainly not European. I passed through customs with no trouble, and then settled in on a chair in the arrivals lounge to wait for daylight before I’d find a taxi to Gabi’s home in a little village near a town called Jinja, right near to the source of the Nile…

I really wanted to go home to England.

Even at that time of night, men came up asking if I’d like a taxi and I shyly declined, feeling very nervous of this taxi ride I was doomed to take, especially after my last taxi experience in Turkey and all the stories I have heard about taxis here…

Everything about Uganda held a question-mark for me. Why did the police (I think?) carry semi-automatic weapons? Was there a reason why the airport janitors were all exceptionally small men? And why did one of them have a plastic bag tied around his head? How would my taxi driver the next day be able to find Gabi’s place with such a vague address as they use here? What if he tried to swindle me, or we couldn’t find the place?

A little cockroach crawled up onto my chair and I fought the urge to jump away. Surely the Lord means to toughen me up towards bugs or I certainly wouldn’t be in Africa!

A slightly elderly lady was pacing the airport floor with her trolley of luggage after most of the other passengers on our plane had headed off. About 5 of us seemed to be sticking it out til morning. She sat down near to me and began to knit. “I’m thankful you’re here,” I said to her, “I’ve never been here before and I feel safer having you nearby!” And from that point on, we were airport buddies. I was soon to discover she was sixty-something, from Germany, and a nurse who specializes in Tropical medicine. She’d been to Uganda 6 times, running a project on natural treatment for Malaria, and… can you guess? A Christian missionary :) She gave me all kinds of tips—like using a drop of tea tree oil in some olive oil and running it into your skin to keep the mosquitoes away, and eating a teaspoon of Papaya seeds a day to help prevent against Malaria as well as digestion issues. She warned me that my first time here would be hard and not to be surprised at how hard I find it. That she wouldn’t have made it through it at all, if not for Jesus. But that on her 6^th time, she now loves it and plans to move here in the course of the year. We encouraged one another in Christ. And He encouraged me with friendship and companionship throughout that long night waiting for daylight. (I bet my Mom’s fervent prayers might have sent her along to me : ) Thanks, Mom ;))

But when daylight came I was still so nervous about getting the taxi, so intimidated and unsure. Thea, the German lady, was waiting for her German/Ugandan friends to come to her from Kampala, so I thought I’d wait with her until then so she wasn’t left alone, and then I’d go to one of the men who’d been asking us if we wanted one all throughout the night and, praying hard, head off.

But when Thea’s Ugandan friend Moses came for her, he quickly suggested I come with them to Kampala and get a public taxi (like an over-packed shuttle bus) from there as it would be cheaper and I’d be less likely to be taken advantage of. Moses was a pastor and one of the kindest people I have met! Though Ugandan people seem to be especially kind in general…

Leaving the airport, we drove out right along the shores of Lake Victoria glistening in the early morning light. And also straight into an African town, looking just as I imagined one to look. Women walked along in colourful dress, balancing huge bundles of things on their heads! It was only 7 in the morning and already people were all about the streets, sitting around, hurrying along somewhere, or setting up stands to sell their wares. Cows and goats were loitering about too. I could only think to myself, “Is this real?”

The Lord blessed me so much through Moses and Thea who so readily took me in. On the way to Kampala we talked of Uganda and ministry and the Lord and I was inspired again to live like that, so willing to be helpful and to bless even a stranger as if he or she were The Lord Himself—“entertaining angels unaware…”

Kampala was CHAOS. Cars, trucks, buses, boda-bodas (little motorbike taxis—Ooh, they’re fun!), bikes and people all taking the right-of-way on the highway, driving so close side-by-side that I felt like holding my breath! The buildings were dusty and out-dated, and on nearly every street corner there were piles of rubbish, the bags split open and rubbish pouring out! Stray dogs wandering about and everywhere people, people, people! But I was the only white one I saw…

Pastor Moses, with his humble, quiet, but confident nature, parked the car, I hugged my new friend Thea goodbye, and then he took me down a few blocks of streets, where people stared at me outright, and some of the men called out things like, “Hello, Mommy, how are you?” (Mommy??). I would smile, but not answer and just hurry along at Moses’ side. It was warm under the Kampala sun, but not nearly as hot as I expected it to be! I kept my little sweater on the whole time, wondering about modesty. Moses led me to a HUGE open square PACKED with dusty white vans, known as ‘coasters’, going out from here to all over Uganda. He carried my huge suitcase, such a gentleman, and we wandered through the acres of vans looking for one for Jinja. He didn’t leave until he’d haggled with the bus people for a price, worried that they’d charge me more than it was worth, and I was up in the bus on the last available seat, my bags all over me and around me, and squeezing in close to the woman in a burhka (and I thought I was warm!) next to me, and the men in front of and behind me. The bus man climbed in and stood next to the door beside me and then Moses waved and we were off!

I cannot pretend that I wasn’t frightened. The fact that I found myself speeding along in a hot van packed to the max with strangers all eying me up and down in this wayyy foreign place just didn’t seem real! Each time we’d stop, I’d have to stand up so that my seat could be folded away to make room for a little aisle so whoever was squeezing out from the back to get off could get to the door. Then the driver would start moving again before the doorman was actually back on and he’d jump in quickly before we’d gain speed. The journey to Jinja took FOREVER. I was roasting and uncomfortable, squashed in too close to people and holding on to my baggage. I was exhausted having had so little sleep since Turkey. And totally unaware of where I was, where I was headed, or how I would get on to Gabi’s from there. Completely alone and completely clueless! Still, somehow I felt a peace which only God could give. I knew that He knew that I only had Him and so He had to be enough…

A man’s joyful laughter at the back of the bus made me smile in my weariness and fear.

About halfway through the journey the doorman, who had a rather intimidating way about him, began to collect everyone’s fare. Moses had warned me that he might try to get more out of me than had been decided but to stick to what he had settled, which was 6,000 Ugandan shillings—about $3. Thea had warned me to be very assertive when dealing with money with people, because I will be expected to be rich everywhere I go, being white. But when it came right down to it, I had no problems! I had to give him a 20,000 bill and so felt nervous when he didn’t give me my change straightaway, but he didn’t forget and after he’d collected everyone’s fare, he had the proper change to hand around to people and seemed to have a fantastic memory for whom had paid what.

I laughed to myself a little when I found we were on a bridge crossing over the mighty River Nile and no one even batted an eyelid!

Then we finally arrived in Jinja, to a similar huge lot of these ‘coaster’ buses, and the doorman was handing my bag to someone and telling him to take me to a coaster to Bugembe. The unnamed man threw my huge 25kg suitcase up onto his head to carry (how in the world, I will never understand!), and wordlessly started off. I followed swiftly behind him, past the stares of all the people we passed as we headed up the street. He brought me to a coaster headed for Bugembe, a village just up the motorway, and they tied the back of the car shut because my suitcase was too big for it to shut naturally. One thing is certain, Ugandans find ways to carry anything of any shape or size. Even on Boda-bodas!

As we got going, the doorman asked where it was that I was actually going, and I showed him the address I had for the house Racham is renting in a small village called Wanyange. The problem is, Uganda doesn’t have a door to door postal system, only P.O. boxes, so the written addresses for anywhere are very vague. For instance, I had only “Wanyange Village, the Uganda-Kenya Highway, Jinja, Uganda”… right. Soon everyone on the coaster was looking at the address and putting their heads together trying to think of where it might be! It made me smile to see how willing all of these strangers were to help. One kind old grandfather type even took it upon himself to ring Gabi’s mobile for me as my English mobile wasn’t working here. Then he passed it up, hand after hand, up to the driver :) And they discussed where to drop me, along the highway, near to the village Wanyange. After paying a couple more thousand shillings (equaling $1!) and thanking everyone profusely, I found myself, utterly exhausted, standing in the red dirt beside the Uganda-Kenya highway, my huge case beside me, my backpack on my back, baking in the sun, and waiting for Gabi to somehow show up in that exact, random location. Oh, the endless adventures of just one morning!

And then finally, they were there—Gabi, the landlord of the house she’s renting, Daniel, and his friend Isaac, the driver! And suddenly we were off to a bus stop to pick up another friend of Gabi’s, Lydia, whom had come in from Kampala just for the day to see Gabi. We three spent the afternoon snacking on delicious tropical fruits in the gorgeous garden of Gabi’s house, until we decided to make our way back into Jinja because we needed things like drinking water, food, and anti-malaria pills. So, it was a walk through the village to the coaster stop on the highway and as we walked along, the half-naked little children in the yards of the village homes would come running to the edge of their gardens again and again, eyes all lit-up, shouting excitedly, “Mzungu! Mzungu!” (White! White!) and smiling profusely when Gabi and I would smile at them, wave, and ask, “How are you?” They are absolutely irresistible… And after only 2 days here (as I write this), I am hearing “Mzungu! Mzungu!” in my head :) The children are my favourite, is it any wonder?

Running our errands, Gabi and I took my first Boda-boda, both of us together on the back of one guy’s motorbike. I.love.it. The wind in my hair, zipping through the busy city streets :) The other boda-boda drivers pull up next to ours and make comments to our driver as if, “how’d you get so lucky?” haha. I love the feeling of freedom. Taking boda-bodas makes me feel so aware of where He has me, smack-dab in the middle something big and foreign and different from anything else He’s had me doing in this life He owns. Africa, I think, will always remind me of what it means to surrender, and what a trust-worthy God we get to surrender to, with dreams for us which are so much bigger than we ever dream for ourselves.

Daniel the landlord and Isaac the driver have been faithfully looking out for us, joined by a 3^rd yesterday, another Daniel, the fiancée of Gabi’s missionary friend. They are constantly checking in on us and just going out of their way to make sure we’re alright and taken care of and safe. It’s so humbling and kind. Such generous souls! There’s no reason why they should have to go out of their way to look out for us! Daniel the landlord’s pastor, Victor and a sister from their church, Peace, have been visiting us every night about bedtime to pray for us—sometimes it’s a bit *much*, but we are touched by their generosity!

Today, 2^nd day, we’ve had an official meeting about the ministry with the two Daniels and now feel that tomorrow, 3^rd day, we should be able to start unpacking properly in the house and getting more settled. We’re lacking a kitchen at the moment as the house, though beautiful-looking, is very incomplete and needs a lot of work. Once that’s settled, hopefully by the end of next week, it will feel more like we can settle in to the home and prepare properly to start taking in children by the beginning of February! We met with the Local Council member today as well, to get things rolling with the official registration as an NGO here in Uganda. The Lord seems to be placing us alongside just the right people at the right time, and everyone feels a friend here :)

It already feels like we’ve done so much more than only 2 days would allow! And each day is a brand new adventure… so… who knows what will come tomorrow! For now, I’m going to have another awesomely fresh mango, then crawl up under my mosquito net and write another letter to a certain handsome boyfriend of mine : )

I love you, friends and family! THANK YOU SO MUCH for praying. I have no doubt that it is the prayer that is smoothing the way for us. Keep Gabi in your prayers especially as she makes so many decisions as we settle this ministry in here for the rest of her foreseeable life!

More soon :)

Love from Uganda!
Leah

 p.s. I have discovered that my letters to the UK may take around 3 weeks to arrive, and to the states, a month! And we have no postal address here… we’re working on getting registered for a P.O. box!

One Night in Turkey

Oh the adventures in following Him!

As I write this I am sitting by some airport windows looking out over a vista of a massive Turkish city which is reminding me, strangely, perhaps, of being in Bucharest, Romania again.

I have to admit, one of my biggest worries about going to Uganda has been the getting there. My travel agency was rubbish and has been nothing but trouble since I booked in October. They routed me through Istanbul, which is fine, except they booked me going in to one airport and out from another, without enough time in between on the way back to actually make it to my connecting flight! Then they refused to do anything about it… Grrrrr. Again and again when I told people I was going through Turkey, I was warned not to leave the airport on my own, as if I had any choice!

So when I arrived in Istanbul this evening, I was wary, but relieved when I was able to pass through customs smoothly, praying frantically that my debit card would miraculously work here to draw out money for the entry visa when it didn’t work just hours before in England (and it did, of course :)), then out to the buses where a kindly bus driver directed me to the bus going to the city centre where I would get the next bus out to the other airport. Everything went so smoothly, I could hardly believe it after anticipating such a headache!

Traffic in Turkey is crazy, though. Istanbul is a city of 20 million people! So the bus arrived later than I hoped and I worried that the next bus might also arrive later than I hoped and I’d be late to check-in for my flight. So when we were greeted off the bus by smiley taxi drivers asking, “Taxi? Taxi? Where you going?”, I was tempted and inquired about how much it would be and how long it would take. I had exactly 50 TL (Turkish Lire) in my purse so if it was any more than that, I would have to gamble with the bus. The taxi driver I spoke to was a jolly character. He explained in broken English and gestures that the meter would say 45 or 46TL but that he would agree to drive me for 40TL. I thought, “Oh! How kind is he?” but perhaps should have been wary of such generosity—I am learning!

“You want Chai, Lady?” he knocked on my window and asked after he’d closed my door behind me. I happily took a cup of Turkish chai tea from the taxi station and we set off through the dark-of-night Istanbul streets, crazy with traffic and alive with the sounds of beeping car horns. I reveled in the excitement of passing through somewhere I’d never been. Even being in a taxi was rather new and exciting as I so very rarely take one. We zipped under what looked like an ancient aquaduct spanning the city, and many times passed by the remainders of the massive, crumbling city wall rising up formidably in the night. There were numerous elaborate mosques situated across the skyline and all lit up, including the Hagia Sofia, which my driver pointed out to me across the water. As we hurried along the highway, I prayed thanks for how smoothly it was all going despite my worries, and I prayed over the life of this jolly, kind taxi driver and the lives of his loved ones. I’d already decided that though we agreed on a fare of 40TL, I was going to give him my 50TL and let him keep the change. He was so kind and jolly and put me at ease.

When we arrived at the airport and it came time to pay him, he reached into his pocket the same time as I pulled out my purse. I handed him my 50TL with a thank you, and moments later he held up the note I thought I had just handed him, showing it to be only 5TL! I frantically thought, “Oh no! I thought I had 50TL in here!” and dug back through my purse, expecting that I’d just drawn out the wrong note, but reminding myself as I frantically searched that I had only had the one note left after paying for the visa and the bus, and it was a 50TL note. He continued to show me that it was only 5 and gesture that it needed to be 5-0. It took me a few moments to catch on to the fact that I was being swindled. I said, “I already gave you 50. 5-0. I gave you 5-0.” But I felt confused about it and wondered if there was some way that I had made a mistake and now I had no way to properly pay the guy. But he soon seemed to repent of his game, said okay, and drew out 10TL to give me my change as if I HAD given him 50. Grrr. But I was still so flustered, that I didn’t take the change! Silly girl. I just said, “I gave you 5-0,” as if convincing myself. He shook my hand at the end, smiling and saying/gesturing again that we had agreed on 40 but I’d given him 50 – oh yes, he knew every well what he was doing! After I hurried away, feeling kind of stunned at being so swindled when I was feeling so safe, I recalled that that is exactly what I had read accounts of when I had researched my travel through Turkey before going. And it made me mad! And insecure.

So when I came to check-in for my flight (in good time, at least!) I was rather unexcited to find that the check-in attendant didn’t seem to know what he was doing. He took the longest time looking my details up, then had to call someone over to help, the two of them talking amongst themselves in Turkish and telling me nothing about what was going on. Finally, they told me my flight had been delayed, though gave me no explanation, and said to come back in 2 hours.

Meanwhile, on the bus I had gotten a call out of the blue from the rubbish travel agency telling me that Turkish Airlines had canceled my return flight home in March and to go and speak to their ticketing office when I got to the airport! So… next stop was the ticket office, where I was able to get transferred to a different flight for my return home in March. It was a gift from God because the new flight does not entail an airport switch to get to the connection like this one going out did! I arrive back at London Heathrow at 3:15pm on March 27^th! Ooh, I miss my England already :)

They were also able to explain to me that my current flight had also been canceled (have no idea what’s up with all the cancelations!) and the new flight wouldn’t leave until 6:35pm the next day! Arriving in the middle of the night a day after I was meant to arrive… But within moments they were directing me to someone else, who directed me to someone else and so on, until I was being shuttled away to a hotel stay compliments of the airline! One night in Turkey :) What an adventure He is! As we drove along the dark highway again, I saw a huge, fancy tower with a sign saying The Courtyard Marriott and chuckled to myself thinking sardonically, “wouldn’t it be funny if they put me up someplace like that?”

And then we pulled in next to the entrance :)
God’s sense of humour never ceases to crack me up :)

So, I spent one night in Turkey in my own room in a lush hotel, with continental breakfast and lunch at a gorgeous Mediterranean-style restaurant in the hotel and provided compliments of Turkish Airlines. I had a bubble bath my last morning before Africa, and simply luxuriated in this unexpected treat of one night in a posh hotel in Turkey with my God! Unbelievable :)

And now the real adventure begins, a day late, but just in His time… I will be landing in Uganda just after 2am and finding my way to Gabi’s an hour from the airport—another taxi experience, I’m afraid! But here we go…

Thank you so so so much more than I can say for all your prayers!!!
May you know this love; may you love this Lover!

Sending love from Turkey!
--Leah