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

Merry Christmas Eve

Oh. My.

It has been WEEKS since I've even looked at this blog. Mostly because the lead-up to leaving Sweden was a crazy time. Now I am nestled down so very happily at my friends' beautiful home in The Cotswolds-- my favourite region of England-- and every day I am resting in His grace like I haven't done in ages. The grace of this incredible God whom we are celebrating coming to us as a baby and living to die so He could rescue us from our fates and adopt us as His own...

I can't contain all of this thankfulness!

"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth." -- John 1:14

The Song Holding me Tonight

"And He lets me know my barrenness so I will learn to lean...
Beautiful mercy-- do what you have to do.
You know the best way-- do what you have to do.
Jealous lover-- do what you have to do.
...You're so kind.
Beautiful Mercy."
(-- lyrics from Beautiful Mercy by Laura Hackett)

Outlive Your Life by Max Lucado

I have been reading Max Lucado since I was a little girl, so the decision to review one of his newest books was a no-brainer. And just like his children's book, "Just In Case You Ever Wonder" used to hold my attention as a 7-year-old, "Outlive Your Life" held my attention now. A quick and breezy read-- even while being stacked out with convicting and powerful truths-- Max delighted me with how he breathed new life into familiar bible stories and bible characters, expounding on their principles to apply to our modern-day lives as followers of Christ. 

I was especially moved by a chapter he wrote on prayer-- as one of the most powerful ways we are called to outlive our lives. I happened to read it on an evening in which I was fasting and praying over the ministry situation I'm very quickly entering into (www.rachamministries.org) and the Lord convicted me afresh of a truth He's made clear to me again and again and again-- ALL of the work done for His Kingdom, in His way, begins in prayer. Jesus was the master example, of course. As Lucado points out:

And Jesus. Our prayerful Jesus.
Awakening early to pray (Mark 1:35)
Dismissing people to pray (Matt 14:23)
Ascending a mountain to pray (Luke 9:28)
Crafting a model prayer to teach us to pray (Matt 6:9-13)
Cleansing the temple so others could pray (Matt 21:12-13)
Stepping into a garden to pray (Luke 22:39-46)
Jesus immersed His words and work in prayer. Powerful things happen when we do the same.
(pg 160)

He goes on to tell stories of amazing things God accomplished through ordinary people like you and me who made an earnest effort to take the set aside time to call on an extraordinary God about the things going on around us.

The final chapter in the book was the best-- Lucado's grand finale. It was expounding on Jesus' parable of the sheep and the goats, how He would recount for us all the loving things we did in our lives to improve the lot of another, and tell us that it was Him we were touching then. And so all the times we didn't do what we could to reach out to the people around us, we didn't reach out to Him... This challenge envelopes my entire life. We are called, most importantly, to love. But for a very specific reason-- because of love of Him. The two go hand-in-hand. Jesus says we cannot love Him without loving 'the least of these' (which, less face it, we all are at one time or another, in one way or another), and when we love others, we're loving Him.

So, I finished this book one evening fasting and praying for the next ministry stint He has me in, helping to start up a children's home in Uganda with Racham Ministries (arriving January 5th). It's all completely beyond me and I still don't know how He's going to get it all together, but I know I can trust Him. And I know that whatever way He shows me to serve any of His little ones (and that's all of us, not just the children) is an opportunity to pour out my love on Him through pouring it out on them. So, may the little bit of Himself in me outlive the me in me as He teaches me to love on, love on, love on.

And may you outlive your life through Him too.
There's just no other thing that matters when all is said and done...


*I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255

Ah-maz-ing Blog Post...

I would love for everyone to read
this fantastic blog post
called Adjective: Recklessly Wasteful

Mmmmm. So beautifully challenging!

Chance Encounters

Have I mentioned how deeply I love my little international church group here called The Well? Building relationships there, sharing with one another, the teaching from various people and the Word, the worship, He just uses all of it, every week, to refresh my heart somehow. And heal bits of it which have been battered and bruised in other church situations.

Last Sunday a lovely middle-aged Iranian lady pastor came to share her testimony with us. And I listened awestruck. She grew up in a Muslim home in Iran, and started having visions of Jesus before she was even 5 years old. He came to her when she was deathly ill and His presence calmed her. Then He came to her in dreams all throughout her childhood. She spent her life seeking to discover who this man was in her dreams, and the amount of times "Christians" turned her away and sent her home empty is shocking. But He continued to woo her, and she continued to seek after Him, actually aching with a curiosity that wouldn't go away, until she FINALLY, in her 30's, met someone who could tell her who this man was. And she gave her life to Him on the spot, soon became the leader of an underground house church, and then was evacuated from Iran to Sweden in the revolution when her fellow Christians leaders were being martyred.

Afterwards, various people spoke up and shared the different ways God had revealed Himself to them. The experiences were as varied as the people in The Well-- from every continent, so many countries, ages, life experiences.

The kind Iranian lady pastor and I took the same bus home in the crystal clear Swedish night. I thanked her for sharing, told her how encouraged I was. She wrapped her arms around me with a warm smile, then brushed her fingers across my face like a mother and told me in somewhat broken English how happy she was to meet me. And I was struck by the feeling of being mothered, at a bus stop in the cold of a dark Scandinavian city, by a woman whose years have seen a life so very different from the one my fewer ones have seen. I thought about all the people those hands have reached out and touched across the world, in a life so foreign from my own. And marveled at His ways, which miraculously drew this woman from the time she was a little girl in a part of the world hostile to Him, and how He's drawn me, born into a family where His Name is praised, and which set us before one another on this cold winter's night, so many stories of His faithfulness to us living behind each of our pairs of eyes. United by Him, two strangers who could hardly have had more different lives.

When I got home that night I spoke to my sister on Skype and missed my family. When I recalled her tender touch, reaching out to brush her fingers across my face like a loving mother, I was just reminded of His excellent plan to adopt ALL of us as His children, to give us ALL a role in His kingdom, a part in His body. I cannot possibly express how much it comforts me to be a part of this worldwide family, united with burning hearts so full of His love and His purposes and so alive in this cosmic battle.

And I think remembering all of that is exactly what's got her through all the devastating things her life has passed through, and keeps her going, serving Him, lit up with the love of Christ and aching to pour Him out into the emptiness all around her. She works in outreach to Muslims here. She gave me her card and asked if I would come along and help her some time.

...And all this reassurance just from a kind-hearted reaching out and brushing one's motherly fingers across one's chilly face.