I have thought a lot about my sister over the past few months. It's really because I feel like I am engaged in missionary work all over again. And Jordan is serving full-time in Tahiti as just such a missionary.
We have both had our challenges, but mine seem so small compared to hers. She has two languages to learn and speak! I'm lucky because most Africans know English. Sure I have to change my accent a bit and speak the local lingo, but it's nothing compared to what Jordan has to do.
I'm so thankful for her service. It has inspired me each and every day I've been here. I know she is working hard, and doing her best despite the challenges. It only makes me want to make the most of my time here. I thought I'd share an excerpt from one of her letters. I think she'll be okay with it. I hope you can get a sense of what an awesome person she is, and of what an awesome missionary she is as well:
"we are teaching so many people. and i still can't understand anything which is
frustrating, because i know that there are times when people are pouring out
their souls to us and i don't know what to say or how to meet their needs
because i have no idea what is going on. it is frustrating. and it is
frustrating when i can't express myself how i want to. everyday has been a
struggle. i am having a difficult time with having patinece...BUT i have
studied a TON about the atonement and the grace of the savior. i know that
i can do this. i have definitely been humbled here on so many different
levels. and i know without a doubt that he loves me and that he is sitting
right there beside me everyday. i have seen that through all the tender mercies that i have recieved each day. i am making progress...i hope! i am
teaching lessons now...not just bearing my testimony. i am teaching
lessons! yeah, they are super super simple and i struggle through the whole
thing, but the people here are so nice and help me through it when i
struggle to find the words."
I read this email and just wanted to respond, to let her know that I'm having some difficult times too. This is what I said...
"I am having a difficult time in Africa myself. Many of my friends from
the last wave have gone back home, and it's just hard without them.
Plus I've been pretty sick for a week and a half, and I am just
missing home so much! Many of my projects have finished up and I am
hesitant to start any new ones because I am only here for a few more
weeks. I am trying, though, and I'm working to keep my days busy each
and every day. I need a missionary planner I guess!
"I think about you so much while I'm here. I feel like we are both
halfway around the world from home just serving people. Your service
is a bit different, and you are probably feeling the Spirit a lot more
than I am, but I feel connected to you in some way. You are always in
my prayers, and I LOVE telling people about my little sister serving
as a full-time missionary in TAHITI! Everyone is so impressed. But no
one, I assure you, is more impressed than me! Your biggest fan is in
Africa!!"
And it's true. I am Jordan's biggest fan. But I'm also her big brother. And no one feels luckier to have her than I do. I'm glad she's where she is right now. It's only helped to strengthen me in my times of need...
Friday, August 12, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Olupot
Every MZUNGU comes to Africa wanting an African name. It's not just about having one to have one. The person who gives it to you turns out to be pretty special. So when I began my search for an African name, my friend Peter from the business seminar decided to bestow one upon me.
OLUPOT.
I asked Peter what this name meant, thinking it sounded pretty cool and therefore had some significant meaning. He said it meant, "soil."
Great. My African name is "dirt." Who in this world hates dirt more than I do? Seriously.
But, I admit, this name has really grown on me, and I'd like to tell you why. Here in Uganda, dirt tends to stick to you. You have to scrub and scrub to get it off because it coats your skin, gets in your hair, and stains your clothes. This may not sound like a good reason to like dirt, but keep reading...
As I've lived here, I realize there are some things I would like to immediately scrub away. Let me give some examples:
African Grammar. Here are some oft-repeated phrases: "You first come." Meaning, come over here first. Ending a sentence with a 'yes?' to make it a question. And finally, "Nice time!" at the end of a visit.
You see where I'm going with this. Yes? (There's my point.)
I was also annoyed by how many Africans kneeled on the ground when shaking my hand. I hate it when people bow down to me. It made me all sorts of uncomfortable.
Finally, it kind of bothered me how accepting people were of us. There was no skepticism when we presented a program for development. They just took it as we offered it, and there were no questions asked. We're MZUNGUS afterall. We have money and we do everything right. Yes?!
Well. I felt uncomfortable. I wanted to do away with this and many other things. Completely.
But now I am asking, "What dirt do I want to take home with me?" And not just the stuff that is caked on my shoes and clothes. What lessons and mannerisms would I bring home?
And as I've thought about this, I've remembered that soil is not just dirt. It is a life-giving resource, required especially by Ugandans who largely subsist on crops and agriculture. These little things are the life-giving soils that help Ugandans grow. And I think they can help me too.
Already, I find myself laughing and smiling and wondering at this people. But more than that, these little Africanisms are causing me to think, and believe, and bond with others. And I think they will continue to bless my life even as I return to America.
And the whole kneeling thing has offered me a different perspective, a new lesson in humility. It's not about dirt that stains the knees of my pants. It's about the fertile soils of love and respect that change minds and hearts. THAT is the soil, the dirt, that I want to take home with me.
And in the end, I guess there is only one more thing to say about my name and how much I love it, and how much I want to take these small tokens of Africa home with me.
NICE TIME.
OLUPOT.
I asked Peter what this name meant, thinking it sounded pretty cool and therefore had some significant meaning. He said it meant, "soil."
Great. My African name is "dirt." Who in this world hates dirt more than I do? Seriously.
But, I admit, this name has really grown on me, and I'd like to tell you why. Here in Uganda, dirt tends to stick to you. You have to scrub and scrub to get it off because it coats your skin, gets in your hair, and stains your clothes. This may not sound like a good reason to like dirt, but keep reading...
As I've lived here, I realize there are some things I would like to immediately scrub away. Let me give some examples:
African Grammar. Here are some oft-repeated phrases: "You first come." Meaning, come over here first. Ending a sentence with a 'yes?' to make it a question. And finally, "Nice time!" at the end of a visit.
You see where I'm going with this. Yes? (There's my point.)
I was also annoyed by how many Africans kneeled on the ground when shaking my hand. I hate it when people bow down to me. It made me all sorts of uncomfortable.
Finally, it kind of bothered me how accepting people were of us. There was no skepticism when we presented a program for development. They just took it as we offered it, and there were no questions asked. We're MZUNGUS afterall. We have money and we do everything right. Yes?!
Well. I felt uncomfortable. I wanted to do away with this and many other things. Completely.
But now I am asking, "What dirt do I want to take home with me?" And not just the stuff that is caked on my shoes and clothes. What lessons and mannerisms would I bring home?
And as I've thought about this, I've remembered that soil is not just dirt. It is a life-giving resource, required especially by Ugandans who largely subsist on crops and agriculture. These little things are the life-giving soils that help Ugandans grow. And I think they can help me too.
Already, I find myself laughing and smiling and wondering at this people. But more than that, these little Africanisms are causing me to think, and believe, and bond with others. And I think they will continue to bless my life even as I return to America.
And the whole kneeling thing has offered me a different perspective, a new lesson in humility. It's not about dirt that stains the knees of my pants. It's about the fertile soils of love and respect that change minds and hearts. THAT is the soil, the dirt, that I want to take home with me.
And in the end, I guess there is only one more thing to say about my name and how much I love it, and how much I want to take these small tokens of Africa home with me.
NICE TIME.
TIA...This is Africa
Recently, I've been so fully aware of all the frustrating and negative things about living in Africa. Our team's general comments when such things occur:
"T.I.A."
Or in other words, "THIS IS AFRICA!"
Unfortunately, I'm not completely stoked about the idea of just passing everything off as "Oh well, this is Africa." But that's what everyone else seems to do.
Especially when the power goes out. I'd say it's off at our house about fifty percent of the time. I'm not exaggerating in the least bit.
Or when boda boda drivers try to overcharge us. They think that because we are MZUNGUS, we ooze money, therefore we can afford to pay more for a ride across town.
Or when it rains and rains and rains, and the dirt roads become a thick mud that cakes your shoes. It's a pain trying to clean the kitchen floor when you're on cleaning duty.
Or when Africans answer their phones right there in the middle of a class we are trying to teach. And they just stay in their seats and have a conversation. It's so distracting!
Or when we plan to go teach at a school, discuss all the important matters with a headmaster, then he decides not to mobilize or inform students at all. Tens of hours gone to waste when not a single student shows up to learn. It's certainly what happened at our high school this week...
BUT then I meet someone like Tyrel Matthews. Clearly a student leader at that failure of a school, he decided to round up as many students as he could find so that we could offer our lessons on leadership, goal-setting, decision-making, and overcoming conflict and stress.
Tyrel Matthew's dream is to become President of Uganda. He's without doubt one of the brightest kids I've met here in Africa. His favorite subects are history and literature. And politics. Basically, he caught my attention when he told me that! And after talking with him, becoming friends on facebook, and receiving a recommended list of African novels, I've come to love and respect and admire him.
And we had a class to teach as well. 30 students total. Not bad, considering he convinced them all to come to school when their exams were complete and they wanted a break from it all.
And I've been thinking. Maybe power outtages, African "time" (which is far worse than Mormon Standard Time), and difficult boda drivers are not the true Africa. Maybe it's people like Tyrel Matthews.
"T.I.A."
Or in other words, "THIS IS AFRICA!"
Unfortunately, I'm not completely stoked about the idea of just passing everything off as "Oh well, this is Africa." But that's what everyone else seems to do.
Especially when the power goes out. I'd say it's off at our house about fifty percent of the time. I'm not exaggerating in the least bit.
Or when boda boda drivers try to overcharge us. They think that because we are MZUNGUS, we ooze money, therefore we can afford to pay more for a ride across town.
Or when it rains and rains and rains, and the dirt roads become a thick mud that cakes your shoes. It's a pain trying to clean the kitchen floor when you're on cleaning duty.
Or when Africans answer their phones right there in the middle of a class we are trying to teach. And they just stay in their seats and have a conversation. It's so distracting!
Or when we plan to go teach at a school, discuss all the important matters with a headmaster, then he decides not to mobilize or inform students at all. Tens of hours gone to waste when not a single student shows up to learn. It's certainly what happened at our high school this week...
BUT then I meet someone like Tyrel Matthews. Clearly a student leader at that failure of a school, he decided to round up as many students as he could find so that we could offer our lessons on leadership, goal-setting, decision-making, and overcoming conflict and stress.
Tyrel Matthew's dream is to become President of Uganda. He's without doubt one of the brightest kids I've met here in Africa. His favorite subects are history and literature. And politics. Basically, he caught my attention when he told me that! And after talking with him, becoming friends on facebook, and receiving a recommended list of African novels, I've come to love and respect and admire him.
And we had a class to teach as well. 30 students total. Not bad, considering he convinced them all to come to school when their exams were complete and they wanted a break from it all.
And I've been thinking. Maybe power outtages, African "time" (which is far worse than Mormon Standard Time), and difficult boda drivers are not the true Africa. Maybe it's people like Tyrel Matthews.
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