More scattered thoughts as we resettle...

Another story on how unpredictable culture shock is.  We had a big bookcase that did not fit in our new house.  I loved this book case--one of our first full priced "adult" purchase... $100 from IKEA, not $25 from Salvation Army...so, sadly, it did not work and we had decided to donate furniture since we have been given so, so much.... Yea, Habitat for Humanity who picks up large bookcases.  Two African American guys come one morning and they moved that big beast all by themselves--I couldn't believe it.  The one guy was Andre the Giant size... for real--he was such a big fella.  Well, AFTER they moved this big piece (it's noteworthy b/c we have moved it a couple of times and it took a LOT of effort and sometimes with a LOT of people)... anyway, the Andre the Giant guy put a smaller piece of furniture on his shoulder and immediately it brought me to this image which was in Uganda when we left and we sold furniture to some neighbors--I just cried and cried.  It was a powerful connection--in the US, you don't see many people heist a piece of furniture on their shoulder and yet, it was a common sight in Uganda!!! Culture shock and sweet memory and grieving emerges...

This is a picture of the family who lived next to the Hines. Gideon is our priest at the Chapel where we attended church and pictured are three of his children, Andrew, Stephen and Winnie.  Andrew is wearing the funny hat, although we all took turns.  He was helping me play a practical joke on Leslie--one that has traveled all over the world and lasted 20 years since we were in college--I really got her good b/c she hasn't even thought about it in 20 years since the joke had become more between our friend Laura and me. That doesn't stop me and I still got her good!!!

So... Andrew is our funny neighbor and he is a joy to know.  He loves jokes.  He still emails us jokes... here is one that is really funny because it is so Ugandan and I bet anyone who lives in the inner city would appreciate the police humor!!  I still can't figure out if they mean "Mr. T" from American pop culture or is it just a name they use...  We miss the Gideon's family!!!

An old farmer wrote 2 his son, Mr.T

in prison.

"This year, I wont b able 2 plant

potatoes cos I can't clear the field,

I know if u were here, u would help

me".

The son, Mr.T wrote back,"Dad,

don't even think of clearing the field

because that's where I buried the

money I stole".

... The Police read the letter & the next

day the whole field was cleared by the

police, looking for the money but

nothing was found.

The following day, the son wrote

again, "Now plant your potatoes Dad..

It's the best I can do from

here".

I miss the way the Ugandans put our two families together--they just scooped us up and we were always invited to dinners together and fellowships.  As we left, we were thanked at several dinners together--here is an example of the hospital gifts to our two families.  Isn't that generous, thoughtful and so tribal?  Very big contrast to the western, more individual nature.

Random thoughts on culture shock and differences in Uganda and the US….

 So, I happen to hear things going around town that you would NEVER hear in Uganda.  An incomplete and short list…

-No, honey, I am sure we have two at home. Don’t buy that, it’s ok.

-You guys have had too much, no more, kids..

-2 older men at the gym track...“Well, Stan, this is my last lap. I have to go”  “Don’t leave me, I have more to say and you are such a good listener!” (In Uganda and really, Africa, your time is not your own and you would give your time to the person in need or who you are talking to)

-(read in a magazine article) "my hobby is keeping up with the latest trends in home decor.  I LOVE seeing what is new and up and coming"

-a grandpa to his kids at Office Depot.."ok, you can choose candy here OR we can go get a donut across the street.  you guys have been good"

A conversation I had with the ER billing--$524 for 20 minutes!!!!  So, I called and said, while I am grateful for the wonderful care, that was a lot of money!!!  I just got back from Uganda and we are not used to paying that much.

Person on the phone-- “Oh, I know, every other country has free health care but the US. “

Me—“oh, no, we just didn’t have an ER, so there was nothing to pay because we didn’t have the service”

Person on the phone—“What do you mean?”

Exacatly.

A thought I had as I did laundry…

Grass fell out of my basket and was all over the clothes—oh, wow, grass on laundry in the US is from a new woven basket, but in Uganda it was from the grass on the ground where people who can’t afford a hanging line put their laundry…

It actually made me happy.

Finally, culture shock is for real.

We were in Old Navy buying some clothes for the kids—I was so excited that there were $8 jeans…I had to leave, so Aaron was going to pay the bill and we would meet back later (yes, the glorious multi tasking—I had to get groceries and yes, it was on a SUNDAY!!!)

That night I saw the price—it was full price.  I was like no way.  So, I took the receipt in the next day, a little hassled b/c why didn’t it just ring up?  To my surprise, there were soccer moms working the morning shift… it’s usually young, care free workers.  Well, they took that receipt over and showed me how the DARK jeans were $8, but right next to them were the ones I got which were not on sale.  With a tight mouth, I said, “that’s pretty nuanced, the jeans were all dark, can’t you just give it to me?”  Fake smiling soccer moms did not give me an inch, but self righteously told me to get the jeans and they could exchange them—had they been worn?,--No, they haven’t.  So, discouraged at the big time waste over a pair of jeans, I became determined to get those $8 jeans and then I was so mad thinking about how hard working Ugandan moms are and they are not doing such silly things…  Well, 20 minutes later, I took the jeans back  and calmly apologized that I didn’t realize the difference of dark and darker jeans… Soccer mom worker asks me if they have been washed (of course they have, I am an efficient processor of goods now!!!)  She humbly said, awww, we can’t take back washed items!!!  Even she felt sorry for me and gave me $5 come back card as I walked out defeated…Well, then as I walked out, there was a young and very thin sick man being assisted from the pharmacy next door.  His car was California license plates and I just lost it, imagining what his story could be and sat in that parking lot and cried and cried for him, for me, for Ugandan moms and soccer moms working at Old Navy and the absurdity of it all.  Can you say culture shock—circuits overloaded with weariness plus a cultural nuance and ignorance and a trigger of a sad situation—all at once.  And people wonder WHY I will not be volunteering for things this year—no way, do you want THAT on your volunteer line?????

Another time we have been shocked was on Micah’s birthday at Celebration Station—we were go-carting  with a predominantly African American group of people—coming from a black culture, it was mild culture shock. It did not compute--black Americans do not act the same as black Africans. That and the busy place of arcades and overpriced putt, putt…whew!

And so it comes and goes when you least expect it—something will just trigger or flashback or not compute.

Funny.

2 more stories on processing—helpful thoughts and hearts have come in strange packages…

Curt, the furniture salesman…

“oh, wow, you just moved back from Uganda?  How long were you there? “

3 years.

“Girl, that’s like dog years, that is amazing.”

I LOVE Curt the furniture salesman.

Maria, the dental hygenist…

“what was the thing you missed most in Uganda?" And then a total stranger listened and laughed with me for a few minutes.  I LOVE Maria, too.

We have found a surprising connection to Uganda in Greensboro.  Micah’s school has several families who have adopted Ugandan children and a principal who lived there for two years.  They even have exchange students from Uganda!  At the girls school, we met a girl at open house who is reading a book about a woman in Uganda. She was in Emma Shae’s class and so excited that Emma Shae lived in Uganda.  In Mallory’s class, she has an African American teacher who is interested in Uganda and several of her friends brag to other people about Mallory being from Uganda. 

We have been so humbled by God’s provision and leading in this time.  We are entering a time of waiting in regards to any future plans on going back overseas, but we have learned to wait with our running shoes on!

Finally, I sign off with a funny quote I read this summer and made a connection coming from a very agricultural society to a modern one...

This is from How the Scots Invented the Modern World by Arthur Herman

quoting Andrew Fletcher in 1703 speaking against Scotland uniting with England

"For what end did God create such vast tracts of land, capable of producing so great a variety and abundance?  Can there be a greater disorder in human affairs, than having human beings jammed together in cities, earning their living by 'the exercise of a sedentary and unmanly trade to foment the luxury of a few?'"

Importance of Being There

In some ways, we haven’t even started processing, but in small, small ways we have.

Thought number one for me about living in Uganda.

It mattered that we went and lived there.

Jesus came from heaven and walked among us—that sure did change eternity.

John tells us in his first chapter…

"14 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."

I read 2 books this summer and that was the strong impression for me—it mattered that we went.

The first book was in part about when Jackie Kennedy was a young college girl right after WWII and went for a year to France on a school exchange program.  This thought by the author really resonated with me…

“In the affectionate relationship of Jacqueline Bouvier with the comtesse de Renty and her daughter, as in Henriette Nizan’s perception of the young Americans in their intense enjoyment of Paris, there was something more than fun, something deeply therapeutic at work.  It was not the kind of recovery the architects of The Marshall Plan had in mind, a recovery made of the loan of goods and services; instead it was made of the pleasure and relief for these survivors of war in serving once again as a model for a joyous way of life.”

The second book was by Henri Nouwen called The Way of the Heart.

“Let us not underestimate how hard it is to be compassionate.  Compassion is hard because it requires the inner disposition to with others to the place where they are weak, vulnerable, lonely and broken.  But this is not our spontaneous response to suffering.  What we desire most is to do away with suffering by felling from it or finding a quick cure for it.  As busy, active, relevant ministers, we want to earn our bread by making a real contribution.  This means first and foremost doing something to show that our presence makes a difference.  And so we ignore our greatest gift, which is our ability to enter into solidarity with those who suffer.

Which leads me to my next thought on returning.  I have been so thoughtful about narrative as we have left one culture expressing a narrative very different than our home and more familiar culture.  Some of my favorite and most influential people in my own life are great lovers of people and their stories.  So, I have been so thoughtful of how important narrative is—my own and honoring and listening to others.

During our time of intense transition this summer, I found Woody Guthrie—and I cried through many of his songs—it was so healing.  I have to go back to the Great Depression in the US to find the flavor and amount of suffering that we experienced living in Uganda—actually that we walked along side THOSE WHO experienced that degree of suffering.  He writes this one song that kills me every time and I think it’s because I wish I could say, did you hear of Precious and Deus, Johnson and Dorcus, Jovahn and Penelope, Sam and Agatha, Raf and Gitta Grace and Medard who lost babies and every other person we came across during our time in Kabale…. Narrative is important and I hope I can grow as a listener and also being in touch with how my own family’s narrative is being shaped and allowed to grow.

So, let me end with the words of Woody…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICy5P1pKy5A - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICy5P1pKy5A

The Sinking Of The Reuben James

Words and Music by Woody Guthrie

Have you heard of a ship called the good Reuben James
Manned by hard fighting men both of honor and fame?
She flew the Stars and Stripes of the land of the free
But tonight she's in her grave at the bottom of the sea.

Tell me what were their names, tell me what were their names,
Did you have a friend on the good Reuben James?
What were their names, tell me, what were their names?
Did you have a friend on the good Reuben James

Well, a hundred men went down in that dark watery grave
When that good ship went down only forty-four were saved.
'Twas the last day of October we saved the forty-four
From the cold ocean waters and the cold icy shore.

It was there in the dark of that uncertain night
That we watched for the U-boats and waited for a fight.
Then a whine and a rock and a great explosion roared
And they laid the Reuben James on that cold ocean floor.

Now tonight there are lights in our country so bright
In the farms and in the cities they're telling of the fight.
And now our mighty battleships will steam the bounding main
And remember the name of that good Reuben James.