"I Bless the Rains Down in Africa"... and let me tell you, there is plenty of it!

Yesterday, (Tuesday, I'm writing this very very late Wednesday night) I was in town taking care of some business and as I was meandering toward the Orange (internet) shop I ran into a friend who sells crafts in a little spot on main street. Well, it started to rain and she said, "You cannot go right now, it's going to continue raining for awhile and you'll get malaria." (Every illness, even a cold, is either called flu or malaria here, even if it's not.) So, it just downpoured about 15 minutes after she told me to stick around and I was very thankful I did. So it rained. and rained. and rained some more. It started around 3:45 in the afternoon and we left (She had closed up her shop, when it rains most everyone closes.) around 6 in the evening when it finally let up. We left together after taking down and putting away the displays/crafts and went together through town, talking and she directing me where to walk.

Now, this lady and her family live out in a village almost an hour's drive away, (actually outside of the Jinja district, and past another district as well.) They don't have the most things ever, and her husband is the pastor of the church in their village. The crafts she sells are all made my her family, and paintings done by a local artist. So, while we were walking, (I also was completely broke that day, except for 250 shillings which can buy basically nothing here) she and I saw a lady who was dressed in very old things, and was headed to go sit over in an empty lot full of grass at the end of the block near some buildings. She was very saddened at the sight of her and felt so badly about having nothing to give, until she saw a young boy walking down the sidewalk selling corn, and she bought some. She told me, "Please remain here, just wait for me," went down across to where the other lady was, talked briefly, and gave her the corn she had bought. I've met her family, and I've seen the joy in all her kids when me and my other american friend came to visit them at home (about two weeks ago), (they even wrote us little notes greeting us and thanking us for visiting them while we were there, as they are learning to write english in school) and I've seen evidence of their faith in Christ and we went from their house to where their church meets to pray for their church family, their village, and Uganda and beyond. It was so crazy, when we visited where their church is, there had actually been a man from the village (and part of the church community there) who had gone and decided he would spend his afternoon there in prayer time and reading the word, he had felt specifically very led to pray for their church community and their influence in their village that day, and like every single person I meet here, very welcoming to us. I think the most striking thing to me, even though it is not uncommon at all, is that the church building they have constructed is of posts and mud. I am saddened when i think of how some people in american churches I saw would argue on how the building was decorated or were on the remodeling committee and couldn't agree on something. Here they were, and they knew very well that the church is not the building they meet in.

I guess what I mean now by mentioning all that is. . . she had every excuse in the world to just say, "oh, that is too sad" and be on her way. But, she didn't. Even some people who have the means to help don't even stop to do anything. But she did and all I could think of is, "this woman gets it. Her family, they all know and truly trust that God is their provider and are serious about working out their faith. Even when we were at their village, they did not ask us for anything, but wanted to send us back home with gifts (they gave us papayas.)

So here we were, navigating through town and avoiding the puddles and gaps in the sidewalk. I've also learned (i had been told, but experience you remember better) that in Uganda holding hands is not like it is in the US, but very often friends may walk down the road hand in hand. The thing is, she is much taller than I, so she walks faster and was directing me by hand through all the aftermath of the rain. Now, I thought we might just go on for a little until she would be going her way and me going mine but I guess when you're a mom, you are to everyone you know. She escorted me all the way back home, making sure I knew different landmarks and that nobody was hassling me. Even going through muddy/rocky/difficult to know where to walk areas, she would say things like, "you pass this way," "Don't step there," or "We will go this way", and giving me advice like, "when it is raining, do not take a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) because they may drive badly and you could fall, and he will just leave you there." It was almost more than my heart could take!

I am very very thankful to be here, very blessed with good friends and coworkers and funny kids, and of all places in the very town that is right by (from Lake Victoria) where the source of the Nile River is! (Too bad it isn't free, but tourism is very beneficial for the economy, on the other hand.) I guess all I'm meaning by this post is that God is by every definition of the word in each language a God of wonders and God cares so much for each of us. So we ought to do the same and I hope to follow the example Jesus left us. I might get a few lessons/reminders from my friend though.

The first photo is of two notes my friend's children wrote me when visiting them.
The second, the part of town where she and I waited while it was downpouring, you can sort of see it in the picture. The road was flooding a little bit.