You've Got a Friend in Me

With my friend Sylvia, and my Uganda Cranes Jersey :)

Well, it’s time for the World Cup. All I can say is: Where are you, Uganda, where are you?
I went to the bank today, wearing my Uganda Cranes soccer jersey. This was the conversation I had with the bank teller:

Teller: [observing the jersey] Oh! Are they in the tournament?
Me: No. Well, I don’t know. I don’t follow that. I just really like Uganda!
Teller: Do you have family or friends there?
Me: Yeah. A lot of friends.

It was interesting that he never asked further, because my last response just begs the question of “how did that happen?!” One friend? okay, no big deal. But to have a lot of friends in a small African country 9,000 miles away? There’s probably an interesting story behind that.

So let me tell you!!!

Although I am living in Arizona, I still have one foot in Uganda. I don't think a day goes by when I do not think of my family there; indeed, many of my activities here are done with them in mind. And I receive emails from Ugandan friends weekly.

Since I returned, I have met with a University professor to discuss current models of bilingual education and tips for teaching students who are English language learners. I have been sending ideas to St. Anthony’s as I come across teaching tips and fun ways to structure activities in the classroom to help promote English language development. In addition, I met with Mark Hart to discuss Bible study resource ideas for one of the Holy Trinity members who has just begun an adult bible study at the Community in Bisanje.  

 

On the other side of things, Paul has begun planting passion fruits at St. Anthony, in order to harvest and sell them to support the school and his family.

 

Students helping to plan passion fruit seeds

He works incredibly hard, even closing off a room at the school in order to sleep on site and oversee the progress of the projects there.



P.6 classroom, closed off to create a sleeping area

Although they have lost at least 30 students due to a new school opening nearby, they continue their daily labor of love for each of the 100+ who still faithfully attend St. Anthony’s. 

Students with a visiting religious sister, Sr. Mary Lydia

Paul and Mary send me continual updates on how things are going at home and at school, including pictures and handwritten letters from their children and students. I love reading what they have written and seeing their little faces! I receive emails from priests and other friends telling me of challenges they are facing, reasons they are discouraged, and intentions they need me to lift up in prayer. And they pray for my intentions as well: for a new job, for my family's health, for discernment, even for one of our teens, Stephen, as he battles Leukemia.

Even though my Ugandan brothers and sisters are so far away, they are very close, and the affection in their words shows me that they still feel close to me as well. This kind of love and affection means a great deal.

This kind of love is transformational.

I did not go to Uganda with a whole bunch of money and build a new school for these students. I did not show up with thousands of pounds of rice and beans and feed the street children of Nyendo. I did not come with 50 free Bibles to hand out. No. I just came as I was, and I wanted to get to know them as they were. I did not come to teach; I came to learn. And what I learned is this: It is Paul who is building a new school for his students, little by little, one passion fruit and one brick at a time. It is Moses who feeds the street children of Nyendo, regularly giving them cups of porridge, or a small coin, or a word of encouragement, even when this requires him to "give all he has" [see Mk 12:44]. And it is Jude who is sharing the Word of God, even though he is not an Scripture scholar or a "Bible geek." If I arrogantly came to the country assuming it was my duty to do these tasks, I could put these others out of a job, or inadvertently demean them or take away their personal initiative. It is the people of Uganda who can, must, and do develop their country and build the Kindgom of God by their tireless and passionate service to His people.

Then what can I do?

I wanted to be able to do something for the people of Uganda, something sustainable, something meaningful, something that would really help them. The answer: friendship.

Friendship is more than just throwing a bunch of money or "stuff" at someone and imagining that it will make their life better. Friendship is more than wishing someone well or offering a short prayer for someone when they are suffering, but then returning to your comfortable life without giving them a second thought. 

A true friend allows the other into his life, his heart. He allows the other's joys and sorrows to move him, to pierce his heart, and he even desires to share those experiences with him, to walk with him, to support him, to encourage him, to suffer with him, and to celebrate with him. A true friend loves, and my favorite definition of love is this: "To love is to will the good of another, and to take effective steps to secure it" (Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI).

And as we know, "Greater love has no man than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends" (John 15:13).

Let me tell you, it is easier to give a donation and walk away than to commit yourself to a person, to a community. It costs more to give yourself.

But the poor (be they in Africa or in your own backyard) do not need benefactors as much as they need friends. And, don't be mistaken, we need their friendship as much as they need ours.   

Goodbyes

A farewell dinner for me at Holy Trinity Community

St. Therese, as a child, was heartbroken by the fact that this life seems only to be a series of continual goodbyes.

I felt that yesterday morning. When my plane touched down in Amsterdam, I stared to cry. I cried because I suddenly realized that I had left my father in Kitovu. I had left my children in Kalisizo. Indeed, I had left countless friends, new and old, saying, "But when are you coming back?"

Yet, three months ago, I was crying because I didn't want o leave my children in Chandler, or the teens and CORE at St. Tim's, or my friends and family.

It seems I have come to know one of the bittersweet realities of mission life: To live in a foreign land affords me the beautiful opportunity to know and love many more people than I otherwise would, but it also means having to leave people I know and love, both in the beginning and at the end.In a way, it is necessary to say goodbye to one place in order to prepare to settle in to the other. Otherwise, I would be continually homesick. But it is a painful process.

Such is life. Life is a mission. As such, life affords us with the beautiful opportunity to know and love many people, but it also presents us with a series of goodbyes. It is painful because we love, but somehow it is necessary to say goodbye, to help us detach little by little from this earthly place, so we can prepare to settle in to our true Heavenly Homeland.

Heaven is going to be so awesome! Time and space will no longer separate us from all the people we love. I can run and throw me arms around my dear Saint Alphonsus just as easily as I can dine with all my other priest-papas from around the world. I will find my children all grown up and marvel at the good things God has done through them. I will love my friends and family perfectly, and find that my heart is overflowing with love for the countless others I never even knew in this life. May God, in His mercy, allow me one day to experience that joy!

I want to thank all of you who have prayed for me and for this mission these past few months. As you have been reading, God has been pouring out many graces upon so many people, including myself. In addition, I have been free from major injuries and illnesses, which I am truly grateful for. If you would like to know more about any particular part of the mission, please send me a message and I'll be happy to share.

I want to conclude with a beautiful composition which was written for me by Louis Muhereza, one of the members of Holy Trinity Community in Bisanje (shared with permission). It sums up so perfectly the emotions and experiences of the past three months, and each of you may even be able to apply it to this earthly mission that is life. Thanks, Louis! Enjoy!

Good Bye - Welcome

The day you landed into a new land, we said welcome, Webale Kujja, feel at home and settle here with us. The people welcomed you, warmly and made this your new home. It's been months since you left home, it seems like ages and at times you even forgot what the home you left was like. We made this your home away from home, and under the service of the Lord all homes are the same.

But even when you landed, a date was already set for you to return. But it's been months, never bothering about the date, you settled in, savored the love, the new relationships and the good the country offered. You never talked about going back and even when you did it was just in passing, like it was ages away from happening.

Time flies, the ages now turned to days and then hours, it dawns on us that you have to leave; the date fast approaches, the evening hours of your stay have come.

All of a sudden, you develop a sudden overwhelming rash in your body. The adrenaline is pumping and the nostalgia kicks in. You start thinking of home and how it will be like after months of being away. It seems like it's so many days until it happens but my friend, you can cheat anything, people, but you can never cheat time. The day is here.

Then you start to look at the people around you, the bond you have created, the new friendships you have enjoyed and laughed with, the time you spent with the community, the children and the life you shared.

A sadness now engulfs you. You feel sad and you almost want to cry or even cry. A lump in your throat doesn't want you to say goodbye even though it's only for now. The word goodbye alone sends shivers through your body and tickles your eyes to water.

Mindful that the people feel the same way, you hug them passionately. The small children cry, "Bye, Mzungu!" You have no escape; a tear runs down your cheek, you quickly clean it off, feeling sad that they are feeling sad. You loved them, but you have no choice for you have to go. Inside you seem to say, "If it was in my power, I would stay."

All you do now is promise them you will come again; it's the only way to give them hope and comfort but some don't want to know or hear it. All they want is at least another day with you. The old take it with hope, and cannot wait for you to come again. They cannot wait for another day you will write to them saying, "I'm coming back again." They are actually envisioning it, reacting to it in imagination and welcoming you back again.

It pains to leave a people, a community that you have shared with a lot, learnt with and laughed with and had a lot of fun and warmth around. But truth is, life has to go on. You have to go. The journey is a short one. But when you think of the joyful moments, the laughter, the screaming, happiness, the shared meals, the children and how you enjoyed teaching and learning from them, the smiles and the name Mzungu wherever you passed from both young and old, you cannot help but let the tears flow down your cheeks; you don't even dry them. You are alone in that moment oblivious of the person seated next to you on the plane; you let the tears of joy, happy memories and images play in your mind like you are there with them...Oh! How beautiful, how lovely, how....BOOM!

The intercom runs, waking you up from your sweet dream; it's the stewardess telling you to buckle up and get ready for landing. oh! God you want to cry out but no please; it's now the WELCOME signs that greet you. It's a different story...another happiness and joy engulfs you....now not of the goodbyes but of the welcome you receive....

Julian

Scholastica and Julian

One evening, I was walking Paul and Mary’s children home from school when Scholastica, the woman across the road, stopped me and said, “Come closer. I have something to ask you.”

She began to tell me about her daughter, Julian, who had just completed secondary school and desired to continue with her university studies, with the hope of becoming a nurse. She pulled out an envelope containing the university acceptance letter, to show that she was telling the truth. However, she said, the tuition payments (roughly $644/semester) were too much for the family. She explained that she had seen me at morning Mass, so she thought that I might be willing to help her to find a sponsor for her daughter.

As I had all the children with me and I wanted to get them home, I tried to kindly end the conversation, but did not promise her anything: “I will pray for you. I will see what I can do. Let me get these children home.”

Over the next several weeks, I kept my promise to pray for her, and at the same time I prayed about her request. Finally, I ended with a novena to St. Therese and asked her to help make it clear whether I should help this woman. I came across more than one rose that week (God knows I’m slow; one rose is not enough).

So, I called Scholastica and asked her if we could meet again in person and discuss more. She invited me into her home and I asked several questions about the school, the financial situation of the family, what Julian hoped to do with a nursing degree, and how to contact her. She produced bank statements, pay stubs from her job, and receipts from the university registrar’s office. She was committed to finding support for her daughter’s education. Feeling confident in the fact that the Lord had shown his support, I agreed to look for a sponsor for Julian.

Today, I traveled with Scholastica to Mbarara University to meet Julian. She has been studying at the university since the fall. However, her first semester was paid for by a loan which Scholastica will be paying back until at least 2016. The second semester had only been half-paid, from the contribution of a friend and the proceeds from having sold the family pig. Scholastica pays for Julian’s room and board with whatever she can manage from work and other donations from family members. I brought with me $260 (left from the donations all of you wonderful people had given me before I came to Uganda) and paid the balance from this semester’s tuition.

Julian happily showed us around the campus, to her lecture halls and the nearby hospital where she practices as a nursing student. She hopes to someday work with AIDS patients. She described her joy at being able to study and talked about her favorite classes the different things she is learning. She stays at a hostile nearby, and is even able to attend Mass every morning at the campus.

Please pray for Julian and her family. As well, if you are able to sponsor a semester or a year of school for Julian (or know someone who can), I ask you to prayerfully consider this and let me know (you can contact me at liguori0728@yahoo.com). I will send you details, pictures and contact information for mom and daughter, so you can communicate and pray for them. As well, Scholastica will happily send you the receipts from the university as tuition is paid. I thank God and you for your generosity. May God return the blessing one hundredfold!

You are Good to Me

The long-awaited P5 stick hockey rematch

So I have now been in Uganda for more than two months. I am entering the homestretch, but there is still much to do and discover. It seems the Lord is not done with me yet. Last time, I posted some glory stories.

Well, sometimes consolations help to prepare you for desolations… J

This weekend, there was something I was looking forward to very much, something I thought would be a great opportunity. Instead, it was bittersweet. In fact, I cried myself to sleep. Then I awoke before my alarm, still dispirited, and instead of dwelling on the hurt, I began to softly sing:

You are good to me, good to me.
You are good to me, good to me.
You are good to me.

The song was written by Audrey Assad, during a time when her husband had been recently diagnosed with cancer. In other words, it is a song praising God’s goodness and faithfulness in trial and pain.

It was raining this morning so, rather than going to daily Mass, I made my holy hour at home. I cried and I prayed, and I told God why I was angry with Him, and it was good…but it was not over. Even at school, I had to slip away one time (to the latrine, of all places!) and allow myself to cry and tell the Lord how I felt. And He helped me to accept that this has nothing to do with the person who I feel hurt by or angry at, but everything to do with the fact that this is all in God’s plan. And He is good to me.

There is nothing that cheers me like a child. When I come to school sad because I am missing friends or there is some pain in my heart, they bid me to forget it. I find them giggling and smiling and trying to poke me. They look at me with their bright little faces and want me to teach them something new. We had our hockey rematch with the P5 class today, and as promised, I captured some video footage. As well, one of the P7 students came to me after school and said, “Auntie, you are the one to give us homework today.” What? Let me get this straight: you WANT homework??? Okay, let it be done. As I wrote their English homework on the board, they spoke Luganda to me and asked me to speak American English to them. When I returned to Paul and Mary’s house after school, their three year old son was there wanting to play and be tickled, and he was screaming and having a great time. The Lord brings joy even in times of pain, especially when we are willing to still give of ourselves in those times.

So, if there are more tears, let them come. God’s timing is perfect, and with only three weeks left in here in Uganda, He has allowed my heart to be pierced so the graces can continue to flow for this mission. He often saves the best for last. Sometimes we don’t view the Cross as something good, but without the Cross there is no Resurrection. Without suffering there is no glory.

Sometimes desolations help us to appreciate, to receive humbly, the consolations.

“Lord, give us joy to balance our affliction.”
- Ps. 90:15 -

“You have turned our mourning into dancing.”
- Ps. 30: 12 -

Lord, you are good to me, good to me.

Glory Stories

There have been a lot of beautiful moments in the past week, so today I just want to share some “glory stories.”

Firstly, I thank you all for your continued prayers. If you were not aware, there was a Mass offered for you (my benefactors, supporters and prayer partners) and your intentions last Thursday morning at the parish here in Bisanje. I am very grateful. On Friday, I gave a series of four talks on intercession to the members of Holy Trinity Community, a Catholic Charismatic Covenant Community where I usually stay three nights a week. The topic of the talks was intercession: What is Intercession?, Why do we Intercede?, Who is Called to Intercede?, and Hearing God’s Voice. About 9 people were present, those who live at the community and a few others. It was perfect for me because I love small groups and it allowed us to have a more intimate discussion rather than feeling like I was preaching to them. We also had the opportunity to do an intercessory meditation and pray a decade of the rosary together. I found out after the fact that 4 or 5 of the people who attended were leaders of intercession teams in Masaka. But they told me the ideas I presented were new to them and they were very grateful. As well, there were a few times they asked me challenging questions about discernment or prayer and I was at a loss for words. So I prayed silently, “Holy Spirit, what do you want me to say?” And by God’s grace, I was able to offer them an answer. Your intercession carried me and helped me tremendously, so thank you!

In the Life Teen office, learning to play paper football

On Sunday morning, I wanted to make it to 7am Mass at Kitovu (where we meet for Lifeteen), but it was impossible because this required me to leave at 6:30am and it was pouring down rain. Welcome to rainy season! At 9am, some of our teens/core members here were going to Skype with some of the teens/core members from our sister Life Teen program at St. Tim’s in Arizona, so it was essential that I made it Kitovu on time, and with a computer that was still functioning! Therefore, I decided to go to 7am Mass nearby and then take a motorcycle taxi afterward. Here in Uganda, after-Mass announcements usually take about 20-30 minutes, so by 8:35am I was squirming in my seat and begging God for patience and trust, saying to myself, “You’ll be fine. You will make it.” After Mass, I practically ran out of the church and down the street, hailed the first boda-boda driver I saw, and we made it to Kitovu just as their 7am Mass was finishing. I found Moses and we went with 2 other CORE members and 2 of the teens to the Life Teen office, to call the teens in Arizona, who were on retreat this weekend and had just finished their late night Adoration. We were 15 late for the meeting, but praise God, we had an excellent internet connection, and everyone enjoyed seeing each other’s faces and asking some questions and just shooting the breeze. God is faithful!

P.E. with the P.3 class

Finally, the rain let up a bit today, which was wonderful since I am the P.E. teacher at school. When it is raining, P.E. is either cancelled or we have to find some fun thing to do inside the classroom to give them a break from their studies. But today, armed with some fun group game ideas I got from the internet, I gathered my P.5 class (5^th grade?) and took them into the courtyard. I proceeded to write the word “hockey” in the dirt and explain the game. Then, we began with a wadded-up piece of paper and some large sticks from the trees, and we went to town! After some time, the piece of paper had had enough, so I handed them a passion fruit instead, and said, “Go!” Some of the boys were dissatisfied with the passion fruit puck (which eventually was turned into passion fruit juice), so they began pulling some trash and banana fibers from the trash pile and putting them together to make a small ball (this is commonly how kids make balls to play soccer). But, even that ball was destroyed by their heavy beating, and they finally settled on an old plastic bottle to be their puck. It was hilarious to watch and the whole time I wished I had my camera. They were chasing each other around the school yard laughing and laughing. The girls were beating the boys 5-0 when the lunch bell rang, so the boys insisted that they switch goals (because we all know it must have been the direction that was the result of their success, not the fact that they were actually more talented ;) ). The boys did, in fact, manage to score one goal, and then I sent them to lunch, with the girls chanting, “We are the winners! We are the winners!” I am sure there will be a rematch in the near future.

This weekend we are putting on a retreat for the parents of the students. The topic: trusting in God in our daily lives. Please keep this in your prayers, and know that I am praying for you!

Part of the Family

Dragonflies over Lake Victoria

This past weekend, I had a mini-vacation. I traveled to Kalangala, the largest of the Ssese Islands in Lake Victoria. The woman I stay with, Betty, had invited me to come for a family gathering there, as it is the village where she grew up. Every year they gather to remember and pray for the soul of her mother, who passed away in early March several years ago. She tries also to plan the event on March 8^th, which is a special day in Uganda, as it is the Woman’s Day, a national holiday in which the achievements and advancements of women in Ugandan society are celebrated. It is a beautiful tradition.

In the culture here, when someone’s mother dies, another in the family steps into the role and is called mother. So Betty introduced me to her “mother” and immediately, I was confused. (Aren’t we celebrating a Mass for your mother’s soul?) As well, people oftentimes call their cousins and other relatives “brothers” and “sisters.” So I was told, “This one is my brother,” and I was thinking, “How many brothers do you have?!” No matter. I am pretty sure everyone on the island is related to each other somehow. The man we traveled with was the half-brother of Teo, the young girl that lives with us in Kalisizo. We also met his full-brother and another half-brother of his. As we passed a home, Betty announced, “That is where so-and-so’s mother lives.” Then we would stop somewhere and she would say, “There is a relative here I want to greet.” When we were waiting for the ferry to come, a man walked past and she said, “That is the son of the woman whose house we have just visited.” I gave up trying to understand the family tree.

Before we had Mass at Betty’s home, we had some time to introduce ourselves to the rest of the family, to state who we were and how we were related. So, as Betty’s daughter was not present at the event, I stood up and said, “My name is Nakato Lindsay and I am Betty’s daughter from the USA.” They were happy to receive me into the family. In fact, they told me that I should stay in Kalangala and raise my family there. I replied that I had no husband. At that, they offered me a piece of land if I would marry one of their sons. Hmm….a piece of land in Kalangala…. ; )

Some of my Kalangala family: Grace, Betty, Sandra, Jejje (grama) and Richard (from left to right)

A week or so ago, Betty and Teo and I were saying evening prayers together after dinner and Betty began by singing, “This is the day ”. Then she added another verse:
This is the fam’ly,
This is the fam’ly that the Lord has made
Let us rejoice,
Let us rejoice and be glad in it

Praise God! I had to smile and reflect on that for a moment. Teo is not Betty’s daughter; she is her neice. And me? I am just some American missionary who ended up at the house. Why is it that we are living under the same roof? What kind of strange series of events has brought us together? It is the Lord, and His Providence, His plan. Now, I have a large extended family in Uganda. My brothers from another mother. And it is all due to the amazing plan of God, who has gathered us together from every village and every corner of the earth to meet each other and know each other at this particular time in history.

The family of God is a great mystery. I have brothers and sisters I have never even met, hidden in towns and cities and villages all across the world, related to me by the Blood of Christ, adopted and grafted onto God’s family tree because of the sacrifice of Our Lord on the Cross. This is the family that the Lord has made. What a strange, yet beautiful family. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!

An addendum: Thank you so much for your prayers for Sr. Regina’s recovery. She is back at the convent now and continuing her healing at home. She is doing well and moving around much more easily. 

Maasa Awo!

A Ugandan taxi

In this part of Uganda, the main languages spoken are English and Luganda. English is taught in all the schools, but among those in the villages or those with less education, Luganda is the language of choice. I am trying to learn some bits and pieces but it is difficult for me because it is not like anything else I know. My background in Spanish is of no use to me here.

Let me give you a taste (spelling may not be 100% accurate):

Good morning, madam – Wasuze otya, Nnyabo
Good afternoon, sir – Osibya otya, Ssebo
How are you? – Olyotya?
Fine – Jyendi
Good/well - Bulungi
Well done – Jebale (ko)
God bless you – Mukama akuhe mukisa
Thank you – Webale
What is it called? – Ogamba ki?
What are you doing? -  Okola ki?

Simple, right? That’s what everyone tells me.

Nonetheless, I have made some rather embarrassing mistakes in my efforts to learn some Luganda. On a minor scale, for a few days I was greeting people by saying, “Wasuze bulungi,” which I suppose would have the effect of saying, “Good morning, I’m well.” I don’t care how you are, but I just want you to know I’m doing fine.

Then, the other day, I wanted to clarify the phrase for “What is it called?” and I said, “Osamba ki?” which, instead, means, “What are you kicking?” Um…..

By far, the fan favorite here seems to be my misuse of the phrase “Masa owu.” Those who know this story love to retell it or remind me of it, much to my chagrin. See, my goal was to learn some words and phrases that would help me to get a taxi or boda boda. So, I learned some numbers (good for bargaining for prices) and the phrase “Drive slowly” (Vuga mpola mpola) as well as phrases that might help me tell the driver when to stop. Evidently, this phrase “maasa awo” means something along the lines of “there, up ahead”, which is useful if you see the place coming and you want the driver to slow down and let you off. However, I erroneously believed that the phrase was translated as “right there,” and it was the only good phrase (I thought) that I had in my Luganda vocabulary. So, one day, I was traveling by taxi (15-passenger van) from Kalisizo to Bisanje (How many kilometers? I don’t know. About a 15 min. ride). The taxi was going on to Kampala, but I had told the conductor that I needed to stop in Bisanje. I knew he didn’t understand me, so I was watching carefully for the place where I needed to get off. We were going very fast, so by the time I had spotted the place, we had already past it. Pointing backwards, I said to him, “Bisanje, maasa awo!” He was understandably confused and did not know what to do, since I was pointing behind and saying “up ahead.” Finally, I just shouted, “STOP!” I got out and walked back to my destination. (This all happened in a full taxi, mind you.)

As Providence would have it, the next week when I was traveling to Bisanje, it was the exact same conductor and driver who took me there (of all the hundreds of taxi drivers in the country). This time, I didn’t have to say anything. He just looked at me and said, “Bisanje?” and he stopped at exactly the right place.

I guess, sometimes, it’s not so much about the destination, but the journey. Sometimes. In this case, I am just glad I made it to Bisanje.

On a related note, I am asking for prayers for my friend, Sr. Regina. You may remember that I mentioned her in a previous post (Derek and I spent a day traveling around with her bringing Holy Communion to homebound members of the community). Last week, Sister was standing on the side of the road in front of her convent, waiting for a taxi to bring her to town, when two cars collided in front of her. Trying to avoid the collision, one of the cars hit her. She is now in the hospital with a broken rib. My friend, Cashmail, and I visited her on Sunday, and she is doing well, considering. She has some stitches but no significant head injuries, which she counts as a great blessing. Also, she has a good appetite, which is always a great sign. Still, she is suffering much from chest pains because of the broken rib, so if you can please pray for a quick and full recovery for her, I am sure she would greatly appreciate it…..and so would I!

As always, thank you for your prayerful support. Please know that I am praying for all of you and your intentions. If there is anything specific you would like me to pray for, please let me know. J