Call me Israel.

After two and a half weeks at the mission compound, I am in a slightly better position to begin describing my life and work here. Since I have been working mostly with Karamoja Education Outreach (KEO), I'll start there. As its name suggests, "KEO is a ministry Orthodox Presbyterian Uganda Mission providing basic literacy instruction and a support system for local public schools." For a concise and informative description of KEO, please refer to KEO's Facebook page.  

On our (i.e. Angela, Rachel, and me) first day of working with KEO, Leah, who directs the community health education program, escorted us the three-quarters of a kilometer from the mission compound to "The Preschool." Neighboring the clinic, the Preschool is a one-and-a-half room concrete building that serves as HQ for KEO.  When we arrived outside the preschool, we greeted and shook hands with a handful of Karamajong KEO staff and about a dozen three- to ten-year-old kids. Martha, our missionary of oversight and the director of KEO, oriented us quickly to the inside of the preschool: the number corner, the letter corner, the blackboard, bookshelf, and story-room.  

The Preschool

From 8:00 to 11:00, our job was to "actively observe." The first order of business was hand and face washing, which the teachers help the children with outside, using a basin and pitcher of water. There were probably around 30 kids when George, one of the head teachers, called for everyone's attention and began enthusiastically relating the story of Joseph in Egypt. At least, I think that was the story. It was all in Ngakaramajong, so I didn't follow much more than the occasion "Yosef." From where I was sitting, I couldn't see the A-Beka Flash-A-Card pictures. At the conclusion of the story, George led everyone in prayer, and then turned the student's attention to the memory verse on the wall...also in Ngakaramajong. And then it was time for rotations. The KEO teachers divided the children into four groups and took them through a sequence of four activities/subjects: numbers, letter, story, and playing outside. 

If the the previous paragraph makes it sound like the goings-on at the Preschool are nice, neat, and orderly, please do not be misled. In all fairness, I don't know that the words "preschool" and  "nice, neat, and orderly" ever belong in a sentence together. However, on that first day, despite the hand-drawn, color-coded chart on the wall, I could not follow the movement of the students and teachers. I volunteered to "actively observe" in the story room, which meant that I read a picture book in English for one of the KEO teachers to translate to a group of eight or so children. For another rotation, I went outside and played catch with a couple kids. As for the other two rotations, which I presume happened, I was unaware of their transpiring.

KEO teachers and students in the Math Corner during free time

Near the end of the morning, the teachers herded the children back to the floor of the main room for more story/preaching time with George and singing. Many of the kids watched as I and my compatriots clapped along with the singing but, for obvious reasons, did not join in. And then they sang "This is the Day." In English! In the midst of so much that was unfamiliar, that simple song was delightful. Although I now almost know one of the Karamajong songs, I still think "This is the Day" is my favorite, and I can even sing the Ngakaramajong version.

After school, there was the weekly staff meeting for KEO which takes place back on the mission compound. Roughly 20 staff members gathered on a tarp under "the Ministry Bonda." Martha led the meeting, speaking mostly in English with George translating, although she did break into Ngakaramajong several times. Martha has a PhD in linguistics and has been here for about 15 years. Interestingly, most Ugandan's in this part of the country find American English hard to understand. However, if one adopts a Ugandan English accent, the process of communication is often much smoother. 

On Friday, we joined one of the village outreaches. In addition to the Preschool, KEO also sends teachers to two local villages: Moru Asia and Kopetatum. The village outreach is a modified version of the program run at the Preschool and includes Bible story, picture book story, numbers, and letters. However, the "building" that we use in Kopetatum is a roofless stick-walled structure under a tree, so "rotations" that day consisted of divided the 30-some children into two groups in two opposite corners. Before starting, I "actively observed" some of the KEO teachers "mobilize," which means we walked through some of the village telling any children we saw to come to school. Mobilizing gave me a closer and hard view of the village. Circular, mud huts with thatch roofs, thorn-bush fences forming a corral for livestock, goats and cows sometimes meandering or lying right next to houses, hard-packed open spaces for drying and threshing sourgum. 

That is a breif snap shot of my first two days with KEO. To be honest, it was a little overwhelming and I couldn't help but wonder how on earth I could be helpful when I don't even speak the language. In fact, that first week I prayed a number of times, "Dear Lord, what am I doing here?" I wondered if maybe I didn't really come because I thought God wanted me to but simply because I wanted to. I reminded myself numerous times that my prayer during the whole decision-making and preparation process was, "Lord, if you open the door, I'll go." And then, sometime last week, while walking back from Kopetatum after teaching the story of the Israelites in the wilderness (with a translator), I was struck by the Israelites' pattern of doubting God's good plan for them. Of course He didn't lead them into the wilderness to die! How absurd for them to think so. And yet, when things got difficult or were more challenging that expect, they doubted. Well, I am Israel, doubting that God actually wants me to be here just because (shockingly!) transitioning to life on the missionary compound in Karamoja in Uganda is hard. As my dad reminded me, how many college freshman wonder in those first few weeks of classes if they made the right decision? I think it safe to say that moving to Karamoja is a bigger transition than the average college experience. I always try not to think too harshly the Israelites in the Old Testament because I know that their story is my story. Yep, call me Israel.

After two and a half plus weeks, I am happy to be able to honestly report that I feel much more comfortable here. I think I am starting to figure out my role and how I can be helpful to Martha and the work of KEO. More on that later though, as this blog post is already rather long. Let me leave you with a few prayer requests.

- Health and swift recovery for the several people (including yours truly) who have been hit by some kind of stomach bug in the past week.

- Safety and smooth conections for all the mission folks who are traveling over the next few weeks

- Angela, Rachel, and me that we would continue to adjust and learn how to assist the work of KEO.

Karibu!

"Hodi!" 

"Karibu! Ikijaunitae iyong."

The approximate English translation of this exchange is as follows:

[Knock, knock!]

"Come on in! You are welcome."

I write this not to flaunt my new language skills (which, please believe me, are most unimpressive) but as a segue into a pictoral tour of my new home. Let me show you, as best I can, where I now live.

The dwelling before you is where I and two other Missionary Associates (M.A.s), Rachel and Angela, reside. The building on the left is our bathroom. Inside our room...

and turn to your left...

Tada! The partially-made top bunk is where I sleep. 

Here is our bathroom.

Allow me to point out a few features. First, the trash can is for toilet paper, as it cannot be flushed down the toilet. As a matter of fact, our toilet currently needs some assistance to flush even without paper in it; hence the jerrycan in the corner, the spigot above the toilet, and the piece of hose protruding from the top of the tank. Other fun things to note: our "sink" is the spigot outside on the right. The two doors to the left (only one of which you can see here) are our showers. You may notice that they are padlocked shut. Bathroom, showers, and bedroom doors--we are to lock them all when not in use. Thus far, we have successfully not misplaced the key. 

Coming out of our room, you can see

The mission consists of three contiguous compounds. We live on the northernmost compound which also includes "The Big House" on the right; the T's house on the far half of The Big House;  the pale blue house (for lack of an official name), and various other outbuildings. The kitchen in the Big House is a shared between five M.A.s, including yours truly, and is also where our common lunch is prepared.

Please note the lovely biscuits on the counter. The really stupendous thing about biscuits, I have learned, is that one does not need to wait for them to rise. From start to finish, it is barely a 40 minute undertaking. This is my second batch of biscuits in the past week. 

And here is "The Main Room."

This is where we gather for lunch. I also like to do my morning devotions here on the blue sofa. As I compile this blog, that is where I am currently sitting.

That is a brief tour of my living space. Allow me to show you a glimpse of where the mission itself is situated. 

Here, you are facing the mission coumpond. Now turn to your right. 

Nestled up against the foothills of Mount Kadam, the mission is between savannah and mountain. 

Mount Kadam to the South

The view as you turn west.

And savannah to the North.

This is where I live.

Traveling

Dear family, friends, and faithful supporters--all those whom I know and love best in the world and who are now geographically so far away,

Where to start? I have dreamed, thought, prayed, and made plans about going to Uganda for so long and now I am finally here. Let me start here: with the fact that God answers prayers and got me here safely. Thank you to everyone who prayed for traveling mercies. It was a very real encouragement throughout the journey to know that there was a veritable army praying specifically for me. As I start this blog (which will probably take me a day or two to finish) it is September 2, and I arrived on the mission compound in Karamoja, Uganda this afternoon around 3:00 pm. I left Pittsburgh on the evening of August 30. I am happy to be here.

I imagine that, if you are reading my blog, you probably want to hear what life in Uganda is like. I am afraid I cannot tell you yet. I still don't know. I still haven't quite even figured out my living situation. Not that I don't know where I am living; I happen to be lying on my mosquito-net-enshrouded bed right now. Rather, I haven't yet figured out how to live in my situation. Currently, what I am experiencing is similar to what I feel when I arrive at a campsite, drop my pack, and start deciding how to set up camp. The campsite is home for the night; it just doesn't know it yet. Similarly, this is home now for the next eleven months; but there is still some figuring out to do. Probably a lot of figuring out. For example, getting into a top bunk that has a mosquito net around it is surprisingly difficult for this newbie. 

All that to say, stay tuned for more details about life in Karamoja. Right now, I want to share a little bit about the journey here. 

On Sunday, August 30, I bid farewell to family and friends in Pittsburgh. Despite the rather lengthy line at security, I got to my gate with more than enough time to sit and ponder. Even then, it was hard to believe that I was about to leave the country and go to Uganda. Uganda! That's on the other side of the world! I felt as if I had finally come to the edge of the cliff. As I waited to board that plane, I was standing right on the brink, right at the point of no return. Except I wasn't actually standing. I was leaning forward: slowly, irrestistably, tipping out of control. I wrote in my journal, prayed, and read my Bible, taking comfort in the fact that God had brought me to that point which meant that, as scary as falling off a cliff is, that was right where God wanted me to be. 

By the time I arrived in Philadelphia, the "tipping" sensation had developed into a full-blown "falling" sensation. Happily, in free-fall, there is less of an illusion of control than in the losing-one's-balance phase, and therefore anxiety gave way to resignation. By the time I was over the Atlantic and unable to sleep on the London-bound, red-eye flight, somehow my metaphoric parachute released and my fall started to deccelarate. Evidently, hanging in a slowly decsending parachute gives one time to wonder and pray, "Dear Lord, what am I doing?" In fact, it gives one time to wonder and pray that quite a lot. "What on earth am I doing?"

And yet, despite my rathernerve-racking internal experience during my flights, God continued to make the way straight. My luggage was handled quickly and neatly at the Pittsburgh end; checking through security went well; navigating strange airports provided some welcome mental and physical exercise; I did not accidentally leave any personal belongings behind; I had no trouble getting a Ugandan visa at the Entebbe Airport; both of my luggage containers made it intact; and, at 1:30 am, September 1, I saw a man holding a sign with my name on it outside the Entebbe airport. That is a lot of prayer requests answered. As we drove to the hotel around 1:30 am, a monkey darted across the road in front of us, bringing the realization home: I am in Uganda. I finally hit the ground after falling all the way from Pittsburgh. 

Two other gals flew into Entebbe that night, also heading for the mission in Karamoja. Rachel is staying for six weeks and maybe thensome; Angela is staying for nine months. All three of us will work with KEO--Karamoja Education Outreach. From Entebbe, the three of us and Milton, our driver and escort, traveled to the city of Mbale. Mbale is the closest major city to Karamoja and about a 5 hour drive from Entebbe. The drive offered a variety of new sights and experiences: driving on the left side of the road; traffic patterns that operate apparently without traffic lights, turn signals, or noteable cushions of space between vehicles; the ubiquitous "picky" (i.e. motorcycle taxis) that can carry three people or, sometimes, a whole flock of live chickens. Around mid afternoon, we arrived at a hotel in Mbale, where we were met by Jim and Jenny K. and Martha and Bob W. from the mission. 

Uganda is seven hours ahead of Pennsylvania. To avoid serious jet lag, might I make the following suggestion: don't sleep at all on your overnight flight. Then, you will not have jet lag. You will only be short on sleep, which you can proceed to catch up on as you would any other time you find yourself short on sleep. By Wednesday morning, I had to remind myself that, only a few days ago, the current time was seven hours earlier. 

Wednesday was also the day that we embarked on the last leg of the journey to Karamoja. From Mbale, the mission compound is only about 80 kilometers. However, the time it takes to traverse this distance fluctuates signifigantly based on the weather and road conditions. Roughly the first 20 km are paved road; the rest is red clay and dirt which, in the rainy season, can become deeply rutted and muddy. The missionary company was equipped with water, food, mud-boots, and a tow rope because, as Martha said, if you are prepared for rain, it will be sunny, but if not, not. In God's providence, not only did it not rain, but a work crew had been repairing the road over the past week, and the road was in fantastic condition. At least, that is what Martha told me and Rachel. Lacking a frame of referance, we took her word for it. Clearly, we are no experts on Ugandan throughfares. 

Around 3:00 pm, September 2, I arrived on the compound of the Orthodox Presbyterian Uganda Mission. Lord willing, this will be home until sometime in July, 2016. My address here is as follows: 

Fiona Smith C/O OPUM

PO Box 1307

Mbale, Uganda

East Africa

And that is the tale of my travels. Stay tuned for what happens next. Personally, I am eager to find out.

Prayer requests:

- For me, Angela, and Rachel as we adjust and try to learn our new roles and responsibilities.

- That the three of us would pick up the language (Ngakarimajong) quickly.