Feb. 3- Paidha, Uganda
We’re in month 7 and life on the race has become normal. Packing up–normal. Traveling long distances–normal. Sleeping in different places–normal. Walking along unfamiliar roads with people staring–normal. Saying goodbye–normal.
But there are still moments when life seems so crazy, like when you’re in a sweltering bus full of Africans riding along dirt roads with mud huts and half-naked children on either side with no idea of where you are going to be in just 10km.
We arrived in Paidha a few days ago and Pastor Tesco, our contact for the month, greeted us with the little English he knows. About 10 of us and about 15 bags piled into a small van and drove outside of the town to be greeted excitedly by at least 15-20 people telling us “thank you.”
They say that a lot here.
It was starting to get dark and it was cooling down. They had chairs set up in the center of about five mud huts and one concrete house and the men sat across from us almost in silence since they speak very little English. They are from the Alur tribe and speak Alur.
Chickens, their chicks and goats roam freely about the property and I have yet to figure out exactly how many families live here. We try to speak slowly, but much has gotten lost in translation.
Each time a woman or girl comes into the room to greet us, they come in on their knees–showing us the ultimate sign of respect. Although awkward we must accept their culture for what it is and simply greet them and say “Afoyo,” thank you in Alur.
Each day we are to wake up for breakfast at 8 a.m., but have actually eaten at 10 a.m.–after they prepare warm water for our first of two baths of each day. We’ve tried to explain that racers don’t bathe that often, but accept that this is what they do and we should too.
With no running water or electricity, this should be the roughest month thus far, but the sounds of nature in the morning and the stars at night have made the last two nights probably the most peaceful.
There are so many trees around with the crops the family grows, both to eat and to sell. They sell coffee beans and eat a lot of kasava, bananas and beans. I still don’t know what kasava can be compared to at home, or even if it can be compared to anything.
What we will be doing this month is still up in the air–we have no idea actually, but there will be a lot of preaching involved.
I am slated to preach my first sermon on Sunday.
And I wonder if life here also will become normal to me.
