A Day in the Life of a Missionary in Bunamwaya, Uganda.
I wake up around 4 am to visit the Squatty Potty. I sprint to and from the house, just in case something is lurking in the shadows of our compound. This of course excites our guard puppy, Shaggy and a spew of barking breaks my disguise and anything outside or inside with in a miles radius knows of my existence. I lay back down exhausted, but stoked that I have another 4 hours to sleep.
Pbaby comes in the room and wakes us up around 8:30 to tell us that breakfast IS ready. I stretch as if I have been sleeping for years and I thank the Lord that he is so good to me. Then I sit down with my teammates and hold back mixed tears, knowing that in 4 months this family will disassemble and I’ll only have these memories. It’s truly the most bittersweet thought. Never did I think that I would fall so hard for people I’ve only known for such a short amount of time.
We leave for school at 9:30. We walk a mile or two to the school that operates with our pastor’s church. I walk into this classroom that is no more than a 10 x 10 foot room with about 15 kids sitting on benches, ages 10 – 14. Their smiles are breathtaking. They are so eager to learn and go on to High School. They are curious about me and why a 22 year old would be unmarried, with NO children. They all touch my skin, out of curiosity, pull on my hair and tell me I’m beautiful. I try to convince them that they are just as beautiful but one Muzungu telling them something so trivial is somewhat unconvincing.
We review science while the teacher is present and then when he leaves we just talk to each other, asking questions. They want to see pictures. They want to know what America is like. They ask GOOD questions. I ask them what they want to be. I talk to them about HIV.. which they terrifyingly know little about. I explain to them that they can do anything they set their minds to and suddenly my heart aches as I realize that this isn’t true for all of them. Some of them will fall to the same fate as their parents and be stuck in the same dead end jobs. Making the same mistakes and living as a vapor in the dusty wind of Bunamyawa, Uganda.
We make the trek home to eat lunch prepared by our lovely house mom, Peace. She works all day and manages to get all the other chores done too, like feeding the chickens, chicks, the goat, the dog and the chicks again. Those little babies eat like there’s no tomorrow. Throw on top of that, her family’s laundry and dishes, she’s a busy bee. She has two “daughters” that help her through out the day, but she is still constantly moving and on top of things.
At lunch we talk about who will be speaking in the evening. Tonight it’s my turn. I’m excited. This is my thing, I love speaking. (imagine that) I sit in anticipation and when lunch is over I rush to my room to prepare. I pull together a new variation of my favorite message. Put together the verses that work best to convey what I’ve learned. I practice to myself and get a cold pop to celebrate. Then we leave, walking another couple miles to a church in the middle of nowhere, down winding roads, through narrow passages and up every hill there could possibly be. Then finally, we arrive at a church made of scrap metal and wooden poles.
Inside is warm and inviting. Everyone is smiling and praying aloud. I know this is where I’m supposed to be. First Pamela gives her testimony that goes along with what I’ve prepared. Then as I get to the pulpit I’m informed I have 10 minutes instead of 30. The Lord whispers a new version of what I had prepared.
Behind the pulpit I come alive. My voice is stronger, my words carry more weight. The Lord speaks through me and comforts my spirit. I know that when I’m handed a mic that I can trust him to guide me. I begin to speak and I see the facial expressions change as my translator relays my message, skillfully. My last contact, Pastor Fatier, once said, “When the Holy Spirit is involved, it doesn’t need translating.” I felt that. There is nothing more exciting to me than being used. My voice is being used to bring Freedom.
I could do this for the rest of my life.
On a spiritual high we go home. We eat dinner, have team time and feedback and it’s bedtime. I dream about home and we repeat this schedule all week.
I love my life.
