So some things happened since my last blog. Here’s a recap:
– We did a fun two day plane-hopping extravaganza. El Salvador to Nashville (six hour flight) to London (eight) to Qatar (six) to Uganda (I think three)
I got very little sleep and was nauseous, so my first night of sleep on land was killer.
– The next couple days consisted of a leadership conference in Entebbe, Uganda, where we discussed how a SLAM week is operated, so the Ugandans on our team could eventually initiate their own service camps. Wow!
I got to know all kindsa fun characters.
We ended up on the GOD Campus, which looks gorgeous by the way, and did a SLAM week for the local youths.
I made so many friends, and became one of the most popular on our team due to my alleged “slapstick-style humor” which Ugandans tend to enjoy over our Western sarcastic wit.
Due to my role in Late Nites (an aspect of SLAM where the kids get to wind down after the day of worship, service, and Bible studies through performances, dances, videos, and interactive games) I was unable to go to as many service projects… but there was one that stood out.
This one service really made up for it.
We visited a widow in a slightly poorer part of Uganda. Not quite the slums of Africa, mind you, but still “one room houses with no electricity, made from those large wavy metal sheets”
She was so happy to see us. She said she was 80. She had one son, which was unusual. Ugandans typically have 7-15 children, no joke.
Her son was said to be 60. He had one daughter. That daughter has 15 children.
We asked what life was like decades ago in Uganda. She shared with us all kindsa cultural tidbits. Uganda has ethnic provinces called “tribes”, and within the Buganda tribe are “clans”. Similar to the 12 tribes of Israel.
She told me I seem like a very happy person, which our interpreter translated as “jolly” to me, which I thought was funny.
She told us of our her favorite uncles would tie their coats around their waist and dance.
Dancing is a huge deal in Africa by the way.
I stood up and asked her to teach me a dance. It was very simple, but she wouldn’t stop smiling. When I performed it.
In the tribe of Buganda, there is a culture of giving names to a child that correlate to one’s clan.
This woman was of the leopard clan, and decided to give me a Bugandan name. “Mwanje” She told me this was the name of her father.
Our time with her went by too fast.