So, I (Josiah) had the opportunity to hop on a plane at Soroti's flying school. After 3 hours of waiting, I was finally invited to come aboard this 4 seater Cessna. The pictures speak for themselves so I don't need to say much. Enjoy!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Josiah's Aerial Adventures
So, I (Josiah) had the opportunity to hop on a plane at Soroti's flying school. After 3 hours of waiting, I was finally invited to come aboard this 4 seater Cessna. The pictures speak for themselves so I don't need to say much. Enjoy!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Painting Faces
I (Sarah) have been spending quite a bit of time at our friends James and Norah's place. Wed just a year and a half ago, James and Norah have 18 children! The only explanation is their huge hearts, opening their home to so many vulnerable children in Soroti area.
Right now, the children are on their holidays from school, so they need a bit more "entertainment" during the day. The other day I found face paint in one of their Operation Christmas Child boxes. I'm sure that none of them had experienced face paint before and were quite curious to see how this paint would transform their faces. Clowns, flowers, kittens, tigers and a "scary man" were the requests, so I set to work as best as I could despite the lack of a paint brush and the dry state of the paint. At the end of the day, not only did their faces explode with colour, but mine as well! Not sure what the inspiration was when their little fingers coloured my face, but at least they had fun!
Right now, the children are on their holidays from school, so they need a bit more "entertainment" during the day. The other day I found face paint in one of their Operation Christmas Child boxes. I'm sure that none of them had experienced face paint before and were quite curious to see how this paint would transform their faces. Clowns, flowers, kittens, tigers and a "scary man" were the requests, so I set to work as best as I could despite the lack of a paint brush and the dry state of the paint. At the end of the day, not only did their faces explode with colour, but mine as well! Not sure what the inspiration was when their little fingers coloured my face, but at least they had fun!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Market
As we step into the canopy of tarps, “fish smell”, glassy stares and sweaty bodies, we know that we’re in the market. As we walk by each vendor, we hear the usual “sister sister, carrots? green pepper? tomatoes?” Like every other day, every person is selling the same things as the next person. How do you know who to buy from? Who has the best produce, the best price? We’re given a ridiculous price so we laugh and walk to the next vendor. Through trial and error, a half years learning period has educated us on the appropriate price for each item.
We find that we have to be in the “right mood” to enter the market, to put on our “tough skin” and be unafraid of the pungent smells, the forthright stares, the insecurity that everyone in the market wants to rip you off because you’re white. At the same time, the local markets are beautiful in their own way. The colours are intense. Somehow the body wraps, shawls and head pieces of the women coincide with the shapes, textures and colours of the food they are selling. These people are people of the land; they display the rich diversity in the simple and exotic garments that they wear.
The close quarters packed with every item and every animal these people can afford, the market almost feels like it is on the brink of bursting. This is their life, their survival mechanisms. And somehow through all the random displays, smells and colours crammed tightly together, the market does burst with life, celebrating who these people are.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Blessed by the Last Crumbs
It was George who shared with us that he was stressed. The past week had grown the frustrations that had been planted some months back. A good friend proved to be untrustworthy and was withholding much needed cash and business from George and his family. The day he shared with us his stress is the day that all the money he had was just a few coins in his pocket. He had sent his wife to the market to purchase supper and when we met her on the path near her home, she had no food in her hands. The plastic bag she carried was empty. I asked her why she had not gotten food and she replied that fish was expensive.
Despite the stress, they invited us to sit outside their home. The conversation turned away from the week’s stress and we talked and laughed together as we gathered around, sitting on the homemade wooden chairs. Conversation flowed as we listened as they began to share with us some of the traditional cultural customs. “Education, civilization and salvation” are what have made them turn from certain cultural practices. They are trying to encourage their women to sit on chairs—that they too have rights and are more equal with men then their traditions would dictate.
As we talked, George’s wife brought a table out, indicating that they were going to serve us food. To refuse this meal would be an offense, so we stayed to receive what was offered. When a basin of water was brought out, we washed our hands and anticipated what we would hold in our hands next. African tea and “escorts” were placed before us, a tea made from boiled milk and small cake type delights to accompany the tea.
Just before the day grew dark, three visitors showed up and were instantly given chairs to sit with us around the table. More mugs were brought and soon the tea and escorts were finished. Our host George expressed his joy in having so many visitors to “grace” his evening. The little that they had they shared so graciously. Did the visitors know that they were sharing in the last drops, the last crumbs? The event was far from being gloomy; the last of the day was shared as if it was the beginning of something great.
As George and his wife walked us home that night, his wife was surprised by receiving free minutes on her cell phone. She simply points up to the sky to declare that “it is God!” A free minute on her phone is a miracle. God, who rewards the faithful, who rewards those who give joyfully when it is their last.
Despite the stress, they invited us to sit outside their home. The conversation turned away from the week’s stress and we talked and laughed together as we gathered around, sitting on the homemade wooden chairs. Conversation flowed as we listened as they began to share with us some of the traditional cultural customs. “Education, civilization and salvation” are what have made them turn from certain cultural practices. They are trying to encourage their women to sit on chairs—that they too have rights and are more equal with men then their traditions would dictate.
As we talked, George’s wife brought a table out, indicating that they were going to serve us food. To refuse this meal would be an offense, so we stayed to receive what was offered. When a basin of water was brought out, we washed our hands and anticipated what we would hold in our hands next. African tea and “escorts” were placed before us, a tea made from boiled milk and small cake type delights to accompany the tea.
Just before the day grew dark, three visitors showed up and were instantly given chairs to sit with us around the table. More mugs were brought and soon the tea and escorts were finished. Our host George expressed his joy in having so many visitors to “grace” his evening. The little that they had they shared so graciously. Did the visitors know that they were sharing in the last drops, the last crumbs? The event was far from being gloomy; the last of the day was shared as if it was the beginning of something great.
As George and his wife walked us home that night, his wife was surprised by receiving free minutes on her cell phone. She simply points up to the sky to declare that “it is God!” A free minute on her phone is a miracle. God, who rewards the faithful, who rewards those who give joyfully when it is their last.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Pastor Profile - Bishop George Edweu
Meet Bishop George Edweu, a pastor and national overseer of Pentecostal Upright Ministries.
George, who was one of the first pastors that I interviewed in the beginning of my time here, is now a close friend to Sarah and I, and a fellow leader of the Team Beyond Teaching Ministry Team here. I still remember after my short interview, Pst. George offered himself and any help he could give to see this ministry established and running. So far, he has been a right hand man, advisor, teacher, and friend. Just sit down with this man and you’ll experience wonderful hospitality, a big, bright smile, hearty laughter, sharp intelligence, and great conversation.
Having worked with many ‘mzungus’ George has helped us to be aware of the many cultural differences and to keep us from potentially embarrassing or hurtful mistakes- from not leaving a host’s place until you have received their permission to proper procedures of working with Soroti pastors.
Well, to help you understand this man a bit more, I’ll share with you part of his interview in paraphrased form. Again, please feel free to use this to help in your prayer for these pastors here and also to email me any questions or encouragement you might have for Pst. George.
Like many Ugandans, George came to know Christ through a fiery evangelist. It was the year 1977, and the evangelist came to his village and preached from Revelation 9, on the locusts that will torment the unbelievers. Frightened, like many of us would be, George asked how to be saved from such a torture, then knelt down and was prayed for. This experience and passage has remained deep in him and is still very fresh.
In George’s village there was a discipleship trainer who raised him up in the Lord and taught him to pray, read, preach, and use quiet time. At age 18, George received a prophecy that God had called him to be a pastor. Soon visions of him in preaching in front of many people, counseling, and visiting people followed. This was quite new and strange to George but his pastor confirmed this calling.
Like many pastors, George tried to avoid this difficult calling and travelled to
Fast forward to the present day, his present church and the present situation of pastoring in Soroti… Bishop George has been pastoring for 15 years now. When asked about the challenges that he faces he named what most pastors here face—financial support. Devoting so much of his time to pastoral work, he has little time to spend working, and the congregation gives very little. Not to mention that out of that very little, pastors only take 10%... He also faces the challenge having few workers in the ministry with so many in need of discipleship.
What brings George deep joy as a pastor is to see believers come to maturity in Christ, catching the vision and mission of Jesus and taking seriously their callings. Also, George has a heart to see many come to Christ, and more churches established.
When asked about how the African church can bless the world, he responded saying that
Pst. George asked for prayer in the areas of financial support and further church leadership training. Please join us in our prayers for these men of God as they serve Christ in Soroti and beyond
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
“I Love My Bike”
As you may know, Josiah and I love biking. We have bikes here and they are our primary means of transportation. Not only is my bike branded with the word “hero” but it has a special little feature… it has a bell and stickered onto the bell is sign that reads “I love my bike”… kind of the same style as “I Love NY”, heart and all. When Josiah and I first bought these bikes I laughed at the bell, thinking it ridiculous to love a bike that had no gears, an uncomfortable seat and so completely different than my bike from home. I’ve had moments where I’ve done the exact opposite of “loving my bike”… I confess there have been moments where I have found myself cursing my bike. And I ended up dreaming about this very bike one night:
I was participating in a bike race, one that I had already raced in twice before. What was newfor me was the new feel of using my “African bike” instead of my “Canadian bike”. With the different build, sticky peddles, squeaky frame and limited capacity for speed, I found myself quite frustrated for having to bike this race using my new “hero”. Where I would have biked without limitation, I was struggling. And the strangest thing about this race was that I was required to visit with people along the way. In order to finish the race I had to have tea with people along the way and somehow not appear to be in any hurry. This was quite difficult for me, for I thought that I would never finish the race in time. As the “race” continued, I found myself relaxing, even enjoying the requirement of meeting with people regardless of participating in a race.
When I look back at that dream, it makes me smile. I have often referred back to this dream, sensing that through it God is trying to teach me how to live in this culture. So often I crave to do things my way, what is familiar… I often get frustrated with the slow (and inconvenient) pace of life I encounter here.
The sticker on my bike reminds me that I need to grow in loving the people here, despite their differences, their strangeness (and slowness). I’m still running the race God has set before me, but with much different tools and with much different people.
So in the end, do I love my bike? Occasionally I still curse it but I am coming to terms with it. I am thankful for it and how it greets me with this very reminder every time I ride and ring that darn bell.
I was participating in a bike race, one that I had already raced in twice before. What was newfor me was the new feel of using my “African bike” instead of my “Canadian bike”. With the different build, sticky peddles, squeaky frame and limited capacity for speed, I found myself quite frustrated for having to bike this race using my new “hero”. Where I would have biked without limitation, I was struggling. And the strangest thing about this race was that I was required to visit with people along the way. In order to finish the race I had to have tea with people along the way and somehow not appear to be in any hurry. This was quite difficult for me, for I thought that I would never finish the race in time. As the “race” continued, I found myself relaxing, even enjoying the requirement of meeting with people regardless of participating in a race.
When I look back at that dream, it makes me smile. I have often referred back to this dream, sensing that through it God is trying to teach me how to live in this culture. So often I crave to do things my way, what is familiar… I often get frustrated with the slow (and inconvenient) pace of life I encounter here.
The sticker on my bike reminds me that I need to grow in loving the people here, despite their differences, their strangeness (and slowness). I’m still running the race God has set before me, but with much different tools and with much different people.
So in the end, do I love my bike? Occasionally I still curse it but I am coming to terms with it. I am thankful for it and how it greets me with this very reminder every time I ride and ring that darn bell.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Sipi Falls: In the Foothills of Mount Elgon
Sometime back, we got the chance to explore Sipi Falls, just two hours from our home in Soroti. We hiked through the foothills of Mount Elgon to explore 3 different waterfalls. Not only were the waterfalls spectacular and worth the trip, but hiking through the valleys seemed almost magical... as we walked through coffee fields and along ridges boasting the view of banana plantations and various farming practices.
Enjoy the pictures!
Ben and Christine... visiting from the States
Our cozy cabin where we stayed the night... not the best sleep in the world (who knew that a bird could get stuck in a roof the whole night??)
Women washing clothes at the top of one of the falls... a common sight in this country
Is this a one way??
View of the falls from our cabin
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