Jinja Mission Team - Busoga Churches of Christ
Busoga, Uganda, East Africa
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slynnbc
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The rainy season is finally upon us. The months of January and February were extremely hot. The temperatures were not as hot as those we have experienced in long Texas summers, but here we did not have the luxury of escaping into nice air-conditioned buildings. On most days the temperature in the afternoon seemed to hover in the upper 80s and lower 90s, which was hot enough to dry out the roads and make them extremely hard and bumpy. By the middle of February we were pleading for a respite from the heat, and as we traveled around Busoga visiting churches comprised of peasant farmers we heard many prayers for rain. For almost all of the people that we work with, no rain means no food. We would ask when they expected the rain to come, and they would reply, "Not until March." Even as February drew to a close March seemed to maintain an elusive distance as if the days were growing longer as they passed. However, just like clockwork the rain arrived with March.
Before Uganda was colonized, they did not separate the year into months and weeks, but by seasons. Here they have 2 rainy seasons every year (March-April, and September-November) which are separated by 2 dry seasons. I can't remember exactly when we received our first rain of the season, but it was within a day of March 1st. Since then we have had rain almost daily. On most days the storm will roll through like a train, announcing its presence with a strong gust of wind, a loud clap of thunder, a torrent of rain and in a matter of moments will be gone. Many times the storms come at night, and when we hear the wind and the thunder we race through our second floor apartment and shut all of the windows. As the lightning illuminates the rooms for a split second the air whips through the hall, slamming doors that have not been closed or secured. A few times we have left for the day, forgetting to close all of the windows, and return to find that a storm has blown through Jinja, particularly our sitting room, and has left a small pond in its wake. Sometimes the rain falls gently and lasts for hours, but rarely does it rain all day. 
When the rains begin to fall, the people begin to plant. Some of the corn stalks are almost a foot high now, the mangos are almost the size of baseballs, and before long the beans will be sprouting. The land is turning from green to greener, and the people here are starting to make decisions about how much of their crop they should sell and how much to save. Since I have been here I have noticed the agricultural allusions in scripture much more. There are tons of them. I am understanding them in an entirely new light here. Just a few weeks ago I was at the men's retreat in Kenya and Milton Jones was our speaker. On the first night he spoke on the book of Habakkuk, which ends with the poetic confession to God, "Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior" (3:17-18). Often times I have read this verse in the context of evangelism and spiritual fruit, but in doing so I think that I have missed the biggest message in this text. I have never experienced an empty pantry or vacant stalls. However, for many of the people in this agricultural society, no crops, no fruit, and no sheep is the worst possible thing that could happen. It is a matter of survival. And yet, the author proclaims that even when the worst thing imaginable happens, "I will rejoice in the Lord!" When my survival is questionable I will cling to God, whose ways are higher than my ways. I will grasp for the God that I cannot confine to my limited understanding or to the way in which I prefer that things are done. I have seen this confession in the lives of the people here. Often when we arrive at a village we are greeted with the words, "Mukama ye Bazibwe," which means, "Praise the Lord." So many of the people do not allow us to leave their village without a gift- a basket of oranges, a pineapple, or a few heads of corn. These are the same people that share a list of their problems with us consisting of the most basic necessities. Even in the midst of their struggles they are proclaiming, "Praise the Lord" as they seek to understand the ineffable and to follow a homeless man who offers living water. 
The problems here are in some ways very different from the problems I experienced in the states, but essentially, I think they are very similar. The problems that I experienced and that surrounded me in the states were just as real, and I feel that Habakkuk begs any reader, regardless of culture, to answer this question: "How will I respond when the worst thing imaginable happens." My prayer is that God will form me, as a member of His church, to respond with the words "Praise the Lord" as I in the same breath cry out my lament. 
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Rainy Days Hi Spence and Emily, I love your website. Thanks so much for keeping it updated. Isn't that exciting news about Bridget Lynn! I am so happy for her. I talked to her a couple of days ago and she said she was feeling great. I love hearing about your adventures. I can just imagine the rain and wind blowing doors shut and spraying into the rooms. At the same time I could aljost smell the sweet fragrance of rain as I read your post. We are praying for you daily and believe in what you are doing. Your family loves you! I'd love to hear from you sometime. This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it Love, Aunt Lynn |
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