Everything has Changed
Everything has changed.
One month ago I arrived in Entebbe, Uganda after over 24 hours of travel and far too many goodbyes. You better believe I’m never going to forget that last clean, hot shower, my last American meal and that last hug before I got on the plane.
To be completely honest, I have no idea where to start or how to begin to help you understand what my life has been like here. Everyday could have its own post, but I will try my best to summarize.
I just so happened to be on the same flight from Brussels to Entebbe with John Allen, who is working with me as a fellow for International Justice Mission, and his wonderful family. Kendra is his wife, Caroline is their 13-year-old daughter and Wilder is their 8-year-old son. We spent 4 days in Kampala after arriving in Uganda and, during those 4 days, I became a member of their family. We even started telling people I was their sister when they asked. They are the most comforting thing I have here and comfort has been rare.
We spent these 4 days getting over jet lag, buying the things we can’t get in Gulu (which is a lot), navigating Uganda, and growing closer to each other. We cried together, got frustrated together and laughed together. I know you’re thinking, “wow all that in four days?” Yes. All of that in four days. Kampala was like being thrown onto stage when you’re a 10 on the introvert scale. Everyone was staring at us, we had no idea what we were doing and, frankly, we were terrified. So. Much. Chaos. It’s safe to say we were looking forward to making the long drive to Gulu and finally being able to unpack in the place we now call home.
My first couple of days were consumed with Gulu survival tactics. Necessary skills include: riding a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) safely, buying food at the local market for the right prices, buying a Ugandan phone, getting Internet, discovering the safe places to explore and the sketchy areas to avoid, learning key phrases in Acholi, setting up a mosquito net, getting clean drinking water, finding the restaurants that are safe to eat at, learning how to clean food with bleach water before you eat it, learning about the harmless and deadly insects and animals, and figuring out how to adjust to a culture entirely different than the one you are used to as well as saying goodbye to the life you lived before you stepped on the plane.
I started work at IJM my second day in Gulu. My position is the executive assistant to the head of the field office. Ironically, we met in Kampala as I was coming in and he was heading back home to the states to enjoy his month of furlough. In many ways, his timing was perfect. He gave me a month to get my personal life together before he comes back and really needs me. Still working on the getting my personal life together part.
One of my main jobs is to take photos and tell the story of IJM in Northern Uganda, which has been interesting because my relationship with photo is… complicated. It has been beautiful because we will go out to these widows’ huts and photo becomes a language we have in common. Most of our clients speak only Acholi, but the second I show them a picture I took of them, that laugh translates in any language. I wonder if some of those kids have ever seen themselves.
It is also really important to form and develop relationships in the office. This culture revolves around relationships. In the office, people won’t do things for you until they trust you. At orientation at IJM HQ in D.C., they talked about taking the first three months to almost solely build relationships. I am an extremely relational person and when working jobs in my past, if you asked me how it was going, I rarely would talk about the work itself and almost always would talk about the people I work with. However, this is much more difficult here with the culture gap, so I am still working on that. I planned a game of charades today, though, and everyone was rolling on the floor laughing by the end of it, so hopefully I’m getting closer.
My favorite parts, so far, of being here are the resiliency of these beautiful people as well as my celebration of the little things. Most of the people I interact with on a daily basis grew up in a war zone and have scars that will never heal but also have a joy that never seems to fade. Another beautiful thing is how excited I get over the smallest of victories such as figuring out how to use the phone at work, making a coworker laugh, or finding a place that sells yogurt.
Life here is hard. Some moments I am depressed, other moments I can see hope and beauty more clearly. I have experienced more fear here than I have in any other season and a lot of the time I want to go home (that was hard for me to admit). Often times, I am afraid of everything around me. And the scariest thought is often living like this for a year. I wake up depressed many mornings and sometimes it goes away and sometimes it doesn’t. I’m crying one minute and laughing the next. Every hour brings new challenges, new emotions, new thoughts, new sights, new sounds, new sounds and new problems.
But there is so much hope and beauty right here, right now. The most repeated command in the Bible is “do not be afraid”. How can you know what courage is if you aren’t well acquainted with fear? How can you appreciate comfort if you have never been uncomfortable? And joy would be a stranger without sadness.
It can be hard to remember the “why” in the midst of the frustration, tiredness and homesickness, but it is the most important thing here. And maybe this experience will be more about God shaping my heart for however he wants to use me next. I can’t wait to see who Tyler is when this experience is over. Besides, I wouldn’t be Tyler Miles if I didn’t make life as hard as I possibly could… Apparently I really enjoy growth, amiright?
"He looked around at the empty plaza again, feeling less desperate than before. This wasn't a strange place; it was a new one."
-Paulo Coelho The Alchemist
