Mpora, Mpora

There have been several times in the last couple of months where I have purposely called home when my family is at some kind of gathering. I love to have the phone passed around so I can chat with people I haven’t seen in, oh, *looks at watch*, seven or more months now. Inevitably, at least one person asks me “What do you miss?” Usually, they are asking this to find out what they can send me in a care package (If you want to send me one, I won’t be sad. My supplies are running low.), but to be honest, I really don’t miss the food of America.

While living in Uganda, I have lost around 25 pounds and really begun to hate fried food. Okay, that’s a bit of a lie. I still love fried food. Just not GREASE LAIDEN food. I eat many more vegetables than before, and I eat very little processed food. Many volunteers in Uganda complain about the blandness of the food here, but I really quite like it. For me, spicy food is just too much. I love not having to complain because the food is, literally, hurting my mouth to eat. Really the only thing about food at home I miss is being able to bake meals, cheese, and the variety, none of which neatly fits in a care package.

So what do I miss? Nothing that you can really send me. I miss my family to begin with. Their unconditional love, their wit and humor, their pure acceptance of me. I miss having a church family, understanding church services, and agreeing with what they are preaching. I miss having a park go to and sit on a picnic table and chill. I miss being able to walk down the street and eat my rolex, ice cream, etc., something that is very rude and uncultured here. I miss being able to have deep, meaningful conversations late into the night. I miss driving; I think this is seriously what I miss the most. I miss being able to make my own schedule for the days instead of running on someone else’s, although that’s working life, isn’t it? I miss snow and wearing sweaters and coats. I miss my kitty….

This is turning into a sad, sappy post, and it’s not meant to be. It’s really just meant to be a look into my life. After thinking of all of these things, though, I can’t help but think about what I will miss about Uganda when I leave. I will miss the soft breeze of the forever-summer. I will miss the soft patter of rain on my roof. As crazy as it sounds, I will miss the screeches of the bats that live in my ceiling, the scurry of the lizard that lives in my spare room. I will miss the silence as everyone eats their posho, matooke, and beans, the silent bond that eating the same food every day in the same room forms. I will miss the children that run up for a hug just because I look friendly. I will miss the beauty of the Rwenzori in my backyard, the air that has been cleaned by the banana trees. I will miss watching Ugandans run as the rain trails behind them. I will miss seeing all of my little nursery school kids grow up into adults.

There is a common phrase in Uganda, translated among the languages: “Mpora, mpora” in Runyoro-Rutooro. It simply means “Slowly, slowly.” Usually, it is used to describe how things work here. This culture is one of much fewer strict deadlines than in America. But right now, I just want to talk about how, mpora mpora, I am falling in love with this place, with its people, its culture, its beauty. As much as I miss home, it is no longer my only home, not even my only home country. I am so privileged to live here. This amazing country is etching a place on my heart, right alongside Truman, home, and down home. Even though it doesn’t quite feel like “home” even yet, mpora mpora.