Humility

It's nearly midnight here (almost 1:00 am at publishing), and most would expect me to be asleep by now - even on a Friday night - especially considering I've been in bed since 8:30 pm due to a lack of power. But alas, like so many other nights in the past few weeks, I lay awake, scrolling through Facebook in an attempt not to put too much thought into my life at the moment. It's been quite a while since I made a blog post, and a huge part of me regrets that, but between writer's block, busyness, and a general lack of physical and mental well-being, I haven't really been in the mood to write. Even my journaling has suffered, which is usually a stress outlet for me.


Can I be honest with you, oh anonymous readers? I haven't been okay lately. There is certainly such a thing as a mid-service slump, and I have joined the ranks. Hard. The slump was intensified by an ulcer that I had. It was a very real, if slim, possibly that I could have been sent home. Because of that and so many other things, my world has been upside down for the last couple of weeks.


I strive to post positive but real experiences on my blog so as to paint a positive but real picture of Uganda. I am really not lying when I talk about how much I love this country, it's people, my students, the culture…. But there is a very real sense of entitlement, of guilt, of questioning your entire experience that has come to the forefront of my mind. So few people can truly understand this feeling. Both an awesome, idealistic view of Peace Corps and a pessimistic, distasteful view of Peace Corps coexist in my mind. I can really, truly see both sides. This is all made worse by the fact that I'm missing important things at home, that I'm not as certain about my future as I would like to be…. I know I'm right where God wants me and that I'm learning from this experience things I could never learn at home, but there are really so many things to be anxious about.


The past few days have really, honestly been better. I'm finally back to work full-time this week after a delay from the ulcer and time spent in Kampala. (If there's one thing I've learned about my time management skills in Uganda, it's that I'm definitely better off when I'm busier. I mean, I finally cleaned my house today after at least a month and a half of just doing the bare minimum since I had everything else on my list finished.) More than anything, though, I've really been getting back to my pursuit of being Christ like after being sick. Living many thousands of miles away from home has been even more challenging than most can imagine, but I'm realizing that some of my suffering is not outside of God's purpose.


I have never been someone to be called humble. Honestly, only within the past few years have I seen and experienced true humility and understood its purpose. When I was in the youth group at my previous church, my youth pastor taught us that giving allows us to have a blessing. Although this could cause obvious problems with giving from a cheerful heart (2 Corinthians 9:7), he was using it as an example for someone who constantly gives to other people but refuses to receive. He told us to tell them to “Let me have my blessing!” or more simply “Let me bless you!” as a funny way to get around the awkwardness of the situation. It's still a line I use on my mom from time to time.


Much more recently, my (Ugandan) neighbor got frustrated with me because I wouldn't allow her to do my dishes for me. In my mind, I was being responsible. I dirtied the dishes, so why should she clean them for me? She said in an exasperated voice, “Why don't you ever let me help you? You are always helping us, but you never let us help you.” In that moment I was greatly humbled. Although I was simply trying not to be lazy, I was blocking her blessing, so to speak. I was too prideful in my “I'm a responsible adult that can do my own dishes” to allow her to help me.


Since then, God has shown me that my determination to be responsible is sometimes a source of pride for me. I struggle daily with pride, as many do. Many times it's a control thing - I'm a bit of a control freak - but even that is pride manifested. True humility not only gives but receives...regardless of how the dishes are washed and dried.


Proverbs tells us, famously, that pride comes before the fall (16:18), and I wonder if God hasn't used my recent circumstances to teach me a little humility. I had to rely quite a lot on my neighbors before my trip to Kampala, and even once I was in Kampala, they were paramount in a mission to bring me more clothes so I didn't have to wear dirty ones.


I'm by no means perfect, and I never will be. I'm also by no means perfectly okay, even now. I feel the depression and anxiety trying to creep their way back into my life when I sit idle for too long. But the reality of the situation is this: Even though I may not be okay right now, I know that I will be in the future because my God is great. My Savior will help me through this. In the end, everything will be more than just okay.

In Light of Recent Events

In many ways, living abroad is incredibly difficult. You’re separated from your family. You’re thrust into a different culture. Every day is a day full of learning from your mistakes and from those of others. In many places, you face discrimination for your nationality, your race, your religion…. Most days are exhausting, but it’s the thrilling, enthralling days that keep you going. The challenges change your life.

Since moving to Uganda, something strange has happened to me. I actually care about the news. At home, I would read headlines on Facebook and listen to the news if it so happened to be on, but here I have this deep desire to know what’s going on in the world. I hate weekends because I don’t get my daily BBC headlines. (Okay, who could actually hate weekends?) I spend at least an hour every day reading the news, local, US, and international. I feel much more informed, at least on a US national and international level, than I did when I was at home. Perhaps it’s because I could be completely disconnected from the rest of the world if I avoided it. Perhaps it’s because I’ve matured in the last year.  Regardless of the reason, I need the news.

I remember when I moved to Kirksville for university. I was 20, a transfer student after completing my AA in Psychology, seeking a BA in Psychology. While I was at Truman, I hardly had time to read the headlines, let alone actually take the time to understand something that didn’t directly affect me. (Never mind all the time I spent on Facebook, Wikipedia, Mario Kart….) This became eerily apparent when the riots broke out in Ferguson, MO in 2014. Ferguson is only about 40 minutes from my hometown, so in theory I should have been very, very interested in what was happening. However, these things just so happened to occur during some crazy week I was having, one of the majority of my weeks during this time.I told myself I would figure it out later. I saw the headlines on Facebook, and I knew things were not going to calm down any time soon. My friends were all in similar places, a majority of whom were from the St. Louis area as well. We would talk about how this crazy thing was happening, but we didn’t really know about it or what we could or should do. There was a vigil on campus for Michael Brown, and I simply did not care enough to put aside my homework to attend. In addition, the Black Lives Matter movement was very new to me, and I had not yet formed an opinion on it. In short, it did not affect me directly, and so I chose apathy.

Going home for break was almost alienating. My parents and friends, who were able and apt to watch the St. Louis news, knew everything that was going on. They knew far more than I would have figured out even if I had taken the time to look it up. All people talked about was Ferguson. It was all over every news station, and my family and friends demanded we keep up with what was happening. With opinions flying everywhere, I felt incredibly uneducated, out of the loop. It was like I couldn’t hold conversations with people because all they wanted to talk about was Ferguson.  How much news had I missed?

To say I have changed since my time at Truman would be a gross understatement. I may have only graduated a year ago (A WHOLE YEAR?!), but my life is so different now. When everything happened in Ferguson, I had only just begun to think about joining the Peace Corps. Living abroad has always been a dream for me, but I didn’t know that I was going to pursue it so quickly. Now I crave the news. I need to know what’s going on in the world. I am also inspired by more “causes” than I was then. I learned a lot about myself and about the world while I was at Truman.

Violence always has and always will be a part of the human existence. I truly believe that unless we give up our humanity, violence will always exist somewhere in the world. However, the violence in the US as of late has physically sickened me. As much as I need to know what is going on in the world, I can’t bear to read about my country being torn apart. The last month has been especially hard. How do you process the deadliest mass shooting in American history? Or what about the deadliest day for any American police force since 9/11? As much pain as I had been in reading about more police brutality against young black men, this headline shook me to the core. I have never understood the “life for a life” mentality, let alone “lives for a life.” I was raised to forgive people, no matter how difficult or how long it took.  I was also raised to respect a person based on their character, not their color (not to say anything about institutional racism).

Although the gun violence has been the most difficult thing to read about recently (There’s a Wikipedia page dedicated to American gun violence alone.), it is not, by far, the only thing to make me feel physically sick. The stark racism that still exists today, the talks of deporting entire religions, the light sentences for star athletes…. The list goes on and on. America is broken. They’re not the only one in this world, but that’s hardly comforting. The idea of coming home to a broken country, even more broken than when I left it, is maddening. I don’t know how to fix America. I really don’t. This is not a persuasive post about politics. This is a personal post about how hard it is to be abroad during these times.

At home, there is constant discussion of what is going on around America and around the world. I’m sure you read at least a headline or two about the Ugandan election, and Uganda is rarely in the international news. Here, I have to search for anything other than the single top headline in the UK and the single top headline in the US, which get preempted for African headlines, rightfully so. The only exception is my near-daily conversations with my colleagues about. I could choose to be apathetic. It would be the easier choice, trust me. I could choose to vent my feelings on Facebook and feel like I’m doing something when really I’m just ranting to a bunch of people who aren’t going to change anything. Plenty of expats choose this option. Instead, I am going to keep reading, and when my service finishes, I’m going to come back. As much as it hurts to read about these things, it’s the only thing I’ve got. I refuse to become apathetic just because there’s an ocean and eight time zones between home and here, and I can’t stay on this side of the Atlantic when my countrymen are hurting, mentally or physically. I can no longer choose apathy because I am busy, and neither should you. The only way we’re going to change America, to heal America, is to get out there and do something for it.

 “Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding a deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only love can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

“You shouldn’t have to choose between the police and the citizens they are born to protect.” – Trevor Noah

“Human suffering anywhere concerns men and women everywhere.” – Elie Wiesel, Night

Celebrity Status

I walk out the driveway of my compound (think: subdivision). Within five minutes, I’ve heard “Omujungu!” at least once. Although it may seem harmless, being called “White foreigner!” by your own community hurts. I’ve been living here for more than six months now, at my school for long enough that those who live near have seen me around. They know I stay at the college, and yet, I’m a celebrity.

I never wanted to be a celebrity, not really. When I was really young I wanted to grow up to be the next Darlene Zschech, but aspiring to be a world-renown worship leader is not aspiring for true fame. I never wanted to be on TV; I never wanted to be a pop artist; I never even wanted to be a best-selling author. As much as I love having people around me at all times, I never wanted to be in the spotlight. Even when I did perform, it was always in choir or band. A trio was as small of a group I was comfortable to perform with.

Joining the Peace Corps, I knew I was about to gain some celebrity status. I knew that I would be a novelty in my community, especially at first. I read an insane number of blogs before coming, and almost every blog has at least one post on this subject. Well, here’s mine. Although I knew I was bound to become some sort of a celebrity, I never expected it to be this intense. After all, I’m not that attractive anyway. I don’t get harassed in the US. Everywhere I go, “Omujungu!” is shouted behind me. Many times, men leer as I walk past, screaming lewd comments or outright saying “I love you!” or “I want to marry you!” One of my friends stateside offhandedly commented “So that’s what it’s like to be a ten.” I informed her that no, this is what it’s like to be a celebrity.

In America, we call this behavior “harassment.” In Uganda, they call it “funny.” White women are not the only ones who are harassed, not by far. Ugandan women are harassed in even worse, more subtle ways than white women. And yet, so many Ugandans say the same thing. “That funny man.” Maybe this is a language barrier issue. Maybe they’re using the word “funny” in a different context. But the laughs from the men and women nearby seem to imply otherwise.

It’s these comments that push my social anxiety through the roof. Coupled, of course, with the fact that I’m representing not only America but all white people around the world every time I step outside my college. At least that’s how those who make quick judgements and stereotypes see me. It’s these comments that prevent me from walking around outside my college. Even within my college, I feel more like a novelty than a part of staff. At least that novelty has more to do with the fact that, in many people’s eyes, I am a tech guru and an incredibly intelligent woman, and less to do with the fact that I’m white.

Not everyone is like this, and most days I can deal with the few and far between. Some days, though, this anxiety locks me inside my house, unable to even go up to the college except to teach and leave. I have passed on trips to see my host family, trips to town, even parties because I am afraid of…. I don’t even know. Harassment? Being the center of attention? Being asked questions like I used to love? Being laughed at because of how little Rutooro I know? Some combination of everything, most likely.  

So if you wouldn’t mind, keep my celebrity status in your prayers. Social anxiety is a particularly difficult thing for me, as extraverted as I am. 

How Can I Pray?

With all the goodbyes I've been saying, many people are telling me they'll keep me in their prayers. I truly appreciate this, and if you're looking for something specific to pray about, I've given you a list below.

1. Pray that God will prepare a family for me in Uganda. When I got to Kirksville for school a couple of years ago, I basically fell into a family. I know God can do this, and this is what I want for my site.
2. Pray that God will prepare a church for me to go to. Uganda is a largely Christian nation, but not in the sense I'm used to, so I could use some guidance.
3. Pray for quick learning on my part, especially in language. I am usually a quick learner, but while I'm adjusting to a new country and culture, I am a bit worried about that.
4. Pray for a good adjustment. I'm sure you all are already praying for that, but just remember that I'll be adjusting for the first 3-4 months I'm in Uganda (until February or so).
5. Pray for my anxiety. The last several weeks, I can just feel my anxiety levels rising. I am excited about my journey, but I am also anxious as to the details of it.
6. Pray for low stress levels over the two years. One of the reasons I've joined the Peace Corps is to experience a slower, hopefully less stressed lifestyle. I know God can bring this to me.
7. Pray for God to show me how this fits into His plan for my life. I think I have a good idea, but I am still looking for clarity and details.


Thank you all in advance for your prayers!!