mpola mpola

every so often i forget that i'm white.  i mean i forget that i stand out.  because most of the time i'm surrounded by ugandans and most of the time i'm looking at them, not at my self.  and because everyone here is dark, and i feel very comfortable and think that i fit in, i forget that i'm not dark skinned too.  then i'll notice that people are staring at me, like everyone who walks by.  their eyes linger.  so i'll wonder if i have food on my face, or if my underwear is sticking out, and while i'm looking down to check, i'll catch sight of my arm- my pale arm- and remember, "oh yeah, i look totally different.  i stick way out."

but i am trying to become more culturally ugandan.  to pay attention and change some of my ways.  to slow down, to take more time, to ask about peoples families when i greet them and to listen to their answers.  to decrease the rush and increase the hospitality.  basically to become more like zoe :) who is naturally gifted in this area.

but yesterday at around 6, mike and i were cooking dinner.  the kids were out running around and so we had some alone time while we cooked which we tend to treasure.  then there was a knock on the door, the glass door, in the wall of windows, so we could see two men standing on the porch while we walked to the door.  i could tell, before i opened it, that i was annoyed.  there is never a quick interaction. 

these guys were adult students from the theology program and had been sent out to meet the faculty and pray with us.  i was thinking, "oh great!  it's dinner time- this is our family time, who does stuff like this?  and of all the times to come knocking, a tuesday at dinner time?"  i was tempted to say "no",  or at least "thank you, maybe another day, now's not a good time."

but i didn't.  i looked at them, full of joy and kindness, and down at my pale arm and remembered that i am in their country.  i'm living on their campus.  i'm the one with weird ideas about time, and dinner, and the appropriateness of the 'stop by'.

and the grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day.

so we invited them in and offered some juice and sat down in the living room to share our stories and receive their prayers.  and it was lovely.  it reminded me of what we've lost in our busy, scheduled lives.  we isolate ourselves and don't really know our neighbors.  we miss the sharing, the encouragement and the growth that can come from these little gifts of openness and time. 

i learned from them how they'd left their homes to study, how far they were from their families, how much they valued education, how much they desired unity- and to include us in their community.  they spoke about our togetherness, not our separateness, and in that half hour my white arm didn't matter.  in that half hour, i was looked at as a sister not a novelty, as a friend not an outsider.

when they left i felt revived and reminded and thankful, that i'm continually taught here a different perspective.  that i'm learning mpola, mpola (slowly but slowly) how to better be still.