This is something that has been on my heart since almost the time I landed in Uganda this trip and am finally going to attempt to write out my thoughts. It’s taken a few days, and not sure it fully captures what I’m feeling & thinking, but it’s an attempt. Many things happen when you’re in Uganda and this is my story of one such thing, somehow.
When I came here last year, it was such an emotional and spiritual experience that I didn’t really have a chance to try and understand how truly different the culture the land and the people are here. It was very obvious to me right from the moment I stepped off the plane that Uganda was far different than the US. When we got out to the village and saw the condition of the children, it became more and more obvious that I had never experienced anything like this country before in my life.
This trip, it was almost familiar when I stepped off the plane, walked into the Entebbe Airport and rode into Kampala. I was welcomed by friendly people that we had not yet met and I have been blessed to re-connect with some friends made over the last year. As nice, friendly, welcoming and encouraging as everybody here has been, it is obvious that I am a foreigner here.
One of the most obvious differences is that I am 6’ 2” and white-skinned (muzungu). I tend to stand out from the crowd. With Lloyd (same height and skin), we really stand out. Everywhere I go, I find people staring, waving, children wanting to touch me (not that I mind that at all) and generally feel like I’m living in a fishbowl. It is refreshing to get time at night in a room where it is quiet and I am alone with God.
Even those times are foreign though. At night, I am always under a mosquito net, sleeping (or
trying to) on very hard foam beds in the sweltering heat. The constant smells that filter through the air are most often “unique”. From pig farms to burning garbage to the smell of the flowers and other plants here – none is really familiar.
The food is different – even the names are strange to me: Matoke, Posho, Chabatta, Cassava, g-nut sauce and so on. Some foods are more familiar (potatoes, rice, noodles) though spices and preparation still render them “different”. Meat is rare and often hard to distinguish exactly what it is (thank you God for Irene’s fried chicken the other day – about the first meat I recognized and it reminded me of home!). One day I had noodles & beans for lunch – I think a first for me. Meals are eaten at different times than 
we’re used to (8am, 1pm & 8pm). It’s a very starch-rich diet with little protein. We see school children eating only a cup of porridge for lunch and kind of puts things in perspective however. Note to self: quit complaining about the food I have to eat!
Showers are a very unique experience. Many places we have been do not have hot water, some have used the entire bathroom floor as a drain. This morning, I had a shower with barely a trickle to shower with (which may be for the best because it was cold water). We’ve been fortunate to have western toilets for the most part – though Africans seem more comfortable with the “squatters”. We’ve been able to avoid learning new techniques…
As I parted company with Lloyd again yesterday, I climbed in a car with two young men from Gulu to travel about 200 miles north. As we talked about all different subjects and watched the changing landscape, I started feeling that I’ve truly stepped out “alone” into the heart of Africa. Even the houses changed – now most I see have grass roofs instead of the corrugated metal I’ve become used to further south. It really looks like “Africa”.
Everything from checking into a hotel, purchasing food,even just hearing people speak leaves me feeling quite the foreigner. I am staying in a hotel that caters to westerners, though I have not yet met another American here. I’ve met people from Japan, the Netherlands and Great Britain.
The trees are different. The animals are different. The language is different. The stores are
different. TV is VERY different (I actually turned the TV for only about 1 minute last night). Sounds are different (sleeping next to an Islamic mosque is different). Even when we went for an “American” meal, the hamburger was not quite hamburger, fries not quite fries and the milkshake contained a lump of something not quite ice cream. The only coffee (with one glorious exception) I’ve been offered is Nescafe dehydrated. There are some glimpses of Americana we’ve had since we’ve been her that have given us a respite and time of refreshing and comfort!!!
Something I learned this afternoon that really surprised me is that at least some of the people here do not feel like happiness is something that they can ever hope for or attain. This came up in a discussion about some planning work I’ve been doing with the medical students here. When we were discussing goals of the organization, we talked about the desire for people to strive to be happy in life. I could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong. I asked if that was something that people tried to achieve here and he said simply: “no”. Pressing for a little better understanding, he told me that life here is just hard and people have come to expect that they won’t be happy. I don’t understand because I don’t live here.
Being a foreigner is not scary, it is just different. Nothing feels quite right or comfortable. I am, after all, just a visitor here and not a citizen. This is not the place I grew up, not where my memories are from or where I will live. My heritage and all of my experience is American. I’m proud to be an American citizen and at the same time, am proud to be here in Uganda serving and doing Kingdom work with fellow believers.
As I have considered this throughout this trip, the following passage from the bible has repeatedly come to mind:
For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself.
Philippians 3:20-21
As a Christian, I should feel as “foreign” in America as I feel in Africa. I should know that my citizenship is in Heaven and live that way. Have I gotten so comfortable with the American lifestyle that it surpasses my desire to live as a citizen of heaven? If there is anything that has made me feel more at home here is the time of worship and prayer when I realize that we are all foreigners on this earth.
So maybe you should just call me Gershom! (If you need a hint why, see Exodus 2:22)
Well, am about wrapped up with work so off to enjoy God’s creation with a short safari then fly home Monday afternoon. Has been a most interesting and educational trip and I pray God gives me some guidance as to what is next in this foreign life.
God bless you,
Dave “Gershom” Howard
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