DAY 3 - Saturday July 8th
And the Lord said, let there be light. The power came on about 15 minutes after we got home, and I plugged in my computer as soon as I could. After it charged a little I powered it up and Windows said “you should change the battery or plug into an outlet immediately.” I said Ft. Portal didn’t understand the command, and Sara’s mom made a good observation. “I don’t think ‘immediately’ is in the Rootoro vocabulary.”
Today was wonderful, although long and tiring. It was our first real day of having to be somewhere. I woke up somewhere between 8:30am and 9:30am and it was the first time I was the last to rise and the last to get breakfast. It was still early though, and I woke up after the best breakfast I’ve had so far, even though every breakfast has been great. I made a giant peanut butter, honey and banana sandwich to jolt my energy and in honor of my father. I asked for eggs again, but didn’t expect the surprise that came before me. I froze as I looked at the table in the kitchen and saw them – a plate of tortillas. Okay so they aren’t really tortillas, but they are the Ugandan equivalent. Chipatas they are called. Betty made them with eggs and the flavor was delicious. We put honey on them and they became Ugandan French toast. Whitney mentioned how good they would be with cinnamon and sugar, and I suggested we look for cinnamon at the market. Sure enough, on our way home they had cinnamon, so tomorrow hopefully we will spice it up that much more.
The first three days we had french fries and/or potatoes, and that cured what little homesickness I had for the West. After yesterday’s restless day and this morning’s surprise tortilla fix, I was taken care of. If only we could get the green chili up here.
We said good morning to Joseph and hopped on the bus, down the hill again for our next adventure. We past the road that traveled to Mary’s Craft Shop and we were a bit confused because we were supposed to pick up Margaret. It was good that we already knew our “way around” Ft. Portal and could recognize the roads, even though they looked the same. We dropped off Aboli our guard at the top of a hill, then turned around to pick up Margaret. It was now 10:40am we were supposed to be at Saca promptly for the 11am vows confirmation, and Sara was starting to get nervous.
We were circling around back to the road to Mary’s when suddenly the truck in front of us stopped in the middle of the road. The driver and passenger got out and began to unhitch the tailgate to start unloading what looked like a bunch of port-a-potties and Sara quickly asked Joseph to tell them we needed to get through because we were on our way to church. Joseph told the men and they finally moved ahead. Margaret and a Holy Cross sister we hadn’t met yet were waiting on the steps. Margaret looked beautiful, dressed in traditional African dress – a blue, black and green shawl to match her lime-green dress and hair bandana. We said hello to the new sister and made a beeline for the road up the hill out to church.
We continued up the hill, surrounded by tall grass and open land. We saw a small glimpse of the lake, and tried to get a shot of it, but I knew that the Holy Cross probably had the best spot on the lake and there would be plenty of scenery.
It was 11:01am. We drove into the gate and saw lots of other cars – it was definitely a party. Unfortunately Joseph drove right up to the front of the lawn, and we thought for sure we were interrupting the service which had probably just begun. What a way to make an entrance – a giant bus full of Bazoongs.
But all the anxiety disappeared with one of the most beautiful sound memories I will have on this trip. The 9 African novitiates who were going to be confirmed turned around, smiled widely and ran up to the bus. “Oh you are MOST welcome” said one of them, with the most excited look on his face. “Thank you for coming to our service.” They greeted us one by one and reminded us how welcome we were.
We immediately walked down a beautiful green grass hill to what appeared to be a spot right on the lake for the service. As we walked, we heard one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard in my entire life. The novitiates were signing a hymn in perfect harmony, and the sounds echoed off the trees into our unexpected ears. I looked at Rachael. “Instant Zen,” I said. We tried to sit down quickly and quietly, for the parents and other visitors were not impressed. We certainly made an entrance.
The service was simply an invitation from God. Everything was planned out to a “t” and ran smoothly. I sat almost directly across from the novitiates. I have hardly seen such proud and excited faces – like the looks of the parents in New Mexico when they see their children graduate. You could tell it was a special moment for
the parents, and all the brothers and sisters.
Mass got a little out of hand because it was a traditional Catholic service, but it was great to watch because they did a great job of having both English and Rootoro – the latter more beautiful to my ears. The singing was incredible. Two of the novitiates played the bong drum with his hands, another with two sticks he had gathered from the ground. The harmony was breathtaking.
Sara had said that services in Uganda had more music and less sermons, which we dug.
This service did have a sermon, and it was great for me. I always am touched in some personal way by a good sermon. He priest spoke first of the environment, since we were having service “under God’s canopy,” surrounded by the fish, the trees, the soil, and the fruit. “God does not give you fruit, he gives seeds.” I thought of my father, who the day I left for the trip, reminded me that it was all about the seeds. The priest said that although we are “in the age of the cellular and always looking down,” we should look up and remember that we are always connected (for them, connected to Jesus, for me, connected to the spirits). “Mountains can never meet but people do,” he said, and in a quote I will remember forever, “Challenges can be overcome when you are connected to the divine.” “First seek the kingdom of God,” he said, “and the rest will follow.” First spiritual encounter in Uganda, check.
We finally made it to the confirmation part. I have no idea about the hierarchy of the Catholic Church and I’m not even going to try and figure it out, but apparently this was a big deal, the end of a 4-year journey for the boys. God the look on the boys’ faces and sound in their voices when their names were called and they were there to say “present,” with their families and the Lord as witnesses. Each novitiate called their two witnesses and took a vow of “celibacy, poverty and obedience.” The signed the book, received their cross, and we all clapped.
After the last novitiate was confirmed, the music got more intense. One by one the people got up and danced in a circle. One lady, dressed in a beautiful black and green dress, stood up and immediately just started moving. No one cared what they looked like. Everyone danced with everyone. Everyone smiled and sang their hearts out. They even made a few of us dance (thankfully not me) who were sitting in the front row. Sara got up and did her thing. It was awesome.
After the service we waited patiently for the food. I had a feeling we were going to get a great post-mass meal, but this was it Ugandan style. We had millet served out of the bowls we sell at the craft shop, but it was disgusting. One of the men said “you can patch a hole in the roof with it but you can’t get it down your stomach.” He was right. It was worse than sticky. Rachael lifted the entire serving with her one small scoop, and I was done with it. The rest of the food was delicious – rice, mashed bananas, and beans. The chicken tasted amazing, probably the Ugandan equivalent of “organic.” We also got a special treat – our first taste of soda! I drank an orange Fanta, a lemonade, and a Coke. Then we had cake with brown sugar icing (you could taste the clumps of sugar). Needless to say I was on a sugar high for the rest of the day.
Oh…that reminds me…I bought some juice at the store to balance out the sugar, and on the way back spilled some of the “Splash” passion fruit in the bus. After we got home, I went to the kitchen and got some napkins. Sara was talking to Joseph and I got back on the bus to clean it. “Nooooo sir, it’s okay,” Joseph said. He got on his hands and knees and begged me not to clean it. “It will get sticky,” I said. “It’s okay, I’m sorry. I will clean it.” I didn’t know what to do. Sara told him she had told us to pick up after ourselves, and I tried to explain to him that my parents raised me to do so. He laughed and said okay, but that it was his job to clean the bus everyday. How proud he was. I felt bad, but wanted to give him respect. So, for all the people out there who give me shit about not picking up after myself – I tried.
Back in Ft. Portal we stopped in town to see if the Internet café was open. It was! It was running on a generator. The sign posted said “to our esteemed customers” because of the power outage we have to charge double the rate. So instead of paying $1 for 36 minutes, we had to pay $1 for 18. Ha.
We got home dog tired, and the electricity came back on about 5 minutes after we entered the house. I looked at my pictures and played with the video camera a bit (Sara taped some of the service and got about 2 minutes of the zen hymn of the way in, so I will play it for everyone when I get home!). But I had a lot to write and since we were going to have a lazy day tomorrow, I went to work. We were going to “go to the club” because it was Saturday night, but everyone was too tired. Betty is amazed that we are brave enough to want to go, and she just laughed at me when I told her she has to teach us Bazoongas how to dance.
All in all I had a productive day doing absolutely nothing but what I wanted. I like that the days are longer although with electricity I could have accomplished a helluva lot more. I wondered if the days would always be like this – sort of looking forward to a routine but afraid of a Groundhog day experience in Africa with so much to do and see outside the house.
Today was wonderful, although long and tiring. It was our first real day of having to be somewhere. I woke up somewhere between 8:30am and 9:30am and it was the first time I was the last to rise and the last to get breakfast. It was still early though, and I woke up after the best breakfast I’ve had so far, even though every breakfast has been great. I made a giant peanut butter, honey and banana sandwich to jolt my energy and in honor of my father. I asked for eggs again, but didn’t expect the surprise that came before me. I froze as I looked at the table in the kitchen and saw them – a plate of tortillas. Okay so they aren’t really tortillas, but they are the Ugandan equivalent. Chipatas they are called. Betty made them with eggs and the flavor was delicious. We put honey on them and they became Ugandan French toast. Whitney mentioned how good they would be with cinnamon and sugar, and I suggested we look for cinnamon at the market. Sure enough, on our way home they had cinnamon, so tomorrow hopefully we will spice it up that much more.
The first three days we had french fries and/or potatoes, and that cured what little homesickness I had for the West. After yesterday’s restless day and this morning’s surprise tortilla fix, I was taken care of. If only we could get the green chili up here.
We said good morning to Joseph and hopped on the bus, down the hill again for our next adventure. We past the road that traveled to Mary’s Craft Shop and we were a bit confused because we were supposed to pick up Margaret. It was good that we already knew our “way around” Ft. Portal and could recognize the roads, even though they looked the same. We dropped off Aboli our guard at the top of a hill, then turned around to pick up Margaret. It was now 10:40am we were supposed to be at Saca promptly for the 11am vows confirmation, and Sara was starting to get nervous.
We were circling around back to the road to Mary’s when suddenly the truck in front of us stopped in the middle of the road. The driver and passenger got out and began to unhitch the tailgate to start unloading what looked like a bunch of port-a-potties and Sara quickly asked Joseph to tell them we needed to get through because we were on our way to church. Joseph told the men and they finally moved ahead. Margaret and a Holy Cross sister we hadn’t met yet were waiting on the steps. Margaret looked beautiful, dressed in traditional African dress – a blue, black and green shawl to match her lime-green dress and hair bandana. We said hello to the new sister and made a beeline for the road up the hill out to church.
We continued up the hill, surrounded by tall grass and open land. We saw a small glimpse of the lake, and tried to get a shot of it, but I knew that the Holy Cross probably had the best spot on the lake and there would be plenty of scenery.
It was 11:01am. We drove into the gate and saw lots of other cars – it was definitely a party. Unfortunately Joseph drove right up to the front of the lawn, and we thought for sure we were interrupting the service which had probably just begun. What a way to make an entrance – a giant bus full of Bazoongs.
But all the anxiety disappeared with one of the most beautiful sound memories I will have on this trip. The 9 African novitiates who were going to be confirmed turned around, smiled widely and ran up to the bus. “Oh you are MOST welcome” said one of them, with the most excited look on his face. “Thank you for coming to our service.” They greeted us one by one and reminded us how welcome we were.
We immediately walked down a beautiful green grass hill to what appeared to be a spot right on the lake for the service. As we walked, we heard one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard in my entire life. The novitiates were signing a hymn in perfect harmony, and the sounds echoed off the trees into our unexpected ears. I looked at Rachael. “Instant Zen,” I said. We tried to sit down quickly and quietly, for the parents and other visitors were not impressed. We certainly made an entrance.
The service was simply an invitation from God. Everything was planned out to a “t” and ran smoothly. I sat almost directly across from the novitiates. I have hardly seen such proud and excited faces – like the looks of the parents in New Mexico when they see their children graduate. You could tell it was a special moment for
the parents, and all the brothers and sisters.
Mass got a little out of hand because it was a traditional Catholic service, but it was great to watch because they did a great job of having both English and Rootoro – the latter more beautiful to my ears. The singing was incredible. Two of the novitiates played the bong drum with his hands, another with two sticks he had gathered from the ground. The harmony was breathtaking.
Sara had said that services in Uganda had more music and less sermons, which we dug.
This service did have a sermon, and it was great for me. I always am touched in some personal way by a good sermon. He priest spoke first of the environment, since we were having service “under God’s canopy,” surrounded by the fish, the trees, the soil, and the fruit. “God does not give you fruit, he gives seeds.” I thought of my father, who the day I left for the trip, reminded me that it was all about the seeds. The priest said that although we are “in the age of the cellular and always looking down,” we should look up and remember that we are always connected (for them, connected to Jesus, for me, connected to the spirits). “Mountains can never meet but people do,” he said, and in a quote I will remember forever, “Challenges can be overcome when you are connected to the divine.” “First seek the kingdom of God,” he said, “and the rest will follow.” First spiritual encounter in Uganda, check.
We finally made it to the confirmation part. I have no idea about the hierarchy of the Catholic Church and I’m not even going to try and figure it out, but apparently this was a big deal, the end of a 4-year journey for the boys. God the look on the boys’ faces and sound in their voices when their names were called and they were there to say “present,” with their families and the Lord as witnesses. Each novitiate called their two witnesses and took a vow of “celibacy, poverty and obedience.” The signed the book, received their cross, and we all clapped.
After the last novitiate was confirmed, the music got more intense. One by one the people got up and danced in a circle. One lady, dressed in a beautiful black and green dress, stood up and immediately just started moving. No one cared what they looked like. Everyone danced with everyone. Everyone smiled and sang their hearts out. They even made a few of us dance (thankfully not me) who were sitting in the front row. Sara got up and did her thing. It was awesome.
After the service we waited patiently for the food. I had a feeling we were going to get a great post-mass meal, but this was it Ugandan style. We had millet served out of the bowls we sell at the craft shop, but it was disgusting. One of the men said “you can patch a hole in the roof with it but you can’t get it down your stomach.” He was right. It was worse than sticky. Rachael lifted the entire serving with her one small scoop, and I was done with it. The rest of the food was delicious – rice, mashed bananas, and beans. The chicken tasted amazing, probably the Ugandan equivalent of “organic.” We also got a special treat – our first taste of soda! I drank an orange Fanta, a lemonade, and a Coke. Then we had cake with brown sugar icing (you could taste the clumps of sugar). Needless to say I was on a sugar high for the rest of the day.
Oh…that reminds me…I bought some juice at the store to balance out the sugar, and on the way back spilled some of the “Splash” passion fruit in the bus. After we got home, I went to the kitchen and got some napkins. Sara was talking to Joseph and I got back on the bus to clean it. “Nooooo sir, it’s okay,” Joseph said. He got on his hands and knees and begged me not to clean it. “It will get sticky,” I said. “It’s okay, I’m sorry. I will clean it.” I didn’t know what to do. Sara told him she had told us to pick up after ourselves, and I tried to explain to him that my parents raised me to do so. He laughed and said okay, but that it was his job to clean the bus everyday. How proud he was. I felt bad, but wanted to give him respect. So, for all the people out there who give me shit about not picking up after myself – I tried.
Back in Ft. Portal we stopped in town to see if the Internet café was open. It was! It was running on a generator. The sign posted said “to our esteemed customers” because of the power outage we have to charge double the rate. So instead of paying $1 for 36 minutes, we had to pay $1 for 18. Ha.
We got home dog tired, and the electricity came back on about 5 minutes after we entered the house. I looked at my pictures and played with the video camera a bit (Sara taped some of the service and got about 2 minutes of the zen hymn of the way in, so I will play it for everyone when I get home!). But I had a lot to write and since we were going to have a lazy day tomorrow, I went to work. We were going to “go to the club” because it was Saturday night, but everyone was too tired. Betty is amazed that we are brave enough to want to go, and she just laughed at me when I told her she has to teach us Bazoongas how to dance.
All in all I had a productive day doing absolutely nothing but what I wanted. I like that the days are longer although with electricity I could have accomplished a helluva lot more. I wondered if the days would always be like this – sort of looking forward to a routine but afraid of a Groundhog day experience in Africa with so much to do and see outside the house.
posted by Jake McCook @ 6:43 PM
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