Surrender

On Friday afternoon , I found myself sitting in the chicken house for about an hour, watching the rain come down in buckets. Indeed, that may seem like a strange place to be during the rain, but I was having a tour of the agricultural work here at St. Monica Vocational Training Centre, led by one of the students, when suddenly the skies opened up – and I do mean suddenly. We ran for the nearest shelter to wait it out, hence the chicken house.
As lightning flashed and thunder roared, there was little else to do but think, (and pray that lightning would not strike us). Since my trip is coming to a close, I took some time to think about what I have been seeing and doing. I admit, I had to laugh a bit at all the amusing moments I have had, including being stuck in the rain. And I had to wonder a bit about how I am able to be somewhere so different and be comfortable and at peace. Because in the last few weeks, I have been quite fine, and felt very much like I am at home. And I think it comes down to one word – surrender.
When one gives in to the way things are and simply “goes with the flow,” things are much easier, and I believe one also sees and experiences more. Trusting in God and believing in our own strength can make nearly anything bearable – and even enjoyable.
So….I can now be heard to say, occasionally, that a cold shower feels good. It’s not better than a hot one, for sure. I still miss the warm water. But I don’t dread the cool and refreshing water in the morning, either.
And I have come to enjoy the African cuisine I partake in here in Uganda. Sure, I would give almost anything for a pizza right now, but that doesn’t mean that the food here is hard to eat. It is actually quite good. In fact, today I had very tasty roasted chicken, homemade fries, and fresh greens for lunch and it was absolutely delicious. Most days, the fare includes beans, greens, rice or posho (grits), cabbage, and fruit – all very fresh. Fish, chicken, or meat may be included in small quantities. It can be monotonous to my American palate, but I have adjusted and am certainly not hungry. Perhaps I am even healthier with the fresh, mostly vegetable diet.
I think most of us have certain sensory things that drive us crazy. For me, it is dirty feet. At the beach, I hate it when sand gets stuck on my feet! But here in Uganda, it is either very, very dusty or very muddy. The roads are not paved, and the rains are heavy. It is essentially impossible to keep feet clean. I have tried wearing socks other years, but the dirt even penetrates them. So I have learned to be content with the feeling, as well as the dust in my hair, on my clothes, etc.
And then there’s electricity ….well, actually, there isn’t electricity. While most homes here do not have power at all, the schools and businesses in town are wired. But the power grid here functions sporadically at best. There have been only one of two days here when power is on all day. Usually, we have only a few hours. Oddly, it doesn’t make a difference to me. I have flashlights if I need them, but often I don’t even know if it is on or off. It was especially amusing this weekend, when Southern Sudan was celebrating its first day as a new country. It is very nearby, and a place where the Sacred Heart sisters have their origin. So we planned to stay up all night watching the festivities on television, beginning with the hoisting of the new flag at midnight Friday. Lo and behold, the power went out at 11 pm. We were sorry to think of missing this historical moment, but nothing could be done so off to bed we went. The next morning the power came back on and we found that the celebration was behind schedule – it hadn’t even started! But as we were watching the preparations for beginning the ceremonies, the power went off again! This time, however, the sisters deemed the event important enough to use precious fuel in the generator, and we tuned in for the birth of a new nation, cheering and rejoicing as much as those we saw on TV.
The timing of events in Southern Sudan represents another point of surrender here. Time is different in Africa. It is common knowledge, and unfortunately accepted way too easily. The flag raising in South Sudan took place about 12 hours later than scheduled. The gathering of St. Kizito students last week was to start at 9, but we began Mass at about 11 with only about one third of the guests present. If we are to meet to begin our daily work at 10, it will likely start sometime after noon. In past years, this has been a major frustration for me here. But I have found that again, surrender is the key. It is this way, and it will not change easily. No amount of stress on my part will make it different, so now I am able to just relax, wait, and let things come as they may – at least most of the time.
Sometimes it is hard for us to be at the mercy of others and follow their ways rather than our own. But I believe that there is great wisdom in the phrase, “When in Rome, do as the Romans.” This is how it should be. In this world there are many countries, and many cultures. There are no right or wrong ones, only differences that make the world an interesting place. For sure there are places where suffering is much more a part of daily life, and it is upon all of us to help bring that to an end. But it should not and cannot be done by making everyone like us, making the world all the same. In order to help those in need, I think it is of utmost importance to surrender to their ways, even experience them if possible. Only then can we truly understand their needs and the best way to help.
It is not our responsibility to give the vulnerable whatever they need, but rather to help them figure out how to get it for themselves. And the best way to do this is to become familiar and comfortable with their situation and their culture.
So I have tried to be Ugandan to the best of my ability for the last few weeks. And I am saddened to think that I have only a few more days here. Tomorrow, I will move to another town, Nebbi, to meet with a number of St. Kizito students there. If last year is any indication, they will be waiting to sing and share poems and thoughts, and it will be a wonderful day. I will be also be meeting my friend, Cissy, who is a member of the St. Kizito staff there – and perhaps even her granddaughter, who is not coincidentally named Laura! And I will continue to surrender to my situation and revel in it until I board the plane bound for home.
But you can be sure I will be stopping for pizza once I arrive in Cleveland!