Lavar Burton

When I was younger, my mom used to read me this story about a caterpillar who started off small and worm-like, and who then proceeded to decimate this leaf in a scene of natural, allowable gluttony. He then took an postlunch nap, and awoke as a brilliant butterfly. The thing about caterpillars though, and the thing the book failed to mention, is that they're harbingers of pain and suffering. In Uganda, people are terrified of them. I would say that ants, snakes, and caterpillars are the three most feared organisms in the land. One type of caterpillar is large, about thumb-size, with brown and black hairs sticking out of it. Though i thankfully haven't experienced it yet (b/c I mercilessly kill every caterpillar I find), I heard those hairs burn like a thousand suns if they touch your skin. We might be sitting on the grass for a school assembly when all of a sudden, fifty girls get up screaming. A snake? no. A swarm of bees? Negative. Caterpillar on the move.

You ever watch a caterpillar move? it's kind of got this rolling, wavelike, undulation, where one end of it might be lifted in the air, and then it rolls forward, hitting again, the ground beneath (I think this is how it moves. As I said, i don't study them too long, im (and my biology professors and classmates might be ashamed of this ) more interested in eradication than observation at that point). Yeah, that's pretty much how I feel on a weekly basis. There are those days, weeks even, when I appreciate all that is about me. Im motivated to teach, start projects, and go to the roads and paths and speak the little local language i know. I'm patient with people, patient with myself, and generally happy and active. That's about the time the body pushes forward and that part of me that was so high, that enthusiasm and appreciation, is now scraping across the floor, burned by the friction that comes from a lack of understanding. I get angry at people, desiring only to be alone and in my house. I lack the motivation and even desire to be with the students. I almost search for reasons to be upset and exemplify the epitome of pride and blurred vision. In a word, I suck. Perhaps worst of all is this doubt that creeps in and this fear that Im going to come home and think. "I could have done better." I don't know what to do about this. Thankfully, God allows the caterpillar to move on, and in its turn, I find myself up again, breathing air that is fresh and filled with love. I appreciate the way my neighbor sometimes brings over sweet potatoes for me. I revel in the conversations I have with the farmhand, talking always about Manchester United football, and even appreciate the way the butt-naked kids (isn't that kid like twelve years old?!) playing in the swamp greet me in the local tongue.

I guess my only hope is that the caterpillar is constantly moving forward, towards a peaceful, loving, more accepting life, and that if seen by an on-looker, that person will be more merciful than I, and certainly more merciful than the girls I teach.

grahm crackers and milk

I was in uganda, eating grahm crackers crushed in milk when i realized, "Im in uganda, eating grahm crackers crushed in milk!" Sometimes, how good God is, and how amazing now is, eludes us amidst the constant drive for what's next. But other times, we're blessed to just stop and be in awe at what we're getting to experience, what we're getting to touch and learn and participate in.

Like the other day, we held a track competition between the freshmen and sophomore classes. Sure there were those who tried to opt out. "But Sir, we haven't been training." Or, "But Sir, Im fat from eating beans. I can't make it." But I wasn't hearing it. We gathered in the rutted, uneven pitch just next to the school's kitchen. the grass was mowed via bovine, which is to say, scattered and spotty at best, sometimes with knee-high weeds. But oh, the purity and natural elegance. The raw talent. They wind the corner, marked off by plastic chairs, of the 200, no time, no knowing exact distance, just speed, just flow. Or the peloton of the 1600. Girls who haven't been training, haven't been coached, jostling for position, hanging tight, breaking loose.

there's something to be said for those times when the grace of the being seems to illuminate, if not match, the grace of being. As i watched the students race, i saw something right, something good. but now, as i reflect on that scene, i wonder if the good wasn't just an accentuation of the good of just being here. im in Uganda!

It's definitely not exactly what i imagined. it's more, and it's less. I mean, a day here might look like such:
-wake up, read, run (get laughed at by about fifteen adults, but allow about sixty kids to laugh in a different manner while chasing me from behind (i usually smoke them though))
-bathe, go to school
-drink break tea, which is so hot i burn my tongue and then begin sweating because, "why am i drinking hot tea on the equator?"
-teach computer class to a bunch of girls who generally enjoy coming and learning (but enjoy even more trying to listen to music when i turn my back)
-teach some literature students about charles dickens, who perplexed me as a freshman but offers me a second chance here.
-eat beans

this is only up until lunch time! I mean, sure, there are many days when my enthusiasm about the above is...non existent. But perhaps that's why those times when i see what a blessing it is to be here, to be eating grahm crackers crushed in milk; when i get to stop and be amazed at how creative God is, perhaps that's why these days are so valuable.