One church visit down, eleven to go...

This Sunday Dan and I wended our way for an hour through narrow, high-hedged lanes, deep into the Devonshire countryside, to visit one of the churches which has been supporting us and praying for us during our years in Zimbabwe and then Uganda.

I first visited this church in 1997, before Dan and I were even engaged. So they have been praying for me - and then us - for fourteen years, through our marriage, the birth of our children, being ejected from Zimbabwe, moving to Uganda, and all the ups and downs since (at least the ones which made it into our monthly prayer updates.)

We have twelve link churches, spread all over Devon and the rest of England, so it is a daunting prospect that we will be visiting them all between now and January...

I must admit that I do not really look forward to these visits. There are always so many people I don't know, and people who approach you whom you know you should know... and various awkward conversations because people often don't know what to talk to you about. Often I end up hearing all about their lives instead of talking about our Ugandan life, since I find it easier to ask the questions!

But then again, almost always I end up loving the visits and feeling really glad we went. Same again this Sunday. We arrived at St Edmond's in Dolton half an hour early, to find a group of women singing choruses in the front of the church (a new development in this rather traditional Anglican country parish.)
Two women were setting things up, who reminded me that I had met them and been in their homes on my first visit fourteen years ago. The service was formal but the people were so friendly. Dan and I were given ten minutes to talk about our recent work in Uganda and our future plans. After the service we showed pictures on my laptop and chatted with several people who seemed really interested. It was so fun! Of course there were various people who had joined the church since our last visit, and also many who had left. And it was a bit sad that, being an All Age service, we saw only all ages over about sixty there... But the overwhelming feeling was that we had been prayed for faithfully there, so that even the new people knew exactly who we were, and many were interested in Uganda and the work being done there.

One old chap said to me, "Do you know I see your face every day?" He explained that his wife, Gwen, has my picture up on their fridge from my first visit, (therefore the thirty year old version of me, minus wrinkles and grey streaks - he didn't say that though!) Gwen had written underneath "Married to Dan, Abigail born, Alex born and the dates. I was touched to realise that this lovely couple had been praying for us and thinking of us daily. Gwen said she would miss my monthly prayer letters! If you are someone who writes prayer letters, you will know what a huge boost that was to me, as you often feel, sitting at your desk in Africa, wondering what to write this month, that they anyway are being written into a vacuum and surely sit at the back of churches gathering dust...

So our first church visit of twelve was really encouraging and positive. Having been admittedly glad to put the days of being on missionary support behind me,  the visit made me actually feel sorry that we are saying goodbye to all these relationships, and to all this prayer for us. Knowing there are so many more last visits to come, and that they will all be similarly sad, the image came to mind of pulling off a well stuck-down bandaid when it is no longer needed - slow and painful, - but possibly a relief when it is off...

Good Old British Beaurocracy...

British beaurocracy is irritating, reassuring, and impressive in turns. Registering at the doctor was simple and I have been able to order my thryoxine by phone and can pick it up tomorrow afternoon straight from the surgery – no effort required at all! Bingo! Compare that to an hour’s drive to Kampala, to find one pharmacy has it for one pound per tablet, two others have run out, ring a friend to ask where she got hers recently (you know who you are!), go back and buy a small amount from the first, wait and hope to find it cheaper somewhere else another day… Life in England is so much easier… Until…

… trying to get a landline and internet into our house, which is a Nightmare – you can now get it in “bundles” of internet, cable TV, landline plus a mobile phone package, in any combination of the above, from three different companies, offering twelve month or eighteen month deals for different prices, differing amounts of broadband at differing speeds… AND special offers! But they didn’t mention the cost of line rental which doubles the special offer! But THEY take three weeks to intall while WE can do it instantly. But if you’re moving soon, you MIGHT be able to take the package with you. IF the house you move into has our cable in the street. Do we even need a landline? Mobiles might work out cheaper (depending on what mobile package we go for…) Do we need cable – there are lots of free stations anyway. As long as we swim around in this huge sticky bowl of molasses, trying to make a decision one way or the other, we don’t have internet in our house so we have to drive to friends to get in our emails. Somebody help!!! Now Uganda seems so simple!  

Meanwhile, we installed the television which my parents kindly gave us, a few days before we actually moved in. We turned it on to see if the freeview channels did come in. Abby and Alex were over the moon that their favourite channel CBBC (Childrens BBC) does work. Hooray! Two days later a letter lands on the mat. “To The Occupier…” The letter goes on to say that whatever we are watching, however we are watching it, it is illegal until we get a Television License!! Wow, they really have it covered. Amazing. It only took ten minutes on the internet to become legal again – phew!

I must say that being able to do everything by internet is very easy, (so long as you are computer literate, have internet, and speak English,) compared to the time-consuming system used in Uganda for things like immigration and driving licenses: the long, familiar ordeal, of going to a particular office one day, back to office number two another day, followed by going to the bank to pay, then going back to the bank later or another day to collect your receipt, taking that receipt back to office number two, and  back again in five more days to collect the document you were after. People blame the British for all of that.  Perhaps it was like that in England in Victorian times, when important documents were written with quill pens on scrolls, and badly stored or lost (as in Bleak House). Not so any more. Now, no-one wants you to come into their office. Quite the opposite. In fact, bizarrely, if you go to the Schools Admissions team at the Local Authority building in Gloucester, they don’t speak to you face to face, but instead you go into a booth, where there is an intercom phone, and they speak to you from their office via the intercom! The irony…

At home...?

At the beginning of week three, things are beginning to feel a bit more organised…We are in our own home, essential furniture has been acquired, and a few proper meals have been cooked… But it still feels as though I am making my way through a forest of thick bushes – we keep pushing past one thick bush only to find another in our way, and still not sure where you are going. The bushes vary – some you need to bend and climb under, some you push through, others you have to try to chop down altogether… It feels a bit like an obstacle course, as though there might be a huge prize at the end if we succeed. Of course there is – a happy fulfilled life for all the family here in Gloucester! But I need the cheering crowds!

The obstacles at the moment mainly consist of our housing, furnishing our home, the container which is arriving in port on 25^th August and in particular, where to put all the stuff that is in it. The problem is that the house we own, which we are now living in as of two days ago, is just a bit too small for us. It is manageable, but, for example, Abby and Alex share a room (she has chosen purple and he has chosen red white and blue, hmm) and there is no guest room; when we all sit at the little dining table no-one can go in and out of the room, since one chair has to block the door. There is nowhere to put wet shoes on entering the house as the front door opens onto a tiny hallway and the stairs go straight up from it. We bought the house as an investment, to let, and never intended to live in it, and it is a real blessing to be able to be here just now – but we don’t think we want to stay in it for very long. However, the alternatives are all very sketchy at this point. If we can let it out again, we could rent another bigger place ourselves. One great place is available so that could work, IF the agent will accept us as tenants even though we don’t have a definite income this year. Our savings might be enough to convince them, we shall see. If I can get a job, we could definitely rent or MAYBE get a mortgage. If we could sell this house, we could buy a bigger house – that is if we could realistically get a mortgage, which is unlikely at this time both because of the recession and because we don’t have a definite income. If we end up staying in this house, we shall have to store most of our container-full of stuff. If our friends buy the house they hope to, they have offered to let us use their garage, if it isn’t too damp. If we stay in this house, we need small furniture to make the most of the space, but if we move to the bigger rental place, we can wait and buy some bigger chests of drawers etc. Every decision starts with an if. Grrr!! Let the metaphor change from hacking through a dense forest, to playing a huge game of dominoes…

Whilst all the uncertainties are tricky, we are grateful for what we have, a warm roof over our heads, a great park at the end of the road, very friendly neighbours up and down this street… Two invitations out for meals with new friends already… many gifts of furniture and small household items from people we barely know, including the family who have just left from here for Uganda, giving us their duvet and sheets, a printer, dishes and certain kitchen things as they walked out the door!  All things we specifically needed since we didn’t bring them from Uganda. So we do feel blessed. 

We have had various conversations along the lines of:  “what shall we do if we don’t feel happy here…” “how shall we manage if we end up having to stay in this house…”  and finally, inevitably, from Alex today, “Why can’t we go back to Uganda where everything was perfect?”  

"Stuff"

Two brief thoughts on "stuff."

When we had been in America (visiting Dan's family) just a few days, we were offered a house to stay in which was furnished and equipped, but not being lived in at that time. My 11 year old daughter and I opened cupboards in the laundry room and were amazed that they were fully stocked with varieties of  liquids, stain removers, chlorine bleach, fabric softeners, all brands which I had never heard of - in fact I said to Abby, "Which one do you think just washes the clothes?" We picked the one called "All" and it seemed to do the trick!

Then we found the kitchen cupboards equally full, with gadgets and supplies. Abby's comment was: "To think, we have lived for eight years happily in Uganda, not missing anything, doing everything we wanted, and then, we come here, and the cupboards are full of things we have never seen before, and yet people tell us we can't live without them."

(We had actually seen washing powder in Uganda..., just in case you were wondering, but, our cupboards were not full of a whole range ... one box usually did it.)

Today I thought about "stuff," or rather, "wanting stuff," when the Sunday Times newspaper came through the door. We are still house-sitting for friends, so it was their paper being delivered, and so, free for us! That paper has sat unread all day. Dan will read it later but I don't think I will get to it. But, only a matter of weeks ago, I was living in Uganda, where, the most recent Sunday Times was surprisingly available in a petrol station shop in Bugolobi - for 24,000 Ug shillings which is eight pounds! Needless to say, I never bought it. But, I often stood and gazed at it longingly, thinking how much I would love to browse through that paper if only I could afford it.

Is it just human nature - to want the things we can't have, and not to want the things that are easily available? I've still only bought one chocolate bar since being back in England...

Feelings of Uselessness...

In spite of having visited England almost every year (although not quite) since we moved to Uganda in 2003, now that we are living here we find that "things have changed" and most days there is something that I do not quite know how to do... Or, a new road junction which confuses me. For example, a few days ago, I found myself in the wrong lane on a roundabout (driving in Uganda, no-one knew what was the right lane anyway), and so made a nifty manoeuvre to get off on the exit I needed - only to find a moment later, an enormous throbbing motorbike pulled up alongside my driver window: the driver's knee was at my eye level, and his visor was bent towards me, beard bristling our underneath, and he was scathingly asking me what kind of driving I thought that was, or words to that effect... "Sorry!" I muttered, bright red in the face, and he was gone. I felt small as an ant, and ashamed to realise that lack of recent experience driving on these roads would not be a great excuse if I caused an accident... but then again, I could also see the funny side of it... and shot up a prayer that God would keep me safe as I drove and protect all those around me, just as he always did on the crazy Ugandan roads.

Today I faced not for the first time the problem of having to buy a car parking ticket at an incomprehensible machine. The sign said, "To pay by credit card, phone this number: (XXX) No ticket needed to be displayed." Help, this is new! I didn't really want to use up my (newly acquired) Orange airtime in a long confusing conversation with no doubt multiple security questions, standing around in the cold windy carpark, and give out my credit card number INCLUDING the "security code" which surely can't be very secure any more to yet another stranger (although probably a stranger in Delhi...) But there was also an option for paying with coins, but the coin slot was unidentified and not very easy to see, and there was a green button near it, but no labelling on that either. I was pretty sure if I put in some coins and pushed the green button, a ticket would come out, and thank goodness it did. But for a few minutes in front of that machine I had that feeling, which is becoming all too familiar, of uselessness, as I had felt when I messed up on the roundabout. Yet another thing I don't know how to do, how thick must I be, can't live in my own country any more, out of date...

But I realise that these are typical "re-entry" problems, and feelings. Things do always change, and lots of people get lost, or need to have something explained to them, and soon I shall be breezing around Gloucester knowing exactly where to go and how to do things. I just have to get through this time...

A friend recently said she was praying for the grace and humour needed to get through the transition, and those are certainly needed. Grace, humility, a certain amount of concentration, and a big dollop of humour.

A nice epilogue to my short struggle in the car park... as we were walking away from our car, a group of Chinese visitors were seen to be standing in front of the same ticket machine. Bravely the tall thin man asked me in fairly good English if I could help them understand the machine. "Oh yes, of course" I said, and asked if they had any coins... Having shown them what to do, I jokily reminded them not to be more than one hour so they wouldn't be fined... They were so grateful, and as we waved and turned to walk away, the man gave me a beautiful Chinese bow. That was the grace...

Shopping...

Among many other jobs yesterday I managed to fit in my first trip into a Tesco's Superstore (think Walmart...). I had actually been looking forward to Tesco's... but, in the event, I HATED it!

Armed with a capacious, shiny trolley that rolled along in a straight line (wow), and an expectant happy face, in I went, and was immediately overwhelmed by aisles stretching off in every direction. So, I thought I would start in one corner, and work my way around. I immediately got stuck in picnic stuff, then clothes, then flowers - hadn't even found the food yet. All of a sudden I came to the meat section, and it was so cold! I truly could not stand it. I decided not to buy meat that day, but would come back another day with a jumper on... The cold extended into the vegetable section as well, so I skipped that too. I spent a few happy minutes in the crisps and snacks section, and found some Tesco's brand tortillas - yay! - so stocked up on them (my trolley still being horribly empty).  I then spent at least ten minutes if not more comparing sizes of ketchup bottles - the bigger ones were better value per 100 gram, but then should I buy glass or plastic bottles - which is better environmentally? Then again, the plastic ones which stand upside down are a good medium size, but, the lids do get so messy. I ended up buying a HUGE, plastic, normal-way-up bottle which will probably last us a year... The bread section also got me stumped - every type of bread, from white to wheatmeal to wholemeal to granary to seedy ... AND in thin, medium, or thick slices - goodness. How to choose? Milk came next, and then ice cream, but I never made it to yoghurts or cheese... The frozen vegetables were easy as I only wanted frozen peas - incredibly expensive in Uganda, so I was happy to find them here at an eighth of the price.

Moving on, feeling a bit more successful, I found myself in the land of pre-prepared food - aisles and aisles of it. You could live off these aisles without needing the rest of the shop, if you didn't want to actually cook. I skipped all of them.

Cereal was another whole mine-field, but I was surprised at how expensive it was here - I had thought paying 5 pounds for a box in Uganda was an extravagance, but it isn't much less than that here. I bought two boxes on special offer... I still had to get through butter, spreads, biscuits, juice - but I had already run out of steam so I skipped most of that too. Then I realised, I ought to buy ingredients for one real meal, as the family can't really live on ice cream and tortilla chips, so, I dragged myself back to the arctic meat section and bought a packet of sausages and some bacon (the "cooking bacon," which is a third of the price of the rest just because it isn't sliced into perfectly shaped rashers - who cares?!)

My hour in Tesco's was exhausting, confusing, and very cold, and I had only managed to get around about a half of the shop... I may have try Sainsburys next time...

A Good Day...

After feeling all adrift last night, I have had a great day - what a relief.

Things I have accomplished today:
Set up electricity and water supply, via lengthy phone calls...
Had table and chairs and washing machine delivered to the house...
Had washing machine connected by a kind friend who also helped me assemble an incredibly heavy futon...
Did first big grocery shop for when the rest of the family arrives...
Figured out how to work our boiler and water heater (thanks to same useful friend!)
Read the local Gloucester newspaper, called "The Citizen..."
Visited Redcliffe College, where we hope to work, and reconnected with several old friends on staff there.
Skyped with Dan and the children... missing them
Chatted on FB with Karen Scully in Mukono... missing them too!

Things I am undoubtedly loving about being back in England:
Speaking on the phone with my parents and friends without having to be as brief as possible...
Having power on the whole time - STILL a treat!! I hear it is awful in Uganda at the moment and I do really feel for you all there.
Driving along past smooth green fields, in a smooth car, on a smooth road, with a selection of radio channels which all work...
Seeing blackbirds and swallows swooping in and out of the hedges, and watching a wild bunny hopping along a lane ahead of me yesterday...
Going to church in jeans on Sunday!! It felt so naughty, but in fact it is normal here! Met a lady at church who was a Crosslinks missionary for 31 yrs in East Africa - I knew of her but had never met before.
Walking down the alcohol aisle in the supermarket, deciding whether or not to buy a bottle of sherry. As it happens, I didn't, but... I am allowed to!
Maybe these novelties will wear off, but for now, they are good.

Thank you Lord for a good day.

One Week In...

So after one week, how are things going? Hmmm.... Maybe I should make two lists: things I am thankful for, and other things...

Thankful...

I am glad to be here a few days before my family, so that I can concentrate on getting jobs done without having to cook for them and entertain the children...  It is good to be a "free agent" for a few days. Missing them but... It has been beautiful weather and the English countryside looks green and peaceful. I have been well looked after by my parents who came up to help me clean up the house, and tidy up the (albeit titchy)garden, and by Rob and Sarah Hay who I am staying with. Haven't had to do any cooking yet...! I LOVE our new car, which we were able to purchase before we moved back - a bright blue Renault Meghane which has grreat acceleration, is smooth, has a good radio and air-conditioning which works!! I am SO thankful that Deon and Beth GAVE me furniture including a fridge-freezer and two single beds from their furniture business. The washing machine is being delivered tomorrow...

Adrift...

With still so much to do before I can relax... like phone all the utilities companies, get Alex's school sorted, send out my cv, sign up for child benefit, etc... I still feel more nervous and detached from reality, than happy. It feels as though I am playing an elaborate game of "setting up house". But at times it feels like a really bad idea and I want to run to the airport and escape! I feel detached, and somehow like a boat adrift trying to throw out a few mooring lines at random. I am looking forward to feeling a sense of stability but it hasn't arrived yet... I went this weekend to visit my middle brother and his family in their new home near Guildford - they only moved in three weeks ago. It is a beautiful house with amazing gardens. But I realised that their being in a new house and new area which they don't know very well yet, added to my sense of being lost at sea. I haven't cried yet but I feel as though I am running on adrenalin, and I am getting really tired. I did buy my first bar of Cadbury's chocolate earlier - sounds like it is time to crack it open, - that and a cup of tea... 

Leaving...

We are in the middle of the roller-coaster of transition. We left Uganda on 1^st July, and we have travelled to visit friends in Botswana and then America, bouncing from Dallas to Madison to Lake Geneva to Minneapolis. Now I arrive in England, where I have not lived on a permanent basis since 1992, nineteen years ago. Back then, young free and single, just 25 yrs old, I signed up with Africa Evangelical Fellowship (AEF) and flew without a backward glance to a corner of rural Zambia to teach in a mission school for Zambian girls. Cutting a long story short, after two fascinating and happy years there, I went to missions college (All Nations Christian College) in England, married an American fellow-missionary, worked with him in Zimbabwe for five years, had two children there, watched and experienced Zimbabwe hurling itself into chaos, left in a hurry, spent a year teaching at Redliffe College in England, and then moved to Uganda in 2003.

In Uganda Dan and I were working at Uganda Christian University, which had been the Church of Uganda (Anglican) theological training college since about 1913, and in 1997 became a university. The goal of the university is to train Christian professionals in every walk of life for Uganda and the surrounding East African countries. Their vision statement is: a complete education for a complete person. It is a great place. We loved working there, but for the past two to three years I had begun to feel that I wanted to move back to England, to be nearer my family, and so that our two children, Abigail and Alex, would have time as teenagers to put down roots in their own culture. I began to feel tired of the heat and dust of Uganda, the traffic and related hazards on our hour-long commute to the children’s school, and to long for a life less ordinary, back home in England.

LEAVING…

However, when the time to leave Uganda finally came, I found it quite a wrench. More than I expected. As I put it to various friends, it is only when you pull a plant up that you realise how deep the roots go. I found saying goodbye to all the various groups of people we had been involved with, and our friends both Ugandan and ex-pat, very poignant. Living away from your own family, ex-pats tend to make close friendships very quickly, and to depend on them for all the support, morale-boosting, venting, and recreation that they might, back home, derive from siblings, or regular phone calls with parents. Leaving those friends in Uganda was hard. I shall miss them. I also realised how many people I had made connections with, as I walked around the university campus in the last few weeks before leaving: various students, colleagues, university staff and our Ugandan neighbours from the part of campus where we lived, would stop for a chat, shaking me by the hand and not letting go of that hand until the conversation was over. We had been at UCU longer than some of them and so we were often told, “We thought you would be here for ever. We are really going to miss you.”

So, leaving was sad. But, we were sure it was the right time to leave. I knew how much I would miss the beauty and green-ness of Uganda, the splashy flowers, the daily sunshine, the birds (which Dan and I loved watching and identifying) and even the red-tailed monkeys visiting our garden, entertaining us by doing a balancing act along the single electricity wire that crossed in front of our house - as well as the friends, the nights of playing Settlers and Carcassonne, and Scrabble, with various neighbours. But, when Dan suggested on one of our last evenings that maybe in five years time he would try for another job at UCU, my immediate reaction was, “No, no, no….!!” That brought it home to me: sad to leave, but, wanting to leave…