Change in plans!

I met a lovely woman named Martha Wright at the seminar presentation last week. Martha lives with the Karamoja in Uganda, in an area somewhat to the north of Kampala, south of Gulu. Definitely the type of woman I admire. She is a Penn graduate with her Ph.D in education. She dresses simply, and the shape of her body radiates strength ... like someone who has been molded by sun and dirt, not treadmills and salad. She told me these stories about being raided, and about using a winch to pull her convoy out of mud puddles. This is the kind of woman I want to be -- if I could be like this woman, I could live through anything.

Anyway, Martha is helping me find a place to live, for much less money than the housing agency. She introduced me to a man named Charles Howard, who has been her special hire driver in the past. Charles will be taking a qualifying exam -- presumably for university studies, I think that's what qualifying exams are -- so he can't drive me from Entebbe airport. But he is making arrangements with a friend of his to take care of me. He has also found me a different place to live, in a protestant hospital's guest house in Mengo. It's much cheaper, and comes with breakfast every day. No swimming pool, but like I said before -- that's okay! And there is a restaurant where I can buy meals.

Maybe I like this situation because I implicitly trust Martha. After hearing her talk about the Karamoja, I can tell from my own experience that a) she's got a good bead on Uganda, and b) she is not a scary religious fanatic. And by "good" I mean she does not come off as ignorant, or aggressive, or prejudiced, or hyper-evangelical, all of which I have seen U.S. relief workers become. She sounds educated and caring, and I like her ideas about helping people by learning about them, first. She just makes sense. So I will transfer much of that trust to the people she puts me in contact with.

Here's the interesting part: I realize that I have embedded myself in a religious network. All of these people are Protestant. That ... might mean ... going back to church. You might call this my first cultural surprise. I will be very honest. Here in the United States I have made a good effort to stay away from the Christian church, ever since a somewhat nasty experience with a fellowship group during my undergraduate years. I will omit details; let me just say that I railed against narrow-mindedness and forcible evangelism.

Now, to gain awareness of the people I live with, and to buy a social pass around them, I might have to attend service. Okay. I can do this. Actually makes sense -- if I want to learn about people of course I need to learn about their spirituality. The part of me that will be Christian until the day I die (you cannot be born and raised in a religion without it claiming some lasting part of you, no matter how much you try to separate yourself intellectually) says that this is poetically appropriate. Here God called my father out of Sudan, protected him all the way to the United States, and set him up as a doctor. Here God is calling me back to the Continent, and protecting me with His people in a hospital. Of course it would happen this way. How else would things possibly work?

Insha'Allah.

I am late for a study group. Must run. Wish me luck: I hope this living situation works out.