I stayed home sick today and planned to get ahead on lesson plans for next week, but I spent most of the day sleeping instead. It's not 9:45pm, and I'm writing instead of planning lessons. Such is the story of my life.
Lately I have spent much of my time thinking about my experiences here a year and a half ago. The conclusion I always come to is that I am so thankful for those four months, because I feel I am still learning as a result of my time here. Lately I've been thinking about simplicity. Our power has been out for about eight hours per day, every day for the past week. We have an inverter, though, so when I say our power is out, I mean we still have lights, we just don't have a working fridge/freezer, washer/dryer, or water heater. The first night I don't think I complained at all, because the power being out gave us an excuse to finish the ice cream in the freezer. As the days went on, though, and the power stayed off, I found myself complaining briefly about the freezer being off, or not being able to do the dishes without hot water, or not being able to do laundry. After a few moments of grumbling, though, I thought back to last year, when I sat on the back porch one evening with my host brother, as the electricity was off, and listened to him talk about how he dreamed one day he would be able to afford a fridge so that his food wouldn't spoil so quickly. He talked about washers and dryers, and commented that he doesn't mind washing his clothing by hand--he thinks it gets cleaner that way anyway. If I wanted hot water for my bucket bath, I would ask my host sisters to boil some extra water on the stove, and then pour it into the freezing rain water we used to bathe. After remembering those conversations and experiences, I realized I had no right to complain. I have electricity on a regular basis. I have a working fridge, a running washer and dryer, a gas stove, a real toilet and a shower, and running water. I have been blessed with so many more possessions than any of the Ugandans I interacted with while I was here last year.
I miss simplicity. During our debrief of the semester last year, we talked about how things would be different when we arrived back in the States. We discussed ways we thought we would change. Many of us, half jokingly, and half seriously commented that we'd never complain about a cold shower again, or about cafeteria food being terrible (because here the food was rice and beans EVERY day, with no variety, ever...which I LOVED, but many did not). We said we'd always be thankful to have working toilets, and we'd always remember to be thankful for the rain, and to see it as a blessing rather than a hindrance. And upon arriving back in the States, those thoughts remained for several weeks, but slowly by slowly, they faded, and we found ourselves growing accustomed to the stereotypical materialistic American lifestyle. Now, here I am, living in Uganda once again, and trying to remember that life is not about our possessions. Life is not about whether or not we have electricity. These things do not produce the pure joy I see in the lives and hearts of the Ugandans I meet. Those I interacted with last year had nothing. Many of them could not even afford to feed their families each night, yet they were full of praise. Their hearts were full of joy. They were more content than I have ever been, and they had nothing.
I could probably go on and on, but what I'm really trying to say right now is that I am so thankful for the semester I had here last year. . . for the good times, and the awful times. . . for the challenging moments, and the moments full of joy. . . for the simplicity of life, and for the lessons learned. I pray I won't reach the point where I forget those lessons. I pray I won't ever be so focused on material possessions or money that I forget where true joy comes from. I pray I won't ever forget the people I interacted with and the way of the simple life. So much of what I have now is not really necessary. I bathed from a bucket. I went to the bathroom in hole in the ground (when it was light...if it was dark, we used a bucket in the bedroom). I ate mashed bananas and rice. We often didn't have any electricity, and functioned using candles to see. Neighbors willingly shared all they had, and didn't complain or worry about whether they would be repaid. My family didn't complain when the power went out, and they didn't complain when they did laundry by hand each week. They enjoyed it. They splashed some soapy water on each other and laughed together. When we walked home from church in the rain, they didn't complain, they thanked God for blessing the land and giving us water to survive.
May I never forget the simple life--the life I learned to love so much, and promised would always play some part in the way I lived the rest of my life. The life where "necessity" had new meaning. Internet and tv and Wal-marts were no longer necessities, but rather water, family, and love. May I never grow numb to the culture around me, and may I never forget how truly blessed I am.
