“Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return”
Ash Wednesday for us started in a dimly lit church, in a language we barely understood; but. Jesus speaks in all languages, this we know. We also know the Mass well enough to offer our responses, in English, in our heads (and a few, in unison, using Luganda). We also know in our spirits that today we enter into a season of sacrifice and penance, and the giving of alms -- all in anticipation of the glorious resurrection of our Lord. As the Parish Priest made the sign of the cross on our foreheads with ashes made from burnt palm leaves from Palm Sunday past, he says in his clearest English: “Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return.”
By mid-afternoon, we were somewhere in North Central Uganda, deep in the village driving our 1993 Hilux Surf with seating capacity of five, but carrying nine. The radio does not work, neither does the A/C, but the motor and tires are good. She is a good truck; she takes us where we need to go. It’s hot, we had been driving for a long time, and we are all uncomfortable. Kris is cramped in the back sitting and chatting with the girls, and I am driving. The pain between my shoulders from fighting the wheel through bumps and pot holes feels like a knife and my knee and hip are hurting from the worn out driver’s seat. The dust is thick. It sticks to every moist part of your body and it feels like we are eating it by the handful. I am thinking, “to dust I am returning!” The alternative is to roll up the windows, but that would be death by suffocation from the hot stagnate air on top of nine people packed together like sardines in the heat. The dust seems better. My mind is drifting… I am wondering if this is my penance, and I am talking to God and letting Him know that I am not happy -- even the scenery is ugly. What has not been burnt up by the scorching sun has been purposely set ablaze by the farmers, burning off the dead grass hoping the little rain will reach the parched soil. It’s a rough, harsh land choking on the dust. It is crying out for water and telling me to not get too close -- if you get too close it will hurt you, cut you, and scrape you. The land itself tells the story of the hard, harsh life of the people who live here in Uganda. I am asking God if this is my penance.
I am brought back to the present by the sound of angelic type voices. Five beautiful teenage girls are singing songs to the Lord. Laughing and giggling, calling out to people they see on the side of the road, “Byeee, Byee.” I am thinking to myself, how can they be so happy? They have been sitting on top of each other for hours, some on their knees behind the back seat in the boot. There is no air movement back there. It’s suffocating hot! We are bouncing around like the bingo balls, in the hopper, when the caller turns on the machine! I can hear their heads conk against the stationary glass windows as we bounce along. And they are singing praises to God!
I hear a voice inside my head that says, this is not penance, it’s a blessing. I choose the two of you to be the ones to make this day in the lives of five of my angels -- a day they will never forget. The day the bazungu (two white people) picked them up at school and drove them 45 kilometers to their home villages in a car! They got a day off of school and the bragging rights to their friends as they arrive in their villages. Deep in the village, where there are no roads, just walking paths so narrow that the bushes and trees are scraping down both sides of the Surf… It is I, the Lord, who choose you to be the ones carrying the good news of some financial relief; you will be the ones who will tell the parents that a Nativity of Our Lord parishioner has agreed to pay school fees for their child.
Then I ask forgiveness for my selfishness. It is a blessing for Kris and I to be the ones who receive the smiles, the hugs… the gifts of pineapple, eggs, mangos, chickens, avocados and such from the grateful parents of these students. We are happy to receive them in the name of their Nativity of Our Lord sponsor and give you, the parishioners -- the ones who have said “yes” to help Nativity High School, in Kibengo, Uganda the credit and praise you deserve for your sacrifice. You have friends in Uganda; you have changed lives; students will now get the opportunity to go to school without being set home for fees, and parents will get some reprieve from school fees and will now be able to provide some very basic needs for their families instead of struggling for school fees -- it is a huge blessing. We wish you could be here, in person, to see the faces and smiles -- but mostly to feel their hugs.
Our Ash Wednesday, in the village, was 12 hours and we visited only five families. From 8:00 AM to 8:00 PM we struggled with the heat and the terrible roads (trails really). On the way back to the school to drop the girls off where they are being boarded, the headmaster, Ronald, bought each of us an ice cold soda -- a special treat for all of us, but mostly for these girls! They rarely get soda. It washed down the dust, the dust that someday we will return. But not today… today we are blessed to be in Uganda, and blessed to call you all friends.
We hope the pictures and packets which you will be receiving soon will show you just how much you are loved and appreciated.
Dean & Kris
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