February 15, 2009, Sunday
I think I mentioned before that I was going to a wedding on Valentines Day. To give some background, Ugandans are very communal and welcoming of everybody. Warning: be prepared to be slightly confused… One of my roommates, Kelsey, roomed with a girl named Lillian at a retreat in Jinja (the source of the Nile). Lillian invited Kelsey to invite Kelsey’s friends (that’s me) to come to Lillian’s boyfriend’s sister’s wedding. Confusing, I know. So we decided to go.
The day started out pretty dismally, we had had Ugandan dresses made for the occasion and had picked up the dresses the day before. My friend Kristen and I had dresses that were either way too tight or way too big. So, we had to walk into Mukono town early on Saturday morning to have the seamstress fix the dresses. We spent about two hours in town waiting on the dresses and were happier (though not thrilled) with the outcome. Just to give you an image of these dresses we wore. Ugandan fabric is not the comfy satin, polyester, silk, synthetics you may be thinking would be appropriate for a dress. How I would define the fabric of a Ugandan dress would be a plastic table cloth (also, it was about 85/90 degrees on Saturday).
So, there were five USP students going to this wedding, four of us snugly dressed in our table cloth dresses. Tim got to wear a suit. The plan was we were to meet Lillian and her two friends at her hostel in Mukono, than another of her friends would pick us up and drive us to Kampala to the wedding. Well, apparently Lillian’s friend is not that fond of church services so purposely was late so he wouldn’t have to go to the ceremony. When he finally pulled up to the hostel, two hours late, there were nine of us that needed to fit into his five passenger Volkswagen. Also, Lillian and her two friends were wearing black dresses that could be worn to prom while the Mzungus (white people) were dressed in bright and shiny Ugandan dresses (plastic table cloths). So we all climbed in, two in the front (Tim and the driver), five in the back seat, and two in the trunk (not an actual trunk). Needless to say, we bottomed out all the way to Kampala.
We reached the church just as the wedding party was leaving the church. Of course, we were directly in their path and were just the slightest bit obvious because of our white skin and bright Ugandan clothing. The photographers took pictures of us as they passed. I can imagine the bride and groom looking through their pictures later wondering who all the white strangers were. But, we were there, and were embracing the culture.
The wedding was actually very western. The bride and groom were wearing western wedding apparel, the bridesmaids were wearing western bridesmaid dresses, but there weren’t any groomsmen. They all climbed into their tastily decorated cars and drove to the reception.
The reception was worth all the problems making it to Kampala. It was the nicest and probably fanciest reception I have ever been too. It was outside under a huge white tent. There were servers for every table, we could have any drink we wanted, there was an open bar (which was really interesting, we had been told that Christians don’t drink in Uganda, but Lillian said the couple were Christians). There was a group of Africans dressed in traditional tribal dress that lead the wedding party into the reception. They played drums, sang songs, and danced tribal dances for the wedding party and guests sporadically throughout the reception, it was incredible.
The reception traditionally lasts for about 6-7 hours, often ending around 2 or 3 in the morning. We weren’t planning on staying that long; we were going to leave around 10:30 via Private Hire (Ugandan version of an American taxi). Dinner was served around 8:00 and tables were escorted to the buffet where we had a huge selection of wonderful food. There was matooke (mashed bananas), millet (brown tasteless loaves of starch), beef, goat meat, chicken, Irish potatoes, sweet potatoes, spaghetti noodles, white rice with veggies, brown rice, beans, chapati’s, and fruit. I’m writing out all this food because it’s so rare to eat something other than rice, beans, and matooke, it was like Thanksgiving.
While everyone ate, the bride and groom’s families would give speeches. This took a good 2-3 hours and was often in Lugandan or Rwandan. Thankfully we were on the outskirts of the tent and therefore didn’t have to pay as much attention to the speeches. Though, once one of the speakers told everyone to go home to their villages and tell the villagers that at this one wedding, there were Mzungu’s from all over the world. There were two med students from Denmark, an older couple from Scotland, and then five of us from the US. But we were made to feel very welcomed and everyone was so glad that we got to experience a Ugandan wedding. We left just as the dancing was starting. We needed to get back to UCU before the gates closed at midnight.
Well, I’m off to bed. I have a ritual of washing my feet before bed to keep my sheets as clean as possible for as long as possible. The sheets are a pain to wash by hand. Anyway, I have come to really appreciate the biblical teaching of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. Feet are disgusting, especially after being in sandals all day in hot, dusty weather. My feet are so gross after walking around all day, I don’t even want to imagine what is on them. Then I think about Jesus and his disciples walking around camels, donkeys, and who knows what else, and then Jesus washing their dirty calloused feet. Tat definitely changes things from my visions of clean (though possibly smelly) feet coming out of their socks and tennis shoes. Yay Jesus.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Ugandan Choir
February 12, 2009 Thursday
It has been a very interesting last couple of days.
I can’t remember if I told you that I’ve joined the Chapel Choir here at Uganda Christian University (UCU). Well, UCU takes their extra-curriculars very seriously and expect high attendance and full participation. I usually go to practice every Tuesday and Thursday from 7:30 to 9. We are taught new songs which are often very obscure hymns or 90’s praise songs. I was forced to become a soprano because apparently there was a lack of sopranos, though I don’t see how my wimpy/off key/alto voice would contribute to the quality. But, I figured, I’m in Africa and have the ability to stretch out, many people in that choir do not have the most amazing voices ever, and have led chapel with off key voices, and I just thought it would be fun. So I’m in chapel choir, where my rhythm is often called into question when I have to sway, clap, AND sing all at the same time. All I can say is the Lord is working wonders in me, who knew I could actually clap in time, sway with everyone else, and get the words right when I sing.
Well, this last Tuesday (the 10th), Chapel Choir led worship in Chapel. We sang “These are the Days of Elijah” (a real clapping song), “How Great Thou Art” (played in the most upbeat way I’ve ever heard), A Lugandan Song (that I had never practiced before or heard, that was an interesting scene), and “Come to the River”. For all the songs but “How Great Thou Art” I was constantly looking over my shoulder to catch the lyrics on the screen behind me. I was front row of our lovely choir in front of a full house. I was working hard at making sure I wasn’t self conscious about being up in front of everybody but being more worshipful. It was pretty hard, especially for my first time and with songs that we hadn’t practiced. But overall, it was a great experience. Hopefully next time we lead worship I’ll be able to memorize all the songs and not be worried about knowing the words. Maybe I’ll even know the Lugandan songs.
One of the things I really like about UCU is that when you join a club, you’re not just a casual member. Everyone knows your name, you’re missed when you’re gone, and they meet outside of normal practicing time. Every Wednesday, the Chapel Choir has lunch hour fellowship just for Chapel Choir members. And every Wednesday, two people from the choir lead the group in worship, intercession, and a short message. Well, since my roommate and I were new to the choir, we were assigned to lead this week’s fellowship hour along with a Ugandan named Kenneth. Needless to say, we were a little freaked. I got the job of leading worship (that means I had to sing, alone, in front of people…), leading testimonies and prayer. Kelsey, my roommate, was to give the message. And Kenneth was to help out when we didn’t know what to do.
Wednesday came around, pretty quickly, and I was ready to lead worship. I made Kenneth stand up with me, because I was pretty nervous and didn’t know any of the songs he wanted to sing. So the leading worship was a little more Kenneth starting the songs and me joining in while standing in front of our little choir. Occasionally he would tell me I should start a new worship song. I was scared that I would start a song that no one knew and therefore be forced to sing a solo. So Kenneth basically led the worship songs with me standing next to him. And, apparently there is a difference between worship songs and praise songs. One of them is more upbeat, clapping, and swaying, while the other is slower and more somber, I’m not sure which is which yet.
After worship was over, I was to lead the group in testimonies by starting with my own. Again, the Ugandan meaning for testimony is different than the US word for testimony. I had always believed a testimony meant the story of your faith’s journey. How you became a Christian, etc. Well, a Ugandan testimony is more like: “I finally finished this paper that was due today, and I turned it in on time. Praise the Lord.” Or “Praise the Lord, I was struggling with a friend but Jesus has helped me see her side of the story.” However, Ugandans do often tell their life story but I don’t think it’s called a “testimony”. Well, I knew the difference between Ugandan and American testimonies but I figured I would tell my faith story anyway just so they would know who this Mzungu was that was leading their worship hour. I then introduced Kelsey as the speaker and prayed for her. She gave a wonderful message on a passage from James. We were both so out of our comfort zone, it was crazy. God is definitely working in us.
It has been a very interesting last couple of days.
I can’t remember if I told you that I’ve joined the Chapel Choir here at Uganda Christian University (UCU). Well, UCU takes their extra-curriculars very seriously and expect high attendance and full participation. I usually go to practice every Tuesday and Thursday from 7:30 to 9. We are taught new songs which are often very obscure hymns or 90’s praise songs. I was forced to become a soprano because apparently there was a lack of sopranos, though I don’t see how my wimpy/off key/alto voice would contribute to the quality. But, I figured, I’m in Africa and have the ability to stretch out, many people in that choir do not have the most amazing voices ever, and have led chapel with off key voices, and I just thought it would be fun. So I’m in chapel choir, where my rhythm is often called into question when I have to sway, clap, AND sing all at the same time. All I can say is the Lord is working wonders in me, who knew I could actually clap in time, sway with everyone else, and get the words right when I sing.
Well, this last Tuesday (the 10th), Chapel Choir led worship in Chapel. We sang “These are the Days of Elijah” (a real clapping song), “How Great Thou Art” (played in the most upbeat way I’ve ever heard), A Lugandan Song (that I had never practiced before or heard, that was an interesting scene), and “Come to the River”. For all the songs but “How Great Thou Art” I was constantly looking over my shoulder to catch the lyrics on the screen behind me. I was front row of our lovely choir in front of a full house. I was working hard at making sure I wasn’t self conscious about being up in front of everybody but being more worshipful. It was pretty hard, especially for my first time and with songs that we hadn’t practiced. But overall, it was a great experience. Hopefully next time we lead worship I’ll be able to memorize all the songs and not be worried about knowing the words. Maybe I’ll even know the Lugandan songs.
One of the things I really like about UCU is that when you join a club, you’re not just a casual member. Everyone knows your name, you’re missed when you’re gone, and they meet outside of normal practicing time. Every Wednesday, the Chapel Choir has lunch hour fellowship just for Chapel Choir members. And every Wednesday, two people from the choir lead the group in worship, intercession, and a short message. Well, since my roommate and I were new to the choir, we were assigned to lead this week’s fellowship hour along with a Ugandan named Kenneth. Needless to say, we were a little freaked. I got the job of leading worship (that means I had to sing, alone, in front of people…), leading testimonies and prayer. Kelsey, my roommate, was to give the message. And Kenneth was to help out when we didn’t know what to do.
Wednesday came around, pretty quickly, and I was ready to lead worship. I made Kenneth stand up with me, because I was pretty nervous and didn’t know any of the songs he wanted to sing. So the leading worship was a little more Kenneth starting the songs and me joining in while standing in front of our little choir. Occasionally he would tell me I should start a new worship song. I was scared that I would start a song that no one knew and therefore be forced to sing a solo. So Kenneth basically led the worship songs with me standing next to him. And, apparently there is a difference between worship songs and praise songs. One of them is more upbeat, clapping, and swaying, while the other is slower and more somber, I’m not sure which is which yet.
After worship was over, I was to lead the group in testimonies by starting with my own. Again, the Ugandan meaning for testimony is different than the US word for testimony. I had always believed a testimony meant the story of your faith’s journey. How you became a Christian, etc. Well, a Ugandan testimony is more like: “I finally finished this paper that was due today, and I turned it in on time. Praise the Lord.” Or “Praise the Lord, I was struggling with a friend but Jesus has helped me see her side of the story.” However, Ugandans do often tell their life story but I don’t think it’s called a “testimony”. Well, I knew the difference between Ugandan and American testimonies but I figured I would tell my faith story anyway just so they would know who this Mzungu was that was leading their worship hour. I then introduced Kelsey as the speaker and prayed for her. She gave a wonderful message on a passage from James. We were both so out of our comfort zone, it was crazy. God is definitely working in us.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Kampala Excursion
February 9, 2009
Monday
It has been exactly one month since flying to Uganda. The time has flown by, yet at the same time it has gone slow. May feels like years away yet it’s only three months.
Four of my friends and I headed into Kampala this last Saturday. We had to walk into Mukono town, which is about a 5-10 minute walk where we caught a “taxi.” In your head you’re probably envisioning a yellow New York Taxi. What you’re picturing is called a “private hire” here in Uganda. A Taxi is a 14 passenger van/bus that drives all over Uganda. There is a driver and a permanent passenger who calls out the window where they are heading. All we had to do was say Kampala, and we were thrown into a very crowded taxi. The drivers really like to get their money’s worth so there were often more passengers than seats. It only cost us 1500 shillings, which is about 78 cents.
We got dropped off near one of the malls of Kampala, called Garden City. We walked there to exchange our dollars into shillings and have a private hire pick us up to bring us to a restaurant. The main reason we went into Kampala was to celebrate. One of my roommates, Emily, was given an award from her college while she was in Uganda. Emily’s mom wanted to celebrate with Emily but couldn’t because of the distance. So we were “ordered” to go out to eat on her. Of course, we could not refuse such generosity.
The restaurant we ate at was called Sam’s Restaurant and they served “continental food”. It was the first time I’ve had American food since being here. We didn’t have rice and beans (which really aren’t that bad) nor did we have Matooke (mushed bananas) or Posho (condensed cornmeal). My meal made me so happy. I had a good portion of grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, a side salad, and apple pie with a scoop of ice cream. I’m sure this sounds like an everyday meal to you, but it was like heaven to me. The vegetables were my favorite part.
After our dinner, which took about 2 hours to order, consume, and rest. We took a mini walking tour of the city. We needed to be back to campus by dark, which is about 7:30 and therefore needed to get on a taxi by 6/6:30. Catching a taxi was an interesting deal. We reached one long line of taxis all their drivers calling out their destinations. Whenever they heard we were going to Mukono they would shake their heads and quickly wave us on. Well, we reached the end of the line and there was no taxi heading to Mukono. So we wondered back and still found no taxi, the people told us there would be one coming soon. Mean time, five white girls walking around a taxi park is pretty obvious and distracting. Almost everyone waiting for their taxis knew we were heading to Mukono.
Finally two taxis pulled up but the drivers were speaking in Luganda so we couldn’t understand. One of the men waiting to board a taxi told us the drivers were arguing over who was going to take us to Mukono. We couldn’t tell whether they were arguing for us to be with them, or for us to be somewhere else. In the end we didn’t end up going with them, another taxi pulled up that was heading to Mukono and we were quickly pulled in.
Rush hour is pretty bad in Kampala so our driver took us on a scenic route to avoid “jam” and to make more money because we’re moving faster. We were on dirt roads that should never be able to hold vehicles, there were times I was afraid we’d get flat tires, flip, hit a person or a cow, or all three. Thankfully we made it home safely AND before dark.
Classes are going really well, I just got out of a class where we’re discussing poverty, specifically in Africa. It’s such a large and broad topic that can easily depress someone when looking at such a huge picture of despair. We’re going to spend about two weeks on poverty; I’m excited to hear what the Africans view of poverty is.
Here are some phrases you might find useful if you ever come across a Ugandan. (It took me a couple days and even weeks before I understood some of these phrases.
“I’ll give you a push to your room” or “I’ll push you to town”. Push means to escort. I was a little thrown off by that for a while.
“You look smart”. This is not a comment on your intelligence, but on your attractive attire. Or you are dressed sharp.
“You’ve been lost”. This means, I haven’t seen you in a while.
I’ve got to run now; I have an orientation for my service project. I’m going to be volunteering in Kampala every Tuesday now, working with youth and children who live in low income neighborhoods. It should be really interesting. Apparently the administrators occasionally ask their volunteers to give little impromptu sermons/speeches. I’m praying they don’t ask on the first week. I’ve never been the best at impromptu motivational speeches.
Monday
It has been exactly one month since flying to Uganda. The time has flown by, yet at the same time it has gone slow. May feels like years away yet it’s only three months.
Four of my friends and I headed into Kampala this last Saturday. We had to walk into Mukono town, which is about a 5-10 minute walk where we caught a “taxi.” In your head you’re probably envisioning a yellow New York Taxi. What you’re picturing is called a “private hire” here in Uganda. A Taxi is a 14 passenger van/bus that drives all over Uganda. There is a driver and a permanent passenger who calls out the window where they are heading. All we had to do was say Kampala, and we were thrown into a very crowded taxi. The drivers really like to get their money’s worth so there were often more passengers than seats. It only cost us 1500 shillings, which is about 78 cents.
We got dropped off near one of the malls of Kampala, called Garden City. We walked there to exchange our dollars into shillings and have a private hire pick us up to bring us to a restaurant. The main reason we went into Kampala was to celebrate. One of my roommates, Emily, was given an award from her college while she was in Uganda. Emily’s mom wanted to celebrate with Emily but couldn’t because of the distance. So we were “ordered” to go out to eat on her. Of course, we could not refuse such generosity.
The restaurant we ate at was called Sam’s Restaurant and they served “continental food”. It was the first time I’ve had American food since being here. We didn’t have rice and beans (which really aren’t that bad) nor did we have Matooke (mushed bananas) or Posho (condensed cornmeal). My meal made me so happy. I had a good portion of grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, a side salad, and apple pie with a scoop of ice cream. I’m sure this sounds like an everyday meal to you, but it was like heaven to me. The vegetables were my favorite part.
After our dinner, which took about 2 hours to order, consume, and rest. We took a mini walking tour of the city. We needed to be back to campus by dark, which is about 7:30 and therefore needed to get on a taxi by 6/6:30. Catching a taxi was an interesting deal. We reached one long line of taxis all their drivers calling out their destinations. Whenever they heard we were going to Mukono they would shake their heads and quickly wave us on. Well, we reached the end of the line and there was no taxi heading to Mukono. So we wondered back and still found no taxi, the people told us there would be one coming soon. Mean time, five white girls walking around a taxi park is pretty obvious and distracting. Almost everyone waiting for their taxis knew we were heading to Mukono.
Finally two taxis pulled up but the drivers were speaking in Luganda so we couldn’t understand. One of the men waiting to board a taxi told us the drivers were arguing over who was going to take us to Mukono. We couldn’t tell whether they were arguing for us to be with them, or for us to be somewhere else. In the end we didn’t end up going with them, another taxi pulled up that was heading to Mukono and we were quickly pulled in.
Rush hour is pretty bad in Kampala so our driver took us on a scenic route to avoid “jam” and to make more money because we’re moving faster. We were on dirt roads that should never be able to hold vehicles, there were times I was afraid we’d get flat tires, flip, hit a person or a cow, or all three. Thankfully we made it home safely AND before dark.
Classes are going really well, I just got out of a class where we’re discussing poverty, specifically in Africa. It’s such a large and broad topic that can easily depress someone when looking at such a huge picture of despair. We’re going to spend about two weeks on poverty; I’m excited to hear what the Africans view of poverty is.
Here are some phrases you might find useful if you ever come across a Ugandan. (It took me a couple days and even weeks before I understood some of these phrases.
“I’ll give you a push to your room” or “I’ll push you to town”. Push means to escort. I was a little thrown off by that for a while.
“You look smart”. This is not a comment on your intelligence, but on your attractive attire. Or you are dressed sharp.
“You’ve been lost”. This means, I haven’t seen you in a while.
I’ve got to run now; I have an orientation for my service project. I’m going to be volunteering in Kampala every Tuesday now, working with youth and children who live in low income neighborhoods. It should be really interesting. Apparently the administrators occasionally ask their volunteers to give little impromptu sermons/speeches. I’m praying they don’t ask on the first week. I’ve never been the best at impromptu motivational speeches.
Jinja, the source of the Nile
February 3, 2009
I’m finally getting settled into the life of a Ugandan University student. I am no longer with my home-stay family any longer. Our last night was on Thursday night, the 29th. The day before, on the night of the 28th, Joy and I made an American meal for our family. We made Penne pasta with red sauce and garlic bread. It was pretty difficult cooking without electricity, it made me realize how much I’ve come to depend on electricity and modern technology. I really missed a stove-top, a microwave, and an oven while I was cooking over a tiny charcoal stove.
It took us about two hours to make a meal that would usually take about a half hour to make at home. We only had two charcoal stoves (that are pretty hard to keep at a steady temp.) The supermarket we brought our ingredients from didn’t have any Ragu (Imagine Africa not having tomato sauce!) so we used tomato paste, tomatoes, and onions. It turned out being rather tomatoey, the garlic bread was slightly burnt on the ends, and the pasta (which shouldn’t go wrong) was slightly overdone. But our family really enjoyed it and was really proud that their “American daughters” cooked them a meal. Our host brother and host father had thirds.
After our home-stay we were really happy to go to Jinja where the source of the Nile is. We came to a beautiful Ugandan resort. I roomed with a girl named Trisha from the Honours College. The intent of the retreat was for USP and Honours College (it’s where most of the USP students live with other Ugandan students) to get to know each other and become better friends. Anyway, Trisha turned out to be a kindred spirit; we had a lot in common. We even had appendicitis in the summer when we were 17 years old.
We played a lot of games to get to know everyone. We even played dodgeball, and you know that anything having to do with a ball and me does not work well together. My team was filled with people as talented as myself; we got out on the first round. I had fun taking pictures though.
It was wonderful eating a variety of foods. I’m used to beans and rice here at the university so when we had a buffet filled with chicken, chapati’s (Ugandan version of a tortilla), pineapple juice, fruit, and even more. It was a Ugandan heaven.
I went to the source of the Nile on a little boat and saw where some of Gandhi’s ashes were spread. I saw a giant lizard that made me wary of ever swimming in the Nile. I was also warned never to go to the bathroom while swimming in the Nile because of dangerous parasites that can infect you urinary tract. Apparently it is very common.
We came back from the weekend relaxed and ready to embrace Ugandan life once again. I was invited to go to a Ugandan wedding on Valentines day with a reception to follow. It should be really fun though I’ve heard they’re really long and usually spoken in Luganda. Nonetheless, I will be able to say I’ve experienced a Ugandan wedding and reception.
I hope you all are having a blessed day. I’ve heard it’s been really cold lately. Same here, it’s about 63 degrees and I’m wearing a sweatshirt. Ugandan temp has transformed me from a cold blooded Minnesotan into a wimpy southerner. Ah well, my new motto in life has become “embrace it”.
I’m finally getting settled into the life of a Ugandan University student. I am no longer with my home-stay family any longer. Our last night was on Thursday night, the 29th. The day before, on the night of the 28th, Joy and I made an American meal for our family. We made Penne pasta with red sauce and garlic bread. It was pretty difficult cooking without electricity, it made me realize how much I’ve come to depend on electricity and modern technology. I really missed a stove-top, a microwave, and an oven while I was cooking over a tiny charcoal stove.
It took us about two hours to make a meal that would usually take about a half hour to make at home. We only had two charcoal stoves (that are pretty hard to keep at a steady temp.) The supermarket we brought our ingredients from didn’t have any Ragu (Imagine Africa not having tomato sauce!) so we used tomato paste, tomatoes, and onions. It turned out being rather tomatoey, the garlic bread was slightly burnt on the ends, and the pasta (which shouldn’t go wrong) was slightly overdone. But our family really enjoyed it and was really proud that their “American daughters” cooked them a meal. Our host brother and host father had thirds.
After our home-stay we were really happy to go to Jinja where the source of the Nile is. We came to a beautiful Ugandan resort. I roomed with a girl named Trisha from the Honours College. The intent of the retreat was for USP and Honours College (it’s where most of the USP students live with other Ugandan students) to get to know each other and become better friends. Anyway, Trisha turned out to be a kindred spirit; we had a lot in common. We even had appendicitis in the summer when we were 17 years old.
We played a lot of games to get to know everyone. We even played dodgeball, and you know that anything having to do with a ball and me does not work well together. My team was filled with people as talented as myself; we got out on the first round. I had fun taking pictures though.
It was wonderful eating a variety of foods. I’m used to beans and rice here at the university so when we had a buffet filled with chicken, chapati’s (Ugandan version of a tortilla), pineapple juice, fruit, and even more. It was a Ugandan heaven.
I went to the source of the Nile on a little boat and saw where some of Gandhi’s ashes were spread. I saw a giant lizard that made me wary of ever swimming in the Nile. I was also warned never to go to the bathroom while swimming in the Nile because of dangerous parasites that can infect you urinary tract. Apparently it is very common.
We came back from the weekend relaxed and ready to embrace Ugandan life once again. I was invited to go to a Ugandan wedding on Valentines day with a reception to follow. It should be really fun though I’ve heard they’re really long and usually spoken in Luganda. Nonetheless, I will be able to say I’ve experienced a Ugandan wedding and reception.
I hope you all are having a blessed day. I’ve heard it’s been really cold lately. Same here, it’s about 63 degrees and I’m wearing a sweatshirt. Ugandan temp has transformed me from a cold blooded Minnesotan into a wimpy southerner. Ah well, my new motto in life has become “embrace it”.
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