Leaving Uganda

Today is the last day on the campus of Uganda Christian University. Next week our group will be debriefing 2 hours from here at a Catholic Convent. I am definitely in a place that I would classify as a bittersweet moment in my life. There is no doubt that I am excited to return and see my loved ones. I miss my family, my friends and especially my beautiful girlfriend, not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought about you all. But at the same time I feel this overpowering awkward feeling where I am trying to comprehend the fact that I am really leaving this place. For the past year and a half I have been preparing to come to Uganda. For the longest time I couldn’t comprehend or even believe that I would actually be here. And now I cannot comprehend or even believe that I have just spent 3 ½ months here and am now leaving. It’s going to be hard, as I have definitely fallen in love with this place. The country as a whole is beautiful, the classroom has expanded my thought process so much, and the people of this University have gained a spot in my heart. I really cannot comprehend that I am leaving. I don’t think I have ever been in a spot where I am leaving something I don’t know if I’ll ever see again. The friends I have met, the beauty I’ve seen, the culture and lifestyle I so love; there is no telling if I’ll ever see again. This could be it. Which is just weird.



Regardless of the weirdness of leaving the Pearl of Africa, I thank her. I thank her for the beauty she has shown me. I thank her for all the people she has introduced me to. Uganda…I thank her for pulling me out of my comfort zone and teaching me a new way of life. I thank her for exposing all of herself to me. Not everything here was pleasant to see or pleasant to learn about, but all of it has come together to shape who I stand as today. I thank you, Uganda. I thank her for exposure to a new way of thinking. She has touched my heart in a way that I can only pray will touch other hearts throughout my ministry. I thank her. For I came here to see something, I am not sure if I knew what, but she has shown it to me. I am still not sure what I have all been shown, but somewhere in the midst of it, Uganda has graciously shown me my God. The same God I’ve always known and always worshiped, but a bigger God, a new side of God, a God that only those who have sunk themselves into a new culture can understand what I am talking about. So thank you Uganda, thank you for revealing this God to me.

And before I depart for the semester I must say a big thank you to those of you reading in America. Thanks for your support. Your prayers have helped me through this. And if I come back and I’m like the average nut case that spends a long time abroad…sorry. I guess be patient with me and if it bothers you enough go ahead and smack me around. I might get mad, I might flip out, I might not like most people, but I’ll try my best not to be too crazy. And seriously, thank you all so much who have supported me, it has been amazing. I look forward to sharing this all with you. I’ll see you all soon.

…Goodbye Uganda

Soroity

This past week I was out east in the Soroity region. The first 4 days of the trip I spent living with a family. This home stay differed from my Mukono home stay just with the location being Northeast of where I’m staying. In many parts of Africa, inner-state conflict is a huge problem. Often one has more loyalty to their tribe than to their country. Therefore, when a president is in power you will often see a biased towards certain areas of the country while showing discrimination to others. Discrimination and tribalism was evident when entering into Soroity. The area was significantly less developed than both the Western (where president Museveni is from) and the Southern (where the capital is) part of the country. While parts of the country are becoming more and more developed with technology and opportunities, others have been forgotten while a 20-year long war continues.
Living in Soroity for a few days gave us the opportunity to see the traditional way of living in Uganda. I was with another USP student, Nicole, and the family we stayed with was a combination of a father with daughters, sons, nephews, nieces and some who’s identity I never figured out. Their compound consisted of 7 huts- 1 was for muzei (the old man), 1 for the females, 1 for the males, 1 for the children, 1 for the visitors, 1 for sitting and eating and the last was for cooking. We were told that for a boy to become a man that he must build a hut, which explains the multitude of huts. We also had a sweet outhouse and our bathing area was fenced in by a banana leaves. Most of the food eaten, they raised or grew on the compound. So surrounding the huts they grew many types of vegetables and fruits while also having their own cattle, goats, chickens and turkeys. On top of that they had two pet dogs, one named Osama, they would call him a terrorist and then told me I should take a picture so that I could say I found Bin Laden. Anyways, they also let us help out around the compound with cleaning, cooking, farming, milking cows and I butchering chickens. They were shocked to hear that in the States we just go to a super market and buy our groceries without having any idea where it comes from. Here it was a different story. When we ate potatoes they were the ones we uprooted just a couple hours ago; when we ate oranges we simple picked them off the tree and ate them; when we had milk-tea it was from the cow that I just violated while trying to learn how to milk her; and when we ate chicken we were eating little Johnny that was just earlier starring me in the eye while I sawed his neck off with the dullest blade known to mankind (by the way butchering chickens by hand is not a pretty picture).
The family’s hospitality was incredible. They really took care of us and accepted us a family members. The Monday night we were there they received devastating news that their grandfather/father had passed away. I was amazed at how they handled it. In America when something tragic happens it’s easy to mope around and order in Chinese for the next week so you don’t have to cook. But for them, they mourned briefly, went to the funeral where they again mourned briefly and then went on with life. They said that since everyone in their family was born again they knew that it is God who gives life and God who takes life it away, so they trust in him. And with that they have no other choice but to prepare food and keep up with things on the compound. Nicole and I both were worried about being in the way with the tragedy that came up, but they insisted that we were like family to them and wanted us to escort them to the funeral service. It was an honor to be there with them and to experience a Ugandan celebration of a life greatly lived.



-IDP-
Last Thursday, after our home stay we visited an IDP (Internally Displaced People) camp. These are set up for villagers to live in since their homes aren’t safe because of the LRA and the Karamajong tribe. The LRA, led by Joseph Kony have been causing destruction in the North for the past 20 years. There are charges against Kony and his people for child abduction, murder, rape, and human mutilation. The Karamajong tribe has been in conflict with the Teso (those from Soroity) for a number of years and are guilty of abduct their children and stealing food. The IDP camps are designed by the government to keep the people safe, however it is possible that it’s caused more harm than help. The camp we visited had 6,500 people crammed into a small area. In this small area it is not possible to grow much food, there is not a way to make income, and there is merely one water pump for everyone, causing a major water shortage. Despite the few soldiers, attacks are still often occurring from the LRA and Karamajong in the camps. On top of that there are claims that the government is guilty for similar crimes as the rebel groups within the camps. According to some testimonies, soldiers within the camps set curfew, if anyone is out past it they are beaten, some to death. Soldiers raping the people in the camp regularly is said to be common in the camps. Olara Otunnu, UN Under-Secretary General, compares the camps to Hitler’s concentration camps.
I guess personally what gets me the most is the children. When I saw them last Thursday pain and anguish filled their eyes. They walked around in their ragged clothes, their only pair of clothes and most that had so many holes that it didn’t even cover their body. Theirs not enough water to bath, let alone wash clothes so they just walk around filthy, caked in dirt, many running a deathly fever since their family cannot afford the 1000 shillings (52 cents) it cost to receive minimal health care. I had a girl sit on my lap for a mere 20 minutes only to leave heaps of dirt of my clothing when she got up. Those sad commercials that we see on television, the ad’s we look at in magazines, the documentaries we watch like Invisible Children…they aren’t myths. I wish like hell they were, but they aren’t. It exists, and it sucks, no one should live like this, but they do, and it really sucks. What can we do? I don’t know. Please pray for them though, if you have a solution to end injustice in the world, please let me know. What will prayer do? I honestly don’t know, but we cannot just stop at realization that this sucks. We must keep going deeper…please don’t give up on these people.
Micah 6:8

Random things about Uganda

I didn’t have time to read over this blog, so I apologize if I seem to be illiterate.

Favorite Ugandan stereotype of the Americans:
Everyone owns a handgun. There are often gunfights in the middle of the city. A doctor from a nearby missions clinic said that if he came to United States the thing he would be most scared of is being killed in a gunfight in the city. The freshman that lives across the hall from me, Mosei, feared that the American students would bring guns with them when he found he’d be living with guys from the US.
Reason: In the movies they watch from America someone is always killing someone else with their personal gun. Also, citizens in Uganda are not allowed to own guns unlike our country.

Hardest thing to do in the world:
Washing clothes by hand. For the past 6 weeks of my 7 weeks in Uganda I don’t think I’ve worn a clean outfit. I’m still working on trying to make a deal with some of the girls to do my laundry for me. I quickly realized that bringing a white pair of khakis (which are now closer to a khaki color) was a bad call.

Most commonly asked question by Ugandans:
Is the wrestling in America really fake?!?! They ask this with true concern as it seems that the truth behind the “World Championship Wrestling” being acted rather than real is a recent rumor funneling around the country. When I admit the truth to them that the wrestling is in fact acted out you can see huge disappointment in their eyes. A disappointment that shows the last American told them the same thing, but they were hoping that I’d bring them better news. Unfortunately I crush their hopes. Then the conversation usually moves into a 30-minute conversation of how real they think it looks.

Cool Ugandan Tradition:
Although they have many, and many of them are incredibly cool my favorite is the birthday celebration. If you are going to wish someone a happy birthday, it is tradition that you have to pour water on him or her in the process. So when someone in the cafeteria has 30 some people dump a glass of water on the victim’s head, they are being wished a Ugandan style Birthday. It then breaks into a Happy Birthday song that is much cooler than our Western chorus.

A new name:
When I walk down the road, especially when I’m outside of the campus I become a celebrity. Most people at least give a glance at the white person, but then all children under the age of eight and drunken guys sitting outside the bar verbalize what everyone is thinking. “A Muzungu!” White person is the easiest translation of muzungu, but from what they tell us it is not considered a derogatory, but rather proper. I actually enjoy when the kids yell it at me. Its cute to see them wave and laugh. If your with them they sometimes will rub your skin to see if it really is white.

A Valuable lesson I’m learning from my Ugandan brothers:
I’m learning how to dress ‘smart.’ The term smart, is used in the context Americans would use ‘sharp.’ If a Uganda says, “ohhh you look smart,” it is the equivalence of saying “you look sharp” in America. Appearance is highly valued here. So people take really good care of their clothes washing them often, ironing them nicely, and most definitely knowing how to represent when they wear them. Common dress here is dress pants and a nice button up shirt. To wear shorts, jeans, flip flops or non-dressy clothes to a lecture or around campus during the week is seen as offensive. So this semester has been a bit of a change from the guy who normally considers dressing up wearing holey jeans, wrinkly shirt and flip-flops. But I’ve actually enjoyed it.

The year around Ugandan Temperature:
Uganda straddles the border, keeping a very similar temperature year around. The hottest it has gotten since I’ve been here is mid-high 80’s while the coolest has been high 60’s. So I really cannot complain too much. Enjoy your soon to come winter in Illinois everyone!

Ugandan’s largest fear:
Rain. I’m only slightly exaggerating by calling this their largest fear. It is also one of the most humorous things to me about the people. It is rainy season right now, so it rains almost everyday for only about 30 minutes, but when it rains here, it rains hardcore. If you’re by the ‘quad’ area on campus everyone sits outside to read, do homework, or just chat, but the second a drop of rain comes everyone immediately scatters to the nearest shelter. People will call off all of their plans if it is raining, heaven forbid one walks in it. On a side note, in the packet that all the students for the USP received before coming to Uganda they informed us to bring a poncho because we will ‘definitely’ need it. What they forgot to tell us is that people in Uganda don’t wear ponchos and we would be laughed at and pointed at even more than usual if we wear one.

Ugandan’s biggest shock:
It shocks many people here that I do not know George Bush, Bill Gate or even stars in entertainment like Snoop Dogg, Jay Z, Shakera (just a couple of their favorites).

Ways of Saying Ryan:
Ryan is extremely uncommon in Africa. Therefore when introducing myself, many people often struggle to grasp it. Reeeon? Riot? Brian? Ran? The people that can grasp understanding the pronunciation of my name are Manchester United fans who love their star player, “Ryan Giggs.” When we make this connection they will often say, “ohh like Giggs, Ryan Giggs, haha.”

Time:
A common saying in Africa is, “Americans have the watches but Africans have the time.” Africans seem to have all the time in the world. It is such a change as I come from such an on time orientated society to come to a place where time doesn’t hold that much consideration. If people are suppose to meet for dinner at 7, don’t be surprised if they show at 8 and if it rains they may not show at all. It has really taught me how much I am a slave to time.

*I apologize for the extreme length of this blog. I may of got carried away. If any of you dedicated readers don’t finish the whole thing I won’t be offended and actually won’t even be able to tell. Also none of these comments are at all meant to slander the African/Ugandan community or their society. All of their misconceptions are understandable if one looks at the implications of Hollywood, MTV, and the things portrayed in the media. I’ve noticed that we’ve had plenty of misconceptions of them as well, but I’ll leave our misconceptions for another post. Good day to all! --The Knapp Daddy--

Tired

This past Monday I was sitting in a lecture and began to have a crisis. My personal definition of a crisis contains me being so tired of the junk in this world to the point that I become borderline psychotic. No worries, since I’ve come to Uganda I average between 3-4 crises a week. When you take a step back and see the world through a different (wider per se) lens, you begin to see more of what the world really is. And the world has some massive problems. I’ve come to see that many of the world’s problems (like poverty) don’t have to be the way they are, but remain the way they are because powerful countries don’t ‘really’ care about anyone besides themselves. So on Monday as I was having my every other day crisis I decided to handle this one differently. Rather than just having built up anger and wanting to scream at the top of my lungs, this time I decided to write a poem. Random I know, but nonetheless I think it may have been somewhat therapeutic. So here is the result of being sick and tired of things...

“Tired” by R. C. Knapp (how does the R. C. thing look?!?!)



We are tired
How much longer can we live like this?
Does no one notice how messed up this world is that we live in?
Is anyone else going insane about the injustices that happen all around us?

We are tired
We are daily learning about the many needs of this earth
But as tears drip down our checks we realize how little we have to offer in return
Is anyone else feeling like there is so much wrong, but wonder, “What can we do?”

We are tired
East Africa is suffering.
Uganda, Sudan, Rwanda, Kenya, Burundi, Congo, Tanzania…they are all suffering
Is anyone else confused why the U.S. “cares” more about Iraq than these?

We are tired
Since creation the serpent continues to deceive us weather it be snake or state
In governments all over the world evil is present
Is anyone else noticing that nothing ‘good’ comes from these?

We are tired
The United States slogan proclaims “one nation under God”
Does not baptism make believers a part of a kingdom much stronger than a country?
Is anyone else convinced that the US is an ideological lie with imaginary boundaries?

We are tired
We do not understand the difference between ‘terrorism’ and ‘war’
We are confused how the 4,000 killed in 9/11 is worse than the 60,000 killed in Iraq
Is anyone else wondering if ‘war’ is a deceiving way of saying ‘terrorism’?

We are tired
There are churches on every street corner in the US
Each one of them has an American flag larger than the symbolic cross in the sanctuary
Is anyone else willing to be more faithful to the cross than the country?

We are tired
The average church community is full of quiet non-active ‘believers’
The activists are the ones shunned and claimed to be heretical
Is anyone else confident that Christ wants the church to be “crazy activists”?



We are tired

The world confuses us
It makes no sense to us

Yet we have hope

We cannot believe the conditions of this world
Or accept the conditions of this world

Yet we have hope

We have hope because we know a story

We know a story that considers people of all race, nationality, and background to be equal
We know a story that considers people on the other side of the world their brother and sister
We know a story that doesn’t kill because it turns the other check
We know a story that doesn’t bow down to a flag because their allegiance belongs to a king
We know a story that loves, just to love
We know a story that loves peace, and hates injustice



Does anyone else know this story?
Has anyone else seen this story?
Will anyone else rise up and live this story?
Is anyone else tired?

Living in the mean

For two weeks of my semester I’m living with a local family in Mukono. I began this a week and a half ago. During this home stay we are expected to spend the weekends with them, as well as before and after school during the week. The purpose of this is to help us get a better feel of the family life in Uganda. I was placed with Jaja Joyce. Jaja, is the Lugandan word for Grandma which she is commonly called by the village people. Jaja is a widow with seven children ranging between 21-45. Her youngest son, Isaac is the only child still at home. I’ve been able to have all sorts of conversations with Jaja that have enlightened me and help shown me perspectives that I’ve never seen before. Being in her 60’s and living in Uganda her entire life she has experienced colonialization, de-colonialization, the twenty years of a corrupt government that went through 9 presidents, including the horrid Idi Amin who killed anyone who disagreed with him, and was around for the rise of their current President of 20 years Yoweri Museveni. So conversations have been interesting as it sounded that times were quite rough for her growing up in Uganda, especially the few months she lived in the Bush with her husband and her firstborn child.

The first day at Jaja’s was an interesting time for me. I must admit my initial reaction wasn’t too positive when I was faced with a few discomforts. I found upon my arrival that the toilet was the hole on the cement pad in the back yard; rather than taking showers I had to learn how to bath myself with a small basin of water and bar of soap (still struggling with this one); meals in Uganda don’t have a designated time but are served when they’re ready (often lunch at 4pm and dinner at 11pm) and I also realized that just because your in Uganda doesn’t mean that young teenage boys that think they know everything wont annoy you when asking you questions for 4 hours about things you don’t know (me and Jaja’s 15 year old grandson had fun together). So as I laid in bed that first night with a mosquito buzzing in my ear that must of snuck through one of the many baseball sized holes my the mosquito net (luckily the holes were small enough that all the volleyball sized mosquito’s wouldn’t bite me) I noticed something. Jaja was wealthier than most of her neighbors. She also lived in the wealthiest region of this third world country. I began realizing that for these two weeks I’m not living with a hardcore poverty stricken family, but rather I’m living with an average income family in this world. It began to bother me so much. Yet I don’t even know how to describe what I felt. There was frustration, but I wasn’t even sure how to fuel it or where to fuel it. All I know is that there’s something very wrong with this world, I don’t even know what that means to me. How this changes the way I live I don’t know. But I just struggle so much, to look around and see what we have done to this world. Not the middle class world that most Americans like to hide in, but the real world! The world, which you gaze at, only to hear her cry back in her beauty that there is something incredibly wrong with her.

I won’t go any deeper into my feelings, as I cannot identify what they are. But the home stay with Jaja has been great. Being here in Uganda all together has been a wonderful experience as I feel it is exposing me to a broader worldview as I’m learning more about the mysterious beauty of God. Each day that I come home I have been warmly welcomed with an African hug from Jaja. She strives to teach me Luganda despite I’m a horrible student. She praises the Lord each day I return because God has protected me throughout the day. I’ve been able to learn a lot through this woman’s faith. She praises the Lord for so much. Protection, weather, fellowship, electricity, food, clothes, all the little things that I’m use to over indulging in without recognizing my Lord as the provider. I am thankful for the opportunity to live amongst these wonderful people; it has been an amazing blessing.

Good News!

The second day of my arrival here in Uganda we went to Kampala and received a presentation from Dr. Skokly. Dr. Skokly is an off color British doctor based out of Kampala who give a presentation to all USP groups. Basically the presentation was on the precautions we should take while living in Uganda so that we will return alive. He said that for the most part, my chances of dying here were no different than my chances of dying in Illinois. He followed by informing us that for the most part the rules to not die here are extremely similar to those in the US, don’t drink and drive! The only difference with being here is that we should not drink and drive and we should keep our knickers* on. So it looks like my chances of surviving this semester are pretty darn high.

Another thing he cautioned us about was the inevitability of irregular bowel movements within the first three weeks of being here. He guaranteed our group of 30 American students that we would all suffer this problem by the end of the third week. I Ryan Knapp am here to claim that I have proved Dr. Skokly’s hypotheses to be incorrect. Wednesday, September 20, 2006 marked my three weeks of being in East Africa. It also marked my three weeks of having regular bowel movements in Uganda and Rwanda. Praise the Lord!! Hallelujah!!

-For those who come to this site looking for a legit update on my life in Uganda I apologize for this post. I should have a decent update by early next week. I’ve just been busy. But fortunately not busy on the squatty potty**!

*British term for pants
**Slang for a Ugandan out-house. These consist of a cement floor with a 12” by 4” hole.

African Worship

One of my fascinations that I’ve found in East Africa is the worship style. I’ve been to a couple Church services, one in rural Rwanda, one in Uganda and I have also had the opportunity to see the Newsboys perform their first live performance ever in Africa, which was quite the experience. I’ll begin with my first Sunday in Rwanda.

Rwanda
We arrived in Rwanda on a Saturday night. The first thing that occurred was that we were divided into groups of 5. These groups all went to different rural/rustic churches in the surrounding area of Kibungo. That night we were also told that the church expects their visitors to preach a sermon. So my first Sunday in Africa I preached a sermon in a rural congregation of nearly 1,000 Rwandans. Did I mention that they don’t speak English in Rwanda? But this was quite the experience, despite the language barrier, despite the different color of skin, despite our ignorance of what they go through day-to-day we worshiped together, and the people of the church treated us like kings. Many of the congregation walks over an hour every Sunday to come to church. Upon our arrival we were treated with tea (tea also includes a large snack) while the children had began dancing (shake your booty African style) and singing an hour prior to the service. After the 3 ½ hour service ended, many of the children continued to sing and dance for another 30 minutes while they attacked the 5 muzungu’s (white people) who were taking pictures of them. If we add this up, the worship service lasted- in amazing fashion that is- for a total of 5 hours. When the service concluded the pastor treated us to a large feast. Throughout this day I saw the joy of the Lord within in the concrete building that had no running water, no electricity, but 1,000 villagers wanting to praise the Lords name. It touched me to see children with nothing besides the clothes on their back that seemed so dirty that they must have been wearing them for 2 straight weeks, yet they were filled with joy. We left, no one asked us rich Americans for money…only for prayers. I couldn’t understand the words of the Rwandese, but I am confident the kingdom of heaven was present.

Newsboys
The Newsboys have performed at Olivet a couple different times and frankly I didn’t care. I probably even made fun of the few people who went to see them. But when they performed at Uganda Christian University in Mukono, as their first appearance ever in Africa, I would’ve been a mad man to miss this event. I still don’t care for the Newsboys all that much, I find them shallow and think their lyrics are lame (“they don’t serve breakfast in hell”? How do they know? Seriously?), but one of the largest American Christian bands in Uganda is an event not to be missed. My African brothers and sisters went crazy and without a doubt knew how to rock out at a concert. For the majority of the students it was their first time ever being to a real concert. So with passion we danced, shouted the words at the top of our lungs (despite the fact I didn’t knew many, the Ugandans did), and jump up and down for a couple hours straight. It was a blessing to be around such an electric group of people and to see the joys on their face to get to be with them as they heard one of their favorite bands live! Possibly one of the most exciting concerts I’ve been to despite the lameness of the band.

Sunday Church in Mukono, Uganda
On Saturday I began my 2week long home stay with a lady named Joyce. After 2 days I must admit that it has been a challenge. The home I am staying in is an above average home in Uganda, yet I use an out house as a restroom, jugs of water our hauled a distance for cooking, drinking, and even bathing. Here, the power around town is out more often than on. Nights are a difficult sleep due to the neighbor’s loud radios, animals making noise, and the nuisance of bugs crawling around and buzzing in your ear. So everything takes work around here. Day to day life isn’t always easy or pleasant. When people get to the seventh day, most are warn out and ready to rest. So when people gather on Sunday morning they show up warn out and tired from their long week. But in Church they get the opportunity to hear the good news, and remember the gospel story they are living for. Sunday is almost like a time of re-energizing themselves so as they head out of church at the end of the service they are ready to take on a challenging week! In the US often people go to church, just because they feel they should, but then end up having multiple criticisms of it. But here they go to hear to good news and be reminded that no matter what they face they are serving an awesome God.

I have been blessed with the chance to worship with these brothers and sisters in Christ and I eagerly look forward to continue to do so for the rest of this semester.