The Mundane

So we live in rural East Africa...

When you initially hear that statement, you probably imagine a village in the grassy sahara, grass huts, wooden furniture, lack of electricity, outdoor toilets, bugs, and the list could go on. But in reality we live comfortably in a house that was built in the 90's (and reno'ed many times) with brick and concrete, a metal roof, windows with screens (no glass) and indoor plumbing (shower, toilet, sink), an American looking kitchen, and even a CLOTHES WASHER. We drive a car to town when its too hot or when we have too many things to carry home from the market. Sounds pretty nice right? Honestly, it is. We live next door to Ugandans who cook outside, use a pit latrine, they might have concrete or tiled floors but many have dirt walls and floors, and likely they walk everywhere or occasionally take a boda. What a juxtaposition to our house, literally right next door.

Yet we both have the same basic needs - food, clean water, shelter, warmth at night, protection from mosquitos, a need for community, medicine when we are sick, etc. We just execute the mundane differently. I cook standing up at my stove, they squat down to cook on the ground. I bathe in a tiled shower stall, they take a bucket bath by splashing water on themselves (Africans are very good at cupping water in their hands and throwing it in the direction they desire). I throw my clothes in the washer, they soak their clothes in a basin overnight with soap and then wring the clothes by hand -- we both struggle to get our clothes dry before the afternoon rain comes.

It is often uncomfortable to be given preference here because of the color of our skin, especially when we are from a country that is struggling to give equilty to every race and color, we are here experiencing the opposite. Often this is in the form of always being given the nicest chair when greeting at someone's house, or given preference when we go through security at various public places, or the police stopping us just to chat with the Bjungu while everyone else is being screened for licenses. This juxtaposition is uncomfortable.

Some days do feel much more rustic than others - when the power has been out for 36 hours and you start to get concerned about the safety of the food in the fridge, when you battle large bugs/rodents inside the house, when you are conserving food that we can't replenish unless we drive a few hours, when it takes more than a few steps to get dinner ready (planning more than a few hours ahead to make lasagna = making ricotta, making homemade tomato sauce, is this meal worthy of the meat in our freezer, defrost the block of mozz and get Ike to shred it.. oh and we wanted bread with it too? hah.. obviously we don't make lasagna much here).

The mundane takes a while here. That is a big change from America. We don't stop off at the grocery store and grab a frozen Stouffers lasagna and fresh bread and come home and stick it in the oven (that actually sounds like a dream right now).

But sometimes, when it is taking too long to hang the clothes out on the line and I'm sweating profusely, I get the chance to meet God in the mundane. Time to look around, at my neighbors, at my houseworker, at our friends (the young ones and our age mates) and remind myself that God created each of us in his image and he gave us daily needs as a reminder to daily come to him to be filled up. We both have to do the mundane, wash the potatoes, cook the food, wash the dishes and clothes and ourselves, and be available to people at work or friends. We both enjoy a hot meal, a warm drink in the morning, a personal greeting by name, a smile or fist bump from a little kid. And we both get to commune with God in the mundane, to pray and truly believe he will sustain us and continue to make all things new and for his kingdom to come.

And when I remember the simplicity of our needs and God's sustaining power, the mundane seems a little more do-able.

Here are some photos of the mundane lately.