5/20/09 – JINJA, UGANDA

Today we drove from Kampala to Jinja. Already there has been much to note and much to see. I’ve decided not to try and record it all. Perhaps I’ll regret this later but without Gallagher (my beloved laptop) which allows my fingers to fly and my thoughts to come effortlessly to the page, the process of journaling becomes a tedious task. I’ll do my best to highlight moments or individual experiences instead. So, for example, today I had my first experience with the vendors. I was both successful and slightly traumatized. I enjoyed talking to one vendor who was eager not only to sell (and she was!) but to learn names and show off her daughter – Rachel. We were on our way down to the source of the Nile, however, and my group was far ahead. I promised I would return. She looked me in the eye and said again and again “You come back and I give you good price! You love what I show you!” When I actually did return, she was ecstatic. “You come back! Welcome back!” A promise is a promise no matter where you are. I’ve had people tell me vendors are aggressive (persistent at the very least)...I wonder how many people promised to “come back later” as a way to get this lady off their back? Aside from her, however, I was impressed by my successful bartering of a gift for my friend. I am typically pretty timid in these situations. I would rather you name a price and I’ll either take it or leave it. I don’t even make offers at garage sales! But, when I asked the price and heard his answer, without missing a beat I responded “too high!”. He came down half his price after informing my purchase was a blessing to him, his family, all of Uganda, that he wanted it off of his shelf – it had been there to long, he wanted me and only me to have it... (Vendors will often tell white customers a price twice the worth in hopes they’ll show without bartering...) At the same time, even though he came down, I made a purchase. Everyone on the strip seemed to know. They all knew I had money with me, plus...I was white. Mzungu. I continued to tell people “no thank you” and “not today”. It was hard to say “no” to the look on their faces. Half of them all sell the same thing anyway – how do you know who to say “no” to and who deserves your “yes”. Even Jesus didn’t heal everyone...he moved from town to town. Not everyone got his “yes” even though they may have all needed it. Putting aside the fact he was Jesus, how did he know who most needed his “yes”? Father give me the eyes and the heart, both in Uganda and back in the states, to discern between the two.