Lately.

I’m back in Kampala again.

Kampala in all of its glory and all of its misery. Eating Mexican food and going bowling with a few other Gulu expats who are in Kampala (perhaps my best game ever—110), getting lost in the busy crowded shuffle of Kampala’s streets, fighting with boda drivers who charge way too much for poor service (they are at least 4 times as expensive as Gulu bodas), enjoying faster internet, brighter colors, and cooler temperatures; putting up with polluted air, noisy streets, and the (sometimes enjoyable) loneliness in a big city feeling.

I was fortunate enough to skip out on the long sweaty bus ride and got a ride from a friend who works for WarChild Canada. This meant air conditioning, no cost, and as much as 2 hours less on the road, (as well as good conversation.)

Saad asked me what’s coming next. Time is flying and June is almost here. Poor unsuspecting friends/acquaintances ask such simple questions and know very little that they’re opening up a two hour conversation on development theory, personal dreams, biggest fears, and so on. Good thing the ride from Gulu to Kampala is as long as it is.

This little question made me realize that I’ve been thinking a whole lot lately about the things that matter to me, what I believe in most passionately, and what part of the Big Story I’m supposed to play. I keep coming back to this quote by Fredrich Buechner,

“The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

This place that he refers to sometimes keeps me awake at night. If a typical animal sound wakes me up outside my window too early in the morning, this is the thought that keeps me from rolling over and falling back asleep.

I told Saad I’ve pinpointed some of my fears lately. If I think about getting years more of experience in the field and potentially pursue a Masters Degree in a development-related field, I am investing a lot of time and energy into landing a position with (most likely) a large development agency. I’ve seen how difficult it can be at times to get such jobs. It will take a lot of determination to get there. More importantly, however, I have seen that I could very well spend another four or five years just to get a position and find out that I don’t necessarily believe in the mission that I have finally received. You see, I am not ready to put all NGO’s in one big group and say they’re worthless, ineffective, and a waste of resources. I have seen NGO’s (such as WarChild Canada) that are worthwhile and effective and fill a legitimate need in a community.

At the same time, I have seen a lot of wasted resources. I have seen how Ugandan students choose to study community development at University instead of business not because they care about development, but because they see that this is where the money is. I have seen how a post-conflict area can become ripe with dependency on NGO’s in the midst of all good intentions and foreign aid and hot programs that involve words such as “community-owned”, “sustainable”, and the like. I applaud organizations who seem to have the best current models of community development—I shudder at the thought that they may also be responsible for the same pattern of dependency down the road. I am often quick to judge, and then terrified by the fact that I often fit the profile of what I loathe so much.

I’m learning, growing, and searching probably even more than my days in college. (Somehow it’s a lot easier to figure out the world’s problems when you’re just reading books and writing papers.)

My newest topic that consumes much of my time and energy is thinking through the power of markets and what real economic justice looks like. I am continually amazed at the dignity a steady income gives an individual.

Temporary digression: *Irony? Coincidence? I think not. I have been skipping back between my email and typing this as I wait for an email from my director. Instead, I find an email from a family I have known for six years now in Uganda. They have a beautiful little boy who is severely handicapped and daily struggle to care for him—not to mention their inability to pay rent. They have just emailed saying they want desperately to start some sort of business, have been taught how to make paper beads, and want to meet soon to come up with other ideas. And how am I to respond? Paper beads are beautiful but no longer have much of a market in Uganda. And what am I to do now? Where does my deep gladness and the world’s deepest hunger meet? These are the things that fill my prayers and my quiet thoughts.

So this is where I am, exploring the ideas of marketing such products, bringing together my two worlds (Great Lakes regions of two different continents), even in the midst of a struggling economy. Just a dream? Maybe. But dreams sometimes turn into prayers and those prayers sometimes turn into reality so we’ll just wait patiently and see how God leads . . .

I made one of the best decisions I’ve made in a while. I’ve booked a small hut on the bank of the Nile in Jinja this weekend for two nights—it’s actually a retreat center I’ve heard about from multiple people now. I can’t wait to get away from the pressures and exhaustion from Gulu and the busyness and pollution of Kampala to a quiet place. (Oh, and to be on the Nile. That’s going to be pretty wonderful too.)

Much love to you all.