It's interesting how after just a week or so back in Burundi, all sorts
of unusual, crazy, bizarre, or moving experiences seem (almost)
completely normal. How quickly one gets used to just about anything:
Standing in the middle of a residential street and suddenly being
surrounded by a ton of little goats as they're herded down the road by a
boy.
Endless streams of people on foot (barefoot or flip-flops) and aging
bicycles going down the road with astounding loads on their heads or
bicycles. Huge (you can't imagine how huge) clumps of bananas, trees,
bricks, produce, plywood, mattresses.
Being in the company of natives of Burundi and Uganda all day, walking
into a room with several westerners, and thinking suspiciously, "There's
a lot of umizungos in here!"
Walking/running down city streets, everyone pointing and staring at you
like you're a superstar or a white elephant, some shouting "Umizungo!",
and not even noticing.
Eating ugali, rice and fried/stewed/roasted bananas, and mangos every
day. Sleeping in a mosquito net. Taking cold "showers" with sink sprayer
hoses in previously-laughable bathrooms and glad to have it.
And then there's the things that I could never become used to:
Watching a room full of orphans sing and dance songs of joy,
forgiveness, and God's love for 30+ volunteers and teachers from Canada,
Uganda, and the U.S. In candelight, after the battery powered
(solar-charged) lights have gone out.
Being prayed over by a small child, speaking in Kirundu, with his hands
layed on me, for several minutes, while all the other orphans are
similarly praying over the other visitors.
Burundi kids in elbow and knee pads roller-blading down a narrow twisty
mountain road on the way from Gitega to Bujumbura.
Poor kids in dirty brown rags hauling buckets of water back home.
The smiles on little kids faces when you're running down the road and
wave at or greet them or respond to their "Umizungo" cries. You'd think
it was Christmas in July.
No comments:
Post a Comment