Chickens and Sugarcane

After two hours of traveling in a packed taxi-van on moon-cratered roads, we make our turn down a path between rows of banana trees. The road narrows to a mere footpath and the mammoth banana leaves slap our windows, reminding us that vehicles aren't the usual mode of transportation in these parts. After a few minutes more of bumps and jolts, we make our way to a clearing with a small structure held up by wooden poles. Drums and yips and yaws of older women guide us under the shelter and we are ushered in as honored guests, dear friends, and missed family. A choir of children sing and dance for us, welcoming us with cultural dances and songs:

Wey tu saba (When we pray)

Mucabe le sala (You listen)

My dear friends, did you know that we have a group of brothers and sisters in another country who are praying for us? “Send them our love” they tell me at every church we visit and revisit during the week. I hope to introduce you to them and their stories in the near future.

The joy they have wells up and overwhelms their ability to control it. It comes from a deeper well than the bore hole in the center of the village that the children trek to and from to fetch the deep water in jerry cans. We drown in this joy and pray we can carry it home with us to pour out on our home churches.

Again, I’ve never witnessed such joy – such thankfulness. Then I remember how the two are intertwined. Joy in the heart of thanksgiving. Chara at the heart of Eucharist. I learned that before I boarded the plane for Entebbe back in January. But now I've witnessed it. As a sign of their gratitude, they present to us bundles of sugarcane and a live chicken. We laugh and accept their gift and the fact that it will be another bumpy two hour trek home with yet another squawking passenger!