Hello again! It's been a busy few weeks. We got a welcome visit from Debbie Guimon, a member of our church in St. Louis, and a missionary to Uganda herself. She brought her son Matthew and her niece SaraBeth. It was so great having them here. I know our families and church family were wishing they could be the one coming, but they sent their love through Debbie. She brought many things that we needed and cannot get here, and also some very unexpected surprises. We have the greatest family and church family in the world. I find myself having to keep thoughts of them out of my mind because of the emotions of missing them those thoughts create. It's painful. We love it here. We're adapted here. There's aspects of American culture that I do not miss, at all – yet, I miss the people so very much.
Probably the single greatest thing we got was the Betty Luken flannel graph set. We are teaching the children now, and I am teaching English. Having large, colorful, well done graphics to use with the children and with the English class is such an incredible help to us. Thank you so much Gary and Gloria! Thank you for all the spices, and the Kool-Aid, and the Ranch dressing mix, and the pens, and the innertubes, and the chocolate, and the CHEESE! It was like Christmas all over again. When I think how much work, and how much love went into getting it all ready for us and sent to us, it humbles and overcomes me. We love you guys, and all our supporting churches. We have the very best of people backing us, and it is such a blessing and encouragement to us.
Getting Debbie was an adventure. It was our first solo trip to the Capitol. We have good maps, and we have been a few times with the Bassett's, who used to live there, and they were able to show us where everything is. We drove out to Entebbe in the dark (not fun at all) to get her, and got there just in time. The trip back went well the next day, and we had a good time of fellowship here with her and the missionaries who were available at the time (the Stensaas' were gone to Kampala for some emergency dental work).
Going to the Capitol always has an element of risk. I successfully got her and her gang back to Kampala to meet Phyllis Hall and continue their grand Ugandan tour. Then I met my mechanic Ssuemko to pick up a generator (it's been a long time coming and very needed to protect our freezer full of food against extended power outages). He was going to Masaka (halfway between Kampala and Mbarara) to work on Matt Stensaas' car, so I offered to give him a ride. This decision turned out to be providential, because just outside of town we got in an accident.
It's miraculous that this kind of thing doesn't happen more often. The roads are atrocious here. They're poorly maintained. Erosion chips them away on the edges, thus making them narrow. There's lots of hills and blind turns, 20 year old trucks that have to creep up the hills in 1st gear, and pedestrians and bodas (motorbike taxis) everywhere. So if you, a mzungu, get in a wreck, it's automatically your fault. We came to one such a hill, and there was the obligatory petrol truck taking it's sweet time climbing the hill. The guy in front of me decided to overtake (pass). I followed him because a) he could see if anyone was coming, and b) there was a wide shoulder there where I could get over if someone did come. He merged in, and sure enough, here comes a car. So, I got over to let him by. For some reason, he panicked and also dodged onto the shoulder. By that time, there was a vehicle to my left, and a dirt hill to my right, so all I can do is hit the brakes. We were on loose soil, so of course, I skidded right into him. My car was only minimally damaged, and nobody in either vehicle was hurt, but his vehicle was totaled. I couldn't call Anna to let her know initially because my stupid phone was being twitchy that day (Ssuemko let me borrow his later so I could let her know what happened and that Ethan and I were okay).
So began the messy process of accident resolution in a 3rd world country. The cops (the real cops, in the urban camo uniforms and the AK-47s) showed up to secure the accident scene (directing traffic and discouraging a mob from forming and lynching the white guy). Then the traffic police (white uniforms) showed up to do their part, which is to complicate things and create confusion. We gave the folks in the other car a lift back to the station, and began negotiations as to how much I would have to pay for the damages – I was on the wrong side of the road, so I am at fault no matter what. Ssuemko totally saved the day. He was able to examine the guy's car and accurately diagnose the damage, and then call his parts supplier to get the exact costs of the parts. Then he negotiated with the traffic police as to how much bribe, er…., administrative costs I would have to pay to keep from being hauled off to court, which would have been catastrophic – he minimized that cost. Then, he negotiated with the other driver to minimize those costs (he was wanting approximately $1000, and we got him talked down to around $700). Then, he got him to sign the document that goes in a file there and says that I have paid for the repairs and he absolves me of all further liability. It was a God thing entirely. If he had not been with me, the whole thing would have been much, much worse. All this took until 6 PM to resolve, and I still needed to get Ethan and myself home.
Then began the journey home. I had Ssuemko drive to Masaka so he could feel and listen to the engine. No worries. We had to stop and adjust the headlights, because they were crooked and weren't lighting the road ahead well. I delivered Ssuemko to Keith Stensaas' place (Matt was having car troubles of his own, a cracked head gasket among other things), and then I began the drive back. Driving after dark is suicidal here. It is pitch black dark, everywhere. There is no ambient light, no streetlights, nothing to help you see, except your brights, which you must keep on so you can watch for pedestrians. In this country, there are people on the highway at all hours. Walking. Riding bikes. Riding motorcycles. In dark clothes with no reflectors or taillights on the bodas. Trucks are parked by the side of the road with no lights or warning reflectors of any kind. People get killed all the time here in accidents involving cars, and yet they still keep doing it, no matter how dangerous or foolish it is. It took me 4 hours to get from Masaka to Mbarara (normally a 2 hour drive) because I had to drive so slow. I almost passed the road that leads home because it is so dark you cannot read the signs, what few signs there are. I white-knuckled it the whole way home, and then collapsed into bed shortly thereafter. Needless to say, I won't be taking any more trips to Kampala if it can be avoided, and I will definitely not be driving after dark again.
In other, more pleasant news, the English class in Ngarama is progressing well. The training we got at Baptist Bible Translators Institute has been invaluable. All I have done is adapt the same process I have been using to learn Runyankore and am using it to teach them English. There is no translator. I point at things and say the English word clearly, multiple times, and they repeat. I draw pictures on the chalkboard, and yesterday, I had the Betty Luken stuff as well. We have a mixture in the class. Some have a little English, and can read and write. Most have zero English, and cannot read and write at all. The phonetics I learned at BBTI allows me to identify which parts of the mouth they need to use to make a particular sound (R's are the worst), I show them how to do it, and then we practice. I'm really focussing on pronunciation. I want them to be able to speak English like an American when we're done. English is the Latin of this country. It's the language of education and business. It's how the wide variety of tribes and dialects are able to communicate with each other. Giving them English, and literacy along with it, is therefore a tremendous gift of knowledge, because it will make a way for them to improve their life, of which the greatest is the ability to read the Bible for themselves. Meanwhile, I am learning Swahili from them, along with the Runyankore we have been studying. As I told them on Sunday, I am teaching them English, but they are all my Swahili teachers. Anna is doing a great job teaching the children (another great opportunity to learn Swahili), and I am preaching in two preaching points. The ministry is going well and we are making good progress.
Pray for Anna and Brennah. The pregnancy is doing great. We have visited a local, private hospital here and will likely have the baby in Mbarara rather than Kampala. It's safer to do so (elections are coming up right near the due date), less stressful, and much, much cheaper. Our doctor in Kampala recommended the hospital we will be using, and having toured the place and interviewed the staff, I am satisfied that it is safe for us to have a baby here. Pray the birth goes smoothly and without complications. Continue praying for our safety and well being here. Pray for our health and finances. Pray for the ministry, that folks will continue to get saved, and that we will have the wisdom to lead them spiritually and teach and preach from God's word. Pray for our language learning as we move into more advanced concepts in Runaynkore, and look to eventually having to learn Swahili and French. Thank you all for your many prayers, thoughtful notes and care packages, and for your love and care for us.
As you can see, the 2011 model Huckabee has arrived. Our sixth child, Brennah LaDynne Huckabee was born at 2AM on March 6, 2011, right here in Mbarara, Uganda. Her and Anna are doing great. The birth went smoothly and without complications of any kind. Thank you all for praying about it. Anna has always had trouble getting labor going without chemical assistance. We had decided that if nothing happened by Friday we would go see the doctor. As it turned out of course, nothing happened, so we went in Saturday morning and began the process of inducing labor. We used the private hospital here in town (Mayanja Memorial), and I'm quite glad we did. I can't imagine going through the exhausting process of driving to Kampala, enduring the exhausting process of having a baby, and then having to drive all the way back. This was so much better. We live five minutes from the hospital. If I needed something, I could run back home to get it or to check on the kids (one of the other missionaries has a teenage daughter who volunteered to watch the crew while we were gone. She is such a blessing). When we needed a meal, I could send one of my employees to get some food from one of the local restaurants. Then, the very next day, since there were no complications, we could come home. Plus, it was super cheap by American standards. The whole experience couldn't have been more positive.
Got a bit of a scare yesterday. I read in the local paper that the water in the Rwizi river was getting low. This is the river that supplies Mbarara with it's H20 llifeline. We are in a drought at the moment. The rain we should be getting this time of year, we're not. I decided to go and check it out myself. So, I drove out to the local pumping station to take a look. Wouldn't you know, I passed Julious, a fellow I know from the early months here (he did a lot of the electrical work on the house). He happens to be an employee of the National Water and Sewer Department. Thanks to him, I got a full tour of the facility. The water in the river is a bit low, but it's not at the catastrophically low levels the paper made it sound. The only way we will run out of water here is if Bushene runs out, and they have been getting plenty of rain. However, that said, the lack of rain is going to hurt a lot of people who depend on their gardens for food. Pray for rain.