My Ugandan Sister

While I was in Uganda, I made a friend named Nancy.

It was our fourth day in Uganda and I hadn't been feeling very well since we'd arrived. I've concluded that it was a combination of jet lag, airplane food (which I have sworn to never eat again), and the huge level of excitement that I was actually in Africa. A large group of our team was going to walk to a some-what far off village to visit with an Acholi family in their home. I wasn't feeling physically well enough to go with, so I ended up staying at Abaana's Hope with a few other team members. I was extremely disappointed; however, because I stayed behind, I was blessed in a way that I believe God had planned out the whole time.

Me and the other few women that didn't go to the village had the opportunity to work with the jewelry ladies. We had all met with and heard testimonies from jewelry workers the previous day, however, this was a different group of women. The first group were women who took the beads already made and strung them to make finished pieces, while this new group actually hand-made each of those beads. Us "mzungus" (white people) introduced ourselves first, and then the Acholi women introduced themselves. We would say something short including our name, age, if we were married and if we had kids, if we were in school, etc. and Josenta, an Acholi woman who can speak English, would translate. I said something like, "My name is Alex. I'm 18. And I'm in college." As the Acholi women introduced themselves, it came to a younger girl's turn. She said, "My name is Nancy. I am 18..." and right then we looked at each other and smiled and giggled and instantly made a connection. She finished with, "I am not married and I do not have any children. And I work here and make money by making beads." For me, this was a big deal because I had not yet met a Ugandan my age. Most of the people I had met were either much older or very young. To know a girl who is my age that lives on the other side of the world, in a much different environment, was eye-opening.

Nancy, Rachel, Joesenta, and I making beads

Once everyone was finished introducing themselves, we got to sit down with them and learn how to make beads. Of coarse, I sat with Nancy. She patiently taught us how to wrap the thin piece of colored paper around the tiny bicycle spoke and how to hold it while curling it up and then dab it with glue. She laughed when we made disfigured beads and when we only had a few done as she was starting a whole new string of beads. When our bead unraveled before our eyes, she giggled and graciously helped us fix it. We would show her our beads and she would say, "Good" with a thumbs up, or she would laugh at our feeble attempts to make something that looks easy to do but is so very difficult when you actually try.

My Beads

Nancy can't speak English and I can't speak Acholi, and with only two translators, we didn't have many opportunities to talk. I do not know her life story. But I do know that it is much different than mine. I don't think she was ever abducted by the rebel army, but I do know that her brother was several times. I know that she works hard making tiny beads from paper to make money to help support her family. I know that she lives in a mud hut with a thatch roof and that she walks several miles to work and church. I know that she does not have the means to receive higher education right now. We do not have much in common when it comes to how we have been raised and the conditions we've grown up in. But we have this in common- we are both followers of Christ.

The Foot-Washing Bible Study (Nancy is on the right)

For the next week, we had planned a Bible study with the women of Abaana's Hope where we told them the story of Jesus washing the disciples feet and then we washed their feet, painted their toe nails, and gave them little gift bags with personal care items. I was adamant about washing Nancy's feet, and when that day came, I did.

As I wet her feet and scrubbed them with the soapy rag, I thought about the places these feet have been and the trials they've carried her through. Again, I do not know her whole story, but I know that it is much different than mine. I prayed for her feet- that they would continue to carry her, that they would be used in amazing ways, that they would be beautiful. And I painted her toe nails blue, because she said that was her favorite color. And we laughed and took joy in the fact that, although we couldn't really talk, our smiles were enough and we were connected through Christ. At the end of the Bible study, I gave Nancy her gift bag and we hugged and smiled again.

I thought that would be the last time I got to see Nancy; but I was wrong. On our last day of going to Abaana's Hope, I got to go to the home of an Acholi family, which I had missed out on the week before. We talked and ate the most delicious chicken I'd ever had with posho (which is basically cornmeal cooked in water to make a mushy white substance that tastes like nothing) and drank Grape Miranda (a type of soda there that is kind of like grape soda). We were almost done in the hut when out of nowhere, Nancy pops her head in the door with a baby on her hip. I was overjoyed to see her one last time.

In Uganda, people have a Ugandan name and a Christian name. I do not know Nancy's Ugandan name, but her Christian name is (obviously) Nancy. I do not think she knows this: In Hebrew, Nancy means grace. And she shows this in every way possible- from patiently teaching us how to make beads to working hard to support her family. And although she's probably had a more difficult life than most of us can imagine, she smiles. It is the most fitting name for her.

For some reason, God wanted Nancy and I to meet. For some reason, He tied our hearts together even though the language barrier is so great.

I believe that I am going to see Nancy again one day and that we will have the opportunity to sit and talk and really get to know each other, but until then, I think about her and I pray for her and I let her teach me what it really means to show grace. And I am so thankful that God used my illness to introduce me to my sister in Christ.

"Let us then with confidence

 draw near to the throne of grace, 

that we may receive mercy

and find grace to help in time of need." 

Hebrews 4:26