Friday, December 21, 2012

An Afternoon in the Bush

The afternoon sun streams down on me as I trudge through the bush with Christine, on our way to visit Sidonia.  I've missed these two ladies who became such a part of our lives in the first house we stayed in.(Christine was our inside worker and Sidonia helped with laundry).  Christine is still surprised that I'm able to walk this distance and tells me, "Aunt you are a serious walker!"  I laugh and try to keep from stumbling over vines and rocks along the path.  There's a boggy part and I do my best to follow Christine's footsteps but the inevitable happens and I sink ankle deep in wet muck.  Never mind it actually feels rather refreshing. 
We often come upon small thatched houses, their inhabitats puzzled by my sudden arrival in their neighbourhood.  Christine shouts out explanations to the curious as we go along and stops occasionally to make introductions.
At one point we meet a young girl in a torn dress clutching a small bundle wrapped in a blanket.  She shyly holds out the bundle and I see a tiny face not a week old.  "The mother...?"
"I think," answers Christine.
 I can't helping thinking of the baby born over two thousand years ago to a mother in circumstances not unlike these.




We finally emerge through a clearing in the bush and catch sight of Sidonia's house. Her oldest daughter catches a glimpse of us and comes running her face beaming. She then disappears in a flash in the opposite direction calling for Sidonia. We are finally all ushered into the tiny home with its dirt floor and wooden bench carefully covered by a woven mat. "You are welcome Auntie!" .




 


Smiles and laughs all round as we settle down to admire baby Lydia and share what's been happening in our lives. Christine and Sidonia chatter happily back and forth in Luganda and then Christine translates for me. As I watch them interact I'm struck again by their joy. Their lives are tough: beyond anything I can even imagine and yet they face their circumstances with courage. I share some Christmas gifts I brought and watch the excitement as clothes are examined and then carefully folded away. The children climb up on my lap to say thank you. 






 I walk home along the main road my backpack heavy with the papaya, collards and lemons which Christine insisted I take home with me.  A truck roars past and I'm showered with dust but it doesn't really matter. I'm remembering the greater joy of giving and how the friendship of these women has enriched my life.

2 comments:

  1. What a great post! Thank you Cathie!

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  2. I think what you have just posted is an excellent example of what love is! May we all know the joy of giving and the blessing of receiving our Heavenly Fatherès greatest gift.

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