safe and [relatively] sound

So, I have made it to Gulu and am back at the IC office. :) It's been an interesting adventure arriving here, between rescheduled plane take-offs, the loss of luggage, a broken shower door and rocketing gas prices, but I'm here and feeling so blessed.

Due to a personnel loss within the Schools for Schools program, my work load seems to have increased exponentially, so I don't have a lot of time to update all of you, but I wanted to say thanks again for all your prayers and support. I love you all

Here's a little something I wrote yesterday, at Kope Cafe during and after an unexpected rainstorm...

In Gulu, life stops for rain.

A culture transported by feet, bicycles and boda bodas (motorcycles) in a climate that is normally very warm, the people don’t want to be out. A storm in the morning is an accepted excuse for being late to work, you can’t hire a boda to take you anywhere, the streets become deserted—no one wants to travel in the rain.

So they don’t. When the drizzle begins, feet move faster, eyes begin searching for shelter.

And when the downpour starts, they stop. Boda drivers find refuge in store fronts, cyclists in front porches, walkers under school eves.

And as their distaste for cold pushes them further inside, their love for community pushes people together.

Strike what I said earlier… in Gulu, life begins with rain.

As the rain hammers down on the street outside; laughter fills the indoors. Tea is brewed, stories are shared, relationships are started; strangers become friends.

And even I, a girl who was so excited to leave California because I was so tired for rain, am a bit saddened to hear the downpour return to a drizzle, the drizzle fade into silence.

So I start… looking to the sky for a rain cloud and laughter.

For life to begin again.