This week, my class started talking about a farewell party. Yes, it’s a bit late to be planning such an event. Yes, this is Africa, but the BD 3 class has been planning for a month (that’s another story that I won’t get into).
So we were talking about whose responsibility this was, and someone said it was Jackson’s, because he’s our chaplain. I said that we didn’t have a chaplain. Then someone said, “Don’t you remember? When we were over in that room (pointing in the general direction of Walker) and we made Jackson our chaplain?”
Oh yes, now I remember. As time moved backwards, the memories flooded, I remembered the first semester, sitting in that room, wondering exactly what I’d gotten myself into. Wondering what a chaplain should do for the class, and why we needed one. Wondering if I’d ever get used to being stared at (not really). Wondering if I can handle rice and beans ad infinitum. Trying to write down everyone’s number that was written on the board (after I found mine, and wondering if I’d ever learn it). Trying to figure out if I’d ever be able to make it through classes that were two hours long. Wondering if the rooster will ever figure out that the sky doesn’t change enough at 4:00 to merit telling me about it. Trying to figure out if I’d ever fit in, if God really had the right idea by sending me to UCU.
And then it hit me – I know that I’m in my fourth and final semester in seminary, but it’s been two years since I came here. Two whole years. I’m absolutely stunned to think of it chronologically like that. So much has changed, so much has changed in me, and it’s been such a joy and honor to be here.
My friends have been talking about getting me to stay for some time; Paulson talks of hiding my passport, and I remind him that I’ll just go to the embassy to replace it. Since I don’t have a firm job from the Dean, I’m reluctant to tell them that I’ll be back, though I do tell them that there’s no way I can stay away from Uganda. That’s the truth, and is sufficient for now.
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