Coming Home…

The whole ride home, I was trying to prepare myself for Francis dying. I figured that was the worst-case scenario, and not entirely unrealistic.
I’m happy to report that, so far as I know, none of our friends’ kids died while we were away this time. What a relief. What a joy. I think the worst thing that happened was little Jessica fell out of a tree and now has a bit of a kink in her arm. (Oh, and one of the Pastor’s wives—not a Christian—crunched up glass in the Bible students’ food in a fit of rage. But that’s a whole other story…)
We were dreading cleaning our house when we got home—recall the pictures from last time, with the kids with brooms and clouds of dust—but when we got here, we found it spick and span, compliments of our neighbor Laudina. It really was amazing. This time, we decided it was good to leave our house in the hands of one of our neighbors. I think it did a lot in the area of trust.
I nearly cried when I saw Abuba and all her children (very much alive!). Abuba and I must have shook hands for ages, and she kept saying, “Iruhu! My friend, my friend!” Iruhu (or something like that) is sort of her special name for me. Our other friends use it sometimes, but she always greets me “Iruhu!” It means a person who is always busy. I’d take it as my second name (one Lopit person can have a whole list of names), but I can’t roll my R’s, so I can’t pronounce it. I can’t pronounce my own name. I’m such a tool.
Anyway, a few of the women even gave us awkward hugs, which isn’t at all part of their culture—that made it extra special. I’m so happy to be home.