Bittersweet Homecoming

We’d been waiting so long to get home, so when we saw the outline of those three mountain peeks—the Three Sisters—we were more than excited. And the first people we saw were so showered with “Mong!!!”s and “Itigolo!!!”s, I’m surprised they didn’t drown.
Rolling into town was just as wonderful, as a crowd of people—fresh from discussing what could have possibly happened to the white people—met us at Steve’s house with smiles and handshakes. We split as soon as possible, eager to hike the mountain and be back home in Husa. We talked on the way up about how big the kids probably got, if our houses would still be standing and if Lodina’s baby—expected while we were gone—would be a girl or a boy.
As we got closer, we could hear the murmur hit the village and start to swell into a weak thunder. Then the calls came—“Efonu!!!” (“They’re coming!!!”) “Awong Ibeja! Awong Oudo! Efonu dang!” (“Ibeja comes! Kim comes! They’re all coming!”) I’ve always laughed at the conversations the Lopit have across the spots on the mountain; I love it the most, though, when we’re the subject of or participants in said long-distance yell fests.
The kids flooded our compound. Franco flashed me his shy smile. Paula bounced over with little Ellen. And just as I was scanning the crowd for him, sweet Francis called my name, tugged at my arm and awkwardly yet gladly embraced in a hug. (Hugging isn’t something the Lopit do; they have no idea what it is.) It was so good to see them.
The excitement was tempered suddenly, though, when a woman pulled me aside, pointed to Lodina’s compound and said the baby died. Heart-breaking. This one was mine to name—they’ve told me for months. It was a little boy. He lived for seven days and then died, five days ago. He wouldn’t take food.
The locals say it’s a curse. This is the third baby Lodina has had die like this. The two that have survived were born during the war, in Uganda. Now William (Lopit neighbor) says she’ll be sent away again when she gets pregnant, because there is “no benefit to her being here.” Thank goodness, though, they’ll let her come back when she’s had the baby. But how sad, to have to be sent away. And how terrible to lose a sweet baby boy. I wish we were here to bear the pain with her.
We sat with Lodina for a while, but finally had to break away to get settled in the house. It was an absolute mess, from top to bottom. But the kids were up to the challenge—they fought for brooms and sponges and helped us clean everything. They’re sweet, but I wouldn’t have you think it’s all charity—they assume they’ll get candy (not an unwise assumption) and being allowed in the house is a big deal, especially when they’re given so much time to stare at all the weird white people things. : )
So, yes, we’re back… and happy to be here, albeit completely exhausted. You’ll be happy to know God was in our delay. (Duh.) We found out today that our original travel plans would have put us smack dab in the middle of attacks on the road. And this latest delay with the UNI-MOG (still in Loki being fixed) was a blessing because there was a bit of a shake down at the border place and the whole thing is a mess. So, if the fellas would have tried to come through with it today, they likely would have been given a huge hassle or told to return to Loki and wait anyway. So, praise God for all that. Praise Him for protection and for his perfect timing. And praise Him for these people, that we may come back to them and minister among them.