Tuesday was the day I started to come down with malaria symptoms. Through the morning my energy level took a dive, my head and tummy started to hurt, my muscles started to ache, and I lost my appetite for food (a rare thing for me). I tried to lay low during the Basic Bible Teaching workshop which was being held at the Lubwisi/Kwamba translation office, but when lunchtime came I felt obligated to tag along for the trip into town. It was our second day eating at the little restaurant there that served typical Western Ugandan food. There was one thing that sounded OK to eat. I wanted rice with a little bit of sauce over the top. That was all. After ordering, what I got was a huge portion of goat meat, a large portion of posho (a semi-solid, white, maize porridge), and a tiny bit of rice. I was annoyed. It was not the first time that my meal at a restaurant had been messed up, and it seemed they weren't even trying to listen to what I wanted. I also didn't feel we should have to pay for something we didn't want (the cost difference would have been about $1). I'm pretty sure I let my disgust show a little bit.
In contrast to my grumpy attitude, Timothy (the local Literacy/Scripture Use coordinator I had been working with) was sitting next to me and seemed to be taking it all in stride. He laughed, but didn't make a big deal about it with the servers. Then, all of a sudden, he disappeared outside. He later returned with a young motorcycle driver. He grabbed the food I wasn't going to eat and put it in front of the guy at the table next to ours. Then, some of the others in our group also started added the extra they weren't able to finish. Before long the guy realized he wouldn't be able to finish it all. He ran out and grabbed a friend to join him, and together they scarfed down a good meal.
This simple experience was a wake up call for me. There were a few ways I could have responded to the "non-ideal" situation. My choice was the wrong one. Timothy's was a great one!
Andrew
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