Uganda and Back Again!

Brooks

OK, you wouldn’t believe the past two days...never in a million. Especially as now I’m riding in the van with the “new heart” (the engine), headed back to Kenya from Uganda and writing on my laptop in the dark at 9 p.m.! It’s all a bit surreal to say the least! First, Monday we left Kitale...only three of us...Albert, Roger and myself...in the van with new legs and new heart headed to Mbale, Uganda. Albert was driving and we were on our way to pick up Dawson in a town “close by,” only an hour away. There was a slight glitch before actually leaving. It seems that even though the van has had a heart transplant, it now needs a new kidney (the radiator). This required stopping to grab a couple of gas containers at Dawson’s house and fill them with water. So, with water jugs sitting at my feet sloshing all over with every pothole swerved to miss or actually hit, we were on our way. Scheduled departure? 2:30. Time? 4 p.m. Things take time in Africa!!! With only a couple of stops to give the poor radiator a drink during this one-hour trip, we managed to pick up Dawson who was ready and waiting. All four of us loaded in, we headed for the border of Kenya and Uganda. Not too much happened...well, except for the constant stopping to give drinks to the radiator, especially when the van would just quit altogether. At that point, needless to say, it took all three men to attend to whatever it is that’s under the hood. I just watched from the back seat the billows of smoke coming from underneath it. The last four times the van shut off completely, and then we would drift off to the side of the road. That’s when we would wait, pray and try to believe that “all is well.” Roger told me he had really prayed that if the van was going to break down completely, that it would die in Kenya before crossing the border. And so it was, with God’s grace, we glided not into some dark deserted section of road, but into the immigration point, where it stopped for the final time. As things had gotten worse along the way, Dawson told us there was a new plan. We would be going to a friend’s house nearby who was a mechanic and maybe he could fix the car. That plan had now been aborted and a new one quickly set in motion: while we got our visas and passports signed, the guys were able to find a driver and a car that would take us to Mbale, where we would sleep. Now this car was a small Toyota, so Roger, myself and Albert squeezed into the back seat, stuck together, I was sure, for the rest of our lives as we journeyed yet another TWO hours. By the time we arrived at our hotel, it was 9:30 p.m. And that’s when we sat down to dinner. Fortunately, there was a football (soccer) game on, so the guys had a blast eating, laughing it up, oo-ing and ahh-ing as each play was made while I sipped tea laughing at my comrades. I told the other two that it was bad enough to try to talk to my husband at home while he watched his beloved 49-ers, but seriously THREE guys ignoring every word I was saying???? Quick to eat, I hurried to find my bed, secluded and content under a mosquito net yet one more night. Since it was so dark and late, we hadn’t been able to see any of Uganda the night before, so when we got up the next morning I was shocked!!! It was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous outside...green, lush, trees, thick foliage, dotted with banana trees. High mountains were all around including the very impressive Mt. Elgon. Heaven! Sheer heaven. It’s the rainy season still, so the weather is spectacular: cool and pleasant, ok at least the majority of the day; we are on the equator after all. The four of us met in the morning to coordinate the day’s training and waited for church planting trainer and leader Henry to pick us up to go to his village. Now Henry has to be one of God’s favorites. I know God doesn’t really have favorites, but if he did, I think Henry might be one of them. He lives in the boonies of Uganda, in a small village, has very, very little income, and is the epitome of humility and generosity. He is married to a beautiful woman and has several children. His intention to bring hope and life to his region is evident. He has implemented many projects such as teaching farming skills for growing and selling kale, the importance of preventing malaria by using mosquito nets and getting immunizations for the children, to name just a few. All of these he does by getting others involved as he builds relationships throughout the villages and far into Uganda while speaking the love of God to people, discipling and starting home churches as he goes. After Henry came for us, the day’s adventure began in earnest. A pastor friend who owned a car came with him to pick us up. So, now it’s me, the pastor, Henry, Roger, Albert and Dawson. Yep, I’m relegated to the back seat with three of the guys, meaning I get to sit on the edge of the seat, hang onto the front seats for dear life because of the roads...ALL of the roads are thin asphalt strips with barely two lanes and with so many pot holes you know for absolute sure that your brains are going to fall out. We rode a short half hour and then turned onto what actually turned out to be better...a red dirt road equally loaded with potholes but for some reason not as treacherous. All along the way people were walking, going and coming, water jugs on heads, baskets, uniformed kids with satchels in hand. Finally we were in Nabumali, Henry’s hometown. The training was great, Albert and Dawson joining in, making it so very relevant to African life and sharing their experiences and how simple church has affected the spreading of the gospel to so many. After such a great, great time with the men and women who were so hospitable, so engaging and so interactive, it was sadly time to leave. Sad on so many levels…one, I fall in love with every group we get to be with and most places we get to go. I always say, “Roger, you know I think I could definitely live here.” Of course he laughs at me, knowing this softie mzungu would have little hope of surviving such a life! Yet, it was sad to leave this little village in the beautiful mountains of eastern Uganda and the people who live there and the ones who had come from long distances to join us. Two, I now knew what the 2.5 hour journey back to the border was going to involve. By now, I’ve gotten used to the African issue of space. Basically, you have none. My space is your space and vice versa. It works…whether standing in a line at the market, walking on the road, sitting in a bus, wherever. I rather like it. In our country, I’m afraid of touching someone or “getting in their space.” Maybe it was from my youth and shouts from a younger brother to our mom, “She’s touching me” with squeals of horror thinking one of my so-called cooties might alight on him. Once again in the backseat, four of us were squished together, chatting, commenting about this and that while Roger and the very hospitable Ugandan pastor sat up front. On the drive the guys educated me on some of the Ugandan ways, like men and women sitting in a circle around a large jug each with their own very long straw dipped in to sip their home brew. They say the stuff is so strong it can make the seeing blind and even worse. They also wondered if perhaps I was interested in adopting the tradition of many of the Ugandan women, especially the older ones, of bowing low, and I mean low, because I had seen it, before any male figure, making sure not to make eye contact. Mmmm, maybe not, to Roger’s great disappointment, and Dawson laughing his head off saying he would really, really like to see that During the journey, we eventually caught on that the mechanic who had been called to come and repair the van sitting at the border was still there…with the van, which was unable to be fixed. We had made it through the Ugandan border with slight harassment to the Ugandan friend driving us, but we all bailed out and walked through on our way to the Kenyan immigration office some distance away. Getting our passports stamped once again, we went to the poor lonely grey van sitting in the dark looking like a deserted friend waiting to be found. The mechanic came walking up and explained that now the engine had cooled (for two days), so maybe it would start. He, himself, had been unable to do anything for the poor thing. Albert, shaking his head, grimly announced that we were never going to make it the two hours from there to Kitale. He was in the third seat back guarding the groceries Roger had thought to bring along for the trip. We all know that Dawson’s theory about road trips is this: Get in the car with a loaf of white bread and a liter of coke and don’t stop til you get there. Thinking ahead, Roger had bought plenty of snacks for everyone. Yay for things in boxes and cellophane bags! Dawson was driving, the mechanic in the passenger seat, Roger and me in the second seat, and Albert alone in the third. Albert is generally a pretty positive guy so I was surprised at his proclamation of doom about the van. I turned to him and said, “Are you kidding me? There’s no way God is leaving us out here! I’m praying and we’re going to make it home.” We all laughed, but have to tell you, I was seriously hoping all the grace we have been experiencing on this trip would continue to be with us. It was getting later by the minute and the road home looked pretty dark and desolate. And, yep, that’s my God! Seeing us home all the way! Well, there was the one pit stop “to help ourselves,” (i.e., use the toilet) when the car refused to start again, I mean as in would NOT turn over at all! No, it didn’t need even need water. A man there ambled over (not the mechanic), and jabbed something and sparks flew and all of the sudden that baby was purring again like a kitten. Off we went, non-stop the whole way home. Adventures are fun, but I have to tell you, even more fun when God is involved. Meeting people, seeing new places, experiencing new things, sharing hearts…it’s all such a great adventure. Will we get to go back to Uganda? I surely do hope so. Will we be taking the van? Probably. Beautiful Uganda: