All good things seem to come to an end, and our journey to Uganda was no exception. On Friday, January 4, we returned to Entebbe for the night, staying at the Central Inn. It was clean and relatively comfortable. Naturally, there was no air conditioning, but there was an oscillating fan. The fan was a wonderful touch.
We arose early the next morning for our last meal in Uganda with Betsy and D’rae. They would be going to Kampala for a couple of days awaiting the arrival of one of Betsy’s close friends who would be arriving late Monday evening. Following breakfast, the hotel’s shuttle loaded us up and took us just a couple of kilometers to the airport. We said our goodbye’s and took our place in line. The Entebbe airport is like other international airports – there are lines that must be maneuvered before you can get to your plane.
We navigated the long lines of fellow travelers and arrived at the gate to await our boarding time. We did not have to wait long, but there was about an hour delay in the plane’s arrival and therefore our departure. We boarded the plane and settled in for a flight of something over eight hours.
Shortly after boarding, the captain greeted all of us and announced there was a change in our flight plan. Do you remember the Kenya elections and the fuel shortage on our journey to Jinja a few days earlier? It’s still there. The captain announced that since Entebbe airport did not have any aviation fuel, we were going to have to make a pit stop in Nairobi, Kenya to refuel. Nairobi is east and south of Entebbe. Our eight hour journey was going to be a bit longer. By the time we arrived in London, it was thirteen hours from when we boarded the plane in Entebbe.
Once we landed in London, we needed to proceed through immigration and Customs because we were going off the airport for lodging. Though our hotel was right outside Heathrow, it took us almost two hours to get to it and into our room. It had been a very long day! But, oh, how comfortable the bed was that night!
Our journey to Chicago was uneventful except for a little delay. Through immigration, through Customs, and we were headed back to our car. Now, where did we park and in what lot?
It was great to get home! Back to the familiar. Back to the ordinary. Okay, not so ordinary. The temperature was about 60 degrees outside, but the furnace had quit working inside. Our house was about 52 degrees. Earlier in the week, the temperature had been in the single digits, and we don’t know when the furnace broke down. At least, there was a good friend who talked me through troubleshooting in, and Monday morning we were back on line with a working furnace. But on Monday the temperature rose to 67 degrees. Who needs a furnace in weather like that? Oh, yea, it’s still January and snow is forecast for later this week.
Thank you, God, for watching over our journey to see Betsy and for watching over our home while we were away. God is awesome, and His world is beautiful.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
A Day on the Nile
January 3rd was River Nile day. We met at a rafting outfitter and were taken to the Nile for a morning of rafting. We are not brave. We opted for the “family float trip” along with a family visiting from the Netherlands. We were in one raft; they were in another raft. One kayak accompanied us as our safety vehicle. (Sidebar: our kayaker was the Ugandan champion rafter last year. He was a treat to watch with the Dutch children as well as to watch some of his tricks with his kayak.)
Our raft trip consisted only of Stage 1 and Stage 2 rapids. They were fun! But I would not want to take on anything larger. Coward is not a bad word, but I prefer to be known as cautious. Barb was nervous even with the family float trip. Neither Betsy and D’rae were wanting to do the rapids raft trip again. Our float trip was enjoyable, and the rapids were exciting. The scenery was beautiful, and the Nile great to swim in. Barb and I opted not to swim, but Betsy and D’rae plunged in, as did the children in the other raft.Our take out point was a camp about 7 km down the Nile. As we approached the take out point, we had to look up. The banks of the Nile are quite steep at this point, and stairs had been made to walk up to the top. Combine the altitude of the Jinja area (almost a mile), the fatigue of paddling on the Nile, and the steep angle of the steps to the top of the bank, and that journey up from the Nile suddenly became daunting. There is a saying among the Ugandans. In English, it translates to something like “slowly by slowly.” It means take it slow. We did. After we arrived at the top, we watched the porters carrying jerry cans of water up from the river, as well as the two rafts and the kayak up from the river. The porters made a couple of trips for water while we were watching. They are much more accustomed to the altitude.
Our journey to the Nile was a wonderful experience. As I stood near its banks, I thought about the journey the waters were making towards the Mediterranean Sea, about the waters of the Nile turning to blood and God’s deliverance of His people Israel. Then my thoughts turned to another’s blood and the deliverance God provides for His people today through Jesus.
A Trip to Jinja
On New Year’s Day, we began making arrangements to travel to Jinja for the next phase of our adventure. Jinja is situated on Lake Victoria at the headwaters of the Nile River. It is about 300 km from Mbarara to Jinja, passing through the capital city of Kampala. Travel to Jinja would be by private hire (AKA taxi).
The Mbarara mission team frequently uses a gentleman by the name of Charles for their private hires. He does not speak English very well, so the arrangements are made through his wife, Deena. Also because of his poorer English, he typically subcontracts with other drivers for the team. He was contracted first to move some things back to the Betsy and D’rae’s apartment from the home where we were staying. Late in the afternoon, Deena arrived with a driver who apparently was not Charles because his English was quite good. We agreed on a price which was much higher than we had anticipated to simply move suitcases and tubs of food between dwellings. Then we spoke about our trip to Jinja. The driver’s name was Goma. He was a pleasant enough fellow, but wanted about twice as much as we had originally contracted with Deena for this trip. But this is Africa and things change, sometimes by events seemingly unrelated to where one is.
Enter the elections in Kenya… The Kenyan government had recently held its presidential election. There were two ethnic factions who had candidates running; and each of their candidates declared themselves the victor in separate ceremonies on the previous Sunday. The former president may or may not have won the election. He asserted he won by twenty thousand votes; his opponent declared he had won by over a million votes. Violence erupted, the borders were closed, travelers were stranded, hundreds died. With the borders closed, that meant that no petrol (gasoline) could come into Uganda. There was an immediate shortage, and price gauging was common. The price went from around 2500 Ugandan Shillings per liter to around 10000 UShillings overnight. We had now learned why the price was so much higher for moving things back to the girls’ apartment and for the trip to Jinja.
Back to the driver to Jinja… Goma told us he was Charles’ brother and that he would be driving us for Charles to Jinja also. That was fine with us, because it was what Charles typically did for “mozumbu” - white people. That evening, Goma called, and Deena called. There was a conflict. We presumed it was for more money because of the fuel shortage. Turns out, Goma was NOT Charles’ brother, and that he was only an acquaintance whom Charles arranged to take the tubs back to the apartment, not drive us to Jinja! Because of the business that the team has given to Deena and Charles over the years, we wanted to honor our agreement with Deena. However, Deena was fearful of what might happen. She and Charles came over to talk about it face to face. They left saying they would call us in the morning to let us know who would be driving us. She would call us and she would call Goma. There was not a lot of restful sleep that night.
Wednesday morning, Goma picked us up. The price was set and held; the trip was fairly uneventful, except for concerns about finding petrol on the return trip. When he dropped us off in Jinja, it was at a Shell station that had gas. The price was 10000 UShillings. He still had about 3/8 of a tank so he was unwilling to pay that price and would head back and get fuel in Kampala. We had not seen any gas in Kampala. (Sidebar: on Friday, we saw lengthy lines in Kampala for gas.) We were grateful for the safe journey God had granted us to Jinja, and for the peace that should exist between Charles and Goma.
The Mbarara mission team frequently uses a gentleman by the name of Charles for their private hires. He does not speak English very well, so the arrangements are made through his wife, Deena. Also because of his poorer English, he typically subcontracts with other drivers for the team. He was contracted first to move some things back to the Betsy and D’rae’s apartment from the home where we were staying. Late in the afternoon, Deena arrived with a driver who apparently was not Charles because his English was quite good. We agreed on a price which was much higher than we had anticipated to simply move suitcases and tubs of food between dwellings. Then we spoke about our trip to Jinja. The driver’s name was Goma. He was a pleasant enough fellow, but wanted about twice as much as we had originally contracted with Deena for this trip. But this is Africa and things change, sometimes by events seemingly unrelated to where one is.
Enter the elections in Kenya… The Kenyan government had recently held its presidential election. There were two ethnic factions who had candidates running; and each of their candidates declared themselves the victor in separate ceremonies on the previous Sunday. The former president may or may not have won the election. He asserted he won by twenty thousand votes; his opponent declared he had won by over a million votes. Violence erupted, the borders were closed, travelers were stranded, hundreds died. With the borders closed, that meant that no petrol (gasoline) could come into Uganda. There was an immediate shortage, and price gauging was common. The price went from around 2500 Ugandan Shillings per liter to around 10000 UShillings overnight. We had now learned why the price was so much higher for moving things back to the girls’ apartment and for the trip to Jinja.
Back to the driver to Jinja… Goma told us he was Charles’ brother and that he would be driving us for Charles to Jinja also. That was fine with us, because it was what Charles typically did for “mozumbu” - white people. That evening, Goma called, and Deena called. There was a conflict. We presumed it was for more money because of the fuel shortage. Turns out, Goma was NOT Charles’ brother, and that he was only an acquaintance whom Charles arranged to take the tubs back to the apartment, not drive us to Jinja! Because of the business that the team has given to Deena and Charles over the years, we wanted to honor our agreement with Deena. However, Deena was fearful of what might happen. She and Charles came over to talk about it face to face. They left saying they would call us in the morning to let us know who would be driving us. She would call us and she would call Goma. There was not a lot of restful sleep that night.
Wednesday morning, Goma picked us up. The price was set and held; the trip was fairly uneventful, except for concerns about finding petrol on the return trip. When he dropped us off in Jinja, it was at a Shell station that had gas. The price was 10000 UShillings. He still had about 3/8 of a tank so he was unwilling to pay that price and would head back and get fuel in Kampala. We had not seen any gas in Kampala. (Sidebar: on Friday, we saw lengthy lines in Kampala for gas.) We were grateful for the safe journey God had granted us to Jinja, and for the peace that should exist between Charles and Goma.
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