Beginning: Friday morning, dawn in Kampala, up to pack the next month or two of groceries and all our trunks from a two-country trek to take Luke back to school, into the back of the truck. From the room across the hall our dear friend and former pastor Al emerges to lend a hand! He is also in Kampala en route to the airport to send his oldest daughter Katie back to college in the US after her Christmas break in Karamoja. Sweet reunion, but too brief. The truck loaded with everything but the frozen goods we leave the kids sleeping and head out to the airport.
Entebbe: Travis and Amy, a doctor/teacher young couple who are finishing degrees and exploring God's next step for them, touch down an hour late, after a harrowing almost-miss-the-flight-re-route-because-of-weather very indirect journey from Charlotte via New York, Paris, and London. We enjoy the unexpected enforced idleness having a cup of tea and discussing big picture vision issues as we approach a team planning retreat.
Back to Kampala: We add in the kids, the frozen goods, and at the last minute the entire team's fresh and frozen items . . because unforseen car issues mean that the second team vehicle will be in the repair shop all day. We had planned to share responsibility to transport the Johnsons and Acacia Masso (who is taking the opportunity while her parents do logistical errands in Kampala to spend a week as a Myhre). Instead we cram 8 into our double-cabin truck and embark on our cross-country trek home.
The Drive: 8 hours of animated conversation while being jostled and compressed. Fun to get to know the Johnsons, and they are good sports with it all. Always room for a little more, we pick up other items in Fort Portal . . . then hit the deep silt of dust that has become the dry season road over the mountains. As we top the ridge the hot springs steam below us, and the setting sun reflects on the coils of the Semliki River. The up side of traveling late in the day, we see dozens of colobus monkeys and baboons. It is dark, equator-with-no-power dark, by the time we get to Bundibugyo town.
Arrival: The Pierces welcome us with hugs and a hot dinner, having patiently waited, it is now about 8:30 pm. We relax and enjoy their company and deliver some of the goods. . . then drive back up to the other houses on the mission to put three other house-hold's worth of groceries into their fridges. It is now between 9:30 and 10 and we have not yet made it to our house. As we pull out of Pat's driveway there is a terrible flapping sound--our rear tire has punctured and though we have only a hundred meters left of our 2,000 plus kilometers to go . . . we have to jack up the truck and change the tire. Then we unload, settle the visitors in their bed at the Gray's, start up our own kerosene fridge, put away our groceries and sleep.
The Aftermath: Saturday, hot and dusty. Unpacking. Greeting. Dozens of friends, A few needy people who have waited long. Baking. Sweeping. The sad news that our little goat (the post-Ebola thanks goat) was bitten by a snake and died last week. In spite of some slashing and clearing the responsible snake has not been found, only a small juvenile cobra. We know the mother is out there. Scott sets fire to a brush pile while a half dozen teenage boys stand on call with hoes and pangas, but no snake appears. Unsettling to know something venomous enough to kill a good sized goat still lurks nearby. Later we visit our new "grandson", baby Arthur Atukunda ("God loves us"). Juliet, nervous but competent, laughing now as she describes her hard labor. Ndyezika beaming, proud. We also visit our neighbors, the Mukiddi family, who inform us that due to Mukiddi's senior status his two wives will return to their ancestral homes this week for further post-burial ceremonies, a new aspect of culture we had not encountered before. By evening we have settled and organized, and celebrate being truly home with a feast for our guests as a full moon rises orange and bright. Lastly, a viewing of one of our favorite movies, Blood Diamond. We go to sleep late, with images of God the committed father who pursues the prodigal child-rebel, who knows who we truly are and is willing to risk death to call us back.
We're home.
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