Saturday, 6 November 2021
Last night, I was joined by my friend, Akizza Robert. (For those of you who have been following along, this is husband of Zam and father of Praise and Noah.) He wanted to stay closer to the wedding venue without having to work all night at Rock Ministries, so he stayed down the hall from me overnight.
This morning I woke up ready for the wedding, but my shirt looked like cooked bacon, so I called Laundry at the Tick Hotel. In less than ten minutes, my wedding shirt was pressed and looking great. Have I mentioned how much I like this hotel?
I had breakfast with the Best Man of the wedding, Robert. I always love his company, but today, “goodbye” was on the minds of us both, and it got a little mushy. In the middle of his sentimentality, he did say something I will have to remember. He said I have a special way of making family wherever I go. I have never thought of it that way, but it certainly is an answer to my prayers that the Lord would expand my circle of influence, and help me to glorify Him in it. This is happening here.
After I bid Robert farewell to go do his Best Man duties, I met with Dr. Jane at the hotel lobby. At a price even cheaper than the local favorite Test-and-Fly, she conducted a PCR Covid test and took the sample to a nearby hospital for testing. By the time I got back, my results were printed and waiting for me at the hotel lobby desk.
The wedding was absolutely beautiful and everyone looked stunning. It was very much a worship and praise service with two people getting married in the mix. Peruth’s brother gave her away on behalf of the family, and Pastor Gitta was a great host, though he looked excited as a little boy on Christmas morning. At the end of the formal church wedding, we all climbed in cars, busses, vans, taxis, and Bodas (motorcycle taxis), to move to the reception location.
As we arrived at the reception venue, it began to rain. Pastor Gitta’s generous open invitation met with hundreds of attendees, but covered seating for only some, so it was fairly uncomfortable for a few late-comers until the sun came back out. The rains in Uganda are like the ones in Florida, here for a few minutes, but wait awhile and the weather will change. The mud was the only residual trouble from the rain, and we all got red-clay-stained at least up to our ankles. We worshiped, danced, laughed, and had a great time. When the RG team was presented, the kids urged me to speak, so I proclaimed a blessing and even asked God to give Gitta and Peruth twins (a common Ugandan blessing). As I was preparing to leave, I was captured by Roy Kasozi, who demanded I come and dance one time in the spotlight before I leave. I had warned folks about what would happen if they did that and, true to my word, I tied my sport coat around my waist and did my best Kikkanga <chē-kän-ga>, a traditional Ugandan dance with a lot of shaking of the hips, which are always adorned with some kind of wrap, usually a fur. It was a hoot! And I left there a dancing celebrity.
There wasn’t room in any of the vehicles, but I found the bus with the RG kids and we piled ourselves in making room where there had been none. Several sweaty minutes later, we arrived at Rock Ministries Kitetikka, where the kids were staying and where many others were staging to go home. Best Man Robert found me a willing driver to drop me off at the Tick Hotel on his way, and I missed the opportunity to say a final farewell to a couple of my close-knit group, but jumped in the car as it was leaving. There had been many sad farewells, and sweet embraces, but this expedited transport hurried up the process, even though it was like tearing away a patch from cloth.
I thanked my willing driver, James, as I got in and he said, “Who am I to drive such an important person?” It reminded me how I often underestimate my worth as well, thinking I am not worthy to carry the message of the Gospel, or I am not worthy to visit with some important type person. As I preached to James, I heard the Spirit teach me, “Our Creator died for each of us. We are the same importance and value!” On the way to the hotel, I was chatting online with several of the RG kids and nurses, cooling off with the window open and the warm, Uganda breeze drying me and my sweaty clothes. As the car slowed for a traffic jam, just like lightning, a thief reached into the car, snatched my unlocked phone, and was gone in an instant. My police instinct was to jump out of the car and chase after him, but as I leapt from the car I found no sign of the thief anywhere. He was gone just that fast. We stopped at a nearby police station and reported the crime but, as a former police officer, I was well aware nothing would come of it. An investigator with an AK-47 on his shoulder said he would track it for 200,000 Uganda shillings, but I knew I could erase it remotely if I could get to my laptop quickly, so we left, but with the investigator’s phone number in case I changed my mind.
Back at the hotel, Regina was very sympathetic, but said she had lost eight phones in similar circumstances. Message to travelers: don’t use your phone where it can be snatched, and keep your windows half-way up! Being without mobile communication left me feeling like the “goodbyes” were abruptly ended, and the conversations I was having were interrupted by someone who, for all I know, was harvesting my data as we speak. All the wedding photos, videos, and notes I took would be lost forever. I signed into my Apple account from my hotel room, was heartbroken to confirm that none of my photos had uploaded to the cloud, and then promptly sent an “Erase iPhone” command to the handset. Ouch!
Sunday, 7 November 2021
It is departure day, but I have some business to attend to. I got as many phone numbers as I thought I might need for my journey and wrote them on paper. Then I walked to a few nearby banks until I found one that would accept my ATM card. A few keystrokes later, I was on my way to the local phone service center. When one center said I needed a Ugandan ID to get my SIM card reactivated, I got directions to the next nearest service center, where I was helped with just my passport. I bought a cheap handset and a new SIM card with my old number on it, and spent the next couple hours figuring out why the darn thing wouldn’t start up. After lunch, I took it to one service center, where I was told to take it to the center where I bought it. A long Boda ride found me at the locked doors of the very service center I had visited hours before. Disappointed, I returned to the Tick on my fourth Boda ride of the day.
If you are imagining a pretty day on the back of a motorcycle, you have the wrong picture in your mind. First, imagine the roads slick with recently moistened red clay. Next, picture six lanes of traffic on a road built for two, and a steep drop-off at each edge, where rocks line the drainage ditches, each between two and four feet deep. Then, add in pedestrians of every size, shape, and purpose. I am almost sure I clipped a man with a wheelbarrow with my knee as we squeezed between him and a cement truck. Especially for an American control-freak, this was an exercise in managing terror.
At the hotel lobby, Owen kindly put my new SIM card in his own phone and discovered it was functioning but not yet active. He explained that the mobile carrier has to go through a process of terminating service on my line in the other SIM card before it can activate the new one. Just activation can take thirty minutes, but disconnecting from the old one may take 12-24 hours. So, my line may be renewed, and the mobile money I had on that account may be restored, but I may not know it until I return to Uganda and again reactivate my phone. So, there is today’s lesson in patience and contentment. I’m still working on forgiveness for the thief too.
It’s time to pack. I have four hours in which to do it, but I want everything ready to go when the time comes. I may not have Wi-Fi again until I reach the U.S. so I’ll load this now.
My reflections about this trip center around how totally worth the hassle of delayed flights, a trampy New York ghetto hotel, lost luggage, no laundry, misunderstood intentions, theft, and danger it really is to be in Uganda and meet with the wonderful people whose company I have enjoyed these six weeks. I have seen firsthand how universally we humans tend to doubt ourselves, our positions, and our value, and how much we need to be reminded that our Creator found us worth dying for. I have learned some valuable lessons about what to do and what not to do, and have found myself at home among the Acholi of the north and the Buganda of the south. God is glorified everywhere I go, even in dark traffic jams. The children and staff of RG really need a friend, and I have even more calling me their father figure than I did in the spring. I cannot wait to return and love on these fine folks again!