Subject: Re: Yay!
To: UgandaKei
From: YardballChamp07
Date: November 24, 2007
Look out, Uganda! Here I come!
C H A P T E R
17
My first view of Africa was flying into Nairobi, Kenya. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe I thought I’d see wild animals running around and dark-skinned village men and women in loincloths chasing after them with spears. My misperceptions proved just how uneducated I was when it came to Africa, and I felt guilty for being so ridiculous.
It actually looked more like the plains in America: lots of dirt, with areas of dry grass, and a few trees spotted the horizon. But of course, we were flying into an airport, so it would be out in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t see the city at all.
The airport was small but nice.
I spent forty-five minutes in the terminal before loading back onto a plane and heading for the Entebbe Airport. When I heard the landing gear start to unfold under the aircraft, my heart started to race. Every second that passed felt like an hour, and I didn’t think I would survive the next few minutes until I laid my eyes on Kei again for the first time in four months.
The anticipation was more than any award show or premiere I’d ever attended.
Upon exiting the plane, I followed the people in front of me down the steps and directly on to the tarmac. The air was dry and warm, exactly what I thought it would be. We walked along the other planes and into the bottom floor of the airport. It almost felt like I was walking into the basement or a garage. Once inside, Kei was right; there was a line to make it through customs. Just beyond that were several sets of doors that I assumed led to a beautiful carrot top.
It took twenty-five agonizing minutes to get to the front of the line, pay the clerk my customs fee, get my passport stamped, and finally get waved through.
With my pillow and bags in my arms, I took a deep breath and then walked through the open door. In less than two seconds, I saw her. With her bright red hair, she would’ve been impossible to miss. Her back was to me, and she was talking to a man I assumed was Gregory. I’d made it halfway to her before he motioned in my direction and she turned around. Our eyes met, and my heart exploded.
I had just enough time to drop the stuff in my hands before she ran into me full speed and wrapped her arms around my neck. I don’t know which I wanted more, to hug her back or push her away so I could see her face. I chose to hug her back. I wrapped my arms around her waist and picked her up off the floor as Gregory reached down and picked up my things. Still holding her off the ground, I walked toward the long glass wall in front of us. I wanted to get away from other people so that I could have her all to myself, even if only for a second.
“I can’t believe you’re here! I can’t believe you’re here!” she squealed.
I gave her one more squeeze. “Let me look at you,” I said as I set her back on the ground.
She unwrapped her arms and took a step back. Her smile was huge, and her eyes sparkled. I’m not exaggerating when I say it was by far the happiest moment of my life up to that point. There wasn’t a place I would have rather been or anyone else I’d rather be looking at. I was exactly where I wanted to be, needed to be.
“Do I look the same?” she asked.
“Yep. Your hair’s a little longer, and you’re too skinny. You look great, though, amazing, not at all trollish.”
She blushed. “You’re here. Can you believe you’re here?”
I reached over and ran my fingers through her hair and left them there. “No. I can’t believe I’m standing here.”
“Well, it’s about time.”
“It is.” I pulled her to me and kissed her on the forehead. “It really is.”
“Welcome to my world, Cabot.”
It took a while, but we finally got all my bags and extra trunks loaded into the back of the van. Gregory drove. Another man from the mission, Benjamin, sat in the passenger seat, and Kei and I sat in the seat two rows behind them. It was an old van with no comforts whatsoever—no air-conditioning or armrests, and the seats had absolutely no cushioning to them. I could feel the wire springs inside the thin, white vinyl material. I didn’t care, though. Kei was sitting next to me, and that was all I really cared about.
We drove past Lake Victoria and then headed toward Kampala.
Again, I was conflicted. I wanted to sit and take in the scenery as we passed. I wanted to see everything, learn all I could about the country. I also wanted to look at Kei and hear her talk in her quirky way.
When I turned my head and looked out the window, she scooted more closely to me. Our shoulders touched, and her right leg was pulled onto the seat with her knee resting on my thigh.
“See the bamboo scaffolding?” she asked. “They still don’t use metal ones here. They’re just as fast putting these up and taking them down. And we’ve got bamboo in abundance.”
Several things caught my attention. The vans and cars looked different from the ones in the States. When we stopped and got gas just outside the airport, someone in a uniform pumped the gas while another took the money. Small stores lined the streets. The signs were colorful, and many of their items were displayed out front. They sold fruit and vegetables of all kinds. Raw beef hung from tree branches or wooden rods, as well as chickens with their feathers still intact. Other chickens were alive in crates. There were also goats, lots of goats. If they weren’t being sold, they were tied to a stick out front of a small hut or home. It looked like every property we passed had at least one.
After about half an hour, we drove into the outskirts of Kampala. I knew we were in town because the traffic got heavier, the buildings got larger and closer together, and the crowds grew thicker. Mobs and mobs of people moved around the town. Cars, vans, and small motorbikes weaved in and out of traffic without seeming to follow any type of rules or directions.
“We call those bodas,” she said, pointing to a motorbike carrying a man, a woman, and her child on her lap. It looked like a terrifying trip. On every street corner, there were large groups of these bodas. Kei told me they were like taxis, waiting for someone to need a ride.
The noise was so loud that it was hard to hear Kei as she described the things I was seeing. I said, “Huh?” so many times that she eventually leaned completely against me and kept her mouth close to my ear so I could hear her better.
Within the city limits of Kampala, there were people of all races but very few Caucasians. And it was obvious by the way many were dressed that there was a large Muslim population. The women wore the traditional garments, as did their children. Kei informed me that the religion was growing rapidly in Southern Uganda, but past the Nile River and into Northern Uganda, Christianity was still the most popular religion.
It was very surreal. As we drove through town, I would catch myself thinking, I can’t believe I’m in Africa. It was odd, crazy, exciting, surreal. I was in Uganda, Africa, and I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that Kei was beside me and life was good.
Without thinking it through, I reached over and took her hand in mine. I could tell from her reaction that she wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she wrapped her fingers around mine and kept looking out the window.
Just as we left Kampala, we passed one of the most beautiful valleys I’d ever seen. It was then that Africa became more like what I thought it would be: lush and green with banana trees and huts lining the dirt roads. The farther we drove from town, the more stares we got, because the farther we got out of town meant the fewer mzungus the people had seen.
The roads were heavily damaged with large potholes caused by the heavy rains that had washed away large amounts of the dirt road. The farther north we drove, the more slowly we moved. The potholes were so large and so close together that Gregory was forced to weave the van around each and every one. If he hit a hole any faster, it could have caused the axle to break and leave us stranded. No ma
tter how hard he tried to avoid the large potholes, it was impossible to avoid all of them, so the ride was extremely bumpy. With no padding on the seats, it was no time at all before my butt was sore and my back was tight from trying to keep my body from jostling around. Every once in a while, we hit a pothole so large that it would toss me out of the seat and thrust my head into the non-padded van ceiling. The drive itself was more exhausting than the nineteen-hour flight ever thought about being. It was impossible to get comfortable. While under normal circumstances, I would nap during a seven-hour drive, there was no way it was possible, given the condition of the roads and the lack of shock absorbers.
The only thing that made the drive manageable, apart from Kei, of course, was the children. As the van drove by homes, children would look up from playing, notice we were mzungus in the van, and then excitedly wave. Most would yell what sounded like, “Bye,” but they drug out the e part so it was more like, “Byeeee.” Kei had been right. They were adorable. It was the children of Uganda that captured my heart, and they gripped a hold so tightly that I knew I’d never forget them. Not as long as I lived.
The little ones, too young for school, played in front of their homes. They wore only a shirt or only a cloth diaper, and many times, their parent was nowhere to be seen. When we saw other children, they were walking along the sides of the road and wore matching school uniforms. They sang songs and laughed but, like the little ones, would wave and smile as we passed.
I’m pretty sure I spent at least four hours taking pictures out the window, waving and saying, “Byeeee,” over and over again. I wished we could stop. I wanted to touch them, maybe hold a few, but Kei told me I’d get my chance soon enough.
The four of us talked easily during the first half of the trip. Gregory and Benjamin asked a lot of questions about America, and I asked a lot of questions about Uganda. But with one announcement, all of the levity stopped.
“We’re at the Nile,” Gregory said.
“Can we stop and look,” I asked.
Gregory and Benjamin exchanged glances. They looked nervous.
“Only for a moment,” Benjamin said with a heavy Ugandan accent. “But if you see men with guns, run back to the van.”
I gulped. “Men with guns?”
“They’re soldiers,” Kei said. “They protect the Nile, and they take their jobs very seriously. They don’t want people stopping near the bridge. If this bridge is destroyed, so is access to the north.”
I nodded.
Gregory pulled the van over and told us all to “do our business” while we were out. “Men on the left, Kei on the right,” he added.
I grabbed my camera, threw the strap over my head, and slid out of the seat once Kei had.
As told, we quickly did our business, and then I made my way to the riverside. It was nothing like I’d ever pictured the Nile to be. After all, it was the river that Moses was put in as a baby. I’d imagined a calm river with tall reeds or something. Instead, at least where we were standing, it was a raging river, rapids that any whitewater rafter in the States would love to take a trip down.
I snapped several photos and then posed for a few with Kei, taken by Benjamin. Out of the blue, Gregory yelled for all of us to run back to the van. I didn’t bother asking any questions. I just did what I was told and hightailed it as fast as I could. It made Kei laugh. God how I loved hearing her laugh again.
After the van was moving, I spotted two angry soldiers with machine guns pointing our direction. Luckily, they let us pass without any problem, but it wasn’t until we were totally over the bridge that I let myself breathe again.
And then there, just on the other side of the river, were two large groups of baboons.
“When you see the baboons, it starts to get a little iffy,” Kei whispered.
“What gets iffy?”
“We’re in the north.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve now entered a war zone.”
“We’ve what?”
“The LRA will only go as far as the river. They don’t ever go beyond it.”
I looked into the large grass that lined the roads. It was taller than most men, wonderful camouflage for someone wanting to hide.
“You mean there could be rebels out there.”
“Yep. Trust me. We won’t be stopping until we get to Gulu. Don’t expect to hear anything more from Gregory until we get there. He needs to concentrate on driving, and Benjamin’s going to be keeping his eyes on our surroundings.”
I took her hand in mine again and tried to keep my wits about me for the rest of the drive.
C H A P T E R
18
Thirty minutes outside of Gulu, the sun set. With no electricity, and therefore no streetlights or lights in the homes we passed, other than the car headlights, it was pitch dark.
Gregory picked up the pace a bit, and Benjamin sat in his seat and prayed in a soft voice. Even Kei stopped talking. I’m not going to lie; I was scared out of my mind.
Finally, lights appeared in the road in front of us, and the occupants of our van started talking again, my sign that we had reached Gulu and they felt like we were safe.
We hadn’t been within the city limits for more than a couple of minutes before the van pulled up to a large, stone wall with a metal gate. Gregory honked the horn. Within seconds, the metal gate opened and we drove inside.
After nineteen hours on planes, six hours in airports, and a seven-and-a-half-hour drive, I was finally at the mission house, and I was exhausted and hungry.
After I climbed out of the van, I was greeted by everyone, but it was mostly a blur. There were so many names and faces, they didn’t all stick with me. Kei’s parents were easy to spot and remember, though. They were the only other white-skinned people of the group.
Just inside the front door, there was a table full of food: rice, potatoes, beans, flat bread of some sort, and several different kinds of fruit, all carbs. My trainer would’ve had a fit . While everyone talked, I made a plate of food, sat in the nearest seat, and waited for everyone else to join me.
I made the mistake of sitting directly under a light. It was a mistake because there were thousands of bugs flying around the light, which meant they were also flying in my face and landing on my food. I tried to swat them away without being obvious, but I didn’t do a very good job. Kei noticed, and she was sitting across the room, laughing at me.
While I ate, I watched the others around me and realized why Kei ate the way she did. Most of them ate with their fingers. They shoveled the food in quickly and were done before I’d made it halfway through my plate.
While I ate, two younger boys carried my things into the house. Kei instructed them to take the bags to my room and then followed behind them, leaving me to finish eating alone. A few minutes later, she popped her head around the corner.
“You ready for me to show you to your room?”
I was ready to see my room, and I was ready for a moment alone with Kei.
I followed her down a short hallway and past a flight of stairs. “Those stairs lead to my room and the girls’ guest room. The door to the right of the stairway is the loo. It’s a squatty, so it takes some getting used to.”
A squatty? It didn’t take much imagining to figure out what that meant.
“And here’s your room.” She opened the door and let me walk inside. There were four sets of bunk beds, all empty but one. “We don’t have any other guests right now, so you have the whole place to yourself. I picked this the bed for you. It sits under the window, so it gets a breeze.”
I looked around the room as she talked. There was no one else there. We were alone, and we might only be that way for a few seconds.
She walked toward my bed, but I caught her by the hand just as she passed in front of me. She stopped and looked at me.
“I missed you,” I whispered.
She smiled briefly. “I think I missed you more.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
Just as I started to reach for her face, a voice came from the hallway, causing her to pull her hand from mine and bend over to pick something up. Just then, Gregory walked in.
“Is the room to your liking?” he asked.
“It’s wonderful. Thank you. And thank you for doing all of that driving today. I know it had to be a long day for you.”
“We’re blessed to have you join us here. It’s the least we could do.” He turned his attention to Kei. “You go now, Kei. I’ll show him what’s what.”
“I’m not supposed to be in the blokes’ room,” she whispered before turning around to face him. “Thanks, Gregory. Be sure to tell him about the netting.”
“I’ll show him.”
He stood waiting for Kei to leave the room, and he wasn’t going to budge. She kissed me on the cheek and then walked away without another word.
Gregory gave me a quick rundown and then left the room and shut the door. I was alone in a mission house in Uganda. Weird. Even weirder? I’d come all that way to see a girl I’d only spent two months with.
It felt amazing.
C H A P T E R
19
“Cabot?”
Kei’s voice woke me from a very unrestful sleep. I’d tossed and turned all night. Anxious to see more of Uganda…and more of Kei.
I rolled over and opened my eyes.
She reached over, slid her hand under the netting, and ran her fingers through my hair. “Good morning, blondie,” she whispered with a smile.
“It is a good morning.”
“Hurry up and get dressed. Then come to my room. I want to show you something.”
“Okay.”
She’d barely made it out the door before I was out of the bed, throwing off the clothes I’d slept in and jumping into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
I took the stairs two at a time and arrived in time to see her roll up the mosquito net that protected her during the night and tie it to the bamboo stick jammed in the corner of the bed. She also rolled up the bed mat, tied it with an old piece of yarn, and put it on the end of the bed frame.
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