I woke up yesterday slightly discouraged. I wanted to go out but the guys didn’t want to. Then they left later on without me. I played games on my computer for a while. Finally I decided follow the proddings and go out walking. So I slathered sunscreen on myself (last time I did this I failed in amount and coverage cuz I got varying degrees of sunburn on myself). I took a boda boda to one of the malls and started walking from there.
I love adventure. I love solitude. I love finding new plants and birds. I love views of cities or hills. I love exploring armed with only a map. I love coffee. I love learning new cultures. I love walking in warm rain. I love meeting new flowers. I love sunshine and cool wind. I love sitting in grassy parks. I love car rides and daring driving. I love seeing jungles. I love playing with kids. I have always wanted to see the nile. God gave me all this in 24 hours. My heart is now full and im exhausted from the intake of new experiences. No wonder kids randomly fall asleep; its tiring learning everything new.
I explored a beautiful part of kampala called kololo. I met a Belgian girl about my age in the coffee shop and we talked till our ways parted. Then I walked home in the rain storm and got totally soaked. All the guys thought I was crazy. Then Solomon offered to take my to jinja for the night and meet his kids. He lives 100 yards from the nile close to where it begins by lake Victoria. It’s a good 100 yards across there.
Now I am back in kampala and going to soroti tonight with Solomon again. Being spontaneous and showing interest in things just mentioned is really paying off. Thankyou my friends for teaching me the benefits of spontaneity, especially kolby.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
this is africa
Land of the purple dragonfly and the pure white bird. I found a catus almost covered by a flowering bush. The muslim call to prayer rings out of loud speakers at 530am and the actual prayer begins at 630am. A video-screen billboard faces piles of garbage on the side of the road (the garbage is the usual sight of that combination). They make the pop with real sugar here. Incredibly ugly marabou storks replace crows as the city nuisance. However, it is quite amazing to see 50 or so of the 5ft tall storks circle in the air above the city. The people grow, carry, and sell huge stalks of green bananas. MTN, which is cell phone air-time, is sold literally everywhere. Many buildings are painted the yellow of mtn, or the hot pink of zain. I sleep under a mosquito net which resembles those princess canopies from my childhood memories. Termite mounds line the more rural roads. There is never no people within sight, even in the “remote” areas. Hummingbirds may be the only birds that can fly backwards, but the kingfishers here hover over the water before diving after fish. The dirt is red, not brown. The oranges here have the coloring of limes and they don’t taste the same as what we get in the US. I don’t recognize any of the flora or fauna here. I mean absolutely none. Oh, and Ugandans don’t believe in hot water heaters.
This just in. I have found…(drumroll please)…the microwave. And it works. The fridge half of the fridge/freezer still doesn’t work, but my edible food menu has just doubled. Yay.
This just in. I have found…(drumroll please)…the microwave. And it works. The fridge half of the fridge/freezer still doesn’t work, but my edible food menu has just doubled. Yay.
Monday, March 29, 2010
the guy's house
Let me introduce you to where I live for now. I call it the guy’s house because its just me, and several bachelors. Think of a college guys house where everyone has their own necessities but they haven’t decided whose job it is to furnish the house with the things you find in the needed junk drawer. like needle and thread. or wall hanging thingys. Now add two guy servants. But not the sort you imagine from british films. More like common guys who know how to do household things in this country by necessity of growing up in this country. I have no clue how to do laundry here, or where the garbage goes. It took me a while to figure out what the broom looked like – a bunch of grassy-twig things and has no handle. Basically think all that you in America take for granted – that’s what the servants take care of. That, and they cook Ugandan food. Breakfast consists of hard-boiled eggs and some sort of sausage, instant coffee or tea, and maybe some rolls. Every morning. I haven’t gotten sick of it, but the guys have. Lunch and dinner are beans and sauce or meat and sauce over rice or porsha (sp?). Maybe some pineapple on the side. I enjoy the food, but the guys like to go out for food a lot.
I have a hard time with the theory and actuality of servants. They are my equals, dammit. But they also consider it good money to work for us all day. We pay them more than 3x the national average. I would help, but they ask me why im in the kitchen, or look at me strange if I enter “their” area. Also, I have no idea how to do things in this country, how to cook this food, how to wash clothes without a washer. But that’s MY dirty laundry. I don’t like others touching my dirt. anywyas, I treat them as just one of the guys when they are in the house or watch tv with us, and thank them when they serve somehow right in front of me. But it still raises the my hackles to have servants. Any thoughts on how to make this easier, either internally or in action?
Apparently Africans don’t believe in 90’ angles. There are none in this house. Oh, and nothing is level. Its not “can you roll a marble across the floor without trying”, its that I can usually SEE the angle. All the walls are sorta white. Some of the previous outlets don’t have covers and several of the lights arent screwed in properly. And there are no hand-towels in the bathrooms. That isn’t just this house, its everywhere; I haven’t found one yet in this country. The yard is beautiful with its palm trees and other things I don’t know. Sitting in the large red driveway area is an old rusted tractor. I have not yet asked if it is a lawn ornament or a forgotten relic. The cement has the same levelness as the inside floors, only more pronounced. There are several porches where we can sit. All around the yard is a high wall with spikes and a large metal gate. I learned that the security system is a dude with a rifle who appears at 6pm every day and sleeps inside our gate till 6am. There are bars on my windows and padlocks on the doors. Newness and hilarity compete to define my life here.
I have a hard time with the theory and actuality of servants. They are my equals, dammit. But they also consider it good money to work for us all day. We pay them more than 3x the national average. I would help, but they ask me why im in the kitchen, or look at me strange if I enter “their” area. Also, I have no idea how to do things in this country, how to cook this food, how to wash clothes without a washer. But that’s MY dirty laundry. I don’t like others touching my dirt. anywyas, I treat them as just one of the guys when they are in the house or watch tv with us, and thank them when they serve somehow right in front of me. But it still raises the my hackles to have servants. Any thoughts on how to make this easier, either internally or in action?
Apparently Africans don’t believe in 90’ angles. There are none in this house. Oh, and nothing is level. Its not “can you roll a marble across the floor without trying”, its that I can usually SEE the angle. All the walls are sorta white. Some of the previous outlets don’t have covers and several of the lights arent screwed in properly. And there are no hand-towels in the bathrooms. That isn’t just this house, its everywhere; I haven’t found one yet in this country. The yard is beautiful with its palm trees and other things I don’t know. Sitting in the large red driveway area is an old rusted tractor. I have not yet asked if it is a lawn ornament or a forgotten relic. The cement has the same levelness as the inside floors, only more pronounced. There are several porches where we can sit. All around the yard is a high wall with spikes and a large metal gate. I learned that the security system is a dude with a rifle who appears at 6pm every day and sleeps inside our gate till 6am. There are bars on my windows and padlocks on the doors. Newness and hilarity compete to define my life here.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
boda ride
I got my wish for a boda ride. Bryce and I were out walking in downtown looking for a church we had heard of, but of course we didn’t find it. In our wanderings he had tried to take me into one place, but they wouldn’t let us in. as he tried to figure out why they would let us in, I mentioned that they looked muslim. Well of course, but they always let him in so long as he greets them properly. But im a girl I pointed out. Ah ha! That’s why …oh the joys of being female.
So when we wanted to get back to ntinde, we walked up to a pair of boda drivers who had bikes which looked like they were well taken care of and asked how much to ntinde. 5000 each, so we tried to bargain them down. Nope, so we kept walking. Found another couple likely looking drivers. Same thing. So we walked off again. Then one of them followed us and offered to take us both for 5000. So we climbed on, me in front of Bryce. Bryce is the Montana football player who is a solid 250 or so. I looked in the side mirror; all I could see behind me was his shoulder. I bet we looked very funny. Black boda driver, smallish white girl, BIG white guy. The boda even had trouble getting up the hills with that much weight on the back.
So when we wanted to get back to ntinde, we walked up to a pair of boda drivers who had bikes which looked like they were well taken care of and asked how much to ntinde. 5000 each, so we tried to bargain them down. Nope, so we kept walking. Found another couple likely looking drivers. Same thing. So we walked off again. Then one of them followed us and offered to take us both for 5000. So we climbed on, me in front of Bryce. Bryce is the Montana football player who is a solid 250 or so. I looked in the side mirror; all I could see behind me was his shoulder. I bet we looked very funny. Black boda driver, smallish white girl, BIG white guy. The boda even had trouble getting up the hills with that much weight on the back.
Friday, March 26, 2010
mascot and roads
So I live in ntinde district of kampala. The guys I live with consider it a very safe area, so I have been going on walks down the street to get the feel of this country. Very different, let me tell you. If I smile at the people I pass, their face usually breaks into a wide grin. Otherwise I just get stares and “muzungu” with means white person. Also, I get offered rides constantly by the public transport.
On my way back from the market today I saw several men talking seriously together, all wearing bits of leathery skins. The scene reminded me strongly of colonial rebel meetings in early US history. They saw me and called me over with grins and asked if they could give me some of the leather stuff. At my skeptical look, they mentioned Burundi nation. Ah, they are the underdog party in the next election. I pointed to my skin, suggesting I couldn’t wear it cuz im white. They just laugh and kept asking if I would wear some of the stuff. We settled on an armband around my black shirt. All the way back to the house I got big smiles and pointed at. A white girl wearing their colors is a bit like a mascot to them. Immediately upon getting home, I asked the guys how dangerous it is to wear this armband. Not at all in this district, but might not be as welcome in other districts. So I have my first souvenir to take home, not wear.
So the roads are mostly red mud, but sometimes they have splotchy pavement from when the british were here. The back roads are the worst I have ever seen; ruts, potholes, random speed-bumps to redirect water. Going faster than a walking speed can literally wreck your car so no one does. The better roads you cannot go fast because there is usually a bad pothole not too far ahead. There are 4 traffic lights in the entire city but few pay attention. Otherwise there are traffic circles which have better success. i only know of one road that goes straight all the way thru kampala, the rest turn or end randomly. also, road signs are virtually non-existent. to get somewhere, you ask for the closest landmark or big store. oh, and btw, everything has 3 names; old african, new african, and english. good luck not getting lost.
I have found only two rules of the road other than driving on the left side which is only a guideline anyways. First, if your nose is there first, you have the right of way. This does not mean if you are GOING to get there first, no, you have to BE there to get the right of way. Everyone abides by this rule and the judgment is very obvious. That bumper is in front of that one, ergo he gets to go. This leads to almost no one looking behind them. But since everyone understands this rule, few accidents happen and few tempers get riled.
Second rule is if you are bigger, you have right of way. This is mostly a rule by pure physics since the smaller you are, the more you can move out of the way. There are trucks, then cars and taxi-buses, then bodas (motorcycles), then lastly pedestrians. Everyone is pushy. The taxi-buses are largish minivan things. They have a driver and a door-man and lots of signs on the outside. The rear window usually has the driver’s name and some motto about God. “God is good” “patience pays” the second I found amusing on the back of a pushy taxi. They can fit 10 people in those taxis and they are constantly honking at pedestrians to see if they want a ride. Bodas are more dirt bike than motorcycle really. They have a flat seat which can accommodate 1-3 people, but the record is 5. For a small fee, these can take you anywhere in the city, often faster than any other transportation. They drive between the pedestrians and the cars, but when the going is slow, they will thread their way between the cars. They constantly ask me if I want a ride. Im waiting for the guys to teach me how to pick a good boda driver before i take a drive. Bad ones are scary, but good ones are priceless. Ill let you all know how it goes.
On my way back from the market today I saw several men talking seriously together, all wearing bits of leathery skins. The scene reminded me strongly of colonial rebel meetings in early US history. They saw me and called me over with grins and asked if they could give me some of the leather stuff. At my skeptical look, they mentioned Burundi nation. Ah, they are the underdog party in the next election. I pointed to my skin, suggesting I couldn’t wear it cuz im white. They just laugh and kept asking if I would wear some of the stuff. We settled on an armband around my black shirt. All the way back to the house I got big smiles and pointed at. A white girl wearing their colors is a bit like a mascot to them. Immediately upon getting home, I asked the guys how dangerous it is to wear this armband. Not at all in this district, but might not be as welcome in other districts. So I have my first souvenir to take home, not wear.
So the roads are mostly red mud, but sometimes they have splotchy pavement from when the british were here. The back roads are the worst I have ever seen; ruts, potholes, random speed-bumps to redirect water. Going faster than a walking speed can literally wreck your car so no one does. The better roads you cannot go fast because there is usually a bad pothole not too far ahead. There are 4 traffic lights in the entire city but few pay attention. Otherwise there are traffic circles which have better success. i only know of one road that goes straight all the way thru kampala, the rest turn or end randomly. also, road signs are virtually non-existent. to get somewhere, you ask for the closest landmark or big store. oh, and btw, everything has 3 names; old african, new african, and english. good luck not getting lost.
I have found only two rules of the road other than driving on the left side which is only a guideline anyways. First, if your nose is there first, you have the right of way. This does not mean if you are GOING to get there first, no, you have to BE there to get the right of way. Everyone abides by this rule and the judgment is very obvious. That bumper is in front of that one, ergo he gets to go. This leads to almost no one looking behind them. But since everyone understands this rule, few accidents happen and few tempers get riled.
Second rule is if you are bigger, you have right of way. This is mostly a rule by pure physics since the smaller you are, the more you can move out of the way. There are trucks, then cars and taxi-buses, then bodas (motorcycles), then lastly pedestrians. Everyone is pushy. The taxi-buses are largish minivan things. They have a driver and a door-man and lots of signs on the outside. The rear window usually has the driver’s name and some motto about God. “God is good” “patience pays” the second I found amusing on the back of a pushy taxi. They can fit 10 people in those taxis and they are constantly honking at pedestrians to see if they want a ride. Bodas are more dirt bike than motorcycle really. They have a flat seat which can accommodate 1-3 people, but the record is 5. For a small fee, these can take you anywhere in the city, often faster than any other transportation. They drive between the pedestrians and the cars, but when the going is slow, they will thread their way between the cars. They constantly ask me if I want a ride. Im waiting for the guys to teach me how to pick a good boda driver before i take a drive. Bad ones are scary, but good ones are priceless. Ill let you all know how it goes.
what do you call God?
Who is your God? What title do you use for him?
I had dinner with some of the people I know here at a very nice restaurant. I had to dress up and everything. We talked about the company and all that. Then our discussion turned to misconceptions about the christian faith and what christians themselves have missed about salvation. Rob asked “what does salvation mean to you?” to all of us in order to emphasize how much we miss. One person said he described to unbelievers his relationship with God as an imaginary friend who guides his life. This got me to thinking; everyone has a different conception of God. There are many facets of God, but often we focus on one aspect in our own faith. So asked the others what title they used for God. “life” “comfort”. Here is what I realized about my own answer.
For many years, I have seen God as my general, Christ as my captain, and the Holy Spirit as my trusted horse. This is all from the assumption I am a scout in a scouting party. Before you laugh, let me explain. The general sees all, his goal is to always defeat the enemy with little or no cost to his troops. But sometimes his orders seem ludicrous because the soldier cannot see the greater battle. But his job is to follow orders anyways, trusting the leaders. So that is God the general. The captain of a troop knows his scouts well; their abilities, their weaknesses, their courage. His job is to carry out the orders by using those in his command to the best of their abilities, yet trying to loose few or none of them. The captain also rides with his scouts for he is the best at it; he leads by example. That is Christ the captain. Every scout’s life depends on his trusted horse because it has better night vision, better smell, has a 6th sense about danger, and can carry its rider through the fight to safety. Also, a horse trained to fight is worth 5 fighters. A scout’s horse is not just his mount, it is his companion and life. That is the Holy Spirit the horse.
Im not saying this is wrong, merely that it is incomplete. It is only because I am learning more facets of God that I can see how I saw God. Im not sure what title im learning now, and I probably wont till im on to the next facet. Such is the clarity of hindsight.
I had dinner with some of the people I know here at a very nice restaurant. I had to dress up and everything. We talked about the company and all that. Then our discussion turned to misconceptions about the christian faith and what christians themselves have missed about salvation. Rob asked “what does salvation mean to you?” to all of us in order to emphasize how much we miss. One person said he described to unbelievers his relationship with God as an imaginary friend who guides his life. This got me to thinking; everyone has a different conception of God. There are many facets of God, but often we focus on one aspect in our own faith. So asked the others what title they used for God. “life” “comfort”. Here is what I realized about my own answer.
For many years, I have seen God as my general, Christ as my captain, and the Holy Spirit as my trusted horse. This is all from the assumption I am a scout in a scouting party. Before you laugh, let me explain. The general sees all, his goal is to always defeat the enemy with little or no cost to his troops. But sometimes his orders seem ludicrous because the soldier cannot see the greater battle. But his job is to follow orders anyways, trusting the leaders. So that is God the general. The captain of a troop knows his scouts well; their abilities, their weaknesses, their courage. His job is to carry out the orders by using those in his command to the best of their abilities, yet trying to loose few or none of them. The captain also rides with his scouts for he is the best at it; he leads by example. That is Christ the captain. Every scout’s life depends on his trusted horse because it has better night vision, better smell, has a 6th sense about danger, and can carry its rider through the fight to safety. Also, a horse trained to fight is worth 5 fighters. A scout’s horse is not just his mount, it is his companion and life. That is the Holy Spirit the horse.
Im not saying this is wrong, merely that it is incomplete. It is only because I am learning more facets of God that I can see how I saw God. Im not sure what title im learning now, and I probably wont till im on to the next facet. Such is the clarity of hindsight.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
safe arrival
here is what i wrote on word the morning after i arrived:
I have arrived safely in uganda. Other than being completely exhausting, the trip went very smoothly. As the plane descended towards amsterdam, my first thought was to look out the window and try to recognize the city beneath us. That when the realization hit me; I don’t know that city because im in a different country. A. different. Country. Of course, everything in the airport remained in english. The store signs in schiphol airport are the category of stuff sold in them. “chocolates” “holland gifts” “ice cream” “electronics” the obviousness of these titles left little doubt as to the merchandise. a situation which I found refreshing. I did not get to see any of the city or city skyline, but I did get to see the people. Tall, blonde people everywhere along with the middle eastern people. At the gate for the trip to amsterdam, a good half the women wore the head-wrap thingys. I should learn the name at some point. The airplane coming here to uganda contained half black people and half white; much more white than I had expected.
Why don’t people on airplanes talk to each other? Do we think that by not acknowledging the people sitting inside our personal bubble, their proximity will not affect us as much? Each one has a story, each one has beliefs, emotions, fears, adventures. On every plane, there is at least someone for whom this is the first plane trip. Would we all react differently if we thought the plane would crash? What would it take to jerk us out of our self-imposed solitude?
That’s why we have people like rob. As we entered entebbe airport, he recognized one of the names on the signs the airport people held as the name of someone he knew quite well. So he got the signholder to take us to the people this woman was to meet. The people were in the VIP lounge. So instead of waiting thru the visa line, we received VIP treatment. Of course, since we had redirected the signholder, the woman did not know where to go and several of the people we knew and rob had to go search the airport for her. After about an hour and a half, we found everyone, got checked in, found our bags, and got in a car.
Ugandan people drive on the left side of the road and deisel costs 2220. Not sure what the currency is, but arent you glad those arent the numbers you see in the US? Oh, and the lanes are more guidelines than actual rules. if someone on your side is slow, and the other side isnt being used at the moment, just drive over there for a bit. I would call the driving here daring and kinda fun, but that was the night traffic.
Little shops line the entire road to kampala, a 45 minute drive. Usually one room with open doors. The better ones look like garages with a door you can pull down. Others look like the bad section of a white trash neighborhood.
Traveling shows you how bad your social skills really are. At least, that’s the way it is for me. These people don’t make allowances for how I normally am. They cant. I should try to speak more and in better english than I nomally do.
I have arrived safely in uganda. Other than being completely exhausting, the trip went very smoothly. As the plane descended towards amsterdam, my first thought was to look out the window and try to recognize the city beneath us. That when the realization hit me; I don’t know that city because im in a different country. A. different. Country. Of course, everything in the airport remained in english. The store signs in schiphol airport are the category of stuff sold in them. “chocolates” “holland gifts” “ice cream” “electronics” the obviousness of these titles left little doubt as to the merchandise. a situation which I found refreshing. I did not get to see any of the city or city skyline, but I did get to see the people. Tall, blonde people everywhere along with the middle eastern people. At the gate for the trip to amsterdam, a good half the women wore the head-wrap thingys. I should learn the name at some point. The airplane coming here to uganda contained half black people and half white; much more white than I had expected.
Why don’t people on airplanes talk to each other? Do we think that by not acknowledging the people sitting inside our personal bubble, their proximity will not affect us as much? Each one has a story, each one has beliefs, emotions, fears, adventures. On every plane, there is at least someone for whom this is the first plane trip. Would we all react differently if we thought the plane would crash? What would it take to jerk us out of our self-imposed solitude?
That’s why we have people like rob. As we entered entebbe airport, he recognized one of the names on the signs the airport people held as the name of someone he knew quite well. So he got the signholder to take us to the people this woman was to meet. The people were in the VIP lounge. So instead of waiting thru the visa line, we received VIP treatment. Of course, since we had redirected the signholder, the woman did not know where to go and several of the people we knew and rob had to go search the airport for her. After about an hour and a half, we found everyone, got checked in, found our bags, and got in a car.
Ugandan people drive on the left side of the road and deisel costs 2220. Not sure what the currency is, but arent you glad those arent the numbers you see in the US? Oh, and the lanes are more guidelines than actual rules. if someone on your side is slow, and the other side isnt being used at the moment, just drive over there for a bit. I would call the driving here daring and kinda fun, but that was the night traffic.
Little shops line the entire road to kampala, a 45 minute drive. Usually one room with open doors. The better ones look like garages with a door you can pull down. Others look like the bad section of a white trash neighborhood.
Traveling shows you how bad your social skills really are. At least, that’s the way it is for me. These people don’t make allowances for how I normally am. They cant. I should try to speak more and in better english than I nomally do.
Friday, March 19, 2010
4 days till lift off
so to explain how i have so little warning, let me give a little background.
the company i work for builds large wooden boats. they have a contract to build ferries for lake victoria in africa. (yes, everything i write will be in lower case). the first ferry, as the prototype, is a catamaran, measuring 65ft long and 40ft wide. the first class will sit up with the pilot in the second story above the main cabin. my boss explained once that the lower cabin would probably fill with people, goats, chickens, and other luggage. we are still not sure that was a joke. i may tell if there are animals on board when it launches.
anyways, we the workers built the wooden skeleton of the ferry and covered the outside with fiberglass and epoxy paint (fun stuff). my other boss designed the entire thing to come apart in pieces to fit into railroad containers. about 3 months ago, the containers filed with the ferry left on a bigger boat for africa. right now, those 4 containers are waiting in mombasa on the border of uganda. the 5th container containing the pilot house and the systems for inside the boat left 2 weeks ago for the same trip.
in july, my boss asked if i wanted to be one of the team going to uganda to reassemble and launch the ferry. since i was starting to feel the need for a new adventure, i agreed to go. the idea then entailed us flying to uganda 2 months after the containers shipped to meet them there. one of our team flew to uganda in early january for the extended stay package. any guy joining the team followed him. when the containers left, the rest of us began asking when we would go. the answer each week was at least 2 weeks out. this month i moved back to my parents place since i figured i would leave soon after that. and each week i became more frustrated as i heard that the date remained 2 weeks out from when i asked.
so yesterday, i go to my boss' office to ask again if there is a date set yet? no. is there any way i can go sooner than 2 weeks? well, he is going on monday, maybe there is a cheap plane ticket, and i could go then. sure, i would love to go that soon. after checking to make sure im not bluffing, he agrees to check tickets and let me know. 3 hours later i have a ticket, and 4 days warning. im leaving earlier in the day than he is, but i will be arriving in uganda with my boss so he can walk me thru customs. no one can say i did not ask for this whirlwind.
im mostly ready. few last minute things i left till i had a definite date, and last family sunday meal. packing, lists, coffees, shopping, good beer, lots of prayers, and one last thing to take into account as i leave; i have never been off this continent. so here begins my new adventure.
the company i work for builds large wooden boats. they have a contract to build ferries for lake victoria in africa. (yes, everything i write will be in lower case). the first ferry, as the prototype, is a catamaran, measuring 65ft long and 40ft wide. the first class will sit up with the pilot in the second story above the main cabin. my boss explained once that the lower cabin would probably fill with people, goats, chickens, and other luggage. we are still not sure that was a joke. i may tell if there are animals on board when it launches.
anyways, we the workers built the wooden skeleton of the ferry and covered the outside with fiberglass and epoxy paint (fun stuff). my other boss designed the entire thing to come apart in pieces to fit into railroad containers. about 3 months ago, the containers filed with the ferry left on a bigger boat for africa. right now, those 4 containers are waiting in mombasa on the border of uganda. the 5th container containing the pilot house and the systems for inside the boat left 2 weeks ago for the same trip.
in july, my boss asked if i wanted to be one of the team going to uganda to reassemble and launch the ferry. since i was starting to feel the need for a new adventure, i agreed to go. the idea then entailed us flying to uganda 2 months after the containers shipped to meet them there. one of our team flew to uganda in early january for the extended stay package. any guy joining the team followed him. when the containers left, the rest of us began asking when we would go. the answer each week was at least 2 weeks out. this month i moved back to my parents place since i figured i would leave soon after that. and each week i became more frustrated as i heard that the date remained 2 weeks out from when i asked.
so yesterday, i go to my boss' office to ask again if there is a date set yet? no. is there any way i can go sooner than 2 weeks? well, he is going on monday, maybe there is a cheap plane ticket, and i could go then. sure, i would love to go that soon. after checking to make sure im not bluffing, he agrees to check tickets and let me know. 3 hours later i have a ticket, and 4 days warning. im leaving earlier in the day than he is, but i will be arriving in uganda with my boss so he can walk me thru customs. no one can say i did not ask for this whirlwind.
im mostly ready. few last minute things i left till i had a definite date, and last family sunday meal. packing, lists, coffees, shopping, good beer, lots of prayers, and one last thing to take into account as i leave; i have never been off this continent. so here begins my new adventure.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
finally happening
yes, this is my blog about my trip to uganda. i will post on here later about how and when and why this is happening. stay tuned.
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