This morning I awoke extraordinarily early knowing only that I had an appointment to observe a friend speaking on a radio program and that at some time I would have to make it to Entebbe in order to catch a morning flight to Zimbabwe. The radio program happens weekly for Lira is my friend's
home and she desires to teach about Jesus and all of his ways.
At the start of the program, she made a couple of announcements to the regular listeners, including the following: "Now don't forget our dental clinic where you can get your teeth repaired. Stop pulling your teeth out!" I nearly laughed out loud because of the forthright statement. Of course I realize that she knows the culture and she explained that it is less expensive to simply get a tooth pulled. When a Ugandan's tooth causes pain, he so she gets it taken out as opposed to the more expensive alternative, fixing it. Obviously my friend wants to help maintain their beautiful smiles and avoid a future of toothless beauties.
I shared breakfast afterward and then had to choose between hiring a car to take me the six hour drive into Entebbe or to take the public bus. In spite of my earlier bus ride that nearly jostled my exhausted body right to the ground, I made the wise choice and spent just a few dollars on the bus ride.
It has turned out to be an outstanding choice. First, I sat in a row with only two seats, precluding others from jamming theirselves into an already tight spot. My body felt almost luxuriously comfortable compared to my earlier ride which had me sandwiched between an aisle of luggage and a man whose sprawling legs managed to shove half way off the seat. I felt pretty grateful.
Second, I had not been traveling for over twenty four hours, therefore my perspective was a bit more cheerful, to say the least.
Third, due to my cheerful attitude, I was able to appreciate the clucking chickens, the food vendors rushing the car at every stop we made, the crying, urinating babies, breast feeding moms and the closed windows which stifled the fresh air for a portion of the ride.
Seriously, though, across the aisle from me sat Kevin, eating a grilled piece of maize, piece by piece and row by row. Next to her lay a beautiful white hen, so quiet I didn't even notice until Kevin began popping kernels onto her lap for her guest to gobble down.
At the first stop, several mommas entered and one sat next to me with her ten year old boy on her lap. I smiled at him as largely as I could manage while he grinned right back with so many gorgeous white teeth I wouldn't need a flash had it been dark. I managed to cheer his ride a bit when I gave. Him a piece of trident. His momma also enjoyed one.
About half way through the journey, though, we stopped for a bathroom break. while most of the Ugandan,s stepped off the bus, I chose to simply stand and stretch. As I moved my arms and neck around, I peered just in front of me to catch the eyes of a fellow mzungu, or foreigner. I asked her where she was from and her reply, "Peru." Wow, there I stood speaking Spanish on a bus in Uganda, Africa. I love it!
The culmination of my six hour trip tickles me the most. We pulled into the bus park and passengers began gathering their belongings. My new Peruvian friend stepped out and proceeded forward, having told me that we should go to get a taxi while Kevin stood holding her hen, reaching up to the storage rack to gather a basket. I tried to assist but couldn't budge it. So I offered the only other alternative, I held her hen while she wrestled her packages from the rack. I wished her a safe journey, took one of my own and pray that the hen rested well too!
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