Chapter XXVI

20 September 2007

Today is our last day here in Kabale. The day was mostly spent finishing up laundry, packing, going to take video of the land we had purchased and saying good-bye to various friends who showed up bid us farewell. That evening, we had dinner, and then stayed up to visit. At some point, Emily came in with a large plastic jerry-can and Fr. David started singing. Emily used the jerry can as a drum to accompany the singing. We sang several songs. There were fourteen people in the room including two babies. The songs became faster, and suddenly Patience got up to dance. This time, I couldn’t resist. I joined her. Immediately, Constance got up too. The three of us were dancing around the room while everyone sang a praise song to Jesus. Soon almost everyone was dancing. Rick was trying to video the whole gathering under the light of one 60 watt bulb hanging in the middle of the room. The video came out very shadowy, but actually authentic to the way it really was. I still watch it often, remembering that “last supper” and the joy and closeness of our adopted family in that totally foreign place.

After an early breakfast and many hugs and tearful goodbyes, we pulled out of the yard. Our plane was to leave at 18:30, so we insisted we be on the road no later than 08:00 – English time. It’s a 7 hour drive under the best of conditions. Well, we got about one third of the way there when then inevitable happened. While driving about 60 mph, Rick was confronted with three rapidly approaching potholes, any one of which would not be good to hit. However, there was no way to avoid all three of them without running off the road and into an embankment on one side or having a head-on collision with a vehicle coming the other way. So, Rick chose the least of the potholes to hit, thereby netting us only a flat tire instead of something much worse. We pulled to the side and went about the adventure of changing a tire on the two-foot wide shoulder of a winding mountain road. Fr. David rushed to put rapidly collected bush branches in the road (the Ugandan version of those little orange cones used in the U.S.) Fred and Rick took off the flat tire and put on the little donut tire that comes with most cars the last couple of decades instead of a real tire. We proceeded to limp into the next town, and stopped at a tyre shop. Three attendants swiftly ambled out to see what we needed. It took much consultation to figure that the tire itself wasn’t really damaged – the impact with the pothole had bent the wheel and broken the air pressure seal of the tire thereby rendering it flat. The stem had also broken off. So we needed a new wheel which they had there, but they didn’t have any stems. A contingency was dispatched on foot to run down the street to buy a stem from another shop. They returned about 20 minutes later, it took about another 20 minutes to replace the wheel and put the tire back on. We had now lost 45 minutes of our precious time. We got on the road again. Now, the brakes had been not working right for the last two days. In order to stop the car, Rick had to pump the brakes and sometimes even pull up the emergency brake. This is very exciting when driving down a mountain. We were about two thirds of the way to the airport when I noticed a police check-point coming up. I said to Rick, “you better start slowing down for the police checkpoint.” He replied, “Oh – they never really stop anyone.” At which point they stopped the car in front of us. Rick wildly pumped the brakes, time distorted to slow motion, the car stopped with the side mirror on my side of the car (no exaggeration!) 2 inches from the back of the car in front of us that was stopped for the police checkpoint. I could have reached out and touched the trunk of their car. The police quickly waved the other car on and came to my window. Leaning in the window, he said, “Is there something about this car that makes it unsafe to drive?” I stared stonily ahead while Rick and Fr. David simultaneously said, “Oh – no, of course not!” The policeman then proceded to look at the insurance documents which are placed on the windshield in Uganda, and came back to the window. “Did you know the insurance on this vehicle has expired?” he said. “Who is the owner of this car?” Fr. David, who was fortunately wearing his clergy collar (a status still respected in Uganda), leaned forward and said he was the owner. No, he was unaware the insurance was expired but he would take care of that immediately upon reaching Kampala. The policeman then turned to Rick and said, “Well, it’s illegal to drive a car with expired insurance. It doesn’t matter who owns the car – the driver of the car is responsible to check if the insurance is current before beginning driving.” Looking right at Rick he then said, “Can you give me any reason why I shouldn’t take you to jail right now?” Dead silence reigned in the car. I finally looked up at the policeman to give him a desperate look, falling back on female tricks I hadn’t consciously used in decades. Inside, I was dying to yell at him, “I don’t care WHAT you do with this guy who wouldn’t slow down when I told him to – just let ME go so I don’t miss my plane!” But, remembering my wedding vows, I just gave him a pleading look. As I looked him in the eye, I noticed a distinct twinkle and a barely contained smile. He was playing with us! I had to look down immediately to keep from breaking out laughing. He kept up the suspense for a few more minutes, and then gave a final warning and let us go. We made it to Kampala with no more adventures. When we were just outside of the city, Fr. David phoned ahead to get a driver to meet us at a gas station just inside the city and drive the car the rest of the way to the airport. Driving in Kampala is only for people who have grown up there, people with no fear and most importantly a really quick horn honking reflex. Even Rick, an extremely expert driver anywhere else, didn’t want to drive there. And so, we arrived at the airport with one hour to spare.

Chapterm XXV

Chapter XXV (still at St. Luke’s)

We walked back up the road to the church where people had begun arriving. The Lay Reader showed us what they have done with the donation from St. John’s Roseville from last year. They have bought a piece of land with hopes of expanding some day as the land their church is now on is small. They have also begun collecting building materials (brick and rock) for the permanent structure to replace the crumbling present one. Inside, they have concreted half of the floor and added pews so everyone can now sit in church without bringing their own chair from home. We began with prayer, speeches and song. There were not the normal amount of people since we were actually expected yesterday and today a Christian organization was handing out sacks of beans for planting and many church members were off receiving their beans. But there were enough for a couple of drummers, a shaker and a bottle cap instrument, and the music and singing was as heavenly as usual. After Rick gave a message, and Fr. David spoke for awhile, we gave the gift from St. John’s Roseville – another 860,000 UGS ($500.00). They erupted in joy – now they can continue building their permanent church. One of the men went outside and came in with a large chicken to present to us as a gift. This was the third gift of a live chicken since we’ve been here this time. The chicken, which had its legs tied together so it couldn’t escape, was put behind the pulpit while we concluded the service with speeches from the Lay Reader, the Senior Warden and the Head of the Building Committee. But then, someone else came in and presented us with a small wall hanging and a drum. I was really happy! I have wanted a drum since our first time here but never got around to buying one. This drum is a used one – much better in my opinion. Every time I touch it or play it I will be touching the others who have played it before me. I will feel the presence of the wonderful people of this poor rural church in the mountains of Africa who have blessed us so much. When we were leaving, the chicken went into the trunk of the car for the trip home. I don’t know if I’ll ever de-sensitize to hauling live animals around in the trunk of a car. After coming home for lunch (and freeing the chicken from the trunk to await his final reward as our dinner tonight), we went to St. John’s School at Bugongi to give gifts and see the library they built with our donation from last year. They had also been expecting us yesterday so were not prepared for our visit today. Yesterday the headmaster, Joy, had tea ready for us and the children were ready to perform. By now, Fr. David was getting anxious to get home to prepare for the Bishop and his wife to visit our humble home for the first time tonight. But the people of the school were not letting us off with a short visit. We presented our gifts from St. John’s Roseville Church and School, visited the library, and were entertained by the choir and a recitation of a poem about the importance of health and nutrition. They were as good as always and we enjoyed everything very much. As we left and started driving back down the road, we had to stop and greet Fr. David’s sister, Morrie, who found out we were in the area and climbed down to the road to intercept us. It was good to see her. On the way home through town we stopped at the Royal Market to get ingredients for the American dish I was requested to cook for the Bishop’s visit. It’s not easy trying to think up a dish that represents American cooking. Most everything in the U.S. seems to have come from somewhere else. Rick suggested macaroni and cheese, which I think was a good idea. I just hoped I could prepare it over a charcoal fire. I bought a small wheel of cheese, a little box of milk, some real butter and a can of Pringles potato chips (which cost $2.50). As I was walking toward the cash register I suddenly noticed on a shelf something amazing! Diet Coke! The first I have seen outside the capital city. We remembered that Laura, the Bishop’s wife, said she likes Diet Coke and wishes it would come to town. Se we bought 4 cans (at $1.75 per can) so there would be some for her at dinner.
When we got home, I began to strategize how in the world to make white sauce, grate cheese and drain macaroni in a kitchen with one dull knife, charcoal pots, no measuring cups or slotted spoons or colanders. I first brought the butter and the little box of milk from the refrigerator (power is on today – hallaleujah..) The milk box was one of those with the little straw attached to be stuck into a small hole on the top. So, after melting the butter in a pan, I stuck the straw in the hole to open it, removed the straw, and then “milked” the box which caused laughter to Constance and Emily who were watching my every move so they could learn to make macaroni and cheese. I had to ask them to start two charcoal fires for me because I have yet to master that skill. No Kingsford briquettes, no starter fluid – just a bunch of pieces of charcoal in a small clay pot. After they had the fires going, I started boiling water to cook the macaroni. Then I got everything else ready in a circle around me so I could do it quickly – there is no turning the burner up or down. There is one heat level – all the way hot. Fortunately, last time we were here I brought pot holders. I melted the butter in a large skillet, added the flour and milk mixture and began stirring to make the white sauce. Stir, stir, remove from the flames for a minute, back on the flames, stir, stir, off again so it didn’t burn. By now the macaroni was cooked but there was nothing to drain it in. So I held the pot with the potholders and poured the water into the white sauce – pour a little, put the pot down and stir, pick the pot back up, pour a little, stir. Finally, the white sauce was the right consistency and miraculously un-scorched. Now I began stirring in the cheese that I had “grated” with a dull knife, one little slice at a time. It stirred in nicely and the sauce was done. Since there is no oven to bake it in, this was stove-top macaroni and cheese. So I mixed the sauce with the macaroni, and then melted the remaining butter in the skillet and crumbled the Pringles potato chips into it. The resulting topping was spread on top of the whole thing. It was actually pretty good! As a reward for a job well done, Constance, Emily and I finished off the unused Pringles.
Meanwhile, the implacable Fr. David was becoming a nervous wreck. It was actually kind of fascinating to watch. I mean, it was just the Bishop and his wife coming to dinner. He (Fr. David) kept showing up in the kitchen door to see how things were coming. The kids (every one of them, even the adult kids) were banished to the “not seen OR heard” realm for the duration. Then there was the following conversation. Fr. David – “shouldn’t we have that stuff you have before meals?” (Appetizers) Me: “Why? No one ever has them here.” Fr. David: “It’s the BISHOP. Is ice cream a good appetizer?” (The power was on that day and he had purchased individual cups of ice cream which were in the freezer) Me: “Uh – no. Usually it’s cheese or crackers or cut up vegetables. Ice cream is a dessert.” Fr. David: “OK OK – how about putting out the drinks before dinner.” Me: “I’ll do whatever you want – this is your house.” Fr. David: “I want it like you do in America.” Me: “Alright, we’ll put the sodas and glasses out now for when they get here.” Etc. etc. Finally, the Bishop and Laura arrived. They were ushered into the room, sat down, and – everyone disappeared except Rick and me. Bishop George was his usual personable self, Laura delightful as usual and we had a nice visit, but where were Fr. David and Constance? After an African while, they appeared carrying in the many dishes that are traditional for dinner – always at least 6 or 7 choices. There was the macaroni and cheese, matoke, rice, green beans and a few other things. I had expected to help Constance while Rick and Fr. David visited with the guests. So then we got down to talking about Fr. David and Constance’s impending visit to the U.S. Bishop George and Laura told us some really funny stories about their first trips to other countries, and had some very useful advice for Fr. David and Constance. It was really interesting to hear their first impressions of things like key cards for hotel rooms, the one-knob twistable water faucets in the tubs, how it feels to be looking for a “toilet” and see nothing but “restrooms.” It was a really enjoyable time, Laura appreciated the Diet Coke, and we parted with hugs as usual. As soon as their car drove away, all the kids materialized to eat the rest of dinner. I know two of them had been sitting in Fr. David’s car but where the rest of them kept themselves for 2 hours is still a mystery.