Back to Hoima
On Sunday morning, I was up early and excited about my first time back to Hoima since we surprised Henry’s family with the delivery of nine cows, replacing those they lost while Henry, his brother, and their dad were in prison awaiting trial for a crime it was later proven they had nothing to do with. One of the primary reasons I was excited to reunite with Henry’s family was finally getting to meet his little brother, who surprised everyone with his arrival just over one year ago. After his birth, there was a minor crisis regarding his name – the family refused to name him, insisting that Joline and I do the honors. Not wanting the boy to be left with only a symbol for a name (a la Prince), Joline and I ultimately chose to name him after a King. He goes by Josiah, but his full name is James Josiah.
What I wasn’t looking forward to was the nearly four-hour drive on an undivided thin strip of asphalt that masquerades as a two-lane highway. With scores of pedestrians, swarms of bicycles, herds of goats, and barreling semi-trucks, the ride is never, well, dull. When I lived here in 2012, I guess I grew accustomed to the greatly diminished distance between and among cars and other moving objects. On the bright side of things, I got an aerobic workout on the way because my (massive, rippling) muscles flexed every minute or two as my NASCAR-ain’t-got-nothing-on-me driver deftly maneuvered in and out of harm’s way like it was his job. I guess it was.
We arrived just after noon and had a hug-filled reunion. At least most of us did. Josiah, who had just started walking, though fairly unsteadily, broke into a dead sprint in the other direction when he saw me. While my baby-frightening cold sore (finally starting to abate) could have, in and of itself, done the trick, all agreed it was the entire package that made him shriek and wail like he had seen a ghost. Indeed, he had. I am the first mzungu (white person) Josiah has ever seen. And it scared the living dung out of him for all but a few moments of the 90 minutes I was there.
My wonderful wife planned ahead and bought Josiah a Children’s Bible and inscribed a blessing inside. Before I left home, she had wrapped it in birthday paper, another object Josiah had never seen. During the brief moments while he tore it open and examined the contents, he forgot he hated me.
- Josiah temporarily distracted by his Bible
A short while later, he vividly remembered.
- Eager for his release
Before leaving Hoima, Henry and I revisited the location of the shallow grave in their garden formerly occupied by the families’ herdsman that catalyzed our unlikely friendship. It reminded me just how creative God can be as he interweaves the tapestry of our lives with those near, and not so near, to us.
Henry, his younger brother Joseph, and I said our goodbyes and hopped into the car and headed back to Kampala. But not before I learned that Henry’s father was experiencing what seemed to be some potentially serious health problems, likely emanating from his liver. Fortunately, an appointment Henry and I had the next day proved to be divinely scheduled.
Back in Kampala, Henry and I took Joseph to his first-ever mall and showed him a plethora of modern appliances he had never seen before. “What does this one do?” played on a seemingly never-ending loop. We Skyped with Joline and the kids before turning in.
The day before, I had weaned myself off of ambien as I finally adjusted to the eleven-hour time difference. But Joseph was fighting a losing battle with a deep chest cough that I knew would keep me up all night. At least that is how I rationalized my resumption of my heaven-in-a-bottle (non)addiction. Next thing I knew, it was Monday morning, which meant a day full of visitations to Henry’s and Joseph’s dream schools.
More on that tomorrow.
Always good to read about what you’re doing, who you’re scaring, etc. Blessings as you continue to journey.