Into Africa . . . Safe and Sound

With Margaret at the Entebbe Airport

Checking in at SFO

The day we have been anticipating for more than a year finally arrived.  We had very much enjoyed the three weeks since we left Southern California, but our collective sense of anticipation had been building and we were eager to begin the African phase of this sabbatical.

Joline artfully quarterbacked the final two days of preparation and packing, so we were able to cram everything we intended to bring with us into ten fifty-pounds-or-less suitcases and five laptop-laden backpacks.  Having relocated to England in 2003 and 2008 for five and seven months, respectively, we knew all too well what it meant to over pack, and we believe we have avoided doing so this time.  We got to bed in time to grab three hours of sleep before setting out for SFO at 2:45 a.m.

Our first leg to New York was uneventful.  I worked on the Afterward section of the manuscript I have otherwise completed and will be presenting to Henry early next month, while Joline and the kids watched movies and/or dozed lightly.  We all agreed that we would do our best to sleep on the New York to Amsterdam leg because that is when Ugandans would be sleeping.

As we boarded a shuttle to the distant terminal from which we would be departing to Amsterdam, a friendly looking “stranger” wearing an OU hat said, “Hello, I didn’t expect to see you until Amsterdam.”  We immediately recognized him as Steve Swigert – someone to whom we are deeply indebted.  In October, Steve had read the Guideposts magazine article I had written about the unlikely friendship that had emerged between me and Henry during Henry’s struggle for freedom.  Since Steve had previously taken two agricultural mission trips to Uganda, he had read the article with an enhanced level of familiarity and interest.  He then did something he didn’t have to do – something for which our entire family will always be grateful.  He tracked down my e-mail address from Pepperdine’s website and sent me a message.  In addition to offering kind words of encouragement, he forcefully collided our world with that of a family he had met on his previous trip to Uganda – the Gregstons, our Twin Family about whom I have posted previously.

As if we needed more evidence that God was directing our steps, we had learned ten days ago that not only would Steve be returning to Uganda for another two-week agricultural mission trip the same day we were beginning our six-month adventure, but that he was on our flight for the final leg of our journey from Amsterdam to Entebbe.  And no, we didn’t pre-arrange this.  But Someone Else did.  And not only did Steve’s itinerary place him on our flight, but his seat was in the row directly in front of us on this wide-body KLM behemoth.  We had learned about this unplanned itinerary overlap last week via e-mail while we are on our let’s-get-to-know-each-other-at-an-all-inclusive-Cancun-resort-before-we-spend-six-months-as-BFFs-eating-beans-and-posho-everyday vacation with our Twin Family.  But we didn’t expect to see Steve in New York because he was on an earlier flight to Amsterdam than we were.  Over lunch with Steve, we also learned that his daughter is close with one of Joline’s long-lost college friends from ACU with whom she had lost touch.

Those who have spent any amount of time with me already know that I experience periodic episodes of stupidity way too often.  Those who know me really well couldn’t be blamed for contending that I actually only episodically departed from stupidity, but we needn’t quibble with semantics.  Having flown back and forth to Africa five times, I have learned (the hard way) that well-timed pharmaceutical sleep can make all the difference in quickly adjusting to the eleven-hour time difference.  Accordingly, I refilled my small prescription of magic sleeping pills (Ambien) and packed them for the trip . . . in my checked luggage.  Are you kidding me?  It is a wonder I got through elementary school without getting hit by a bus.

Luckily, Joline, whose only episodic encounter with stupidity had occurred at the end of long, white aisle-runner a little over twenty years ago, had packed a supply of Benadryl . . . in her carry-on luggage.  Shortly after takeoff from New York, the flight attendants doled out dinner and Joline doled out the Benadryl.  There must have been a manufacturing defect when my pill was fabricated because it apparently lacked the requisite sleepy-time ingredient.  I was sure that I would fall asleep as I watched “Midnight in Paris.”  No dice, but decent flick.  How about during “Love Actually?”  Nope, but the movie is still spectacular even when edited down to a PG version.  This was the fifth time I had seen the movie, and I still cried.  Or maybe I was crying because I knew how tired I would be if I didn’t get some sleep?

We met up with Steve during our three-hour layover in Amsterdam, had some breakfast, caught up on some e-mail, and then headed to the gate for the final ten-hour leg of our journey to Entebbe, Uganda via Kigali, Rwanda.  Just before boarding, Joline returned from brushing her teeth with a puzzled look on her face that clearly communicated her concern that my serious case of the stupids was suddenly contagious.  Shaking her head, she declared, “About halfway through brushing my teeth in what I thought was the ladies restroom, a man walked in.  It was then that I saw the urinals behind me in the mirror.”  I guess I am contagious.

I slept for the first four hours of the final leg of our trip, which explains why I am writing this at 1:00 a.m. Uganda time in our Kampala apartment, rather than sleeping.  I see an Ambien (I just unpacked my luggage) in my very near future.

Our Ugandan friends on the judiciary know how to make their guests feel welcome.  As we were making our way through customs, we were met by some judicial assistants and then brought to VIP Lounge where the Commercial Court Registrar, Margaret Tibulya, whom I had gotten to know during her weeklong visit to Malibu in May of 2010, was waiting for us.  We retrieved our luggage and they whisked us away to our apartment, which is a three-bedroom flat in a complex that also operates as a hotel.  After we checked in, I went to the bar to get some bottled water so that we could take our daily anti-malarial medication.  It was still open at just before 1:00 a.m. local time, and I met the owner of the 60-flat complex.  He gave me some free bottled water and we had a good chat.

Thanks for your prayers.  All five of us are so excited to be here.