Trip to Uganda -- Part 2

Here is more of the ongoing adventure that Judy shared with family and friends as she now has time to recollect and put her thoughts into some structured memories of her trip to Uganda.  Please enjoy them with me. 

"Here is  my account of my travels to Africa. The 1st and 2nd pics are of downtown in Kigali. RW where Halina and I went to buy lunch food. Before entering the mall we had to go through security. The last pic is of giving out shoes at the orphanage. Judy

 

 

 

 

Part #2 of Uganda Adventure

Traveling the Friendly Skies is full of surprises! Thankfully after the suitcase incident things are a lot more fun. I get a big laugh at myself when we board the plane for Brussels in DC and I enter the seating area. Wow! It looks like a lounge. Big cushy seats and lots of leg room! Now where is my seat….the numbers end at #10 and I am bound for #3. I ask the seated passengers where the rest of the seats are and they look at me strangely. Am I in the twilight zone or what? Then I turn red realizing that I am walking through first class. It’s time for Judy’s education to begin. Too long stoking the home fires. Off to Brussels! My seat mate is a sweet lady who needs encouragement and before the flight ends we pray together about her concerns.  A dream comes true. I am in Europe craning my neck to view the beautiful scenery and longing to see more. However it’s only a 4 hour layover and to my chagrin as soon as we land I am whisked off to our remote terminal. Three places to eat and nothing to see. My breakfast is the filling of a sandwich (I am gluten-intolerant) and an orange for 20.00 US. My change is in Euros. Feeling tired now; one more leg to go. We board a Brussels Airline plane to Rwanda. I enjoy hearing French spoken on the PA system and the delicious French cuisine. Much better food than on US flights. At last I sleep a couple of hours. My butt is killing me….too much bone and not much fat. I am here!! In Africa! Is this for real? Down the stairs we go carrying hand baggage and I wishing I had not packed so much reading material, etc. Over bumpy uneven sidewalks and up stairs and finally to the bag pickup carousel. The airport looks gloomy, old and in need of updating. Kinda reminds of the way things looked in the US about 50 years ago. Yes, I am old enough to remember though I don’t know when these years came on me. I should still be about age 30. In my dreams. The baggage comes and we head outside to meet our ride to the motel. It is night and the air is smoky. People burn wood to cook in this nation, that is Rwanda, and in Uganda as well. The ride doesn’t show, phone calls are made to the Guest House but the ride still doesn’t show. Other taxi drivers are eagerly assessing us and one assures us we will fit in his car. Five people with 12 bags between us. I think not. Two taxis are filled and off we go for the ride of our lives. The taxis glide over the bumpy streets filled with people, bicycles, motorcycles and cars. Our driver’s name is Innocent. He’s not the only one we will meet by that name. Nearing our motel we see a dim image of a man riding down the street in a wheelchair. I do mean the street as there are no real sidewalks. At last we reach the Dream Apple Guest House and bed! Halina and I share a clean room with two double beds and a bath. Lock the doors we are told and use your mosquito nets. First a shower. How to turn it on? We figure it out. The plumbing is old and strange. The sink water must be turned off and on underneath the sink. There is a big step-up when you first walk into the bathroom. Don’t miss this in the middle of the night! Sleep comes at last. Breakfast is hard boiled eggs, bananas, and pineapple. Good thing I have stashed some nuts. The motel owners are Indian as are most business owners in this corner of the world. They employ the natives. After breakfast I email Fred to tell him we have arrived safely. The it's up town with a Rwandan friend of the Dobbs to buy lunch food. Our ride coming from Uganda is running late. (That is, African time) We will eat lunch here before leaving for Uganda, another 3 hour drive. I’d better wind this up for now!"

Cold Milk and Tar

When I was a kid, about seven or eight years old, I remember living in Pocatello, Idaho near a fraternity house that was on the other side of the alley.  As it happened, we lived very close to the college so to have a frat house close by was not unusual. 

One particularly warm summer day, I smelled the most awful smell and when I went to investigate I can remember seeing a big machine with this steaming hot, black gooey substance overflowing and dripping down its side and some men standing nearby, their clothes stained in black as well.  I couldn't imagine what was going on at first, but those guys sure looked thirsty!  In my little girlish mind I thought I knew just the thing that would cheer them up -- a cold glass of milk!  So, I proceeded to pour two or three glasses of ice cold milk and took them out to the unsuspecting recipients of what I thought was a real treat from my generous child's heart.

I don't know how grateful they really were, but they acted like it was the best thing in the world and made me feel spectacular for having thought to bring them something to drink on such a hot, Pocatello day.   Beer probably would have been more to their liking, or at the very least soda pop, but we didn't have those things in my house, never did.  So, milk it was!  They received it with a smile and a big thank you, as I'd hoped, and they continued on doing...whatever it was they were doing before I came out of the house with my big surprise.

As it turned out, that nasty, awful smell, as you've probably already guessed, was hot tar.  They were tarring the alley way to make it more like a road than a dirt trail, which is pretty much what it seemed like before they fixed it.  I'd never seen tar before but I had heard and read the story about Bre'r Rabbit and the Tar Baby, one of the many stories from the old South told by one of my favorite story tellers from Walt Disney's Song of the South, Uncle Remus.  I figured it must be similar stuff.

You may be unfamiliar with the story but I'll summarize it for you as it does have some applications for today.  You may see different relevancies than I do, but I hope you'll enjoy this tale as much as I did as a kid.

Basically, the story revolved around Bre'r Fox who wanted revenge on a happy-go-lucky Bre'r Rabbit because he felt that Bre'r Rabbit had been making a fool out of him for a very long time and he was determined to get even. 

He devised a plot whereby he made a "baby" out of tar that he thought looked real enough to fool Bre'r Rabbit.  Bre'r Fox set the "baby", now fully clothed, on a log and laid in wait for Bre'r Rabbit to come by.

He didn't have long to wait because soon Bre'r Rabbit hopped along down the trail and spotted the unusual figure sitting on the log and began to try to engage the "Tar Baby" in conversation.  He obviously couldn't speak, so after several tries at pleasantries with no response, Bre'r Rabbit became frustrated and hit him -- the response Bre'r Fox had desperately hoped for and, frankly, expected from Bre'r Rabbit.  Because Tar Baby was made of sticky tar, Bre'r Rabbit's fist got stuck.  If that wasn't bad enough, it didn't take long for Bre'r Rabbit's anger to get the best of him and not just one foot, but eventually all four got stuck to the Tar Baby!  By this time the fox was laughing hysterically at the rabbit who finally realized he'd been duped and if he didn't come up with some sort of plan, quickly, he'd likely be dinner for Bre'r Fox that evening!

Being a pretty smart Rabbit, he used reverse psychology on Bre'r Fox by telling him he could do anything he wanted to with him but please, please don't throw him into the briar patch nearby.   That would be the worst thing in the world...to be thrown into the briar patch!  Well, don't ya know, that's exactly what the fox decided to do!  Throw the rabbit into the briar patch..all nettles and thorns, scratchy and foreboding.  Bre'r Fox expected to hear screams and yelling, but all he heard was laughing.  You see, it seems that Bre'r Rabbit was born and raised in the briar patch and was all too familiar with the surroundings.  It was a safe place for him.   Once again, Bre'r Rabbit got away and Bre'r Fox lost his attempt to get even.

I don't know exactly what the moral of the story was intended to be, but it sure seems like we could learn to be a lot wiser as we're walking down the "trail of life".  Perhaps we'd be less likely to be duped by the enemy and get all of our body parts, and our souls, stuck in his "tar".  It's a lot easier to keep from getting stuck in the first place by being cautious and aware of the enemies tricks than it is to have to do some fast thinking to keep from getting eaten!

What if we stay in God's Word, apply what He has to tell us to our hearts and lives and live above the plots and deception of this world?  Sounds like a good idea to me!  What do you think?