So off I went on my first outside Uganda adventure. My flight to Kigali Monday night was uneventful and Seng was at the airport to pick me up. I spent the night at Seng/Jen’s house (along with their 2 roommates). It was really great to see Jen again as it had last seen her in Peru last May. Kigali is so much nicer than Kampala. It is clean and organized, with wide 2 lane roads and manicured boulevards down the middle. Side note about the cleanliness…the black plastic bags that are endemic to Africa have been banned in Rwanda, and in Kigali, the last Saturday of the month is cleaning day. All residents are expected to get out in their neighborhoods and clean. Buses/taxis are not allowed to work and unless you are headed to the hospital or the airport, the police will stop and question you and ask you to return home. Now that is taking the clean to the streets!
OK, back to the story. We went into the office in the morning after dropping Jen at the FH guesthouse. This was a bad mistake on our part. Seng had mentioned when he picked me up at the airport that President Bush was arriving in Kigali in the morning for a visit; there were extra police and military forces on the road in the morning as we drove to the office. We should have gone straight to the airport instead of to the office. This was around 8am and my flight was at 11am. But, neither one of us thought of it. Instead we went to the office, went to devotions, and then left for the office. Unfortunately, the police started closing all the roads and we couldn’t get to the office. Seng was driving, Becky from the Regional Office was with us and we had an FH Rwanda staff member with us. Well, the boys thought we could find another way to the airport. So off we went. Long story short, we ended up on the back side of the airport just in time to hear Airforce I land (and see the tail with the American Flag). We could also hear the drums beating at what I would assume was the welcoming party on the tarmac. As we were sitting at the military base on the backside of the airport, the Rwandan staff member kept repeating that he was sure the airport was closed because Airforce I was at the airport. I kept insisting that Rwandair wouldn’t have issued a ticket 4 days before the scheduled visit of President Bush if the airport was going to be closed. I thought it best that we call the airline and find out.
By this time it is about 30 minutes before my flight is supposed to leave and I am a little panicky. As some of you may know, I inherited my flying routine from my mother which entails always being at the airport before the mandated time. I am starting to get more and more frustrated at the defeatist attitude of the Rwandan staff member and a little ticked that we hadn’t just stayed at the main road and waited for the convoy to pass. So we start to make our way back to the main road, but since they have blocked the main road all the side streets are blocked with cars. We end up going down little dirt roads away from the airport trying to get to the main road. By this time Becky has confirmed that the flight to Bukavu is flying and had informed them that I am on my way. Finally we get stuck, park the car and walk with my suitcase (small rolling carryon) up to the main road. The road is still closed, but Bush has gone by. We hop the fence and start power walking towards the airport. Moments later, the road re-opens and we decide to put me in a taxi. But not before I got a great shot of what turned out to be Airforce I and II. I got to the airport 15 minutes before my flight was supposed to take off. Unfortunately, the plane left almost 2 hours late. But I got up close and personal with Airforce I & II. It was cool; like the movies. There were Secret Service stationed at the nose and tail of each plane and an SUV parked at each nose.
Arriving at Kamembe airport in Rwanda is surreal. It is the smallest airport I have ever been in. It is one small building. Half is arrivals and half is departures. You walk off the plane and into the building and fill in an arrivals card. Then you wait for your luggage to be brought to the door and carry it down a steep flight of stairs to the parking lot. A very nice young lady named Renee was there to pick me up. Renee is third generation American missionary to Bukavu. We took a cab down to the border, filled out the Rwandan departures card then jumped in Renee’s truck to cross into DRC. To get to the DRC border, you leave the parking lot, cross a rickety wooden bridge then drive 500 meters up hill to the DRC border. It is a bit surreal. There are people waking or pushing wheel barrows along the road carrying foodstuffs on their backs or heads. The border area is awash with people some in uniform, most without. We parked the car on the side of the road and went into the small building housing border patrol. Renee speaks Swahili like it is her mother tongue so I didn’t have to do much. It was funny watching her with the officials. They obviously new her very well; there was a lot of joking going on. This one guy cracked me up. He was asking me all sorts of questions through Renee, and as we were leaving said, “Watson, I want you.” It cracked me up. Then we had to go down to a smaller building that house the health lady (for lack of a better description). It is mandatory to have your yellow fever vaccination to enter DRC. The health lady went through all my vaccinations and got stuck on the Oral Dukoral. You may or may not know that Dukoral is marketed as a vaccine to get to prevent traveler’s diarrhea. You know the kind you get in Mexico if you have ice cubes in your glass or eat the salads. It isn’t a mandatory vaccine. The problem is that it is also a vaccine against cholera. Or at least that is what the stamp says. And it only lasts 5 months. So health lady, in Swahili, started going on about it being out of date. This went on and on for a while. Finally I told Renee it is an optional vaccine and is used to prevent diarrhea. Repeating saying the word diarrhea had her handing me back the booklet and letting us go. You see in DRC, they are just looking for a way to make a little money on the side. No vaccine…just slip her a few dollars and she will stamp your booklet.
We got back in the truck and had the back door opened by random guy who wanted to see inside my bags. I only had the small suitcase and my backpack that contained my laptop. I opened them, he looked then he closed the door. We drove a few feet to the where a guard lifts up and down the gate (actually just a pole). While Renee was chatting with the guard, who knows her dad, another random guy opens the door and wants to see my bags. Renee isn’t really paying attention and I am trying to tell him they have been looked at. Finally Renee turns around and starts telling him that they have already been checked. When he leaves I asked Renee what was up. These random guys are border patrol and again, they are trying to make a buck. Trying to find something they can intimidate you into paying a bribe. The problem with these random guys…not one of them is wearing any kind of uniform and with the crush of humanity hanging around the border; it is hard to tell who is official and who isn’t.
We left the border and drove the ten minutes to the Country Directors house where I will be staying. I met Kostas’ wife Katie and their two sons Daniel (2 1/2) and Jonathon (7 months). I had a great time with Katie and the boys, had an awesome lunch cooked by their cook/house keeper and learned a lot about living in Bukavu. Kostas came home early from work and we spent a lot of time talking about possibilities and options. That evening I went with Katie to the Orchid, a Yaletown type restaurant right on the lake. A bunch of ladies were starting a women’s bible study group and were meeting to decide what to study. We all had ice cream at $5 – $7 USD a pop. Expensive…but very nice! The next day I went to the office to interview/be interviewed by each department head. It was a chance for me to find out where they needed help the most. At the end of the day, I sat down with Kostas and told him what I thought was needed. His response, “I wish I had a tape recorder. You just wrote your own job description.”
The next day I started my trek back home. Again in the crazy DRC border office, across the rickety bridge, Rwandan border office where people don’t understand what a line is or personal space, then the airport. It was a little weird, no scanners so had to open the bag for the lady to go through. Everything is manual. On the plane I talked with this guy I had first seen on the flight from Kigali. He was a Congolese guy producing records in Rwanda and engaged to a girl from England. We had a great chat and when we got to the Kigali airport offered a ride to wherever I needed to go. I assumed Seng would be there to pick me up. We had talked about lunch with his wife and one of the other girls I had met in Peru during FH training. But when I got to the main lobby…no Seng. The problem was, my cell was not working and I didn’t know Seng’s number or the number to FH Rwanda. Nor did I have any Rwandan Franc. So I went out, found my new friend and asked if I could still get a ride. I blindly assumed that the taxi driver would now where the FH office was. He didn’t. No one did. And none of us could get the number to FH Rwanda even though I was texting my friends Julia and Kenny back in Kampala. I did have US dollars so they took me to town to exchange for francs. As we were driving we passed Café Bourbon (the best latte I have had outside Starbucks). This was where Seng and the gang were taking me for lunch. After exchanging money I had them drop me off at Bourbon. Seng had called by this time and was on his way with Jen and Cheryl to meet me at Bourbon. All was well. I was pretty proud of myself for not freaking out during all this time!
Had a great lunch with the gang, went back to the office with them then to their house for dinner. Jen and Seng brought their baseball gloves, so Jen and I threw the ball around for a bit before they took me to the airport. I was so glad to touch down in Entebbe. Being back in Uganda felt like coming home. Which is why I was so surprised that it felt like I had to make the move to FH/DRC. As much as I loved Uganda and Kampala, I really felt like joining the team in Bukavu was what I was supposed to do.
I told Kostas before I left that I was 99% sure I was going to take the job. But I wanted to talk with Paddy (my pastor in Canada) before I made my final decision. I had been worried about how Cap would react to me leaving Uganda/Bufukhula and wanted to be sensitive to that. Although I told Sang Hoon Friday that I was going to make the move to FH/DRC, talking with Paddy the next day solidified my decision.
So there you have it: the entire journey from start to finish. It was a battle; one that tested my faith, had me questioning what God requires of us and generally turned me into a basket case for a month. I don’t regret a single moment of the struggle. I feel like I am a stronger person because of it. Stronger in faith, stronger in my relationship with God and sure that God has a plan for me that is much bigger than anything I could ever have wanted for myself. And most of all, I finally trust Him with my life. That is something I haven’t been able to do. For this I am grateful.
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