I made it! As far as international trips go, this one was pretty uneventful. I left Houston an hour late and had three screaming kids sitting in my section of the plane, I thought I was being smart by sitting in the very back, but apparently the parents had the same idea. The little boy in front of me decoded to sing his ABCs about a hundred times before the plane even took off. He was a bouncing ball of energy, but thankfully wasn’t a screamer. The kid in the row next to me however, was not a happy camper and made sure every one knew it. I happen to be a champion plane sleeper, so I plugged in my headphones and slept most of the way to Istanbul. I had about two and a half hours in Istanbul and spent most of it walking around, the airport is amazing. It’s set up like a mall, about half a mile long with shops on either side. The terminal was down a hallway at the back of the mall. I was thrilled to have my phone and be able to use it and talked to my mom as I walked and stretched out my legs. I love seeing signs that are not in English (except for when I’m lost ;). I love walking and hearing 12 different languages being spoken. I love seeing people from all over the world, how amazingly different, yet similar we all are. I truly love this, being in a place where people don’t speak English is exhillerating. The thrill of not being able to understand every conversation races through me. Each one of these people have a unique story to tell, I wish I had time to hear them all.
I did get to hear one story; I was sitting at the gate when a woman came and sat down next to me, she smiled and said hello. I returned the smile and the greeting, her eyes lit up when she hear me speak English and immediately asked if I was from England. (I ran unto this during my time in Thailand when I spoke with some New Zealanders) I think its so strange how people can’t tell the difference between American and British accents, to me the two are very distinct and its easy to tell them apart. But for people not from America or Britain its a lot harder. The Kiwi’s in Thailand said people confused them with the Aussies all the time. Anyway, this woman was very nice and asked me what part of America I was from. We chatted about the different states she had been to (they surprised me, I was expecting to hear California, New York, Florida and instead heard North Carolina, Tennessee and Virginia). I asked where she came from and she responded with Greece, Athens to be exact. We talked about our trip to Kampala, she’s on her way to the wedding of two very good friends where she will be someone with a crown…? She didn’t know the word in English and could only mime putting a circle on top of her head.
As we were sitting, waiting for our plane, a woman came on the intercom saying they had a little girl in a purple dress and the ‘lost parents’ were requested to come pick her up. How in the world do you lose your daughter in the airport?! Seriously. Bad parent award.
The flight from Istanbul to Rwanda (and then to Entebbe) was much less enjoyable than the first flight, mainly because I lost my faith in humanity for a few hours because of two sets of couples. The first couple were sitting behind me, people were still boarding the plane and the man was whining about how he didnt have a pillow. “Everyone else has one, why don’t I got one? This is their job, I want a pillow” he complained in a thick British accent as the isle was packed with people still trying to find their seat. His wife flagged down a flight attendant who was clearly in the middle of something (two people had the same seat on their ticket. Important, yeah, I think so) and asked for a pillow. The flight attendant was a little flustered and said she would be back. When she didn’t return the woman huffed up, pushed her way through the crowded isle and found a pillow, saying in a condescending voice ‘if you want something done, you have to do it yourself’. I wanted to turn around and smack the man with my pillow before giving it to him, unfortunately I didn’t have a pillow to smack with. The second couple threw a fit when dinner was served, it was kind of hard to hear exactly what the problem was. Best I can figure, both husband and wife did not want the pasta, which by the time we were served was the only option left. The man wanted fish, the woman wanted meat and boy did they raise a stink, yelling at the poor flight attendant as she was trying to serve the other passengers. The couple demanded to speak to her supervisor, he came over and tried to explain that they had run out of everything but the pasta. The woman asked him to make her something else. Both the supervisor and my own jaw dropped open, was she for real? He very patiently explained we were ON AN AIRPLANE and he couldn’t just whip something up for her. She wasn’t happy with this answer either and demanded some amount of money back because she didn’t get the food she wanted. By this time the flight attendant got to the couple behind me and of course the man had something to complain about. He too did not want pasta, he wanted chicken. He went off on a rampage about how the flight attendant wasn’t doing her job, and how it was ridiculous that the front of the plane was served first and how it was the flight attendants job to make him happy. Now, I fully get being upset about not having the proper meal if a) you reserved it ahead of time (which wasn’t the case here) and b) had dietary restrictions (again, not the case). But even if you are upset, that does not give you the right to speak the way these pricks were speaking to the flight attendant. Not to mention, you are sitting in an air-conditioned chair, going 500 mph, 10,000 feet off the ground and you’re going to complain that you don’t have a pillow? Seriously dude, you look like a major d-bag.
I’ve never had so many butts in my face before, literally. No less then 6 people shoved their booties mere inches from my face or rubbed it against me….. Bleck! Outside of America there is a terrible lack of personal space or boundaries. As someone who is quite fond of her personal space, I was a little freaked out and uncomfortable.
Holy crap, I did it. We de-boarded in Entebbe old school style, walking down the tarmac and up to the airport. My stomach was doing back flips and the biggest smile I’ve ever smiled was stretched across my face. I took a deep breath to try and calm my jittery stomach, unfortunately it was very dark and I couldn’t really see anything. All I could think as I walked towards the airport was “I’m here, I finally made it to Africa. I did it.” It’ve been waiting for this moment, the moment I stepped off the plane onto African soil, breathing in the air that has a unique sweetness to it, waiting for that since I was 14 years old. It was the moment my oldest and most treasured dream came true. I can not begin to describe all the feelings milling around inside of me right now, the easiest way would be to say pure joy. My journey here has just begun, I have 5 glorious weeks ahead of me and I can’t wait to see whats in store for me.
Getting my visa and going through customs was the easiest I’ve ever experienced. The man at the counter stamped my passport, took $50 for the visa, I collected my bags and walked out of the airport. The process, in counting waiting in line, took less than 15 minutes. Clifford, Tomi’s Admin, was waiting for me with a smile and a hug. He is an extraordinarily nice man and such a chatter box, we talked the whole ride home.
I asked him about the slum and the people Tomi works with and got new insight. There are 50,000 people living in the slum. Most of them are refugees from northern Uganda, they fled to Kampala to escape a war. He told me about the government. Uganda has a president, under the president are kings. Each tribe has a king and rules that area. The kings report, in sorts, to the president. Fun fact, Clifford is related to the president, they are 2nd cousins I believe.
From the sound of things, the slum here is much different than the one in India. There are no slum leaders, people in the slum own plots of land and rent them out. If a person squats on a plot of land for 12 years, they then own the plot. The area the slum is located on is owned by a king or a church, no one knows which. The government is evicting all 50,000 people, Clifford thinks many of them will go back to their villages in the north. No one knows when the evictions will start.
We arrived at the house at about 7, just as the sun was staring to rise. Everyone was just getting up as I lugged all 3 of the 50lb suitcases into the house. Clifford dropped me off and said he would be back after he napped for a few hours. I took a shower and slept for about 2 hours under a mosquito net before getting up. The house keeper made me breakfast and 4/5 girls sat with me while I ate. Filda is the oldest, then Grace (she is the shy one and would not come sit with us) who is 12, Ester is 11 and the silly one, Prosey is 10 and the funny one and Eron (Erin) is the baby at 9.
I am so excited to be here and to get started!
Since I don’t have internet at the house I think I’ll write a post every day and go to an internet cafe every 4 days or so and upload them all, so keep checking back in!
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