Thursday

Thursday, the 27th

There is a certain kind of eery that falls upon Masaka when the skies go dark.  This morning, there is a thick heavy black curtain weighing upon the land as we traverse dark dirt roads, headed to Paul’s first safari.  The air is wet and thick, and almost foggy.  As we bounce along the roads, dark figures loom along the sides, not headless horsemen, rather faceless boda boda drivers, honking their presence.  As we turn corners, headlights illuminate a sea of tiny dark faces, white eyes adjusting to the sudden light.  School children carrying lunch boxes with freshly cleaned school uniforms march in straight rows, only their memory of the roads light their paths.

A sleepy Benny Michael rests next to me, the early rise, and the bouncing car put up too much of a fight for him to handle.  His fat little fingers clutch a cold metal car, while his head bobs against the seatbelt that barely registers his presence.

The rest of us stare into the dark sky, focusing on the red tail lights that dance in front of us.  Soon, the noises will fill the air as the skies turn a shade of purple and pink – the sun mixing its rays with the dust and smog on the horizon.  Soon, Masaka will be awake again, and the days shall flow on.

And as the light creeps across the land, I cannot help but wonder what goes through the minds of these little tiny people marching across the lands headed off to an education that is their only hope at a better future.  Some tiny little 4 year olds, carrying a lunch pail, and a yellow jug of water that stands taller than their waste.  Some tiny people walk in pairs of 2 or 3, while others march on alone.  I cannot fathom sending Maria off, to stomp tread along the freeway by herself – no protection or guidance, no watchful eye, no sweet words to guide her.  Old children stop and gather fire wood along their way to school, having to cook their lunch themselves.  Do I trust Matt and Gabe with a machete, along the side of Highway 65, during rush hour, in the dark?  Am I ready to send of Michael and Kolbe to a year-round boarding school, to learn and grow alongside 1500 other students, with no mothering or nurturing or sage advice and daily conversations?

These mothers must be stronger than I am, but I would not want to be that strong.  I lack faith that they would be ok and my heart would simply refuse to let go.  These children, the hundred or more that I have seen this morning, must be the strongest, both emotionally and physically, that I have ever seen.  They teach each other how to act, how to survive, what to do in the face of fear and danger.  They teach each other how to get from point A to point B without disappearing into the fog, never to be seen again.  I know that it is out of necessity that these children march on alone, but that does not ease this pain I feel.  Are they not lonely, worried, or scared?  Do they talk to Jesus the whole way to school, their guardian angels keeping them from being kidnapped, or hit, or injured, or beat up?  Obviously they are ok.  Thousands of children make a similar trek every day, across the country, and probably the world.  I am thankful for their safety and thank God for His wisdom and for protection over His holy innocents.

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Halfway to the safari on Thursday, I got an email from the Embassy saying that Paul did not need to be there for the signing of the documents.  As long as we had a notarized copy of the passport, then we should be good and Paul could leave.  So I was talking to Paul about him going him on Saturday or Sunday, but he as pretty excited about leaving “tonight or tomorrow?!?”  I will tell you that I was pretty hurt that he was so excited to get rid of me that quickly.  I told Ann to save my husband, and get him home ASAP, and like a champ, she worked her magic, and within a little bit, we had tickets for Paul to leave Friday night. 

The whole time that we drove to Mbaro Park and toured the lake, and went on safari which took several hours, I was pretty upset.  Well that, and I did not feel well.  I have been getting sick every single day that I have been here, and I can only blame it on the malaria meds.  Either way, all I could think is, “Wow, I think that I am offended.”  We came back into Masaka just long enough to pick up cash and our bags before heading back into the capital, which was probably a good thing.  We were all so worn out and stressed for Friday that Father just dropped us off at the Metropole and he headed off to some friends he has in the city. 

The Metropole is one of the nicer hotels that you can go to in the Capital.  It has several things that we have not seen in about a week and a half; showers, hot water, a fridge, tv, clean sheets, air conditioning.  I thought it best that Paul stay somewhere nice the night before he goes back so he can get cleaned up and slightly adjusted.  Every time I walk in the doors though I feel weird.  The hotel itself is a nice structure, very Euro-Asian’esque.  Jeff, Nap and I had stayed there before and Nap had a bunch of money stolen out of his safe, so however unsafe and angry I feel every time I go in there, I figured that I could suck it up for a night.

They do have a higher end Thai restaurant on their 1^st floor, so that is where we had dinner.  The food was ok and the service was slower than anything.  Our starter took an hour, our dinner came 30 minutes after that, and the nasty thing that was supposed to be Tiramisu showed up 30 minutes after our dinner plates were cleared.  I guess I should not have even tried to get Paul a good meal to end his trip here.  Michael had fallen asleep on my lap, so Paul carried him upstairs and we just fell asleep.

Notes from my prayer journal:  Paul might be leaving me much sooner than expected.  I feel like I am flailing, turning towards jealousy and anger and sadness. 

“Yet I am always with you, you hold me by my right hand.”

-Psalm 73:23

“No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.  But when you are tempted, he will also provide you a way out so that you can stand up under it.”

-1 Corinthians 10:13

Soundtrack song of the day – while we were riding around Kampala, Father heard this song, and asked who it was.  The song was No Air – Jordin Sparks.  I remember that for some reason I really loved the song when it came out, and now that I heard it again, t kid of summed up that particular day.  “How, do you expect me, to live alone, just me (in Africa, with Michael, and no help for God knows how long), it’s just so hard for me to breath.  Ah ha ha.  If I really let myself believe that, and accept that for truth, I would e failing at the mission that God set out before me, “I will make things hard, I will tempt you and test you, and I will ask you to persevere out of love for me, and for the intentions and sufferings of others.”

Consecration to Jesus through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Who are you St. Maximilian Kolbe, Day 8