Yesterday’s departure from Mundri for our break was like a scene out of Home Alone. The one where everyone finds out they slept in because the alarm clock didn’t go off and they might miss their flight. They jump into a flurry of frenzied activity, throwing things into suitcases, running about the house getting this or that, and squeezing into the airport van hoping that they haven’t left anyone or anything behind.
Leaving Mundri (or any place, really) is always a little wacky when you’re planning a long trip and won’t be back for several months. This was no exception. I’d been pacing myself, but despite my best laid plans, I still had to bike to the Lulu Works the morning of our flight to get some locally produced Shea Butter for my mum, and then finish my packing, sort out my house and leave it in a fashion in which dry season wouldn’t leave everything covered in inches of dust, ash, and spider web, and tie up a few other loose ends.
Leaving Mundri (or any place, really) is always a little wacky when you’re planning a long trip and won’t be back for several months. This was no exception. I’d been pacing myself, but despite my best laid plans, I still had to bike to the Lulu Works the morning of our flight to get some locally produced Shea Butter for my mum, and then finish my packing, sort out my house and leave it in a fashion in which dry season wouldn’t leave everything covered in inches of dust, ash, and spider web, and tie up a few other loose ends.
We were to leave by a 12 seater MAF flight that would pick us up on Mundri’s airstrip. The airstrip that is across town, about 30 minutes by car given the pitiful road. We never know when it’s going to come until the morning of. At 9:15 am we call the MAF office and they give us our ETA. Generally speaking, that’s anytime from 11 to 1.
I was up before light knocking things off my to do list, and on my bike rattling down the empty dirt road just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. I got to town, got what I needed and pounded back home. And all in all, I wasn’t doing half bad. I decided to make myself some breakfast with the leftovers in the fridge because I needed some brain power. And that was when Shawn came in at 8:50am with a half smile saying, “I hate to tell you this, but MAF just called to let us know that the plane is landing in 15 minutes.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. (Not a funny joke IN THE SLIGHTEST if it actually was one). So I asked two times for clarification. But really that wasn’t necessary because in 3 minutes we heard the plane flying right over our heads.
Mhmm ... it’s that moment of utter panic before you leap to action, your mind moving faster than it can send messages to the rest of your body. Well, leap we did. All four of us that were leaving that morning, that is. Forget breakfast, forget the shower, forget brushing my teeth, forget half the stuff on my to do list. Just throw the last few things in the backpack and suitcase and RUN, praying to God I didn’t forget anything important!
I was actually shocked how fast we were able to get ourselves together and into the Land Cruiser. WHAT A CIRCUS! By quarter past 9 we had reached the bridge across the Äyi River. One small problem, there was a traffic police person there forcing us to stop and wait. For what? We didn’t have time to wonder when we saw the first of the National security trucks coming across. Soldiers. Weapons. And a cavalcade of “big person” vehicles. Our departure date happened to coincide with a huge meeting going on in town involving governors from four different states, and a host of other leaders, representatives, and elders discussing some highly sensitive political and security issues. So here we are stopped on the side of the road for a who-knows-how-long convoy. Perfect timing. And of course, MAF was phoning to see where on earth we were. For the love of Africa! You gave us a 3 minute warning and we live 30 minutes from the airstrip! It wasn’t enough that we were already living in fear that the plane would leave without us.
Well, the convoy passed, we eventually made it across, and by the time we reached the airstrip the plane was still there. THANK GOD! They ferried us on after a few quick goodbyes and we all sat in our seats like somewhat stunned bunnies. As for the suitcase that I’d forgotten to book extra cargo for … the pilot hefted it up after asking about its weight and said, “We’ll call that 15 kgs,” (our usual allotment, which it was CLEARLY over - and that wasn’t even counting my backpack!) One stop in Yei to drop Justin off, another stop in Kajo Keji to pick up more passengers, and just enough heat and turbulence to make me feel mildly sick by the time we reached Arua.
And as far as ironies go…there we sat for the next three + hours, watching the second hand of the clock tick slowly forward, waiting for the plane to go back to South Sudan to pick up more passengers that needed to fly to Kampala with us. Twenty minutes of insanity this morning, and 3 hours of waiting just on its heels. But hey, I think I’ll take the waiting over the insanity any day. So we sat at the little canteen by the airport, had some chicken and rice ordered in, and whiled away the sleepy afternoon telling stories, laughing, and drumming our fingers on the table.
At long last the plane got back and we piled in for the hour and a half shuttle down to Kajjansi (just outside of Kampala). It was somewhere in there, thousands of feet above little clusters of grass huts and sprawling farm and bush, around 4:30pm as I listened to The Lumineers that it hit me. A WALL of sheer exhaustion. Going to bed late, waking early, biking to town and back, going crazy trying to make it to the plane on time and not forget anything. Multiple flights. Heat. Turbulence. A queasy stomach. All I wanted was firm ground under my feet, and a bed.
I breathed a prayer of thanks as we touched down in Kajjansi and saw the familiar faces of the MAF staff, and our driver, David. Another hour or so in traffic, and stops to the forex to change money, and an ATM and guesthouse for the friends we’d met on the plane who were travelling to town with us, and finally we were checked into lodgings with an order put in for our dinner at a cafe just down the road.
It’s hard to describe the exquisite and particular joys that simple things take on in this African life that I live. I love both my African life and my American life, as in their time I loved my Japanese, Dominican, and Ukrainian lives. I love the dirt and dust of South Sudan just as much as I love the cleanliness and bug-free domain of my home in the US. But there’s something about the contrast of the extremes when you've been away for a long time that makes each simple piece of these different lives feel like glory when you cross from one to the other.
Like just how awesome the grilled chicken salad and chips were at the end of my day…and the black cherry gelato that followed them! (It’s months since I’ve had fries … and real ice cream for that matter!)
Or the extravagance of sitting in a plush chair, in a well-lit room, with my computer plugged in, watching a show as I munched on take-out that I pulled out of the fridge in my very own kitchen that was 10 steps from where I sat! And uh, hello - fast internet - at home?!*
Or how utterly glorious the shower felt, and how satisfying it was to watch the streams of brown water wash down the *white* bathtub drain after the long, hot, grimy, sweaty day.
Or just how wonderful it is to walk barefoot on clean cool floor tiles, knowing that my feet are not going to be filthy from all the dust and soot by the time I want to crawl into bed.
And the bed, OH the BED! The absolute decadence of spreading myself out across the dryer-dried sheets, their fresh linen scent absolutely intoxicating. I felt like a kid in my grandparent's house! I stretched my legs across the double mattress and sighed at the thought of not having to tuck in a mosquito net, or to have one at all!I was up before light knocking things off my to do list, and on my bike rattling down the empty dirt road just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. I got to town, got what I needed and pounded back home. And all in all, I wasn’t doing half bad. I decided to make myself some breakfast with the leftovers in the fridge because I needed some brain power. And that was when Shawn came in at 8:50am with a half smile saying, “I hate to tell you this, but MAF just called to let us know that the plane is landing in 15 minutes.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. (Not a funny joke IN THE SLIGHTEST if it actually was one). So I asked two times for clarification. But really that wasn’t necessary because in 3 minutes we heard the plane flying right over our heads.
Mhmm ... it’s that moment of utter panic before you leap to action, your mind moving faster than it can send messages to the rest of your body. Well, leap we did. All four of us that were leaving that morning, that is. Forget breakfast, forget the shower, forget brushing my teeth, forget half the stuff on my to do list. Just throw the last few things in the backpack and suitcase and RUN, praying to God I didn’t forget anything important!
I was actually shocked how fast we were able to get ourselves together and into the Land Cruiser. WHAT A CIRCUS! By quarter past 9 we had reached the bridge across the Äyi River. One small problem, there was a traffic police person there forcing us to stop and wait. For what? We didn’t have time to wonder when we saw the first of the National security trucks coming across. Soldiers. Weapons. And a cavalcade of “big person” vehicles. Our departure date happened to coincide with a huge meeting going on in town involving governors from four different states, and a host of other leaders, representatives, and elders discussing some highly sensitive political and security issues. So here we are stopped on the side of the road for a who-knows-how-long convoy. Perfect timing. And of course, MAF was phoning to see where on earth we were. For the love of Africa! You gave us a 3 minute warning and we live 30 minutes from the airstrip! It wasn’t enough that we were already living in fear that the plane would leave without us.
Well, the convoy passed, we eventually made it across, and by the time we reached the airstrip the plane was still there. THANK GOD! They ferried us on after a few quick goodbyes and we all sat in our seats like somewhat stunned bunnies. As for the suitcase that I’d forgotten to book extra cargo for … the pilot hefted it up after asking about its weight and said, “We’ll call that 15 kgs,” (our usual allotment, which it was CLEARLY over - and that wasn’t even counting my backpack!) One stop in Yei to drop Justin off, another stop in Kajo Keji to pick up more passengers, and just enough heat and turbulence to make me feel mildly sick by the time we reached Arua.
And as far as ironies go…there we sat for the next three + hours, watching the second hand of the clock tick slowly forward, waiting for the plane to go back to South Sudan to pick up more passengers that needed to fly to Kampala with us. Twenty minutes of insanity this morning, and 3 hours of waiting just on its heels. But hey, I think I’ll take the waiting over the insanity any day. So we sat at the little canteen by the airport, had some chicken and rice ordered in, and whiled away the sleepy afternoon telling stories, laughing, and drumming our fingers on the table.
At long last the plane got back and we piled in for the hour and a half shuttle down to Kajjansi (just outside of Kampala). It was somewhere in there, thousands of feet above little clusters of grass huts and sprawling farm and bush, around 4:30pm as I listened to The Lumineers that it hit me. A WALL of sheer exhaustion. Going to bed late, waking early, biking to town and back, going crazy trying to make it to the plane on time and not forget anything. Multiple flights. Heat. Turbulence. A queasy stomach. All I wanted was firm ground under my feet, and a bed.
I breathed a prayer of thanks as we touched down in Kajjansi and saw the familiar faces of the MAF staff, and our driver, David. Another hour or so in traffic, and stops to the forex to change money, and an ATM and guesthouse for the friends we’d met on the plane who were travelling to town with us, and finally we were checked into lodgings with an order put in for our dinner at a cafe just down the road.
It’s hard to describe the exquisite and particular joys that simple things take on in this African life that I live. I love both my African life and my American life, as in their time I loved my Japanese, Dominican, and Ukrainian lives. I love the dirt and dust of South Sudan just as much as I love the cleanliness and bug-free domain of my home in the US. But there’s something about the contrast of the extremes when you've been away for a long time that makes each simple piece of these different lives feel like glory when you cross from one to the other.
Like just how awesome the grilled chicken salad and chips were at the end of my day…and the black cherry gelato that followed them! (It’s months since I’ve had fries … and real ice cream for that matter!)
Or the extravagance of sitting in a plush chair, in a well-lit room, with my computer plugged in, watching a show as I munched on take-out that I pulled out of the fridge in my very own kitchen that was 10 steps from where I sat! And uh, hello - fast internet - at home?!*
Or how utterly glorious the shower felt, and how satisfying it was to watch the streams of brown water wash down the *white* bathtub drain after the long, hot, grimy, sweaty day.
Or just how wonderful it is to walk barefoot on clean cool floor tiles, knowing that my feet are not going to be filthy from all the dust and soot by the time I want to crawl into bed.
Did I mention my own bathroom 5 steps from that very bed?! And the flush toilet? So that when I get up in the night, I neither have to make a trek to the latrine, or rummage around for my pee bucket if I’m feeling lazy…
It’s the little things, I say. And they’re soooo so so so so so soooooooo nice!
A long lazy morning in bed after three months of hard work in South Sudan…
An airconditioned car after an afternoon of heat and turbulence…
A cafe with a whole delicious menu, ham and cheese croissants, and jars of cape gooseberry jam - after three months of preparing all our own meals from scratch … with limited ingredients.
The guy with the cart on the side of the road that sells me a PERFECTLY sweet pineapple for 2000 shillings (less than 75 cents) all peeled and sliced for me in a bag…not to mention the mangoes, watermelon, and avocado that I’ll come back for tomorrow!
The friendly banter with the old lady and young man at the ice cream counter as they marvel over the Moru braids that I still have in my hair since I never got around to the shower this morning…
The knowledge that I don’t have to have my ears pricked and eyes opened for goings on in town and whether or not the presence of security meetings, or large convoys of soldiers is anything we should be concerned about…well, not AS much at least.
The random afternoon that we spent in Arua with a Sudanese Bishop, a pilot, two back-packers, and a micro-finance development worker - strangers who became friends …
It’s a life of contrasts and challenges. Adventures and stresses. Unexpected blessings, and startingly sweet mercies. A life of working hard, and playing hard. And today I feel rich and extremely fortunate to live it.
sounds about right - hurry up and wait! :) glad to see that you're flourishing, girl. take care.
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