Our taxi van is parked on a busy street in Jinja, the girls are all waiting patiently to see if our boys will be a few minutes, or if their ‘visit’ will take long enough that it makes sense for us to just go ahead to the hotel and wait for their arrival there. After about 10 minutes of waiting, and our taxi driver starting to look a little less patient, I decide that I’ll go in to get an update.
I walk through the doors of the Jinja police station and passed the front desk, heading for the main part of the large building, which to my surprise is not really a building at all but opens up into a large open-air courtyard surrounded by 2 levels of motel-like offices on either side. I choose the hallway in front of me and continue passed about 10 rooms, glancing into each .. oddly enough, each one sort of resembles a break room with couches, people lounging and talking to one another, none of them which I recognize but all of which look up at me questioningly. Maybe I should just ask for directions. As I walk back to the front desk, I pass one room that has a large padlock securing a heavy metal door. Three men hang their arms out of the door’s barred window, they each have a confident, James Dean like smirk and make Ugandan style cat call comments to me as I pass… I can’t help but look at them and laugh out loud. 3 men.. In jail… cat calling a woman. How romantic.
The lady at the front desk immediately knows who I’m looking for as Ryan and Greg are likely the only two other white people in the place at the moment. She walks out from behind the desk, (by three more men sitting on the ground in handcuffs) and walks me INCREDIBLY slowly down the hall telling me that she’d very much like to have me as a muzungu friend - I agree, saying ‘I will be your friend.’ Our first and last interaction.
I find Ryan and Greg sitting on a couch with Edris whom I’ve never met until now, but is the tour operator that we were supposed to be going on a tour with today. They are telling our recent story to a police sergeant who is flipping through papers on his desk. I sit for a few minutes while other Ugandans enter the office, some who discuss different cases openly and explicitly with the sergeant while we sit and wait, others who enter and then sit leisurely on the other couch in the room… none of them in any sort of uniform. This is not going to be a few minutes. I tell the boys we’ll see them later and give Ry an apologetic glance… I know I won’t see him for many hours.
Earlier that morning, it was a different scene. The dentists from Southfort Dental had been at Our Village Community Partnership (OVCP) for roughly six days. Four of which they’d work from 8 AM in the morning, until 5 or 6 PM at night, with just a short enough lunch break to shovel some posho and beans in before getting back to non-stop check-ups, cleanings, extractions, etc. It was back breaking, emotionally draining work and they made sure that every single one of our 320+ students were seen before the end of their 4 day clinic.
Gemma, the administrator for Southfort had had an especially emotional week being that on the day of their arrival, we received news that her husband Jean, who had remained home was experiencing heart complications. Being all the way across the world and not wanting to dampen the mood of the trip for anyone else, she mostly kept to herself regarding it but you could tell that it was obviously and fairly bothering her. A few days later, while trying to navigate communication through conflicting time zones, we got word that Jean was doing much better and that there was no immediate need to worry. Everyone felt relieved.
The Sunday morning of the team's scheduled departure, the school church announced its early start with the sound of drums ringing down the hill shortly before 7 am. Telling us we had better hurry if we wanted to attend. This morning was special as the students would be performing the songs they’d prepared weeks in advance to thank and wish a farewell to our honored guests.
Greg and Rhiannon did a very mini sermon from the book of James which talked about experiencing joy even during times of darkness and finding happiness against the odds, a relative and touching message that encouraged a small lump in my throat to form. The P7’s along with myself sang our best version of ‘Oh Happy Day’ from the Sister Act II soundtrack, and then teacher Frances… darn teacher Frances... brought up the choir to sing the farewell song she’d prepared…
Imagine if you will, about 20 children anywhere from 6 to 16, filing onto the stage, kneeling down in two lines… placing their arms around each other and swaying back and forth as they sing in an encouraging but sad tune:
‘Goodbye our dear Visitors.. You have been so nice to us... your name will always flow and always be remembered. Sincerely in Jesus, who always keeps and always cares. We need to pray for one another in his name.’
It was like if James Blunt had written a christian version of 'Goodbye My Lover'... this was it.
Ryan quietly leaned over to me and pointed out one of the girls at the end of the first line... Though her face did not have a broken expression, you could still clearly see the tears rolling down her cheeks and falling onto the concrete as she sang. I didn’t look around at the end of the song, though I’m quite sure there was many a wet eye.
As planned, we finished up the service with a prayer. Our visitors were called forward and we laid hands on them. The image of this is precious and amazing. Whether you are religious or not, if you can imagine 150+ Ugandan children surrounding you and placing their hands on you, closing their eyes and speaking their gratefulness and blessings for you into the universe… then you can appreciate what a powerful and truly awe inspiring moment this was.
I had volunteered to lead the prayer, which was easier said than done following the emotional week and heart wrenching farewell song. Just before I started, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Looking up, expecting to see my husband’s face, I instead saw one of my P2 students Joanne, all of 10 years old and looking at me, eyes filled with tears, her hand and head rested on my shoulder.
Trying my hardest though not succeeding to calm my cracking voice, I started to sing:
‘You call me out upon the water… the great unknown, my feet may fail. And there I find you in the mystery, in oceans deep. My faith will stand. And I will call upon your name.. And keep my eyes above the waves, when oceans rise, my soul will rest in your embrace. For I am yours… and you are mine…’
At the time, I was crying and had a pretty intense throat infection, so it was probably super beautiful..
Rhiannon informed me later that Greg had told Ryan (who was not there during the prayer as he got too emotional during the farewell song) that I had began my prayer by singing the theme song from ‘Moana’....
After I’d finished speaking, I opened my eyes to find most of our visitors, staff and too many children with their eyes filled with tears. The next few moments, child after child walked up to one of the dental team, to hug them and to cry…. Some students just stood, being held by one of the girls...seemingly inconsolable. For the next 10 minutes we collected and held as many crying children as we could.
I think there are a few reasons for the emotions that came out of the kids on that morning, a topic for another time.. But it was an incredibly clear moment as to the fragility of their little beings and just how critically important it is to protect them, even sometimes from our best intentions.
The dental team headed back to their volunteer suite to gather their items and finish packing. Their ride was to arrive around 9:00 AM and that time was approaching quickly. Everyone was hugging and giving heartfelt goodbyes, which I decided I would hold off on, until their ride arrived… just to be sure that it would ‘indeed’ arrive. Ugandan time is different than North American time, so even at 9:30… I wasn’t too worried. As long as the group left by 10:00 AM, they would make it to the airport in time to catch their flight to head to Murchison Falls, the beginning of their tour.
We filled the time with an intense game of duck, duck, goose… the muzungus getting their exercise in for the morning as the kids all wanted to pick us as the goose…
The students then caught wind of madam Allison’s birthday, which little benounced to all of us results in the bore hole tradition of throwing water at the lucky birthday person. (This tradition was unknown to Ryan and I as it hasn’t happened in the 2 months that we’ve been here, because even though there are over 350 people at the school… I’ve hardly met a Ugandan that knows their actual birthdate. And those that do know it.. Don’t tell.. Due to the borehole birthday tradition.)
So Allison was properly soaked.. by about 40 kids with cups and pails. It was rather amazing, and I’ve decided that if I am ever baptized.. this is the manner in which it will be.
At 10:00 AM we checked Greg’s email to review the last communications with the tour organizer…
Greg had given the driver the mailing address of the school as opposed to the physical address!!!
Well there’s your problem!!
We called our trusted boda driver and had him drive to the post office… by our logic, that’s where the mailing address would lead the driver. Meanwhile we looked through old emails to find any kind of contact phone number for the tour organizer or driver. Bazinga… operators phone number found…
… not in service…
It’s ok.. Here’s another number, let’s try that one…
… no answer…
Maybe we should head into Iganga town and just drive around looking for the tour vehicles??
We finally find a number in amongst the many emails between Greg and the tour operator that somone picks up on… we tell him we are looking for Edris, and he gives us his number. This is positive news, by this time we’ve missed the flight, but it’s all good - things don’t always happen as planned.. Especially in Uganda. We’ll figure it out.
Our Ugandan phone is a super basic model. It cost us around 40,000 Ugandan shillings which works out to be… $14.80 CAD. It has a power button, numbers to dial, T9 texting.. Kind of.. But it doesn’t have a volume button. Which means it’s pretty much permanently on speaker phone.
Greg is sitting at our kitchen table, Rhiannon beside him, the dental team in our living room, Ryan and I are milling around. Even with the phone to Greg’s ear, we all hear the words clear as day..
Edris: ‘Mr. Greg… you have not sent me money...’
Greg: ‘Edris, we sent you money three different times, we sent you money in November, December and in January… we’ve sent you money for 9 people to go on a 5 day all-inclusive tour.’
Edris: ‘But Mr. Greg, my last email from you was in December.’
Greg: ‘Edris, I got an email from you on Wednesday…’
Edris: [long pause] - ‘Oh dear… Sir, I am very sorry…. I think something very bad has happened... ’
It was a clever scam really. Greg had researched Edris and his company extensively. Edris was an ex-journalist now turned Ugandan tour guide, had many positive reviews online and had a legitimate company. The only problem is that Greg was only talking to Edris for the first few communications regarding their tour… at which point, computer hackers had hacked into Edris’ email, followed their communications and then took over communicating with Greg regarding his tour. They had even sent an email to Edris from the Southfort administrator telling him that they had decided to delay their trip and would be in touch when they rescheduled, minimizing the chance that the real Edris would later follow up with Greg and bust the operation.
Poor Edris had no clue and had not had a single client follow through with a tour since December. The computer hackers made off with enough money to cover nine people’s five day tour package… roughly $12,000 - $13,000 CAD.
So what do you do when you have 7 people visiting Uganda for the first time and you’ve just learned that you’ve all be scammed out of your tour?? You all decide to make the best of it.
In the end, money is money.. You will make it, you will spend it, you will lose it… in the end, it won’t matter. What will matter is the memories you’re left with.
12:30 PM - We start looking for a hotel in Jinja, a gorgeous town about an hour away that claims the ‘Source of the Nile’ as their bragging rights.
1:30 PM - While we wait for our recently ordered driver to arrive, we eat nuts and bolts sent from mom’s at home, freshly cut-up, local pineapple and trail mix from a Canadian Costco. We are already all laughing in bewildered amazement at the events of the day, except Greg. Greg is inside laying on the couch in his self-inflicted time out.. Likely trying to process the last hour’s new information.
4:00 PM - We arrive in Jinja and leave the boys at the police station to have their own six hour adventure and head for the hotel that we’ve found. But not before stopping to pick up some much needed alcoholic beverages and the best darn birthday cake money could buy from a Ugandan supermarket. #thisdayisntoveryetallison
5:00 PM - Us girls arrive at the beautiful Living Waters Resort in Jinja, Uganda. A gorgeous and quaint hotel that sits high on the hill overlooking the Nile river. The rooms are authentic African safari style tents with a touch of luxury. Each one with its own balcony looking out onto the most amazing view of the Nile. Inside is a large 4-post bed draped with a mosquito net (but seriously mosquito nets have awesome vibes right), gorgeous locally made Ugandan decor furnishes the room and the best part... a shower, with running HOT water. This will be my first in two months and I have not one but two of them on the first night.. Because I can.
As we pull into the resort, there is gorgeous, relaxing music playing. The owners of the hotel, a beautiful Ugandan mother and daughter duo greet us in the lane, welcoming us in their colorful traditional dresses with freshly squeezed passion fruit juice. We are all staring out of the van, Rhiannon’s so excited, she even has her head out the window. We are all so ready to put the past behind us and enjoy this exotic new escape. Kirsten opens the door of the van and proceeds to smash it right into Rhiannon’s outstretched head behind the door. Rhiannon simultaneously shrieks ‘MYYY FACEEE!!’
The rest of the night resembles that which happens when people are just way too overtired. We are all giddy with excitement. Our rooms are amazing, the Nile river is amazing, the menu looks amazing. The day’s events are already more hilarious than anything and we know that it will make a great story for our friends back home. We arrive and almost immediately make plans to take a sunset boat tour that night to visit Lake Victoria, the official 'Source of the Nile.'
Ryan and Greg get to the hotel just in time for dinner. They proceed to tell us their own story of their surreal time spent at the Jinja police station. They tell of the case being interrupted by men in street clothes coming into their room and confidently telling them:
‘You will come with us to Princess Castle!’
...which I’m guessing by the name is exactly what it sounds like.. A castle, filled with beautiful princesses… or perhaps a dingy old shack filled with ladies of the night... we'll never know.
Ryan even got to speak to Uganda’s Minister of Tourism on the phone regarding his experience which is actually pretty awesome! Though less awesome was when he was taken by the hand by an officer (in uniform surprisingly) wielding an AK-47 to show him a rather weathered boda boda, falling apart but being held together by duck-tape and being told that:
“I must drive very far and my bike is not good and I do not have the resources to get another one”
to which Ryan replied…
“I am sorry.. I do not have resources to give you…”
It’s kind of a funny thing to realize that even though Ryan has not been in a situation like this in Uganda thus far, that he is bizarrely calm in it. Having lived here for 2 months and broadening his comfort zones, he’s not completely at ease.. But he’s calm and collected and making perfectly logical decisions in the current crazy. He’s a far cry from the person he was a few years ago that probably would have been at the airport getting the heck out of dodge by now.. We both are.
Greg on the other hand, has spent more time in Europe eating cheese on bike trips which has unfortunately not prepared him for this moment. Despite him not being anywhere close to his comfort zone, he handles himself incredibly well, joking about his experience at dinner and hysterically laughing at just about everything. I can’t help but notice a small glint of wild abandon in his eye.
Tomorrow’s a new day. Edris, being a smart business man and an all around good person, dropped everything on a Sunday afternoon and has booked the dental crew an entirely new tour.
Tomorrow morning is rafting the longest and most amazing river in the entire world. Oddly enough, I’ve never been white water rafting in Canada or anywhere else for that matter, but this will be mine and Ryan’s second time rafting the magnificent Nile. The first time was such an incredible adventure that I’m excited for the dental crew to be able to experience it and I find myself hoping that it makes up, in some way, for the bad luck following them.
Morning time comes early and we slip out of our tents around 6:30 AM, which is perfect timing as that’s consistently right when the sunrise is in Uganda.
Looking out from our balcony overly a dimly lit Nile river being bathed in the purpley morning sun, having slept in a romantic safari style tent and being freshly showered, it feels like we have a new lease on life. It helps of course that breakfast is a combination of easy over eggs with sausages, fresh juices, pancakes, crepes and chocolate syrup.
We all jump into our tour van and head for rafting. After getting the run down from the rafting guides and watching some videos of other rafters braving the massive Nile rapids, almost everyone in the group decides not to press their luck given the recent events and bows out of the death defying rafting. Gemma however, goes for it with no fear and braves the Nile alone with her and a single guide..
We all buckled up our life jackets and helmets and we used Gemma as our 'rapid guinea pig.' Sending her ahead of us to brave the intimidating waters in the safety raft before going in ourselves.
It’s hard to properly describe how amazing the Nile is… compared to the ice cold, frigid waters of Canada, the Nile is the absolute perfect temperature. It is cool enough to refresh yourself during a longer floating span, but warm enough that it doesn’t steal the breath out of your lungs when you jump in. There are trees and small rocky islands that pop up randomly throughout and while passing, you can spot many different kinds of wildlife including cranes, eagles and monitor lizards.
The rapids are, as mentioned, massive. Level 5 rapids as far as I know, are not legally allowed to be rafted in Canada, likely due to the sharp and jagged rocks that you’re probably going to die from… if the hypothermia doesn’t get you first of course.
But on the Nile, you go into these huge walls of ferociously churning waters… there’s a moment of excitement, followed by an intense fear and then I think everyone just blacks out for 3-5 seconds. But then you are just SO incredibly joyful when you come out on the other side by the fact that you are still alive and can breathe air, that at the end of the day you're confused into thinking it was the best day of your life.
The rafting guide will ask the boat prior to going into a rapid if ‘you’d like to flip’ - which often entails falling into gushing waters, getting trapped under the raft, having the certain and terrifying feeling that you are indeed drowning and then somehow managing not to. So of course, most of us voted for that option.
The day was awesome and we finished it off with one last impressive level 5 rapid that sits right beside a section ominously named ‘the bad place.’ Afterwards, almost everyone jumped into the Nile to float the remainder of the river to our exit spot and I laid in the current, my head rested back on my life jacket and just let the hot Ugandan sun bathe my face. It’s one of the moments where you cannot help but just admire life and the amazing experiences you get to live… it was a good place to be both physically and mentally.
After lunch, we all load up into the back of an open air cargo style truck and enjoy ‘endless, cold beer’ all the way home. Deep conversations about life, religion, kindness and values are had… and the whole truck is at one point singing ‘Colors of the Wind’ from the Pocahontas soundtrack as little Ugandan children run along side waving at all of the crazy muzungus.
As far as I could tell, no one was thinking about heart complications or scam artists. The day had been a huge success and the crew was enjoying Uganda for the incredible and beautiful country that it is.
And that could be the end of this story… but what fun would that be right?
An hour… maybe two later. We’re all sitting on the balconies of our tents observing the scene below. Joanne, the hotel owner is standing down on the grass in front of our tents and she’s yelling at some of the staff:
“Get someone with a gun over here!!! What if they run out of the trees and come towards us!? Why don’t we have anyone with a gun! GET THEM OVER HERE!”
Down below, we can see police racing out of the trees below the hotel, out onto the embankment where fishermen are deciding between trying to make their getaway on land, while others are literally pushing their boats off shore and paddling backwards, assuming the police won’t come into the water after them. There’s rustling in the trees to our lower, right and we’re unsure who is responsible for it, is it the police or the thieves that robbed one of our tents?
Joanne continues to yell fiercly.
“They’re running away, if you need to fire your rifles as a warning - DOOO ITTTTTT!!!!’
I had been videoing shortly before that but sadly had stopped as I was worried neither the police nor Joanne would appreciate it if they noticed.. So unfortunately I did not capture the moment that the first gun shot rang out.
My thoughts immediately went to stray bullets…
They’re probably firing up I knew... but my mind still wondered:
'What if one ricoshets?’
The second shot rings out.
‘Should we be inside? Wait, inside is a tent.. That won’t help.’
The funny thing about this situation is that, at least for me, the feeling in the air was not one of fear but rather of shear amazement and disbelief. The wondering about safety was more due to the fact that I just felt like that was the most logically appropriate response given the circumstance.
Most of us have drinks, we’re sitting watching the scene unfold below… in a state of being partially unphased, though in shock and actually highly interested in how this will all turn out.
I mostly just felt awful for the dental crew. I couldn’t understand why it seemed like bad luck and negativity was following us wherever we went. Ryan and I had visited Uganda the year before and had lived here for 2 months and had never had experiences like this before…
At that point, I decided there was really only one thing left to do. I got up, headed to my tent to get our phone and I called my parents. Leaving the gunshots part out of it, I explained the past week’s events including the heart complications, the emotions that had come along with bringing a large group to a vulnerable community, the scam, the robbery and now the police searching and chasing fishermen through the bush beside our hotel. I asked them to call our church, call their friends, call God.. and just pray that from here on out that whatever was following us would stop.
Prayer, regardless of whether not you believe in a deity, a creator, a God or whatever... is a powerful tool. Even those people who do not consider themselves to be religious can probably vouch for speaking positive affirmations into the universe. And in a moment where I felt like we didn’t have control over anything, it was all we could do. We found out later that as soon as the hotel staff had been told about the theft, they had also all gathered for a prayer as well.
My parents are spiritual powerhouses, so I know I can always count on them to surround me in prayer. They asked if we could pray right then and Ryan and I agreed… a few moments later, I looked up from our facetime conversation to see a bizarrely funny though worrisome site.
Walking down the road into the resort, escorted by about 10 armed police officers were 30-40 men in zip-tie handcuffs. The worrisome part of this was that clearly, most of these men if not all of them, were completely innocent. Being that we’d been gone all day, and the robbery could have very well happened in the morning, none of us expected to catch the guilty parties let alone get any of the items back (which included cameras, phones, debit and credit cards along with over $500 worth of cash).
Approximately 10 minutes later, 4 more armed police men came down the road, each leading a goat… Joanne’s mother explained to us that in all the years that they had owned this hotel NEVER had she seen goats outside the gate.. But today, there were goats. She had demanded that the police (and in no way is this an exaggeration) - ‘Arrest those goats!’ in order to lure the owners who may very well know something about who was to blame for the stolen items. And although arresting goats is absolutely hilariously bizarre it was also completely logical.
Gemma and Crystal, the two girls whose tent had been robbed gave their statements to the police, who given the last 48 hours, we were becoming quite accustomed to at this point. The large group of men that had been arrested were questioned on hotel grounds, out of our line of site until well after dark. At one point, sitting on our hotel balconies and discussing the wild events of late, we heard a loud joyful scream and agreed outloud that that was probably a good sign.
Amazingly enough, the girls ended getting almost ALL of their things back - which is actually incredible. On one of the phones, there was a photo taken by the thieves around 10 AM.. which means that they’d stolen the items in the morning and the police had not arrived until around 5 or 6 PM… and yet EVERYTHING was returned except for some of the cash and sadly one of the camera's memory cards. Everyone agreed that none of us had expected to have these people caught or the items returned and the police officers assured us that this was ‘very rare.’
Near the end of the evening, I decided to head to the dining area to see if I could speak with the police to thank them and explain our recent experience in Uganda. On my way there, I noticed 2 police officers standing over approximately 6 or 7 men, laying on the grass, handcuffed to one another. The police officers look at me questioningly and I break the silence by telling them that I am a friend of the girls who were robbed and I thank them for their effort in retrieving the items. I also tell them that I currently live outside of Iganga and as it turns out, the one police officer is from the same village as us and knows of OVCP. He immediately thinks I’m Terra, the co-founder of the organization and his demeanor changes from questioning to familiarity and kindness... It's clear that he is grateful for the organization and the work its done in his own community, over an hour away.
I ask the police officers if these men were the ones found to be guilty and they confirm, pointing at the youngest one of the group, a mere teenager and saying:
‘This boy had most of the items on him, he had the cell phones, cameras and cards, but the rest of these men had american dollars.’
One of the handcuffed men says to me ‘Madam, madam, please.’ The police officer says something sharp to him in Luganda. I ask if I can speak with the men and he hesitates, but agrees so I kneel down to be face level with them.
The man who called to me speaks very good English as he explains to me that his friend beside him:
‘must be let go, he has exams at school tomorrow and he must finish school… please ask them to let him go, he’s only here because of me.’
Interestingly enough, the man talking to me is also the goat herder…
The fact that this man turns to the white woman for help, with the belief that she any authority in his situation is a topic in itself.. I apologized and gently told him that I did not have say in this matter.
I turn to the boy that the police officers pointed out to me and I ask him his name, his age and if he goes to school.
Jonathon is 14 years old. He’s in primary 4 (grade 4). This is the second time they suspect that he’s stolen from this very hotel. He speaks good English and is clearly intelligent given the way he converses with me during our conversation.
I explain to him that these people have come to Uganda to help and spent the week doing dental work on the students from a school in Iganga. I tell him that I understand why he stole from us.. And I explain that the cameras and the money would get him by for maybe a month, maybe even 2 or 3… but that his education will get him through his entire life. I tell him that I live in Iganga.. And that I teach P4.. and that it feels like one of my students has stolen from me. I tell all the men about our experience yesterday and I share my confusion with them as to why this has been the Uganda that my friends have come to know… I tell them that this has hurt all of us.. But that it’s hurt each of them and its hurt Ugandan more than it has hurt anyone else. All of them are solemn and I feel like the parent giving the ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed speech.’ Whatever, it works.
Jonathon is looking down at the ground when he asks:
‘Madam, you forgive me?’
My heart breaks... I think its important to remember in these moments the insane level of privilege we come from.. Being a white woman who was born in North America... I 100% understand (or at least to the extent a person from privilege can) why people who struggle to make ends meet, who struggle to clothe and feed themselves, steal from people who have so much money they spend the same amount as the average Ugandan’s annual salary on 2 nights in a hotel. There’s a massive imbalance there… and though I still believe their actions were wrong, I understand why it happened.
I ask the men if I can pray with them and they each sit up in agreement. We form a hilariously forced, fake prayer circle, where I am holding onto the free hand of a man on each end, while the rest of their hands are handcuffed together. We bow our heads and I pray for each of them, that their lives will be blessed beyond measure, the same prayer my mother made for Ryan and I during our wedding reception, and that tonight will be a night we all look back on and remember not as a negative experience but as a turning point. I pray for Uganda, that the corruption and poverty would dissipate and that the country would be built up. I pray for Jonathon, that his life would be blessed and that he would be able to continue with his schooling and become something that he can be proud of… I can’t remember what else I said but when I finished, I once again found faces streaked with tears looking back at me.
You know.. maybe I’m a cheesy writer, or maybe its the emotional and cheesy moments that stick with me, and maybe those people that are reading this (if you’re still here… way to go.. you’re almost done) are not as big of fans of cheese as I am. But these are the moments that are precious. Sitting under a massive, dark and twinkling sky, overlooking the Nile river and praying with a group of men that stole from us hours earlier was a pretty special moment. And maybe they were only sad and regretful because they got caught.. but it didn’t matter. I still got to sit with them and speak positivity into their lives, I got to have a conversation with them and insert some good into something that was bad. Joanne told me later than Jonathon would likely be sent to a rehabilitation school until he finished secondary.. and I doubt I'll see him again but I hope his life is indeed blessed.
The next morning, after another delicious breakfast we waved goodbye to the dental crew as they drove away from Living Waters on their way to Murchison Falls, the next stop on their new and improved itinerary 2.0.
I don’t know what all their adventure included after that, but I’m positive that their trip to Uganda will likely be one of the most eventful and memorable trips that any of us have ever had.
Hi, I'm Lindsay! I am the self proclaimed soul-mate to my hubby Ryan and wannabe philanthropist. I have a passion for writing, street bikes, & rescue dogs. This blog is a random compilation of my daily (formally diagnosed) ADHD thoughts and activities as I try to make the world a better place.