made
through a windshield.
Doug
and I had a plane to catch in Entebbe, Uganda for the second half of our 2018
adventure. We left our tiny town near Kamura, Uganda (south of Gulu) by taxi
for a five hour drive to overnight before our flight. Five hours, you read that
correctly. We had the same driver, same taxi for the trip out, but I was
pretzeled in the back seat with the items we were delivering for the hospital
that we were going to volunteer. I can’t really comment on the scenery except
the side of some suitcases. I was promoted to front seat for the return and the
journey began. Driver Eric did his best with some broken English to answer my
questions, and I had a lot of them.
Most
of my queries , I just had to wonder. He asked if I wanted the air
conditioner on, and I guess “yes” was hard to understand because we did the
drive with the windows down. This part of Africa drives on the left with the
steering wheel on the right. It had taken me all week to not go to the wrong
side of the Restoration Gateway van to climb in. I had hopes of AC when Eric
rolled up his window, but I discovered every smoking diesel bus or truck we
passed, he got that window up and then it was down. Gasoline costs about $7 a
liter, so I can’t really blame him.
The
dirt there is like western Oklahoma, red clay and dusty. I watched folks in
their daily lives. Whenever I saw a small crowd, I knew there would be people
filling plastic cans with water. School children in tattered uniforms walked
along the side of the highway headed home. I wondered what American parents
would say if their little student walked alone down a busy blacktop. We passed
through some small towns, women selling bread, jack fruit and eggs. Motorcycles
buzzed by with entire families on board. I saw four adult men on a small cycle
and then I couldn’t be surprised when I saw four big kids on a bike.
Traffic
was a tangle as we reached the bigger city of Entebbe. Horns honking
everywhere, motorcycles passing vehicles on both sides, cattle in the road...it
seemed to be a huge game of chicken. I noticed many of the public mini-buses
had sacred sayings on the back window such as “Jesus is Lord,” and “God Saves”.
Trust me, that crazy taxi ride, I think I got saved three times. Six and a half
hours later, we were there.
Fast
forward to our next taxi ride which was after we landed in Casablanca. We are
joining a group tour to check out Morocco. (You are asking yourself, “Does she
really go on group tours when she’s not on a group tour?” Yep.) So we
negotiated a price with our French speaking, Moroccan driver. I guess I’m going
to drive, because we are back to right lane driving and left side steering and
I can’t find my spot in the cab. We left for Rabat where the tour starts. We
aren’t on the road five minutes and he pulls over and reaches into the glove
box. Doug and I shoot each other a look, as he flings open his door mumbling
something that sounded like “one minute”. Fifteen long minutes later he returns
with a paper. (We didn’t ask.)
I
notice his amber ornament that looks like the Koran on his rear view mirror.
About this time Doug starts reading me the daily devotion our brother-in-law Mike
sends us. All the while the driver’s playlist is pumping out The Beatles
singing “Mother Mary comes to me.....Let it Be” Somehow it made me grin. Then
the playlist cranked out Dolly Parton and Celine Dion. But my favorite moment
was when Mr. Driver held up his fist, concert style, on “We are the World”. As
it turned out, he was very expressive with his hands. I thought the Italians
had top marks with hand gestures, but he displayed his dissatisfaction with
other drivers with such complex moves, I wasn’t sure if he was cussing them out
or giving them coaching directions to steal third base.
After
a couple of phone calls and more stops to ask for directions, he finally found
our hotel. He stopped in the intersection for us to get out. I was ready.
Maybe
next time we should look up Uber.
