It is finished

It was a long day in waiting. I can only imagine what it would be like to be a prisoner; not having anything to do. Like a prisoner, I had nowhere to go, and nothing to do. Apart from a prisoner, I had no desire to leave the confines of the hotel wall (probably because the option was there), and I was not being punished. At least not by the government; I was being punished by KLM Royal Dutch Airlines for arriving past the closing time for my scheduled flight. 

The Luxurious Central Inn, Entebbe

They agreed to give me an hour more to check out of my hotel room, pushing it to 11:00am. This gave me plenty of time to find something to do, only I was not in a place that had anything to do. I checked out at 10:45, and then found a place to sit outside in the shade for the next 8 hours while I waited for my free airport shuttle. It was either to spend time at the hotel, or spend time in the airport. I thought about calling Robert, or Darrie Turner, but I had discovered earlier that my phone was not with me; it had gone home with Robert in Bosa’s car. Having no form of communication, and nowhere to go, there I sat for the next 8 hours in the grassy area of “The Central Inn, Entebbe”.

The time finally came. My shuttle scheduled for 7pm arrived. I was the only person going to the airport, so away we went. I got to the Airport around 7:15 and checked in. The booking agent from the previous night noticed me and came up to me as I stood in front of a line of people. “Adam Neil”, he said with a tone which to me seemed to say, “are you causing any trouble today?” he came up to me and shook my hand. The passengers behind me watched with a curious eye. He said, “Now you are early, which is also a problem.” I chuckled, and again, thanked him for all that he did for me last night in re-booking my flight and apologized for any inconvenience I had caused for he and his staff. He assured me that it was no problem. I checked in, sent my big bag to the belly of the plane, and then became a traveller for the next day and a half. 

Looks like she had to sag a little too.. 

When in Amsterdam, I had a few hours at the airport to find a place to sit. I found an area that had quite nice chairs to sit in. They were permanently reclined and promoted sleeping. They were designed for big people, so the headrest naturally hit the top half of my head forcing my neck to kink if I sat in it like a normal person would. I had to either sag a tad in the chair, or sit extremely upright in order to get comfortable. I put my headphones in and set an alarm for a few hours, but if I would doze even a small amount, the fear of missing the boarding announcement would jolt me awake. Still, it was nice to recline and close my eyes, listening to a beautiful sound for some time. 

The time that it takes to travel from Ugnada to the US is more than enough to reflect on your time. My mind filed through moments that I had accumulated in the last 2 months. I can only imagine what it is like for a child living in a community of children and women with little exposure to a white person to suddenly have a white man at their fingertips, which they can come and observe whenever they want. Moments when a child would grab my hand, or just want to touch my hair would come to mind. Moments like the last day when a girl or boy would seek me out to just tell me not to go; that they would miss me so, so much.

I could see the faces of the boys with which I became frustrated, wishing that they could not detect it on my face. I wanted them to just know that I loved them, and was proud of who they were and that I was excited to continue to be their friend and parent as they grow into adults. I thought about when I was a child. The times that my parents were frustrated with me, and how important it is to tell children that you love them. My dad was not the type of person who would use the word “Love” often, but he did tell me. Those times meant so much to me; just to hear the words.

I became so paranoid that I would be late for the gate that I left the chair almost an hour before the flight, thinking they would open the gate 45 minutes before the flight. I arrived to find that there was another security checkpoint that I had to go through since my next stop was in the United States. Checking through, I just sat and waited there for another half hour. During the flight into the USA, I sat next to a man from Iran, who gave up his Iranian citizenship for a US citizenship some years ago. He was telling me the hardships going back to Iran as a former Iranian citizen. It was something I had never really thought about. They actually treat him as a traitor; everyone is rude to him. He told me that if I were to go to Iran, they would treat me better than they treat him... That is crazy. Some time mid-flight, he got up and disappeared in the back of the plane somewhere. He told me that there were many open seats near the back of the plane, and he wanted to stretch his feet. I had let him borrow my phone charger, so he left his phone with me, returning just before the flight ended.

Basically "Lazyboys"

I changed my clock to Portland time as soon as I got on the first plane. I wanted to start adjusting my body as soon as possible; sleeping when the clock says Portland is sleeping. The only problem is that for me, flying = not sleeping. The head-bobbing and leg-numbing is so good at keeping me awake. 

I arrived in Portland around 11:30 am, went through customs, and met Bruce and Julie, who were waiting to pick me up. I had been wearing the same clothes since Kampala with Robert and the girls. I could smell myself. They told me, “Why don’t you come home, take a shower, and then we will get something to eat.” This gave me a wonderful opportunity to tell them about my clothing situation. To the children, I gave most of my clothes, retaining the clothes that I was wearing. I had a few clothes that I kept, but they were sealed in a plastic bag, because I didn’t want the rest of my luggage to smell like sweaty, dirty clothes. We then made a quick detour to Ross, where I was able to purchase a few shirts and a new pair of jeans. I got to their house, where many of my things are stored, and took a shower. I am now back in the USA, and wearing clean clothes. It is cold and wet, and I have to put socks on.

As usual, I feel happy and sad at the same time. I miss my American family and friends. I miss my Ugandan family and friends. I am excited to be home but sad to leave Uganda. I hope that God did good work through me. Though many times I felt overwhelmed and sometimes frustrated, I pray that what people saw in me was Christ, not Adam. I take no credit for what I have done, all glory and credit is due to God. He compelled me as well as everyone who contributed. I was one part to play and my part was no greater than any other. Everyone has to work to earn money. By contributing cash to my project, you donated some of your time, working to achieve completion of the same project I worked to achieve. You and me, we are partners, co-workers, and friends; all working together to accomplish the work of God. I am not a worthy person do do this work. I am blessed by everything God has done and is doing in my life, including the part played by you. 

Thank you for taking the time to read.

Capacitors, Fried Chicken, and Airplanes

In the last months I have had few quiet mornings. In the last two days, both have been quiet, and the sleep has been good. I feel like I should still be suffering with my sleep since I am about to get home and enjoy good sleep every night. It makes coming home not as sweet when I get comfort just before I arrive home; this is me talking here, I am sure there are plenty of people who would disagree. 

I had some time in the morning to pack my things the way I wanted, and then moved down for breakfast. I took my time at breakfast, as Bosa could not arrive until 9:30am with the car. I had bread with butter and peanut butter, pineapple, scrabbled eggs, potatoes, and coffee. As I ate, I listened to parts of the conversation of the British people siting at the table behind me. I did not catch it all, but what I could tell, they were here on some kind of mission. Robert came in and sat down at my table 15 minutes early. I was happy to see him. It was the first time I had seen him in a month. I offered to buy him breakfast. He obliged and got into the line to fill his plate. We finished eating, packed my things into the car, and left for the orphanage. 

I couldn't loosen the bolts. We need the key.

I had a few things that I wanted to check on when I got to the orphanage. Susan told me that the swings were all broken and if I could manage to repair them it would be wonderful, so I started at the container looking for a tool that might work. I found the organization in the container to be much worse than it was when I saw it last, but that is understandable. There were bags, clothes, tools, materials, ladders, garbage, and some broken things. I think the tendency here is that if something breaks, you have to keep it because maybe; possibly at some point in time, you might need a screw, or part from whatever was broken before. This is when you get the “old man garage” where there are a million screws that you are never going to use that all require a different screwdriver, pieces of plastic that you will never use, old gloves; things that over time become spoiled and just make clutter so that it is harder to find what you need when you actually need it. That has always been my experience in this container. I finally found what I thought would work, and went out to the swings to try and remove the special bolts that connect the swings to the chains. I used all my strength, and loosened the bolts for the first swing. I installed a canvas swing in place of the broken swing, then moved to the next one. As hard as I tried, I could not get it to move and ended up just stripping the bolt with the adjustable-jaw wrench that I found. Not wanting to use all my time at the orphanage on the swings, I went to find my sponsored daughter and leave for Christian Life Church. On the way I was told by one of the Mums there that the pump for the borehole is not working. Now I had another mission. Water is more important. 

This is the spoiled capacitor

I arrived in the pump house and tested the pumps, and of course, the power was out. I left the pump house. I was then told that Mum Berna had left for St. John’s college to pick up some documentation for me to take to the church. “You have to wait until she comes back before you leave”, they said. My plans of spending the day with my sponsored daughters was rapidly slipping away. As we waited, the mums came and told me that the power was back, so again, I went to the pump house to see if I could find the problem. When I arrived, I noticed that inside the electrical panel there was oil all over the place, and there was a capacitor that had fallen to the bottom of the panel. I examined it and decided that this was the problem. It contained oil at one time, and when the capacitor failed, the container ruptured, splattering oil that was once contained inside the capacitor, inside the panel. I disconnected the it and closed the pump house. I then squeezed visiting Davis and Shirtliff to pick up a replacement into my plans for the day.

My sponsored Daughter, Florence

As we waited for Mum Berna, we attempted to repair a weed-eater. When I looked at the clock again, it was 12:30; past lunch. This gave me a sense of urgency, because I had planned on going into Kampala and having lunch with my girls. I decided that I wasn’t going to wait anymore. I didn’t want to wait all day at the orphanage and miss out on time with my girls. I picked up florence from her class, and we drove away. I got a call from Mum Berna telling me to meet her at the Seeta Stage, which is just next to the Ridar Hotel. When we stopped, I did not find Mum Berna, so I took the time to purchase a soda and a Twix for Florence, and a nice cold water for Robert. When I finally found Mum Berna, she handed me the documents, and we were off; heading towards Christian Life Church. Florence was quiet in the back, but it felt good to just be around her. 

We arrived at the church to find that Joan, my other sponsored daughter, was there waiting for us. I loaded her into the car, and gave the documents to the receptionist with instruction to give them to Mum Betty. From there we departed and moved for Davis and Shirtliff. When we got there, we were met by a technician who recognized the capacitor that I had in my hand. I told him that we needed to replace it. He took hold of it and examined it. I asked him if he noticed anything about it that was not correct. He said, "yes, the seal is broken, meaning that the capacitor is spoiled." I very discreetly gave myself a fist pump. He said that it would cost 100,000 shillings ($38) to replace it. Knowing I was getting taken, I had no choice. If I didn’t pay the money, I wouldn’t get the part, and the children would not have water. So I told him to get the part and I would pay for it. He told me it would take 10 minutes to get it, and left. When he returned 30 minutes later he told me that the location they get buy this part from would not give him the part without the cash, so I took his phone number, handed him the money. Then he disappeared again. Robert and I stood in the shade and talked about vehicles for the next 30 minutes and then the technician returned again with a new part. We went inside the building, had them test it, and write me a receipt. We then loaded up, and headed out to the store so that I could buy the girls some school supplies. 

We first went and got something to eat at “Mr. Tasty’s”. It is a fried chicken place just next to the store. I told the girls to tell me what they wanted, and having never done this, they ordered the family packs that were the most expensive on the menu. I looked in amazement at them, and then asked, “What do you think about ‘number 2’; It has everything that you want.” They agreed, so they both got fried chicken and chips while Robert and I both got a burger and chips. We placed the left over food in the car, and moved to the Store. 

Waiting for the Capacitor at
Davis and Shirtliff

I felt a little overwhelmed in the store with two girls who had not been to a store like this before. They kept telling me, “There are many whites here.” I had a list of things that I wanted to make sure they had, and then some things that they could use with their friends. Joan wanted to push the shopping cart, but was not so good at it; not watching where she was going. She kept nearly running into people. It did not help that the aisles were narrow.  The shopping cart filled fast with pillows, shoes, towels, soaps, and various other things. I wanted to be very careful. I did not want them to think that this was the time to get whatever they wanted, but the things that they were needing for school. I kept whispering to God, “Don’t let me spoil them, don’t let me spoil them.”

We finished our shopping and it was time to head back, as the time was nearly 5:00pm. Robert kept reminding me of the time. If I wanted to do all the things on my list, getting to the airport on time would be difficult; my flight departed at 12:45am. We took Joan back to the church just past 5. Because St. Lawrence College will not allow anyone inside after 5:00pm, she was going to be forced to spend the night at the church. I was surprised at this, yet to them it was no big deal. “She has her pillow, so she will be fine, they said. After I said my goodbye, I told her that I loved her, then left to take Florence back to the orphanage. We arrived there at nearly 8. I had little to no time to replace the conductor before we needed to leave for the airport. It was going to take 2 to 3 hours to get there, Robert told me. Quickly I went to the pump house, installed the new capacitor and turned it on to hear the sound of flowing water into the tanks; another fist pump. I went to look at the water flowing, when suddenly the water stopped. I was puzzled. There was something else that was wrong. The panel had overloaded and tripped the breaker again. Looking at the time, I knew that I was already behind schedule. I had to go. We locked up the pump house, and moved to the car, said more goodbyes, and drove into the darkness.

On the way to the airport, we took many back roads due to the traffic, and managed to save a little time. I called Mum Betty on the way and told her that the problem was not fixed with the water, and would require a technician from Davis and Shirtliff to come out, diagnose, and fix the problem. I am thinking it is going to be difficult for them. Many of the pipes coming into the pump house are unlabeled, so knowing which one contains the borehole water will require someone to be there with knowledge. I told Robert how much I appreciated him driving me and how much I enjoy being around him. I told him that have never been disappointed with his driving. I have driven with enough other people in Uganda to really respect the way that Robert drives and trust him with my life when I am in his car. He was very happy that I wanted to spend time with him and for him to be my driver. He drives me in Bosa’s car since he has only a bus, and gave everything I paid him to Bosa. He said that he didn't want to be paid to drive me. We had some fun on the way back. Robert told me that Bosa does not maintain his vehicle well. I could hear the jolts in the suspension at every bump, the lights for the floorboards flickered at every bump, and at one point the engine over-heated and we had to pull over at a gas station to pay a technician to fill the radiator with water. I could not help but be amused, and thankful that it was not my car. 

Bosa's over-heating, and under-maintained car.

We finally arrived at the airport with just over two hours before my flight departed. Feeling blessed with time, I opened my bag, and shifted some things. I removed the things I did not need from my backpack, and added things that I would need on the flight. I said goodbye to Robert and wheeled my check-in bag up the ramp to the departure desks. I was met at the door by a guard asking me where I was going. “Amsterdam”, I told him. He looked to the side, and very casually waved me on. I moved through the security checkpoint, and of course, and to open my bag for them. There is a bag of chargers, memory cards, USB drives, and electronic devices that must look very suspicious. I anticipate many stops on my way home. I walked to the KLM desk and was then asked by a man standing there, “Which flight are you on?” I told him, “Amsterdam.” He then told me, “The cut off for passengers to Amsterdam was here”, as he pointed to the back of the man in front of me. He said, “You need to go upstairs to booking and ‘re-book’ your flight.” I looked at him and said, “Are you kidding me?! I am here two hours early.” He said, “Your flight leaves at 11:30. You should have been here two hours ago.” I thought this was ridiculous and tried to convince him to just let me in line and I could run to the plane. He refused. Frustrated, I walked away from the check-in counters, off to find the booking office.

I sat at the the booking desk with my legs crossed and waited as the man behind the desk told me that I was very late. He said, “...and it is going to cost you money!”, stretching the ‘o’; emphasizing the word. I told him I didn’t understand how I was late if my itinerary said 12:45am. He asked to see my itinerary, surprised that it would say that. I didn’t have it printed, so I took my computer out and searched for a wifi signal. I scanned through my email and found the Delta email with my tickets and opened it. I took in a nice deep breath and sighed. I said, “You are right. It says 11:30pm, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He started to count up the fees and gave me the final number, $300. I asked, “Can I pay you in Shillings?” 

“Yes, of course”, he said. “What were you doing here in Uganda?”

“I am a missionary. I built a 300m wall around an orphanage in Lira.”

He looked at me and paused. He said, “Because I am in a good mood I am going to remove this $50 fee that I am supposed to charge you. I am being very kind.” I thanked him and started to count what I had left in shillings, exceeding the amount by very little. He rebooked me on a direct flight; Uganda to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Portland. This was very kind. As a booking agent, you have the opportunity to stick it to people by giving them many, long layovers. He asked me if I know where I am going to stay the night, and I asked him if I am supposed to call a hotel. He asked me how much I wanted to spend. I told him, “as little as possible.” He said, “I know a place. $50 dollars a night; very affordable.”

“Ill take it.” 

“Ill call the shuttle to come and pick you up. It is the ‘Central Inn Express’, I told them to look for the man in the green top.”

“Thank you”, I said. 

As I stood and waited for the shuttle, several taxi drivers crowded me asking me if I had someone picking me from the airport. I told them all I had one. They would then say, “If they do not come, I drive you? You let me know, I give you my number, you call me.” I thanked them all, and stood leaning against a pole; waiting. 

The booking agent soon appeared out of the crowd of taxi drivers and told me that the hotel finished their shuttle run. “They do 1 shuttle every night, and it is finished.” He motioned another man over named Sam. “This is a driver; a good man, he can take you to the hotel.” I asked, “How much?” He said, “Twenty-five thousand.” I started to barter, when they told me that the taxi drivers usually charge fifty. The booking agent told me that he informed sam of my situation, and he agreed to do it for twenty five. 

I was at the point where I didn’t really care what happened next, I was just ready to go to bed; almost slap-happy. We arrived at the Central Inn Express. Sam unloaded my bag, and wheeled it into the front of the hotel for me. Thousands of lake flies clung to the light that illuminated the white wall behind the desk. They would move every so often when a little breeze would wrench their grip from the wall. The girl behind the desk greeted me and checked me in. She was in a good mood, which seemed to lift my spirits as well. I actually go to laugh a few times at the counter. She informed me that it was $50 dollars per night, and they charge on check-in. I asked her if I could pay in shillings, and of course, yes. I took out my wrinkled little white envelope, riddled with scribbles and math calculations. I took out the bills and started to count. I needed to reach 130,000 shillings. After I counted everything up, I had 125,500. I chuckled and looked at her. She looked at me and smiled, “I think you mis-counted.” She took the bills and counted. I had 127,500, but I was still 2,500 shillings short. We both had to laugh. I remembered I had some euros left from my last trip in Italy. I asked, “Do you take Euros?”

“Yes we take them.” 

I took out a more crisp envelope from my passport case and removed a fifty. “How much in Euros”, I asked her, holding the money.

“Forty-five” 

I handed her the fifty and she searched her drawer for change. All she could find was a ten. She asked me if I had a five for change for the ten. All I had was 10. I smiled and looked down, nodding, knowing that I now had to open my check-in bag on the floor at the reception desk and search for a book containing US dollars. This was what I had been trying to avoid. I found the $50 dollar bill and handed it to her. She scribbled out the shillings and the euros from the receipt and added a new currency. She asked, “Why do you have so many types of money?” 

“I go many places. Perhaps next time we can try something different?”

“Perhaps you can give me some sudanese dollars next time.” 

I chuckled again, and told her, “You never know.” I walked up the stairs to my new room, and started plugging all my electronic devices into the wall. I looked at the mosquito net that was coiled up hanging from the ceiling above the bed and stepped up to untie it. I began to tuck it in all around the mattress. I noticed that the net was too high and would not reach the bed in some places. I tried to force it; stretching it under the mattress when I heard the pop. The whole thing came down from the ceiling. I stood and looked at it for a second, motionless, then started to repair. If you don’t have a mosquito net here, you probably wont sleep all that well. The net was actually turned inside out, so I was able to correct that and add some length to the string. Now that it was fixed, I tucked it in. I thought, “This is good. I have a bed, a shower, and I don’t have to wake up early tomorrow.” I took my shower, brushed my teeth, and hopped into bed. 

"Busquits" and Soda

Easter was good. Easter should always be good, as it’s the most important day, not only of our lives, but for all eternity. Easter is the day that Jesus took us back from the devil and set us free from sin so that we can be with him in paradise, forever. What could be better than that?

I woke up and slowly came out of the house. Children were sweeping, the chickens were squawking, and the sun was climbing. I could already feel a slight heat on my chest as I squinted into the brightness. I stand and wonder what the day will bring. I went back inside to begin preparing for the coming day, and for the trip that was to follow. I sat on my bed not knowing how to feel about going home. This always happens to me. I thought about what I wanted to keep, and what I wanted to leave. I went into my suitcase and collected everything that I was wanting to keep, and then went through that again, removing even more. I selected one pair of pants, one pair of shorts, two shirts, and a long sleeve shirt to take home. The rest I placed in a pile on my bed and started to think about who I wanted to give it to.

I sat at the table in the room and read Matthew 27 to the end, then Mark 15 to the end, then Luke 22:66 to the end, and finally John 18:28 to the end. I thought about Jesus’s last day before he received all authority from God. After watching Passion of the Christ, that is what my brain automatically went to, but the movie stops at the resurrection. What about all the moments after he raised from the dead? The story of when he was walking on the road to Emmaus with two of his disciples is probably one of my favorites [Luke 24:13]. It makes the hair on my neck stand up. 

Lemo Brian and I

I went out to the kitchen where the mums were pealing potatoes and chopping onions; getting ready for the Easter meal. There was a rooster tied up sitting near one of the stoves. I asked, “Are we going to eat that one?” they said yes. I asked, “Do you need a sharp knife?” and they said, “we need a sharp knife and the one to do the cutting.” I showed them my knife, and they told me I was the one who was going to kill it. I had to chuckle. I have never killed a chicken before, but I have killed many other things... A chicken cant be that bad. They sent a boy with me who has done it before so that I would make no mistakes. What happened is he pinned the rooster down with his feet, stepping on the feet of the chicken and its wings. He pulled the neck up, plucked the neck feathers, and then sliced the neck open with my knife. I thought, “That was easy.” I took the limp chicken and my bloody knife back to the kitchen and handed it to the Mums ...and they applauded me. I should have just taken the credit, but I had to tell them that I didn't do it.  Next time, I will be the one.

I heard a voice at my door, “Adam... Adam... Adam” It was Aceng Sharon. She asked me if I was going to church, and I responded, “Yes, I am waiting for you!”. We walked to church together and sat in the back of the church; away from the speakers. As the different pastors and artists all went up to have a word in Luo, I got back into the gospels after Jesus’s resurrection. This was a special Easter for me. It is just like the first birthday when the children all sang me happy birthday. There is something in those moments that captures your heart and makes it worth more than any gift I have ever received. Spending time with the children becomes the gift. I am blessed to have the opportunity to be here and spend time them. 

We walked back to the orphanage, and the Easter feast was ready. There was a nice selection of beef or chicken; delicious stews with potatoes and rice. It was a very nice meal. The children ate it up. I then went back into the house and resumed packing. The church had its morning service, and then there was more Easter activities from 2:00pm on. The children must have all gone back to the church, because the orphanage was empty until even after the sun set. I took the opportunity to run into town with our neighbor, Stella and go to the grocery store. I was on the hunt for cookies. I wanted to find a certain kind, but failed. Instead I purchased enough of a strawberry cookie so that each child could have 4 packs, then returned to the orphanage. 

I got a hold of Aceng Sharon and Lemo Brian, who were lingering around me and started to help them with their math. They were having trouble with their algebra, so I helped them understand it by giving them problem after problem until they started to get the pattern. By that time, some of the children were coming back from church. I went to Mum Tabitha and asked if we were going to have the sodas and “bisquits” tonight. She gave me the squint with a smile and her head half cocked to the side and said, “maybe we should do it tomorrow; it is late!” Then she quickly came upright with her eyes wide open and said, “but you are leaving tomorrow very early!” I smiled and nodded my head. We then went into my house where the sodas and cookies were stored and started to divide them house by house. My math was correct. Each child would get 4 packs each. Mum Tabitha went out onto the veranda and started shouting, “You children assemble yourselves! You get in lines of houses!” The children were giddy. Frantically they shifted and smashed themselves together in lines ordered by house. She then looked at me and said, “Okay, Mr. Adam, you can speak to the children.” I could see their faces in the darkness. They all stood looking at me. I began to speak. “How many of you know where this wall came from?” They stood motionless and thought. I asked, “Did it come from America?” They shook their heads; “no.”

“Did it come from me?” 

“No.”

Ogwang Kenneth and the boys with their "Bisquits"

“Where did it come from?” They almost all pointed to the sky and screamed, “From God!” I smiled and said, “Thats right! It came from God. Do you know that each one of you belongs to him? Did you know that the bible says that he is the defender of the fatherless? It says that he is strong, and will take up your case against the evil one!” I told them about Nehemiah, when the wall was dedicated, people were brought together in Jerusalem to celebrate with singing and rejoicing for what God had allowed them to accomplish. Mum Tabitha then got them started in a few songs of praise and we all sang, clapped, and danced for the wall. I then prayed over them and for the wall, that God would continue to be in this place, and that he would use this wall to protect the children. I know that is why he brought me here, and I know that protecting them is what he wants to do. I told them, “whenever you look at this wall, I want you to remember that God provided this wall for you. It came from nowhere else but him. He is your defender, and he will protect you, why? ...because he loves you.” I also told them that this was my last night, and tomorrow I leave very early in the morning, so this was also my goodbye. I said, “Tomorrow when you look for me, you will not find me.” I told them that there were times here when I was frustrated, but assured them that I loved them; so much. We then had the children come into the storehouse home by home to receive the treats that had been prepared for them. I had many children come up to me and plead with me to not go, but to stay for another month. After the treats had been distributed, it was time for dinner. I went back over to Mum Lydia’s house and sat at their table to a nice dinner and conversation with Lydia, and Mum Kevin. Children sat with me and took bites of their cookies while I ate.

I went back into my house to find a few of the children waiting for me there. They had letters for people back home, and for me. I kept going back and forth from my room to the main room, packing and entertaining. After the last child had left, I closed the door, turned out the lights, got into my bed and set my alarm for 5:40am. 

When morning came, it was still dark, and so quiet. I quickly prepared my things, made the final changes to the room, and snuck out the front door, locking it behind me. I moved to the front gate, quietly opened it and went out; also closing that door behind me. There I sat looking at the wall that I had been told by God to come and build. I decided that this was the perfect time to pray for this wall. I stood there and prayed for the children and the wall until headlights peeked at me from a distance down the road. I had in my hand, a picture that Henry gave me, and an Avocado from Brian. Urs and Ursula from “God Helps Uganda”, the orphanage across the wetlands, picked me up and gave me a ride to Kampala as they were already going in that direction. I left the orphanage in silence. I hope that they slept long and hard. 

We made good time into Kampala. I was dropped off at Christian Life Church. I wrote a little note for Pastor Jackson to say goodbye and had someone run it up to his office; I know he is a busy man. Mum Betty was going to the orphanage to take care of some business, and wanted to give me a ride. Just before we left, the man I handed the note to came down and told me that Jackson wanted me to come up to his office. I went up to his office and was met by a few of the pastors from the church. He gave me a big hug and wanted to thank me for the hard work that I did. I told him, “I would love to take credit. Many people back home would too, but I must give thanks to God for this. I was more than happy to do it, and you are blessed.” Jackson smiled in agreement, and said, “He is so good.”

We arrived at the orphanage, I saw so many smiles through the window. Now that I am used to Lira, the amount of children in Seta is overwhelming. I hear all the little voices saying, “Adam! Adam!” I have a different name here; “Sentam”. That means, “Big Saucepan.” I forgot about it...  I saw the swings which Susan Gosvener told me about, and looked for the key to open the container to find tools. We lost the special wrench for the swings a long time ago, but I was able to wrench off the bolts with a pair of channel lock pliers, and a crescent wrench. I was only able to do one, however. The other swings proved to be too difficult. The bolts just kept stripping out on me. Not wanting to spend all my time doing that, I went and ate some beans and posho, then spent time with my daughter, Kibone Florence. I went to her house, and asked to see her things. She brought out all of her possessions and set them in front of me in a ragged suitcase. I started probing, taking a list for things that I could buy for her at the store tomorrow. Very soon after this, I was called by Mum Betty. It was time to leave. I had them drop me at the store and purchased some things. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, a bar of chocolate, and a juice box for dinner... :) I have spent the evening in solitude nibbling my chocolate, sipping my juice, and listening to worship music.