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.