Aahhh, the big city at last, with it’s roar and bustle and dust and energy. The road from Arua was horrendous; a combination of terrible pot-holed tarmac and speed-humped gravel. We passed through Gulu district which we identified before seeing the signs, by the large open areas interspersed by mass huddles of homes - official or unofficial IDP camps. Multiple small businesses in these areas sported the name “Kony” - as in “Kony’s Good Eats Restaurant” which puzzled us. Appeasement? (This area edges the infamous territory of the LRA’s Joseph Kony of Invisble Children fame.)
But at last we have reached Kampala and after a very late night of driving and a good rest we are ready for a new day in a new place. While the kids wake up slowly with their Daddy, Naomi with a fresh fever, I take off on bota (motorcycle taxi) to head to international hospital for various medical check ups. I love the freedom of the motorcycle; though not so safe, it sure is fun and a good alternative when we must meet on the road later.
After doctors and blood work ( I pay out of pocket for a doctor consult at the best hospital in Kampala, about $15) I head on to buy crafts at a local gathering then on again by bota to the big mall in town where I decide to try out “Sparkles Salon” for a much overdue hair cut. This place is not known for cutting “white hair” but I venture in anyway, the price is good, under ten dollars, and the atmosphere looks quite modern and clean, not a likely place to catch hepatitus.
It was an interesting hour. Starting with a grand total of FIVE different products applied to, then washed off my hair and an almost indecent head and neck massage. As I sat enjoying the luxury of the massage, warm water, and sweet scents I pictured myself as the sacrificial lamb being fed its’ sugar cube before slaughter to sweeten the death. When the hair dresser picked up his scissors and approached my head before even asking what kind of cut I wanted, I sensed I might be in trouble. And when a language barrier proved too much for some key words such as “short” and “trim” I told him to just go ahead but not cut too much. After a tense while, I ended up with a very good haircut and much more relaxed neck and shoulders so I gave the guy a good tip, thanked the Lord and headed on.
Our day ended sadly. After more errands, wonderful pool time, then a lovely dinner out with friends we were heading home by car at nine pm. Stuck in bad traffic we were inching along at little more than a standstill packed in on every side by all the vehicles, motorcycles, bikes and pedestrians. In the darkness of the car, as Naomi cuddled in the warmth of my lap (no seatbelt laws here and we were hardly moving, remember?) the hands of two men reached into my car and past my precious daughter and ripped David’s cell phone from my hands. The darkness of the car must have highlighted the illuminated phone as- a somewhat fancy PDA phone which is David’s right hand man. Amazing how such a small act could leave me feeling so violated, helpless, vulnerable. It took my mind a moment to be sure that Naomi was still there, that it would not be safe to chase the thieves. Then I just broke down and sobbed.