Up, Up And Away
Let’s face it, he prospect of a long haul flight is enough to send a shiver down the spine of even the most seasoned of travellers. Our family of 6 was joining 29 others from our church at Narrabeen, about to climb aboard a jet, bound for African skies.
Our mission, should we choose to accept it, was to visit the headquarters of a Christian organisation called Watoto, established in Uganda in 1986, by a Canadian couple, to help rescue the abundance of orphans and widows left behind as a result of the twin tragedies of the HIV epidemic and ongoing civil war. We would be helping to build a water bore and a greenhouse. A small contribution in the scheme of things but I guess every little bit helps.
Our gorgeous friends Adam and Keryn had offered to drive us to the airport, battling the Friday afternoon peak hour traffic to deposit us safely at the departure gates. Despite protestations from certain young males in the family at our seemingly early pick-up arrangements, we arrived right on time. Most of our fellow-team-members were already in various stages of check-in when we joined the queue. One team member, Kathy, had struck a glitch when it was discovered she’d inadvertently booked her daughter Alexis in, under her shorter name, Lexi. We all held our breath until it was resolved and Lexi and Kath we’re safely buckled into their economy-class seats.
Molly, Maisy and I were pleased we’d jagged the back row of a section. True, it was right in front of the toilet and the violent evacuation noises of middle-of-the-night flushes did punctuate our dreams with sudden fears of earthquakes, but overall, we were chuffed to be able to recline without worrying a soul. No sooner had that seatbelt sign been extinguished and we were languishing in guilt-free full-recline. It wasn’t quite a flat bed but hey, we were happy.
Poor Rossco was sitting in front of us, wedged between a couple of strangers, one of whom was one of the biggest humans I’d ever seen. Not only was he tall, but his head was huge, his body was wide and his hands were hulking great claws. Whenever he nodded off, which was often, he’d lean on his unsuspecting neighbour (that was Ross) and tilt his enormous melon so it blocked Ross’ tv screen. His other favourite choice of sleep position was to head butt his own tv with his ample arms spread across the two seats in front of him, again depriving Ross of his viewing pleasures. This Croation giant was also directly in front of me. From time to time his aforementioned hulking hands would grab the seat behind his head, playing havoc with my touch screen. The claw would make a sudden and uninvited appearance at random times throughout the flight, encroaching on my movie, pausing it and occasionally flicking me over to flight cam. While I admit I found it quite hilarious the first few times, as my sleep deprivation got the better of me, I had to physically peel his oblivious interfering fingers from my screen.
We couldn’t fault the Emirates flight attendants. They were friendly and helpful without exception. The real cutlery, toothbrushes, socks and eye masks were a bonus – not usual for cattle class – and they plied us with so much food it was ridiculous. We even got Tim Tams and chocolates after dinner and were encouraged to “take a few”, to which we willingly obliged. How generous. A bit too generous it seems as poor Sam and Toby, sitting about 20 rows behind us, knew nothing of this so-called box of Tim Tams and completely dipped out. Pity we’d already eaten our stash. Sorry boys.
A three-hour lay-over in Dubai had the team reunited, sipping on Dubai’s finest $10 flat whites, comparing sleep times and sharing stories of blockbusters they’d enjoyed over the past 14 hours. Embarking on the next 5-hour leg of our journey we were sharing the plane with a bunch of African nationals, no doubt heading home to Uganda after being abroad. Their colourful hats, high-rise head scarves and bright, cheerful clothes renewed our excitement for where we were headed. A bit more sleep, a bit more food and before we knew it we had touched down in Entebbe International Airport. A far cry from the glitz and glamour of Dubai’s mega airport, with its multi-levels, subways and fancy lifts, the Ugandan equivalent was a much more laid back affair. Still in my winter woolies, it was a sweaty wait for our bags. Ross and Toby visited Uganda 4 years ago and were delighted to be reacquainted with some of the team members they’d met last time. One of them was Steven, who upon spotting Ross & Tobes, ran over and wrapped them in a warm hug. Steven, along with Fred, were to be our Ugandan hosts. They introduced themselves to us and greeted us all with open arms and luminous smiles, welcoming us to the “Pearl of Africa” and ushering us into mini buses to transport us to our accommodation. After the unorthodox method of loading the entire team’s luggage through one of the side windows was complete, we were on our way.
It was raining lightly and extremely sticky as we wove our way through the chaos of the city. As we bundled along the bright red dirt road there was so much to see. Molly wrote down some observations: four men on one motorcycle, a woman carrying bras on her arms, motorcyclists crowding under a petrol station shelter to wait for the rain to pass, a child by himself behind a barred gate, hand-painted shop signs, Coca Cola buildings, a small water park, a man squatting on an elephant sculpture, a man standing on three-storey scaffold pulling up a bucket by a rope, crowded clothing markets that go on and on.
There were small fires burning in front of shops, incinerating leaves or rubbish, billowing acrid smoke into the air. Strips of run-down shops lined both sides of the street – a jumble of corrugated iron, rough sawn logs and dirty weather boards. Some houses were brick, some were rendered and some had been put together by piling logs atop one another haphazardly – no ventilation issues there that’s for sure. Lots of buildings were empty, either abandoned or not yet finished, while others were surrounded by scaffolding that was really nothing more than a network of twigs. Builders back home would shudder at the crazy methods going on; an OH & S nightmare waiting to happen. Great hunks of raw meat hung from dubious dusty butcher shops, colourful bunk beds and rows of used popcorn machines were being peddled outside on the footpath. It was a hive of activity; just so much to take in.
A quick stop at the mall, to exchange some Aussie dollars for Ugandan shillings, pick up some snacks and a SIM card or two, was seen through bleary eyes after having been in transit for over 30 hours by now. We were weary travellers indeed. Dinner at the hotel was a smorgasbord of African delights but most of us sat munching in a semi-comatosed state. Toby took it one step further, actually falling asleep at the dinner table. Our one-track minds were firmly focussed on nothing but getting those heads of ours onto the pillows… pronto!
