To Entebbe And Back (in slow motion)

Saturday Bev and I went to Entebbe to pick up our dear friend Jo. It was an uneventful ride to the guest house. Unlike our last trip to Kampala...

That trip had started well enough and finished well but there was one part that was a little frightening. As we passed Kitigoma and were cruising through the cane field, I pulled out into the passing lane to overtake a petrol lorry. No worries as he was doing 60 kph and we were doing 80 kpm. About one fourth of the way around him this 55foot long tanker decides to pull into my lane to overtake another lorry. It was just at this point that a pickup appears, coming fast from the other direction. Now we have a problem. Three lanes, two tanker lorries, a pickup truck and us. Plus a pothole! I instantly think, "This is the stuff Ugandan headlines are made of."

Have you ever noticed in periods of extreme danger how time seems to slow down? This was just one of those times.

The pothole was small by local standards (under 6 feet wide and less than 12 inches deep) but the pickup did not want to straddle it so he slides into my lane. This is making life in the fast lane very tight. My only option was to gun the engine since slowing down would have caused us to be ground into the pavement by the first lorry's rear wheels. As the gap narrows time slows even more. I see Otim's face contort into an expression of alarm. I hear Bev let out a little gasp. And I watch the darkness come as the space ahead begins to close up. I stay as close to the lorry as humanly possibly. Our passenger door mirror begins to fold inward from the fender of the lorry pushing against it. I can't bear to watch the impact with the pickup so I watch the tanker. Otim is clawing his way into my seat. Bev is trying to scream but nothing comes out. All sound is gone. Nothing but the pounding of our hearts as disaster looms on the horizon. The pickup is right next to me. I cannot see where my vehicle ends and his begins. I don't dare look at the driver as that might cause us to move over and used up the three microns of gap between us.Then it is over. We are past the lorry, the pickup has gone by and the daylight has returned. The topic of discussion quickly turns to the love and grace of God. Amen! He has let us keep our lives and our mirrors.


This trip to Entebbe was slow and uneventful; however the trip home was interesting.
As I was the designated driver(not because of teatotaling reasons but because I'm not invited into the conversation of two women who haven't seen each other in months) I settled into a comfortable contemplative position behind the wheel.

It is a common opinion in these parts that I don't listen to people. Not true! I listen, I just don't hear so well. As I listened to Bev and Jo's conversation about news from home I was saddened to hear that my friend Keith B. had sung two songs and had gotten chapped lips. Apparently the weather didn't agree with him and the songs were long as he had eight chapped lips! Sounds painful.

I also learned our friend Denny who works in Namulanda has apparently decided to take up agriculture as he is now back in New Mexico living in a farming town and had brought in Ed's corn well. But the good news was dampened since the tomato harvest (tomas in spanish) had some problems, or quirks as Jo called them.

Then came the most exciting part of the trip. We stopped to shop at a supermarket in Kampala. The Shoprite/Game complex is always an adventure and it didn't disappoint this time. I got to save a life.

As we crossed the parking lot which, is made of interlocking paver stones, two young women, one carrying a child, were approaching us. I saw the one with the child stop and look down at her foot. It was stuck. Her high heel had sunk into the gap between two stones and she couldn't pull it free. Being the gallant man that my mom taught me to be I asked if she needed help. It was just then that a car came around the corner.

Time seemed to slow again. As the vehicle approached I bent down and attempted to remove the shoe from the crack. The woman began trying to wriggle out of her shoe but couldn't get her foot free. I glanced up to see the station wagon still bearing down on us. I told Jo to save herself and pushed her out of the way. Then I tugged at the woman's foot. No good! Finally I wedged my fingers under the heel of the shoe and lifted straight up. FREE! By now I could only see the grill of the car. The woman leaped to safety one way and I went the other. Jo stood by amazed!

I told Jo how time had seemed to slow and enable me to get the woman free. She looked at me incredulously. "What are you talking about?" she said. "That car was twenty yards away and was only moving three miles an hour!" Then she started to say something about the next time I pushed her I'd be pushing up daisies but I didn't wait to hear the rest. I had to go tell my wife! I knew she'd be impressed.

PS It turns out Keith B. is in Tucson with eight chaplains, Denny is in Farmington and had spoken to Ed Cornwell and Thomas Quirk. Somehow I like my version of the trip better! And is it any wonder why I don't listen?