The trip to Russia, Uganda and the Philippines involved 19 flights through every time zone. A mid-trip report from the road in Uganda…

My friends:

At least in Russia, the traffic jams involved parallel and perpendicular directions. Kampala’s roads follow no pattern and its drivers defy all logic—moving about in constant near-collisions with a chaos befitting a city of 2 million people and four traffic lights. Physicists wanting to study subatomic particles should set up shop here; there is a kind of quantum uncertainty every time you get in a car. As for me, I just sit in the back seat and try to go to my happy place.

Uganda’s sights and scale surpass description and stereotype. the country is incredibly fertile, completely green except for the brown roads cut by man. A “short” drive means anything less than three hours. Even the anthills are huge. Some are—no exaggeration—taller than me.

Hard-working Ugandan ants may be matched by their human counterparts. Everywhere you look, someone has a tiny stand for selling something, while another is pushing a bicycle uphill loaded with huge bunches of bananas or containers of water. While some American conceptions of poverty often include assumptions of sloth, it’s a case you just can’t make around here. The poor are incredibly hard-working; the need for food will do that to you. We sat one lunchtime with Julius, whose mother is an Opportunity International success story—so much so that Julius just graduated with a university degree in economics. Bruce asked him what he did for fun. After a moment’s confusion, Julius replied, “In Uganda, we have no time for fun. Survival is our fun.”

On Wednesday, we attended a Trust Bank meeting in our first truly rural location. (Trust Banks are Opportunity’s lending groups, where members guarantee each other’s loans and meet weekly for training.) The setting was spectacular: under a huge tree overlooking a fertile valley, a hard one-hour’s drive uphill from Mbarara. Though they have almost nothing, group members insisted on giving us gifts, the chairman actually kneeling before me as she handed my gift. A swarm of children—mostly AIDS orphans—patrolled the field as the meeting progressed. As they gained courage, one child would run up behind me to touch my arm and another my hair. We were told that the children were fascinated because we were the first bazungu—white people—they had ever seen. I finally just extended my arm. It was quite a party for the kids.

The Ugandan people are incredibly friendly, gracious and outgoing, with one exception: Almost everyone asked for money to be photographed. We never gave in, but Bruce and I seemed to spend most of our street time explaining Opportunity International and getting permission to shoot. It really got bad when a cow asked me for a thousand shillings.

It has been a real privilege to work with Bruce again. His road experience has come through time and again as Bruce shows me tips on how to carry cameras through a crowded marketplace, how you never ask directions to your hotel but rather to a nearby landmark, and how to evaluate food so that you don’t become a giant tapeworm before the trip is over. Bruce has spent the vast majority of his time on video, but watching him work a scene with still cameras brings to mind legendary golfer Ben Hogan’s famous quote about a young Jack Nicklaus: “He plays a sport with which I am not familiar.”

Bruce might have given me tips on how to pack. Just about every man in Africa wears slacks and button-down shirts, usually long sleeve. Meanwhile, I packed mostly Levis and short-sleeve polo shirts. As a result, Ron Londen is badly underdressed in one of the poorest countries in the world. On Thursday, I resolved to wear one of my long-sleeves from Russia last week. That day, the weather decided to get all equatorial on us. When I finally peeled the shirt off that night, I was afraid the color might stick to my skin.
With all the gifts people are giving us, the luggage situation grows critical. My already-full suitcase has become spring loaded to the point I fear mishandling might cause explosive injury. Considering the rancid state of my laundry, that would probably qualify as a weapon of mass destruction. Watch your headlines for news of a dangerous underwear bomb, perhaps to be discovered at some exotic airport when a bomb squad dog sniffs my luggage and dies immediately.

The pace has been grueling, often up at 6:15 and working past midnight. We have probably skipped more meals than we have eaten, which actually isn’t a problem for me, since I have the stored fat of 10 men.

photos. Vibrations of dirt roads are so bad that they loosened one of my lens mounts. Bruce has lost use of his best wireless microphone and his primary still camera—an easy repair in the States, impossible here.

On a far different level, a few days ago, Laura got an urgent call: Her best friend, Ann, was back in the hospital; the breast cancer she has fought for four years has suddenly grown far worse. After soldiering on for two days, Laura got another call. Ann may not make it through the weekend. We made arrangements to send Laura home that day. Bruce and I will finish the trip without her.

Despite all the hardships—perhaps, in some sense, because of them—this has been the experience of a lifetime. We will never forget the people we have met.

There is Gloria, whose small weaving business now has 25 employees and supports more than 140 people.

There is Elizabeth, who cooks dinner on a dirt floor with a charcoal fire started with scraps of paper gathered by her children. She supports eight children and three AIDS orphans by selling bananas. They can only afford to eat potatoes and rice, but she has put two kids through college. “Our life is very hard,” she said, “but I am happy, because all of my children are saved.” Every night, Elizabeth and her children stand in a circle and sing praise songs, then breaking into common prayer, where everyone prays aloud together, with each person’s own petition contributing to a crescendo of praise.
There is 17-year-old Harriett, who took over her mother’s small store when she died—supporting four younger siblings and defeating the plans of her two older brothers, who wanted to sell the small house and put their siblings out on the street. Today, Harriet owns 14 cows. She wants to send her siblings through school, and then start going to school herself.

There is Gertrude. Behind her house are gravesites for Gertrude’s husband, mother-in-law, three of her children and six grandchildren. She mostly cares for orphans now.
And there is Fred, our driver and constant companion for nearly every waking moment. Fred never once complained of the long hours, often ending with him driving at night while the rest of us bobble-head back to whatever hotel awaited. On Thursday evening as we stopped to look at some zebra nearby, Fred broke into a sad smile and shook my hand warmly. “I will miss you people,” he said. “I will never forget you.”

The feeling is mutual, Fred.

Swithern Tumwine serves as executive director of Ugafode, Opportunity International’s Ugandan partner. During a long journey yesterday, he asked Bruce and I about our families. We told stories and showed him pictures. It is a wonderful thing, he said, to meet Christian brothers from America who love their families.

“When I hear about America,” he said, “everything sounds terrible. You have crime and pornography. All of your homes are breaking. All in what used to be a Christian nation. You should know that the people of Uganda are praying for your country.”

The car was then quiet for few minutes.

Right now, a woman named Ann in Chicago may soon be entering the next world. In a much different sense, Bruce and I seem to sit astride two worlds as well. In one world, survival is the ultimate fun and dependence of God is an absolute and unchanging reality. In the other, more familiar world, what would be an absolute luxury elsewhere is taken for granted as our thoughts are filled with our own perceived problems, which at the moment seem no bigger than an American anthill.

Pray for us as our journey continues.

RCL

Post script: Laura’s friend passed away the day before Laura returned home. But she was able to be with her family and friends for the funeral services. Bruce and Ron continued to the Philippines as planned. For more information on the work of Opportunity International, please visit their Web site: www.opportunity.org.