The flight from Amsterdam to Kampala seemed filled mostly by people from charity organizations and missions. It felt like a cocoon of westerness as we crossed over the Sahara Desert for hours. Our excellent meal was elaborately designed and presented: covered with a custom designed and recyclable molded plastic cover, it consisted of Cretan soup, a cucumber salad, Tillamook cheese with crackers, a packaged honey cake, and a fresh roll. How different from what those on the plane are likely to eat in Uganda.
We sat next to a young man coming home from Denmark. He and several colleagues had just finished software development training for their startup company, which is building a microfinance site to connect global investors with local entrepreneurs. This is good - it's new in Uganda (to my knowledge) and a welcome sign. I found myself thinking, the time will come when the Ugandans will tell us not to come any more in order to help, but instead to come only if we'd like to enjoy some life with them. That's the time I believe we're ultimately seeking.
Night fell suddenly, shortly before we landed in Kampala. The airport terminal windows swarmed with large tan-colored flies or beetles that were attracted to the light. Too big to be lake flies. On the lower level where a door to the outside was open, with every pace or two you'd step on one with a loud sound like popcorn popping.
Richard Tooro (nickname Akiiki) and his wry sidekick William (Apuuli) met us at the airport with Toyota minibuses. After a near mishap over what might have been lost car keys, we drove the ten minutes to the Boma Hotel (photo) , unloaded our 30 large duffel bags of gifts for the Ugandan schools, signed in, and gathered on the verandah in a cool Lake Victoria breeze for beer and laughs.
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