It's nearly 7am. Mist blankets the hills near Entebbe, fading softly into the lush green of the trees. A deep red dirt road--one of the few traces of Western civilization evident from 15000 feet up in the air--cuts through the land. The snowflake frost on the outside of my airplane window melts fast as we drop down into the warm humidity of a southern Ugandan morning. I promise myself I'll never forget this moment, this feeling, this landscape. The plane is dropping fast now, speeding over schools, houses, unfinished buildings--so many unfinished buildings. Suddenly, we're on top of Lake Victoria's cool, greenish expanse, and then we're right over the runway. I wonder briefly if it's gotten any bumpier, but before I can brace myself we're down. The engine roars as we slow and taxi to a stop. Sleepy-eyed people stand, stretch, pull out luggage, speak in Luganda to their neighbors. The loud Ohio State fan sitting next to me complains that he still has a four hour trip to Mogadishu. I shrug and say it's about the same to Mbale, and we start down the narrow strip of carpet between seats. A minute later, I'm walking through a yellow tunnel with a stairway leading to the ground. The scent of cook-fires and morning freshness greets me. Birds whose songs I haven't heard in a year are chattering all around. A cicada screams brashly in the distance. As I go down the steps, important-looking Ugandans with name badges mill around, not visibly accomplishing anything. I take a deep breath and step out onto the tarmac.

I'm home.

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful! Glad you are home, even though home has a new definition and will always be redefined. May God bless you through this journey.