Return to Uganda - A Tale of Two Airports

It had been snowing again by the time we left Leicester on our journey south. I was exceptionally careful as I made my way with crutches over the slushy snow to the Jaguar Taxi which was to take us to Heathrow. It was 6.00 am but Steve and Marion who had been our amazingly generous hosts for the previous three weeks were up to wave us goodbye, maybe slightly relieved that we were finally on our way.

Cathy, Anne’s sister, had arranged to meet us at the airport to see us off, which was just as well as Terminal 5’s support for people on crutches was not great. Pushing a wheelchair and a luggage trolley on her own would not have been easy for Anne. In any case, after Cathy left us, I had a pile of hand luggage on me and Anne had to manage everything (including my crutches) through passport and security checks on her own. At the Boarding Gate the British Airways staff were surprised and apologetic that we had been given no help through the airport and had been left to fend for ourselves.

A final push down the tunnel in the wheelchair to the plane, and we were able to settle ourselves in for the 8-hour flight to Uganda. It was a good flight, but we had plenty of time to contemplate how exactly we would disembark at Entebbe. The airport is equipped with tunnels for access to the aircraft, but they never seem to be used. Instead, steps are used for disembarkation, and although my crutch technique had improved over the previous 4-5 weeks I didn’t feel up to that steep descent. If we had as much support at Entebbe as at Heathrow we would have problems!

We were asked to wait until everyone else had left the plane and then made our way to the door where we were greeted by two African airport staff. Between them they had a feeble-looking metal frame chair. It was a bit like a deck chair, but had two handles, one at the foot and one at the back. I was invited to sit in the chair, and with some apprehension did so. Then, one man at the back and the other at the front, they lifted me up and began to walk down the steps. The young man at the front walked backwards and looked as though he had never been expected to do anything quite like this before and was trying to work out the best way of doing it.

The seemingly vertical descent was not really the way I would choose to leave an aircraft, but the spectacle was enjoyed by a number of airport staff. Eventually, after what felt like an age, to my great relief we were finally on the ground where a wheelchair awaited me. Then, with minimum fuss, our two escorts ushered us to the front of the immigration queue, and thence to the carousel to collect our luggage. They loaded up the luggage trolley which they had obtained and moved us swiftly to the airport exit ahead of everyone else. The whole process had been so speedy that the taxi from the Airport Guest House hadn’t yet arrived. But our minders stayed with us, and did so until they could finally deposit us and our luggage in the taxi for the short trip to our home for the night and recovery before the next ‘leg’ of our journey back to Kuluva.

Facilities for the disabled – Heathrow 2, Entebbe 10.

P.S. Sorry there are no pictures for this one. We had other things on our minds during the journey!

A Winter Break.......

The snow has long since gone from our home in Leicester, replaced by grey skies and a cold dampness which seems to permeate everything. Christmas is a distant memory as is the glorious walk just a few days earlier through the pristine snow in the Rivelin Valley in Sheffield where we had gone to visit Ben, our son, and his wife Bethan.

Anne and I had been looking forward to this Winter break for several months - a chance to go home, to sample seasonal food and drink, spend time with our friends and family and enjoy a ‘real’ English Christmas. We hadn’t expected the snow - that was just an added bonus.

We planned to spend Christmas Day at our house in Leicester. We can’t really call it our home; Anne and I have lived in the house for less than five months and had handed it over to our daughter Jo as her home when we left for Uganda in 2007.

On the Sunday before Christmas we attended the Carol Service at our home church of St Denys, complete with the carols we had sung a continent away just a week earlier. But Midnight Communion at St Denys began our Christmas celebrations proper – ‘good news for all the people - a Saviour, Christ the Lord!’

Christmas morning was cold and icy, but the whole family went to Jo’s church in Knighton for the morning service, returning ‘home’ to open our presents and feast on traditional roast turkey with all the trimmings. It was a great meal - so much better than our Ugandan alternative: a tough chicken accompanied by beans and enya! Jo’s fiancé, John, joined us for an evening game of Monopoly.

New Year 2010 was rung in, once more at St Denys. It’s to be a momentous year for Jo and John, and time was needed to buy clothes, talk about arrangements for the wedding, not to mention helping to make the invitations. But time was passing quickly and soon we were back in Sheffield to visit Ben and Bethan again before our return to Uganda. There had been more snow, but it was starting to melt – and freeze – and melt – and freeze. But it was gradually disappearing.

Sunday 17th January – the morning service at St Thomas’ Crookes. We had planned to go out for a walk in the afternoon, but as we made our way back to Ben and Bethan’s house from church, up one of Sheffield’s many hills, we hit a patch of ice. My ankle twisted under me, I heard a snap, and gently fell to the ground. A visit to Sheffield’s A&E confirmed what I already knew and I left with my leg encased in plaster – a 6-week sentence.

Over the past 4 weeks, I have variously cursed myself for careless stupidity, regretted coming home at all, experienced intense frustration and wondered what I’m meant to learn from all this. Questions multiplied when Jo crashed her car and wrote it off two weeks ago; but thank God she escaped without injury.

We’re going back to Uganda in three days’ time, plaster cast and all. Our Winter Break didn’t turn out quite as we had expected. God moves in mysterious ways. I’m still playing ‘catch-up’, and with a broken ankle that’s not so easy!