The Hike

WE left Mbarara on Saturday, mid morning. By three we reached Kabale town and began preparing for our journey home. Stopping at all our stomping grounds we kept hearing of “mollie” the third long termer to join the work in the village. Neither of us had met her yet, but talk around town was good. Grabbed a small bite for lunch and headed back to the hardware to check on the estimated time of departure for the truck (ETD as my dad would say). Barhum at Edrisa saw us from the doorway, beckoned us over, and offered to introduce us to the girl we had heard so much about.

It was nice meeting Mollie and thus far we seem to have really clicked. She is here till August, helping out in the village, so now we are three.

The truck finally came and we all piled in, then we headed to a wedding across town to pick up more homeward bound passengers. Full to the brim we began the long journey home. It was fun talking with the teachers we haven’t seen all holiday, hanging out with our students and the anticipation of reaching our village was growing. Just before ten pm we reached a point on the mountain road where two trucks were stuck, a third had just barely managed to get through, but the road was definitely blocked. The decision was made to head back to Muko, a neighboring town and unload the truck, everyone who wished to spend the night at the gas station could, and others could walk home from there. Somehow in all the chaos of 50+ people unloading, the three of us girls got separated. Next thing I know, I am headed to Muko with a handful of students and villagers, and Bekah and Mollie are nowhere to be found. Reaching the gas station I quickly unloaded our things (thanks to the help of my most excellent students) repacked our computers into one back pack, and climbed back into the truck with my backpack. I left our things with our neighbor who was staying for the night, and prayed they would all arrive in one piece once the truck was able to come.

Reaching the stopping point I hopped down and found my girls waiting anxiously. It was around 11 when we began hiking home. At first there was quite a group of us, but then the large group became smaller as more and more fell behind. Bekah set the pace for our group, and I have to admit, she is intense.

Now, for those of you who know me well, I am not much one for physical exercise. Somehow life in Africa just doesn’t fit that preference. Ordinarily I would not have chosen to walk from Muko home, but having accomplished it and having shared that experience with these kids was so worth it. There is a debate about how far we really walked, according to the map it is 18 km, according to the kids it is only 11. Regardless, we reached home by 2:30 am.

Each person in our group carried personal items with them. Some bags were definitely heavier than others. The boys were really concerned that my bag would be too heavy for me to manage, so I told them that once we reached the half way point I would let one of them help me out. About an hour into the hike two of my boys excitedly told me we had reached half way, being completely ignorant about the distance I gladly handed over my bag in exchange for a lighter one…. About an hour later I again heard we reached the half way point… yeah, they totally tricked me into letting them help me out. It was sweet, but at the same time really hard for me to handle.

Good things about the hike:
-Teamwork: every 45 minutes or so we would rotate bags, each person taking a different one. Redistributing the weight made the hike so much easier.

-Packrat Leah: being the person that I am, Bekah and I just so happened to have 12 buns, 5 mandaz, and two bottles of water with us. Most of us missed dinner, so having those snacks squirreled away in our bags was great.

-Lessons Learned: I was really challenged and humbled on this walk. The boys warned me that the bag was too heavy for me (and really it was heavy), but I knew it was unwise to leave our computers, electronics, Bekah’s hard drive, etc at the gas station, to be loaded in the morning by some unknown person. I decided to bring them knowing it would be difficult, and telling the boys I did not expect their help. When they first offered, I refused. My stubbornness to bring heavy items on the hike should not mean they must suffer. After figuring out they tricked me about the half way point I was honestly irritated. One of the boys quietly took my hand and said something that I am still humbled by. “Aunt Le, didn’t I tell you it would be heavy? I told you you couldn’t manage, didn’t I?” I nodded yes, of course he was right. “Aunt, why do you refuse help? We knew you could not manage, we want to help you. You help us, let us help you, take our help Aunt.” Wow. It is hard for me to accept help. Even my kids have figured this out about me; when he challenged me I realized the double standard I was setting. I can’t expect them to let me help where I can, if I don’t let them help where they can.

-Memories Made: two of the boys said they would write this hike down in their “history books” to remember always. All of the boys were blown away at the pace Rebekah was setting. (I was just cranky that she was such a drill sergeant!!) Many of them separately told her, “you are a soldier!”

-Reaching home: I should (*) the “home” part (to be continued), but reaching our village was a great feeling!

All in all, it was quite an experience. A memory for my history book.