We walked out of the airport terminal and met our host, Pastor Ephraim Tumusiime. He is a slight man with glasses and a wide grin. He hugged us all as if we were all old friends. We then made our way out to the vans. While the terminal had been lit, the moment we walked out of the terminal into the parking lot it became pitch black. No overhead lights and no walkway lights at all. Just black. Our luggage filled one van and the people filled the other. And off we went on the 27 kilometer drive to Kampala.
The air was hea
vy. I was glad I was seated next to an (open) window in the van. We were crammed in the van like sardines. The road was very bumpy and not well paved. We passed by rows and rows of "shops" which were little more than small kiosks, sometimes just a blanket or two spread out on the ground. I was surprised by all the beauty parlors and barber shops. Though it was 11 pm I was amazed at the sheer number of people present in the streets. There were pedestrians everywhere, hundreds of mopeds/motorcycles and hundreds of "taxi" vans--each driving within inches of one another. The air in the city was filled with a combination of dust, diesel fumes, kerosene fumes and smoke from burning garbage piles. It was stifling and lingered everywhere we went.
We arrived at the Guest House where we would be staying. Only the entrance was lit by a small, fluorescent lamp. The door to the Guest House compound was locked. Our rooms, which we found by flashlight were stark. Mine had a small entry way with a bathroom and a larger bedroom portion. The floors were concrete and the only working light fixture was in the bedroom. Two single beds were placed underneath mosquito nets hung from the ceiling. The room was warm and stuffy and remained that way because we couldn't open the windows because of all the mosquitos. 
I spent my first night in Uganda sleeping in my underwear on top of the bed, underneath a mosquito net. At 5 am the next morning I was awakened by the sound of the Muslim "call to prayer" which was being hailed outside.



This is not the same school where the white man danced. Let's pray for this school and for these children as well.














For those who are praying for Steve and the team, we are posting cards each day to let you know their scheduled activities.







