Back and Forth

Living in two places feels like a game of ping pong.

We are physically present in Uganda. But much of our life is back in Seattle. 10 years ago it would have been impossible with the costs of phone calls and the time difference. But now because of decent internet speeds, video and phone calls via WhatsApp help make this possible. Scott’s Seattle law practice continues mostly through Zoom court appearances. We both still volunteer in our PNW community. Most importantly, we are able to stay connected with our girls and our extended family and friends.

We are easing into our first year in Uganda by coming back to the US a couple of times. I arrived in Seattle a week ago in time to welcome Anna home at the end of her sophomore year of college. Scott will arrive next week. We will both go back in June to help with Pepperdine’s busy summer program (more on that later).

My travel back to the US was easy. But like many things we have experienced the last several months, just because something is easy for us doesn’t mean it is easy for everyone.

My flight out of Uganda was at 11:30 PM. But because Kampala traffic is often bad and always unpredictable, Scott and I left very early and planned for a leisurely dinner along the way. Although the airport is only about 23 miles from our apartment, it can take up to 3 stressful hours door to door. We had a meal overlooking Lake Victoria and Scott dropped me off before he made the journey home (which took over 2 hours).

I quickly made it through the first of 4 security checks. The Entebbe airport is small, only 4 gates. There were only 2 flights out that night - one small plane to Kenya and my much larger flight to Qatar. Despite vaccinations, very few people are travelling in Africa right now. Most of the folks in the airport are generally expatriates, regular business travelers or wealthy Ugandans. So I expected the rest of the process to move quickly.

Once I got through the initial checkpoint (the first of MANY times time my passport, ticket and COVID test were closely examined), I saw that the airport was not deserted, as I expected. There were dozens of families and scores of kids. The second line was for immigration was long. It was taking forever.

After what seemed like an hour, an official pulled me and the two other “non-Africans” out and put us at the front of the line. I loved being fast-tracked but didn’t want to jump ahead of all of the people who were there before me. As he walked away, I asked him why he was moving me.

He turned from the large family that he was helping and I saw he had a credential with IOM on it. This was the same logo that was on the bag tags of every member of that family. I noticed it was on the tape that bound their tattered carry-ons. I then noticed that the IOM logo was on the bags and nametags of nearly every single person in line except we “non-Africans.”

The credentialed gentleman was Paul. 4 years ago he began working the International Organization for Migration, part of the United Nations High Commission on Refugees. His job is to help resettle people displaced from their countries by war, famine, ethnic cleansing and religious persecution.

Uganda is an initial landing spot for many such refugees from around Africa. At the moment, Uganda is hosting about 1.7 million refugees in camps and temporary communities. They may stay permanently or for short time, but for most, it is a way station before their permanent destination.

At the airport with me were families from South Sudan, The Democratic Republic of Congo, Burundi, Rwanda and Ethiopia. They were all trying to get through the same immigration and security checkpoints as me. Most had never been in an airport. Few spoke English. None of them seemed to understand the process.

Paul (In the blue hat below) moved me to the front of the line because he knew that by getting me "out of the way" the immigration officials would better assist the 82 refugees that he was helping. His clients had been waiting months or years for this opportunity, what was one more line? He knew my time at the immigration and security booths would be short because I had the right documents, had nothing prohibited in my bags, had a current passport and could easily communicate with airport staff. I wasn’t confused by the system and I wasn’t overwhelmed by these first steps toward an unknown life in a new country with a new language and new opportunities. I wasn’t leaving the continent where I had grown up. I didn’t leave anyone permanently behind. I knew I would be back in a few weeks. I was merely going from home #2 back to home #1 with a return ticket already booked back to home #2.

Most of the 82 were going to Sweden. Two groups were coming to the United States.

I tried to engage with the family right in front of me before we got to the security counter. There were 5 of them -- a mother and 4 children (photo above). They spoke no English. They looked overwhelmed. I was able to learn they were from South Sudan (Via Paul). According to the UNHCR, they were likely among the more than 2 million South Sudanese, mostly women and children who fled their homeland to escape a brutal conflict between the government and opposition parties. 40% of these refugees live in Uganda. “Many have witnessed or experienced attacks, sexual abuse and torture either at home or during their escape.”

This family was going to Washington DC. I tried to talk to them. I tried to welcome them. They looked at me with what seemed like terror in their eyes. Even my “go-to” strategy of connecting with them through the gift of a $2 bill seemed SO out of place.

I flew through security and boarded my flight. I never saw that family again.

I can’t imagine what their first impressions of the U.S. were. I have no idea how they navigated the Doha airport to find their next flight. I don’t know how they retrieved their luggage or found their way out of the D.C. airport. I can only hope that they will be welcomed. I pray there are many people like Paul to help them along the way.

"Jesus, be with that sweet mama and her children today. Help me to be ever grateful that I have not only one home, but two. God, never let me forget the blessings of citizenship in a stable nation and an eternal home that awaits. Holy Spirit, remind me to be ever humble and always look for chances to be a Paul for any of your children I might have the honor of meeting along the way."