When Your Heart Says Go What Choice Do You Have?
There are a mere seven days, one week, before my friend Stacey and I board the first of the two flights on our way to Uganda. We leave Washington Dulles assuming all things go as planned—a big assumption— at 5:35 P.M. Seven hours and twenty minutes later we land in Amsterdam. The layover is in the middle of the night. After availing ourselves of the luxurious accommodations at Schiphol airport for almost four hours, we board an excruciatingly long flight to Kigali, Rwanda. When we finally arrive in Kigali, we sit on the plane for an hour before taking off for our next and final destination Entebbe Airport Uganda. Ten and a half hours will have elapsed since we left Amsterdam. Just writing this makes me shudder since flying is not my most favored pastime.
I’ve never been the most photogenic face on the planet. It’s no surprise when the immigration agent snaps a picture that would rival a mugshot taken on a crack binge. The process of immigration, wrestling a mountain of luggage and crates on to carts, and customs takes a little over an hour.
Now would be about the time you ask, why are you doing this? The answer is complicated. I’ll suffice it to say I don’t have a choice. I could not live with myself if I didn’t follow my heart. Since my heart says go, I’m going.
I’ll keep you posted on what else my bossy heart gets me up to.