There’s an old song we used to sing at New Tribes Missions the first time we headed to Africa. I was in first grade, but I remember it well. It went like this:
Please don’t send me to Africa
I don’t think I got what it takes
I’m just a man, I’m not a Tarzan
Don’t like lions, gorillas, or snakes
I’ll serve you here in Suburbia
In my comfortable, middle-class life
But please don’t send me out into the bush
Where the natives are restless at night.
My brothers and sisters are laughing right now - that, or singing along. :-) I always thought they should change the first line to “Please do send me to Africa . . .” In my mind, the restless natives and roaring lions were fascinating things. Not to mention meeting gorillas and snakes literally face-to-face. But in that aspect, I was disappointed on my first trip to Africa. I remember seeing a tiny little scorpion on the library floor once that promptly sent us all screaming and running for safety. The little guy wasn’t even two inches long. My parents got to go on a trip to see the restless natives and hear the roaring lions, but I had to stay at home. Such is the life of a first-grader.
Nearly twenty years later, I get another try. A little older . . . maybe wiser . . . and just as ready as ever to meet the restless natives and hear the roaring lions. I guess the first thing you need when you’re headed to a foreign country is a plane ticket to get you there. So, that’s what I’ve been working on these last few weeks. And it has been weeks. Here’s the story:
After long hours of gaping dumbly at a computer screen full of itineraries, flight times, prices, and destinations, I decided to purchase two separate tickets: one round-trip to London and another round-trip from London to Kigali, Rwanda (that being my first destination, followed by three weeks in Uganda. How I was to get back to Rwanda after the Uganda trip I was going to worry about later). So, late last Monday night out at the Royal Family Kids’ Camp, I booked the cheapest tickets I could find, printed out my flight information, and went to sleep, ready to devote myself entirely to the coming week of camp.
Then I got back from camp and checked the five phone messages and thirty-six emails waiting for me . . . and discovered that my ticket from London to Rwanda had been cancelled while I was at camp. London isn’t exactly known for its restless natives and roaring lions. I was only half-way to my goal. So, I started gaping dumbly at the rather aggravating computer screen again (three weeks before I’m supposed to be flying out) in search of a cheap flight from London to Rwanda. There weren’t any, and my creative genius wasn’t coming up with any grand ideas for getting me there. Camel-back through Europe and down past the pyramids was going to take too long. I’m deathly afraid of sharks, so swimming the Mediterranean was no good. And I don’t know any bush pilots who run regular routes from London to Kigali, Rwanda. My options were definitely limited.
Then I got this brilliant idea - and I’m pretty sure it was straight from God, cause that’s where all my brilliant ideas come from. What if I flew into Uganda, since that’s where I’m ending my trip anyway, and just got a ride over to Rwanda? So, I checked flights from London to Uganda, and - what do you know? - it was not only doable, but less expensive than the flights to Rwanda had been! I bought a ticket the next day, taking one step closer to those restless natives and roaring lions.
Also turns out we’ve got some Ugandan helpers who are going to be driving down to Rwanda to help with that trip and then head back over to Uganda for the Uganda trip. So, they’re just going to take me with them. Amazing how simple and perfect everything works out when God’s the One making the plans.
