I was just thinking this morning that you never really know what you are capable of until you are in that situation that completely tests your inner strength.
Let me take you on a flashback to when I was living in Uganda, Africa. Coming home late one night (around 4am) from a house party, that I probably shouldn't have even gone to, a friend and I boarded a bodaboda bound for home. He was going to stop when we got to Acacia Mall, and I was going to continue on to home. (I wanted to get home and sleep well so I could get up and go to church in the morning, which isn't really relevant to the story, I just thought you should know that I had very good intentions.)
He dismounted without a problem and then I proceeded to snake my way across the northern bypass and up the back way to my gate high on Kawempe-Mbogo hill. Everything went on pretty well. I vaguely remember seeing another bodaboda light coming up the hill as I was getting off to pay my driver. Then I was suddenly yanked from behind and knocked to the ground.
Apparently the other bodaboda was 2 thugs who were trying to steal my bag. Now a few things... A.) No one has ever accused me of being skinny or slight of build. At the time I was a good 5'8+ and about 175 so pulling me backwards over on top of them was not exactly a good idea. B.) I'm pretty tomboyish when it comes to my accessories. The bag in question that they tried to nab from me was a stocky messenger bag with rivets and double stitching everywhere that was secured around my body, resting on the opposite shoulder. I think they were expecting it to rip easily, which it did not. In fact, I think the guy had a knife because when I was recovering later I found a clean cut on the back of my arm in the area where they had tried to get the bag off. C.) Never underestimate a girl who has seen too many action movies...
Instead of screaming, rolling over, and playing dead as I have heard some proper ladies do, I literally grabbed my bag and fought for it until the dude did succeed in getting the strap sliced all the way through and wrestled it away from me. Then he jumped up to run and hop on the bike behind his buddy, with me in hot pursuit.
*Now, I would not recommend trying this at home folks. Thieves in Uganda use deadly force, they usually have knives or pangas (machetes) and they aren't afraid to use them. However, these details did not flash through my fuzzy, still-slightly-confused-as-to-what-was-going-on brain. I went straight to fight or flight mode. And apparently, the flight mode doesn't work very well, so fight it was!
I nearly caught the guy too, tripped him once and chased him half way up the next hill before he could finally get his motorcycle motor revved up enough to get up any speed. I remember very clearly the look on the guy's face as I uttered some sort of guttural yell, and hurled a choice Christian homeschooler's curse at his disappearing bike. Oddly enough, that guy looked genuinely scared. Apparently a crazy white woman who isn't a lick afraid to fight lumbering after you with all her might is quite frightening.
Returning to my gate defeated I realized that my keys to my house were also latched securely on the end of my bag so I had no way to get inside. Worse still, even if I could get inside, they now could too! That idea terrified me much worse than the fact that I had just been robbed.
Realizing that I couldn't stay there all night and risk them coming back when they realized they had the keys to my house, I ran as fast as I could up the hill and down the other side to the police station. (Ironically funny that it was so close).
It was only afterwards that I basically broke down as I realized how much they had stolen from my world in one small little messenger bag. My camera, a tablet, my phone (with every saved number), house keys, favorite lip gloss even were all gone. After spending the night in the police station, a kind officer gave me a ride up to the hospital, I got a ride from there to a friend's house and tracked down the phone number of my best friend who of course came and rescued me.
We secured the house with a new padlock in case my key nappers came back to haunt me, and she made me come back and stay at her place that night. I never went back home in the dark again and moved from that house less than a month later.
To this day I still rue some of the things that were stolen from me that night. And in a large way, some of my magical fascination with Uganda was stolen as well. Its heartbreaking to realize that though you may be volunteering as a nurse, working on multiple community service projects, and being kind to people that you interact with, you will still be judged. My skin color pointed to a way for those thieves to make a quick buck (although ironically, there was no cash in my bag.) They didn't know me. Most likely they had followed my bodaboda from when I dropped my friend off. (I learned later that they were targeting foreign girls from that area and following them home to ambush them on dark streets.)
Those times when you kinda kick yourself for being so naive. This was the beginning of my falling out of love with the country of Uganda.
But falling out of love is not always a bad thing. Think about it in a relationship. Falling in love is what happens in the very beginning. You are enamored with that person and everything they do or say or text is funny, and beautiful, and wonderful, and exciting. You, in all your starry-eyed splendor, are completely naive. Then something happens: you get in a fight, he's grumpy when his team loses, you find out he's not really that awesome, he stinks up the bathroom, etc... and suddenly all those roses you were seeing start fading. I have known friends, which, bless their hearts, only ever got to this point in their relationships. Once the "in-love" blinders fell off they were out of there, carrying their disillusioned tails between their legs.
Maybe we were told that there would be more. Maybe we were scammed into thinking Prince Charming wouldn't fart or leave dirty socks on the floor or have displeasing manners at times or track mud in the house or want to adopt a dog!
But... my friend, if you are in a committed relationship this is where it gets really beautiful. If you are in a committed relationship then when you start to see every flaw of the other person (and TRUST ME, they are flawed! (as are you, but that's none of my business *sips tea*)) you can chose to love them anyway.
And that kind of love, where you've chosen to step over the discarded socks and not mention that thing that they do that you really can't stand, and you still chose to stick around and love them. Well that kind of love, my friend, is infinitely stronger than this silly school-girl "in-love" that you had in the first place.
Having had my eyes opened to some of the less than desirable truths about Uganda hasn't just made me fall out of love with it, but it actually strengthened my love for all the hurting places of my beloved country until my heart nearly aches out of my chest at times. Its a desire to see the best in a place that has experienced some of the worst and to see its young people learn to thrive in areas they have been given so little hope. Its the courage to forgive the thieves and look at the bigger picture in the economy and the justice infrastructure. Its a deep and abiding longing to make a difference in a place that I see so much beauty despite all her flaws.
For despite all the imperfections and downright messiness, I still love Uganda. And someday I hope to go home.
