There is but one option if you plan to travel from Kampala to Moroto, and it may leave any time between midnight and three in the morning. I mentally prepared myself for the bus to leave at three but physically prepared myself for midnight – the bus left at three. By midday, we finally left Soroti, the beginning of the final stretch of the journey (and at the time, the most agonizing due to road conditions).
Here is where our story begins.
About twenty minutes after leaving Soroti, I needed to make a short call (short/long call is Uganda code for needing a toilet… I’ll let you decide what the difference between the two may be). Each bump made the situation worse and my driver didn’t miss a single one down this developing road! “Okay Mary,” I said out loud (I sat in a single seat in the front of the bus, to my knowledge no one could hear my private conversations with myself, although I’m sure several did), “it’s time to get yourself a car!” This quickly became my mantra for the rest of the trip as I listed all the benefits of owning a car.
After reaching home, using the toilet, and finding some rest, I brushed off my bus mantra as, “slightly pathetic”.
The next month, I traveled again, but this time with my team leaders, Lyle and Ingrid… inside their comfortable car! True to Ingrid, she blurted out a question that would seem so random, except for the fact I know her and know she likes to fire random questions at random times, “Is anyone at your house thinking of getting a car?” There are four households on my team, mine being the only without a vehicle.
“I’ve been toying around with the idea,”
“Good! You should! Just for contingency sake, it would be wise.” Suddenly, my bus mantra was becoming a reality.
When I returned home, I began the process. I opened a vehicle fund project with AIM so others could contribute to the purchase. Several people blessed me with donations.
I knew I would need a Ugandan driver license and a TIN (Tax Identification Number) in order to buy a car. I was originally under the impression I needed to do both completely in Kampala, which was a dreadful thought. If you have been to Kampala, you know it isn’t the easiest to navigate. In fact, “easy” is the last word I would ever use to describe Kampala. Imagine spilling sugar on the ground and having an infestation of insects coming from every direction to join the feast. They come from every direction, crawling on top of one another. It’s chaos. That is what it is like to be in Kampala. I cringed as I read the steps of getting a license:
• Go to URA (Uganda Revenue Authorities) for initial set up
• Go to bank and pay for URA fees
• Return to URA with proof of payment.
• Go to clinic for an eye exam
• Go to Face Technologies (essentially DMV) for final steps and for receiving license.
All those lines. All that traffic. None of these steps were within walking distance of each other, which would make for a multiple day process.
I heard a rumor I could start the process in Moroto – the town it takes approximately thirty minutes to walk from one end to another (in a straight line, anyway) and lines usually only run two or three people deep. The rumors were true. I could do the first four steps in Moroto.
I try and save all my Kampala needs for one big trip. As I went for a friend’s wedding, I also went to finish my license. I went with my teammate Taryn. I walked away two hours later with my license in my hand. Unfortunately, Taryn did not. She had left her passport in Moroto. She went at another time and discovered her eye exam had not been stamped by the doctor we saw. Somehow, mine had been. I remember taking note of the stamp, unaware I needed it. God had been so kind!
Shortly after the wedding, Ingrid sent me a lead on a car. I only had $3,000 at the time and the seller was asking for $6,500. I made an inquiry anyway. They were hoping for the full amount upfront – understandable.
About two months later, I got an email from the family selling the vehicle. They had already returned to the States and had yet to sell their car. After a bit of conversing, we agreed I would pay them what I had in my vehicle fund, and as more money came in, I would pay the rest. They also lowered the price to $4,500. Praise God!
My next step was getting a TIN, a requirement to own a vehicle. I was given the instructions on how to apply for a TIN from my teammate Nita. She had someone assist her when she got her TIN, but I thought I may be able to do it myself. Again, I was under the impression I needed to return to Kampala in order to do this. I was planning to go anyway, as I picked up my new car and attended AIM’s Central Region conference (all the missionaries with AIM from the central region of Africa). I planned a few extra days in Kampala to do whatever I needed for purchasing my car. As I read the instructions, I saw I needed to go to URA again. On a whim, I walked into the Moroto URA to see if they could help. They said I needed my passport and another form of ID (two items I did not have … this was a whim, remember?), but they could help. I returned the next day. “I don’t know if you remember me,” I said as I made my way to the man that helped me the day before.
“Yes,” the man replied, “you are unique.” I found that comment oddly refreshing. “Unique” was just a more friendly way of saying, “Girl, you are the whitest girl that has walked through that door!” The man helped me fill out the form. By “help” I mean he did everything for me, but I had to spell out my family name and my mother’s maiden name. I sat in the URA office for twenty minutes. Two hours later, I picked up my TIN. Again, praise God for such a smooth process!
As I worked on my TIN, I emailed my home office (the two hours of down time) to inform them of my progress in finding a car. I also purposed a question – each missionary has what we call “work funds” which is money designated to things used outside the normal budget. Mine has sat very comfortably my entire time in Moroto, which I continue to rejoice over. I asked if it would be possible to pay for the remainder of the vehicle with my work funds, and then rebuild that account. The office graciously agreed, saying they would leave the vehicle project open a few more months and roll over any new donations to my work funds. But as word spread that I found a car, more donations came in and I was able to cover the cost.
Where is the glitch? Nothing is ever this smooth, especially in Uganda. Something is supposed to go wrong, or at bare minimum cause a serious headache! Yet, God so graciously handed me this car – gift wrapped in gold with a diamond bow. I didn’t take it for granted, but dwelled in His goodness.
The day came when I went to pick up my car. I jumped behind the steering wheel, eager to learn how to drive in Kampala. I turned the key… nothing. No lights. No turn over. Nothing happened. I found my glitch. The family who the car was left with was so kind to me as I began to answer, “what now?”. God’s peace rested on me. I knew all would be taken care of – whether I fixed the problem or I stopped the purchase. I called a mechanic who said he would send someone the next day to take a look.
As I woke the following morning, the peace I had the day before fled with the night. I was anxious, as I was so unsure of what the outcome would be. The mechanic came and discovered the part of the battery needed replaced. They also inspected the rest of the vehicle. A few lights needed replaced, but the rest was in great condition. They replaced everything, and I spent less than $20 to have a running vehicle. Even my “glitch” turned out to be a blessing!
That is how I got Barbra, my 1993 Toyota Prado. What a testimony of God’s sweet mercies!
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