Let’s Go To The Beach

Sometimes things just don’t go as planned.  Especially in a country where people and events run on Ugandan time.  Not all people and events, but most.

Even after 30 and a half months, I am still boggled at how organizations create a timetable for meetings and programs, when there is a 90% chance they usually start late.  

A 100% chance if it is raining.  

They invest time, money, and resources into this and while it is a nice thought, it is also quite frustrating.  For example, when I look at the program and see that I should be indulging in refreshments yet we are still in giving prayers and speeches.

Yesterday, along with one of our In Movement facilitators and a handful of our alumni, we headed out to a music festival in Entebbe to share what we do.  With face painting supplies and drums in tow, we were ready to head off to the beautiful Botanical Gardens for a day of fun.

We reached the space and as usual, nothing was set up and I am 97% confident that the organizers were confused about what they were doing.

Now I had been promising my youth a day at the beach and quickly realized I might have to break my word with time quickly passing by.  

Luckily for me though, the venue was located along the sandy shores of Lake Victoria.  

After waiting 45 minutes for a program update, we decided to venture to the beach.  Some of us were wearing our swim costumes; thank you to the British for that fancy word, and some of us were not.  The girls and I decided to limit our swimming to our ankles.  We wadded in the warm water of the world’s second largest freshwater lake.  We let the waves run over our toes.

I most likely got Schistosomiasis.

Then the boys came and they had no shame in stripping, not in a creepy way, down to their knickers.  Again… You can thank the British for that word.

My kids loved the water… The smiles on their faces were contagious.  They swam, splashed, and searched for hidden treasures.  As I closed my eyes I was brought back to one of my favorite places on Earth, Pinecrest, a place of of sunsets and cool winds; of sunshine and sand between my toes.

We soon moved from the beach to see if any progress was made on the festival.  

Negative.

We realized that this day was turning into an opportunity for us to take in the space and we decided to utilize it.  After some traditional dance, drumming, and swinging from car ties hanging off giant oaks, we went off to the second beach with a waterfront bar and DJ playing our favorite songs.

This time the boys kept their clothes on while the girls dipped their toes in.  Before I knew it, the girls were submerged in their clothes.  Again, I was reminded of memories at Stinson Beach with my younger sister Lexi, where despite our parent’s warnings, much like those I gave to my girls, we would find our selves soaking wet… Shivering and often times wearing the clothes of our Grandpa Alex.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky a pale pink, we decided our day too had come to an end.  With the supplies packed and my kids loaded on the matatus, we were all passed out before we left the hotel grounds.   

Sleepy time

Much like a typical day at the beach.