Perhaps it was a bad omen that when we got in our car, our starter took several tries to begin. Still jet-lagged from our travels, we were determined to make it to the English language service at the local church on Sunday. We made it to mass, and perhaps it provided just the power of resolve that we needed for the 'bad' adventure to come.
After mass a man in a suit got our attention. Our car was leaking... something. A man with a boda-boda, a local word for motorcycle, led us along a nice paved road then a not so nice dirt road. We were already leaking something. I can't imagine the particularly rough terrain in route to the car-fixing shop helped much. I prayed we would make it before the car died. Thankfully, we did make it to a place called the Entebbe Youth Garage.
There were no hydraulic lifts in this garage, so we needed to back up over a deep pit in the ground so the mechanic could inspect our car from underneath. The challenge was ensuring our wheels didn't slip into the pit itself. That would not be good.
There wasn't any sort of waiting area in the open air, dirt floor garage, so we decided to explore the area by walking down the red dirt roads around the garage. Our Sunday attire seemed ill-suited for our gritty surroundings. As we walked there were many questions. "Could our car even be fixed? Would it take all day?" We were getting tired, thirsty, and hungry when the good news arrived that a cracked hose in our car had been successfully repaired. We made it back to our home in Uganda.