Semester two is well underway and talk about a bottle neck. Eighty percent of the semester assessment is due before the commencement of clinical practice in week six making it a really condensed month. I was setback a couple more days this weekend with a mystery flu that left me feeling flatter than Utah’s salt lakes. It’s the third time I’ve been hit since returning to Oz in January, which makes me wonder, is it safer to live in malaria infested Africa than it is in Queensland?

This post is really about nothing and since words are all I have been reading, typing, eating these last few weeks I’m surprisingly all out of words when it comes to writing posts. Sorry folks. I can’t wait for clinical prac at the PCH and I’m sure that will provide more stimulating reading. 

For quite a number of years I’ve had these aspirations of getting a motorbike and riding off into the sunset. Well, the years have certainly past and the dream is still there, however the sunset might have to be substituted for something more practical like college or church. It’s something I’ve wanted to do since I was in high school but the opportunity to get my R-Class license was gradually bumped down the priority list pretty much from 2005 onwards due to my involvement with Uganda, almost to the point where it became a pipe dream. Funnily enough it was while in Uganda that I rekindled my love affair with riding a bike. Whenever Pastor Edward had business in Kampala he would often leave his 125 at our place to use if we needed it. I would make any and every excuse to head into town just so I could ride. While I was running ‘errands’ in town I was really riding around the Kabale hills reflecting on life and God. While riding one day I said to myself I would put the R-Class license on my ‘things to do’ list before leaving Australia again. To spice it up a little, when I returned to Australia I found out the legislation for unrestricted opens was to change on July 1, restraining learner’s from obtaining an open R-Class straight out, so the time to acquire an R-Class was now or never. It seemed that every man in Brisbane had the same idea, which left training centres busier than a florist on Valentines Day. Although most training centres were bursting at the seams they were able to put people inside a 6 month threshold, basically stating that if you were inducted before July 1 you had 6 months to complete the assessment.

The backlog didn’t seem too bad as I was only put on hold for 3 weeks. I finally got the call on the Thursday just gone and was set for the assessment the next day. My instructor was a 50yo South African man who spent a fair number of years in Zimbabwe. When he found out I was from Uganda, I mean, worked in Uganda we spent more time talking about Africa than how to ride a bike. If he used an illustration it would be to the tune of a typical day on African roads. The assessment took around 5 hours and after a series of instinctive African tests like balancing a complete furniture suit on the rear, carrying at least half a dozen pillions, and flicking the ignition off while going down a hill, I walked away with my R-Class and a very big smile on my face.

They say the name Phillip means ‘lover of horses’, which I could never really understand. Of all the things to love they pick a horse! What’s the deal there? I suppose if this horse has a steel heart then I guess I could make an allowance. 

For everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

 Six months on and I feel like I have endured every emotion known to man. To be honest, returning to Australia was much harder than anticipated. Although I was born and raised in Brisbane, everyday feels like I’m a foreigner in some strange land. I fought being back home for months, and I still do to this day. It has been a slow process but hopefully I won’t be here in this land long enough to become settled again. It highlighted to me how comfortable we can become, to settle with the status-quo. As a Christian that is incredibly dangerous.

Although my heart will always be in Africa, with our children and the people we worked with, I have to understand that there is a new season for me here in Australia. In a few years from now I have a plan to leave these shores to wherever God leads to change lives, to care for the orphaned and abandoned, the vulnerable and needy. I’m going to embrace my studies to become a nurse because I know the effects it will have in the future and in eternity. My hand is firmly set on the plow and there’s no looking back. This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever done and probably will do with my time here on this earth. 

Leaving was always going to be tremendously hard. No doubt about it. It was something I couldn’t dodge or manoeuvre around or adequately prepare myself for. It was always something I would have to pass through rather than around. The only consolation I had at the time was returning to Australia to pursue this new direction my life.

Before leaving I decided to adopt a different method of thinking. To this day I question if it was the best approach but I had to do something to hold off the emotional tidal wave that was about to strike. Foolish I know, but I wasn’t ready to handle the emotion. I didn’t want to handle it. I thought if I could somehow suppress the ordeal then I would slowly unpack my emotions once it was over. It seemed to work for a while. I somehow kept it together during my farewell service at Pastor Edward’s church and again when I had my last afternoon with our children. I spent my last moments with all our children as if I would see them again tomorrow. Obviously I was a little more emotional deep down but I just wanted to enjoy the moment for what it was. I knew I couldn’t suppress my emotions forever and in the end it all caught up to me in one foul swoop, almost destroying me mentally and emotionally. 

I remember my last morning in Kabale so well. I stood gazing out the window that overlooked the town, soaking up the last picturesque view that was there to greet me each day for the past nine months. Dave came up and gave me a hug. We both seemed to be lost for words at the time but the words that were said were words that mattered most. Kathryn, short for words gave me a letter that I read at Entebbe while waiting to board my flight. I got a hug from my little lady, Amelia and another from Erica. I was set to make it a Siddans hat-trick but I realised Quinton was driving to Kampala and would have to save it until the airport. Erica’s aunt, Jenny and her two kids, Jess and Dave were also coming back with us after spending some time in Kabale. I have to say this was one of the hardest moments I’ve faced in my life. Saying goodbye to these dear folk whom I love and grew with spiritually. I guess I didn’t fully understand the spiritual bond I have with Dave, Kathryn, Erica, and Quinton until now.

The pain was about to be compounded when we made a quick detour to the Ward’s residence to say final farewells. Again there is such a spiritual closeness I share with the Wards. It wouldn’t be right without some spiritual advice and a quick prayer from Eddie before we exchanged out goodbyes. Another very hard moment. Eddie, Pam, and Ben are truly amazing people with abounding grace and love. If there were more people like them in the world it would truly be a better place.

On the drive to Kampala I took in as much of the scenery as I could, soaking up every last remnant of the terraced hills and rolling plains that characterised this stunning land. It’s funny, the drive from Kabale to Kampala is very taxing and can be rather agonising depending on how good you can dodge the potholes but this time around I could have kept on the Kabale/Kampala highway for quite some time.

By the time we rolled into Kampala it was late afternoon. We dropped our luggage at the guesthouse, freshened up and headed out to Haandi’s Indian Restaurant for dinner. We were about to enter the restaurant when Pastor Frank called me. He just so happened to be in Kampala, only a block from where the restaurant was. I didn’t want to keep everyone waiting so I ran downstairs and through a busy sidewalk to catch up with Frank. We exchanged our goodbyes in the middle of a busy street with many onlookers curious to see a white man hugging and sharing a moment with a man he just ‘bumped’ into.

Something happened on the walk back to the restaurant. I don’t know if it was because I was in Kampala, realising that the end was nigh or that the events of the last two days were finally catching up, whatever it was it was the moment when it started to hit. We got through the entrées ok when I got a text from a good friend asking me how I was doing. We played sms tennis for a while shooting back and forth messages when something inside me broke. This was it. To this day I cannot tell you the full extent of what happened but it was something I never want to go through ever again. I choked up in the restaurant but only just managed to keep control.

I remained awake during the entirety of my last night in Africa. In my mind I relived everything that happened in the last nine months, both in my life and the lives we changed. I couldn’t stop thinking, reminiscing and reflecting. By the time dawn came over Kampala I felt like I was in a state of psychosis. I felt numb in the head and became extremely fragile sensitive to everything that was happening around me.

My flight on Tuesday the twenty-seventh of January was schedule at 1600. I developed a compulsive motion that kept me looking at the time every few minutes. It was a compulsion that I couldn’t control. I realised that I was out of time. The time had come to finally go. As I said in the opening post that it is no way possible to describe everything that happened inside me, particularly that afternoon but to describe in general terms how I felt was like I was about to serve a penalty for something I didn’t do. It felt like I was an innocent man going to prison. All the way driving to the airport I felt like I was driving to my death. That’s honestly how it felt.

I made it to the airport with Quinton and Frank, who decided to come at the last minute. I didn’t want a drawn out goodbye and just as well because I couldn’t grip my emotions any longer. As the plane left the tarmac tears streamed down my face, tears that wouldn’t cease until I landed in Addis Abba. It was the first time in my life where I wasn’t in control of my own body. By the time I arrived in Dubai, some seven hours later, I felt that I was a walking shell, stripped of everything that I loved.

I might just ease into this by tracing back to where my decision to depart Uganda prematurely came about. It was November of last year when I left my home in Kabale to spend it with a bunch of five-month-old orphaned babies at a place called Amani Baby Cottage in eastern Uganda. I brought to Amani feelings deep within my heart, feelings that God had birthed. As the days rolled out I kept my heart open to God’s leading and direction while enjoying my time with the babies. I held a lot of expectation in my heart however it wasn’t until the Sunday of the first week when I received my confirmation. I remember the moment so clearly. I was standing in the middle of an African congregation during a church service at Calvary Chapel when God spoke to me, saying I was to become a nurse and start a babies home. It was quick and to the point. Without even analysing it or even before considering my options I wholeheartedly accepted right there on the spot. It had to be one of the most exciting and defining points in my life.

I remember being filled with nothing other than peace, relief, and jubilation at that moment. To this day I still feel it. It’s a moment I’ll remember forever, the moment I finally understood why I was here on this earth. Personally, it was the breakthrough I had been waiting a while for. I recall one particular week, long before I visited Amani, where God had been dealing with me about a number of areas in my life. It was a time of refining and reconsecration. It was a hard week spiritually. Without going into too much it honestly felt like I had been ripped apart. During the time of remoulding and refinement I felt like I hit rock bottom. I was at the point where there was nothing in this world that could satisfy. All I wanted was nothing other than to be as close as I could to my saviour and king. I remained empty of any desires and direction. I was content to allow this remoulding process to take its course. After a few months had passed I developed a desire for something specific, something personal for my life. I can’t recall the exact moment it happened but when I first became aware of this new desire it felt natural, like it had been with me my whole life. A baby’s home.

After returning from my 3 week reconnaissance in Jinja I started to look into different courses and quickly got the necessary documents organised. To this day I owe my family a great deal for sorting out various documents on this end of the world. I remember the window for QTAC applications was closing fast and I still had to send a couple mandatory forms back to Australia. Kabale had been without power for almost 3 days and I was starting to tear my hair out, praying the power would come back on. I remember standing outside Uganda Telecom ready to send a fax as soon as the power returned. It didn’t come. In a last ditch attempt David suggested I rig up a generator to the laptop. It seemed ridiculous but it was the only way. The deafening sound of the engine and mild vertigo from the exhaust was a small price to pay to ensure the docs were lodged in time. It would take a couple months before they sorted my application but I was quietly confident that I’d encounter no problems because I knew God was in control.

One afternoon in January I was pulling a few crafty manoeuvres in traffic while in Kampala with Dave and Kathryn. As I type this I actually miss driving in Kampala. It rewards the brave, and when you get from point A to point B you feel like you have achieved the impossible, like climbing Everest. There is simply no challenge or excitement driving here in Brisbane. As a man I love a decent challenge or something that could emulate the feeling of winning Le Mans or Monte Carlo. Driving in Kampala always did it for me. Stepping out of the car at point B after countless near misses felt pretty good. Anyways, while behind the wheel in Kampala my phone rang and it was my family on the other end. They called to say that I had been accepted into ACU, which was my first preference. I think I had two hands off the wheel at this stage punching the air in excitement. The joy seemed to last for a long while but it was certainly a moment of mixed emotions. I could feel the smile on my face disappear when I realised this meant I was heading back to Australia.  

It’s been quite a while since my last post and to be honest I didn’t think I’d return to writing so soon, but here we are together again. The last time I was here was just after I returned from a weekend in Rwanda over six months ago. Much has happened since then, which is the main reason for my absence. I couldn’t possibly summon the words to accurately express my emotions and experiences during the lead up to my departure from Uganda and also returning to Australia. It was always going to be hard to write the final post in my ‘Somewhere in Africa’ blog and to be honest I still can’t find the words to say. I had two attempts at writing my final thoughts, once while in Uganda and the other when I returned to Australia but it was impossible. Looking back over them now I’m somewhat happy they weren’t published. Apart from the fact I did a pretty lousy job of stringing my emotions into sentences (I could barely read my own typing), the entry was a little too personal at the time for people to see. I won’t express those deepest emotions in these next handful of posts because it’s very personal and it’s simply too much. I’m writing because I feel I need some closure. I’m doing this as self-therapy and to also share with the world the amazing work God is doing in my life. I want to seal in that new work and press forward in the new challenges He has called me to.

I’ll be sure to keep this section rolling with regular entries and afterwards continue to use this blog to write about my general thoughts and current happenings.