Black,sticky tar. Crushed gravel.
I just plain love it.
For nine of our years in this country, the road to medical care, fellowship, groceries, pizza and ice cream wasn’t even paved with good intentions…
It was dirt. Rutted. Pitted. Narrow. And dusty.
Unless it was raining. And then it was muddy. Rutted. Pitted. Narrow. And slick.
Our trips to the capital city from our small town took 5 and ½ to 6 hours, then. Hard hours. That left us utterly spent, covered in dust and exhausted.
Not so, anymore.
Trips to Kampala take three and a half hours. On smooth tarmac road.
I haven’t ridden the road once without an overwhelming sense of amazement. Covering ground minus the bone jarring bumps and dangerous curves.
It is a gift.
As with most good things in the third world…they are temporary. The heroic men who laid the road have gone. And will not be maintaining it. The huge overstuffed lorries will continue to roll. And eventually, the potholes will develop.
But, in this moment…the road to good things is a smooth one. And that is a precious blessing.
Three things (of a very long list) that I will never take for granted after this jaunt into the third world:
1. Time with family
2. Hot baths
3. Paved roads