Our flight to Kigali left
before the metro or trains started, so we called a taxi to take us to the
airport. Our driver got us there much earlier than we expected and the airport
was for most part still closed. The low lights illuminated the dark shapes
sleeping on the chairs and floors. These poor souls had spent the night in the
airport waiting for their morning flights. We took the escalator down to
baggage claim and then back up to check in, just wasting time.
Finally the KLM
booth opened and we checked in for our flight to Kigali. As we passed thru
security one of our bags was questioned. The lady asked me to remove the items.
I started pulling things out wondering what it was that I had placed in there. She
finally found what she was looking for, a ziplock bag full of white powder, aka
laundry detergent. There had been no problem anywhere else in our travels about
this, even though I was aware that it usually comes up in their screenings. I
told her it was detergent and she took it over to her superiors. These two men
and her were seriously discussing this package and inspecting it. One of the
men smelled it and then holding it walked back to us. I was prepared for the
usual upset TSA spiel and was ready. However they both wore faces of amusement
and started speaking to us in Spanish. I quickly said “Ingles?” but they
continued speaking in Spanish. We finally figured out that they wanted us to
wait while they tested this foreign substance. I watched as they walked to a
nearby cubicle. Several passing agents came over to check out what it was
about. After several minutes they walked
back. “It’s ok.” They said and handed it
back to us. Their grins told me that they thought us very funny to travel with
our laundry detergent. Oh well, we are the backpacking type.
We had a
connecting flight in Amsterdam and upon arrival tried to find out gate. We
found out that you must go thru a passport control again to reach certain
gates. We joined the mass of other people fighting their way thru the maze to
the agents. AMS has the worst set up as there were no lanes to delegate your
priority in line. I told Sarah that if we got separated that we just head to
the gate. From looking at our tickets
our flight was already boarding and we still hadn't gone thru passport control.
It would be a tight squeeze. Once we were thru, it was a run to reach our far
gate E. Breathless we reached it and got in line. Going thru another TSA
checkpoint we boarded our flight. Within minutes they shut the door and we were
off to Rwanda.
I was getting very excited; I couldn't believe that after four
years I was on my way back. Pictures, places, and people ran thru my mind,
knowing that I’d touch foot there that night. After the long hours slowly
ticked by we prepared for landing. I walked down the stairs and breathed in the
air. I was back! Once thru customs I was able to call my friend Fiona and she
told me that she would be there shortly. Sitting on the bench I scanned the
airport. Not much had changed. I smiled at the child sitting next to me. Her
cute face didn't know what to think of the stranger. Her father tried to get
her to smile, but she just buried her head in his chest. I felt Sarah touch my
shoulder and I turned. My eyes found a familiar face in the crowd and I got up
to greet my friend.
Fiona was not much changed, tall and slender and as
beautiful as ever. Her brother Philip came also and we finally met. After four
years of knowing someone only by word it was awesome to see him face to
face. I was finally able to introduce
Sarah to them as well. It was a funny sibling meet sibling thing. Without
further ado we got our luggage and headed out. Angel and Joseph, Fiona’s
sister and brother -in-law, had graciously invited us to stay with them. Their home was close to
the airport so we arrived there shortly. Introductions were made and sat around
and talked for a while. It was decided that we would join Philip and Angel for
church the next morning. We said goodbye to them and they left for their
home. We got ready for bed and slept soundly till morning.
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