Jesus found me in Uganda

“Could it be true? Jesus found me? He actually found me? And from all the places, in Uganda??? But I did not ask him to. At least, not really”, - at that moment it occurred to me that maybe Jesus does not recognize the sarcasm. All this troubling thoughts ran through my head when I was looking at the woman who was returning the gaze back to me. She was smiling and showing that I should raise my hands the same way as a woman preacher and all the congregation in the Bethel church, Kampala, Uganda.

“This could be a sign”, - a little voice inside me said. “Since when do YOU believe in signs?!”, - replied the stronger, louder ME or I, or whatever I could call my more rational self at this moment. But at the same time I was looking at the poster on the wall, which stated: “PUSH: pray until something happens”.

“Oh, God, has something happened?”, - at that moment I decided it was time to get out of the church. “Now. Run. Do not look back, until something else happens”, - stated the same, more rational ME.

Everything started on the plane: Istanbul-Kigali-Entebbe. Most of the people on the plane were not black, so I was wondering what were they all planning to do in Rwanda or Uganda. What’s their agenda? Are they on holidays, doing some business, or maybe they are saving Africa as us, white people, like to do.

I was sitting near the window. And next to me were two young boys. Later I found out that one of them is 23 and the other is 22 years old. Between them they spoke German. And with the guys on the same row but on the other side of the aisle they spoke in English. They were loud and cheerful and I was sure they were on holiday.

Suddenly my closest neighbour, seat E, asked me where I am from and why I am going to Uganda. He asked me this because he wanted to talk about himself, so I let him. This is where THE TROUBLE began. He was an Evangelist. He was from Germany, as well as his friend, seat D, but they all – 5 in my row and 7 on the plane, were studying in the Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry in California, USA. Yes, you have read it correctly – SUPERNATURAL.

Apparently, as it is written in the Bible, not only Jesus performed miracles. Meaning - miracle making did not stop with him. Seat E saw "a lot of those". People with broken arms and legs - healed, people with cancer - healed, blind people starting to see for the first time in their life. This healing happened not because of the medicine and professional treatment. Oh no. This happened because Evangelists prayed and God listened. And this is what they gonna do in Uganda. They’re going to preach and then visit schools and pray for people. And they are going to heal. “

• There will be a lot of miracles. It’s gonna be crazy, - enthusiastically says Seat E.

“Oh my God. Is he for real?, - I cannot believe my hears are not bleeding whilst hearing this. - Maybe he is pulling my leg? THAT would be the greatest prank ever. I mean, he is using ipod, smart phone. He is so modern, so young…”

But at some point during our conversation he takes his Bible and reads some passages for me. He has two Bibles with him – in English andin  German, and he took both of them from the bag to have next to him on the plane.

• Are you open to a further conversation?, - he asks me with his piercing dark eyes.

Well, of course I am. Nobody ever tried to convert me so much as this guy. And I lived in Indonesia. Hell, for one month, I lived almost inside the mosque and I saw the sheikh every day, and he never tried to convert me. Once I hitchhiked a Jehowah witness, and even he did not try to convert me. Ok, let's be honest. At the end of the trip he gave me and my friend some brochures to read. But that is nothing compared with this guy, seat E.

• Sure. I just want to excersise my neck a bit. It hurts, because all this time I was turned to you without moving, - I answer him and turn my neck to the right and left several times.

• Can I pray for your neck?

You've got to be kidding me. I am already sorry for this “sure, let’s continue the conversation”, because he is completely nuts.

• No, maybe not, I am better now, thanks, - I answer and my inner voice whispers inside me: “Are you sure you still want to be polite?”
• That’s ok, - responds my neighbour. Do I hear a tone of reproach?. - I just wanted to help.

So, he continues and I listen and I smile, and I smile and I listen. And then I am not listening and smiling anymore. So I am really happy to see that the stewards are starting to give the food. I just want to drink wine and watch “Queen of the Katwe” before landing.

• Do you mind if we pray for you?.

Now Seat E and Seat D both look at me with those piercing, all knowing eyes. “Before food? Are you kidding me?!”, - my inner voice is indignant.

• Of course not, - I answer instead.

Seat E puts his hand on my shoulder, bows his head and closes his eyes in contemplation. Seat D does the same, except that his hand is on the shoulder of the Seat E. I look at them and pray to myself that it would end quickly. It did.

• Do you mind if my friend tries to read you? He has quite a gift.

Seat E talks about the Seat D. About this blonde 22 year old?? But I do admit to myself - this is much more interesting than just talking. But I am really hungry and tired. It is midnight and I am all day traveling. I suggest to do it after eating and they agree. Even though they clearly look at their job seriously, they are both really hungry as well. So we eat and I enjoy wine and quietude. It ends soon.

• Should we do it now?, - Seat E is all smiling and lovely.

I agree and now it is time for Seat D to touch me in this purely platonic and fatherly way – his hand on my shoulder, his head bowed trying to “read” me.

• I can see you have a special relationship with Australia, - Seat D says after opening the eyes. “Well, and I can see that you are full of shit”, - think ME, but of course I answer differently:
• No, not really.
• I see you dancing. I think dancing is important to you.

God, really?! Me dancing? I move like a tank. I mean, I like to dance. Who doesn't.? But if you have a gift from God, could you please be more original?

• No, not really.
• Really? I can see you 12 or 13 and dancing.
• No, - I answer and smile ironically and at the same time I try to block the memory in my mind: summer camp and my brother's teacher forces me to participate in the beauty pageant. I had to dance valse on stage. With an older boy, even though I never danced valse before. Undo. Delete. Forget.
• OK, - says seat D with a disappointment in his voice. - I also see an older woman in your life. You are really close with your aunt, aren't you?
• No, I kave not spoken with my aunt since my father's funeral. - This time I even do not hide the feeling of the triumph in my eyes, smile and voice.
• Maybe she will try to reach you, - I hear him saying.
• Sometimes these things work and sometimes it does not, - says Seat E. - Does anything that we talked about reached you, touched you?
• No, not really, - I say and feel a little bit sorry for these boys. On a second glance, they do not feel defeated or ready to give up.
• OK, it is OK, I just want to ask you to do one thing for me, - pleads Seat E. - When you go back to the hotel, hostel or whenever you are saying, could you please repeat this phraze several times: “Jesus, if you are there, please reveal yourself to me”.
• Jesus, if you are there, please reveal yourself to me? OK, I can do that. “Jesus, if you are there, please reveal yourself to me”, - I repeated this phrase several times in my mind. I want to remember. I am definitely gonna tell everyone who will be willing to listen about this lunacy.
• You are fantastic, - says seat D to me. The Americanisms in their way of speaking really makes me want to vomit. Emty phrases.
• Thank you very much.

After this exchange, the conversation almost stoped. I was able to watch “The Queen of Katwe” and go to sleep.

I told about this incident to the driver who picked me up at 5 o'clock in Entebbe airport and brought me to Kampala. We laughed together.

• Jesus, if you are there, please reveal yourself to me, - I repeated the phrase to the driver. I did not mean what I said. Obviously. I did not want Jesus to search for me and, even less, to find me. Obviously.

And yet on my first day in Kampala, after visiting Uganda's National Mosque I decided to walk instead of catching boda – motorbike seat for hire. I do not know the street, just go down and suddenly, in front of my eyes – Bethel church. I hear music, I hear prayers, I go in...

The woman preacher preaches in a loud voice. All congregation looks ecstatic. No white people among them, so I am really noticeable. The last thing I want to be – noticeable. Woman smiles. Invites me to her row. I look around. I want to take pictures and film, but I do not dare. PUSH. “Oh, God”, - what I am doing here?

All people raise their hands up. The woman smiles at me and shows to do the same. I run and I feel on my back that the smiling woman does not smile anymore.

I do not want to PUSH. I go down the hill while boda boda drivers confuse me, because sometimes I hear that they shout Goda, not boda. I hear my name, I look at them. There is a hope in their faces, they slow down and I realize my mistake. No, no, thank you. I press on. Suddenly I feel I am in the downtown. More and more people around me. I press on. Suddenly I see a woman on the street. She looks directly at me and says, no shouts at me, “Jesus loves you”.

“Is Jesus like a “Beetlejuice”? You say his name three times and he shows up?”, - this thought comes to me later, when I tell the whole story to my fellow journalists. At that moment I look at her startled. For a second, she sees in me a soulmate, a colleage, a conquest, but then I wake up out of the trance and walk fastly away, while I still hear her shouting “Jesus loves you”.

Day after my return from Uganda to Lithuania my aunt calls me.