Our second last day in Rwanda our friend Jojo told us she would do any last minute laundry we had, which is always needed when you have a limited wardrobe. I gave her my pair of jeans and 2 shirts; Anika also gave her pair of jeans to get washed. That night we were out late so I didn’t bother to check if my clothes were dry. The next day I went out to get my jeans so I could wear them and low and behold I couldn’t find them. I looked everywhere and I asked everyone if they had seen them, Anika then went on a search to find her jeans and she couldn’t find hers either. We asked Jojo where she had hung them up, so she went to go look and came back telling us that other stuff had been stolen too. At the loss of one of my favorite pieces of clothing I started to mope, meanwhile some of my other squad-mates had gone through a more tragic loss. Some of them got their passports and cards stolen, as well as their electronics, yet somehow I still justified moping around for my missing jeans.
Sunday came and it was time to pack up the bus and go, we had to take several trips to the bus depot so our bags left the house before we did. By the time we got there my bag was packed onto the bus and because so many of us were standing around I didn’t worry about whether or not it made it on the bus. So we spent the day driving to Uganda, with a stop at the boarder where bags got taken off and put back on. We finally made it to The Backpackers Hostel after dark and everyone just grabbed a bag and walked it up to the front. We stood waiting for instructions around our pile of packs, and I silently wondered ‘what if my pack isn’t here’ but immediately dismissed the thought. As we got our room/tent assignments people started grabbing packs, and I stood waiting to get mine. But as more bags were claimed I started to get concerned because I couldn’t see mine anywhere. I went around asking others if they had grabbed the wrong one by mistake, but no one had. So I went up to the people in charge and told them that my bag was missing. We couldn’t find it anywhere, so I went and borrowed some sleeping gear for the night hoping that the morning would bring results. I tried to keep calm, and I prayed through it telling myself it was just stuff, and at least all the important things were with me in my daypack. I did shed a few tears that night, I must say that my squad is really great though and a lot of people were praying for me to find it. The next day didn’t prove to be very successful either, but the Pastor from Rwanda had gotten a hold of the bus company and he told us to go and talk to them the next morning. So I grabbed a trusty sidekick to assist me, (Jordan), and we headed out to the bus depot office. As we walked up the hill Jordan points out that the building’s name is Miracle Corner. Well that definitely sparked some more hope in me as we walked in, and as Jordan started to explain why we there the guy opens the door and hands me my pack. I couldn’t believe it, God protected my pack, I almost started to cry tears of joy I was so happy! It was a miracle that I actually got it back, and that everything was accounted for especially since anyone could have taken it or grabbed stuff out. I was SO THANKFUL that I had it back; it would have been a hassle to get everything I needed again but I know my squad would have been very willing to help me out. Losing my pack certainly put losing my jeans in perspective.
