“I hope the police don’t stop us,” I muttered to my husband as we rattled along in our old Land Cruiser on a deserted road in Uganda.
Just then, a policeman stepped out of the shadow of a large tree at the top of a hill, his arm extended in the “stop” position.
When dealing with the police in Uganda, you never know what to expect. Some are honest and amicable; others abuse their power by squeezing travelers for a bribe. The policeman’s partner stood in the bushes, watching as we pulled over.
As soon as my husband stepped on the brakes at the top of the hill, the engine choked and died. He glanced at me. “Not again.”
This is a guest blog post I wrote for Stories of God in the Dark. To read the full story and find out what happened, click the link.
