Kabalagala (Ugandan pancakes) go missing after a flight from Uganda

Window shot flying over Washington D.C area on Qatar Airways

I started 2024 with missing suitcases after a flight home to Uganda.

Immigration officer: Where are you coming from?

Me: Uganda

IO: What was the reason for your travel?

Me: To see family

IO: How are they doing?

Me: They are well, thank you.

IO: How much money are you bringing into the country?

Me: (Thinking to myself—"dude is this a trick question?”) I said, “None really”.

IO: Welcome back!

With that I went off to pick my luggage.

I scanned the luggage conveyor belt for a while… nothing. Exhausted but chill and with hubby still way out, navigating the highways, I took my time. I watched the luggage spin round and round: green cases, black cases, pink cases, checkered cases, cases with bright colored strings (you know the pieces of cloth torn off dresses or belts—the ones used to tie sacks of cassava or millet? Ya! People real know how to mark their luggage, so it stands out).

My cases: one maroon-soft cover and one green-hard cover were nowhere in sight.

A muffled announcement came over the airwaves, I heard “…Mary Ong”, unless there was an East Asian with a similar name, I had a feeling it was meant for me. Not good.

I traced the voice to the counter. A little East Asian lady dressed in blue and white uniform hustled with disgruntled passengers concerned about their missing baggage.

I introduced myself, she begun to stutter “Yes please! Your bags… didn’t arrive. I don’t know…” She handed me a printed form—my name.

She continued, “We will deliver your suitcases in a day or two...” She looked worried as she handed me a pen—probably thought I was about to cause a scene. There’s a way one looks after a long flight—angry Black African woman vibes—those things. I had flown over 20 hours halfway around the world—Uganda to Rwanda, Rwanda to Doha, Doha to D.C. And now my chapati and kabalagala (pancakes) were out there somewhere, alone and frightened. No, I wasn’t in the best mood.

I narrowed my eyes, looked down at the lady (nanti she was like 4 feet tall) and with gritted teeth said, “Look here Miss. my bags had better be found. No one messes with a Ugandan woman and her kabz.”

Ok, if you believe I said that to the lady, we need to talk. Hahaha.

I wrote a description of my suitcases, signed the form and went off to find my people.

The baggage arrived at my door two days later and all was intact. The cool temperatures outside helped preserve the chapati and kabalagala. I placed the valuables in the freezer and now, for the next two weeks or a month (depending on my self-control) I have some easy meals—chapati and chai garden tea.

The hustle of living away from home—bu simple pleasures naye!

Happy New Year!!