I was very happy to be able to go to Katire for Mass this past Sunday after being away for a while. It was a beautiful clear morning driving into the mountains, and since it had rained the night before the bare rock patches on the mountainsides glistened like silver with water from springs fed by the rain. The people in Katire seemed happy to see us, too, and said to me (as many others in Torit had already done during the week): "You were lost!" and "How was America?" After Mass I was even able to wade in the river, which was very strong and cold.
The rain started again before we left at about 2:00 pm, and at times was heavy. Then the inevitable happened: the road was blocked by a large truck buried in mud. The Ugandan driver was heading toward Katire with an empty vehicle, probably to haul a load of bamboo back to Torit to sell for roof frames for tukul huts.
We tried to help him for about an hour (and got soaked with rain and covered with mud in the process), at one point even by trying to tow the truck with a rope while the driver accelerated and others pushed. But the rope snapped and our efforts were in vain. At least we provided Sunday afternoon entertainment for about a dozen boys from a nearby village who showed up to watch. We finally concluded that the best strategy was to let the sun (which had come back out by then) dry out the mud enough for the truck to have something solid to grab onto.
In the end, at least, the truck had moved enough for us to get around it and continue on our way. A young woman with her baby who was trying to get to Katire decided that it was a better bet to return to Torit with us.
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