Rwanda, here I come
“Sir, come here please. What’s in all those bags?” the customs officer remarked to me. Ohhhh I was so close to the exit, I thought. I have three oversized suitcases completely filled with catheters, needle, surgical gowns, gloves, lidocaine, syringes, and numerous other supplies and had been worried about this exact situation the whole flight over. I should be okay with it because I had talked my way out of things a few times before in India. But I wasn’t.
“Just some medical supplies,” I remarked.
“Okay, fine, but I cannot come back. So just throw them out right now.”
“Huh?” he looked a bit confused.
“Yes just throw them out.”
“I come back.” He went over to his colleague in the office across from where I was standing and they chatted a way for several minutes and finally he comes back over.
“Okay you go now. But we keep this letter,” he said, waving Dr. Rosman’s letter around.
“Sounds good. Thank you.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and confidently (I hope) wheeled my cart filled with all of my suitcases out the door and into the ridiculously hot Rwandan night.