Sorry mom {and Aunt Lynn...and GR}! You may want to skip this entry for the sake of your sanity!
My recent trip to Kampala was amazing {I need some new adjectives, suggestions?}. It was a much-needed and perfectly-timed holiday. I’ve been plowing through administrative work since the beginning of July, usually inputting data and hand cropping photos far beyond my 9:30 bedtime. A little over two weeks ago we discovered that of the 60+ pieces of luggage that went home with the Mt. Pisgah team before the 4th of July holiday, the
one trunk lost by Delta was mine—packed with personal gifts, orders fulfilled by the women’s co-op, paperwork and flash drives. Delta has continued to snub our due-diligence and has been entirely reluctant to compensate us for those goods. Simultaneously my mother was notified by Wachovia that someone had been writing fraudulent checks to The Kenya Project account, cashing them in Orlando. We encountered a quality-control issue with the women’s leather goods, causing my mother to spring into action and set up a tanning shop in her living room. Needless to say, I was eager to flee to Kampala for a holiday.
My arrival in Kampala, however, fit with the “stormy” theme of the week. Jamie and Sara asked if I could request that the driver drop me off at Lugogo Bypass {a shopping center unbeknownst to me} instead of the station to save a bit of time considering our late arrival—an hour at the border and an overturned petroleum truck slowed our progress, turning an 8-hour trip into longer than 10. “O-key,” he replied while taking instructions from a passenger as to where exactly Lugogo Bypass was. Did I mention that I am 90% sure I saw him snort something before we pulled out of Nakuru that morning?
Sweet. Anyhow, 45 minutest later the conductor pulls over to the side of the rode in a valley between two shallow hills and drops me off. I am in the middle of nowhere…there are no lights…and my cell phone decided not to work with the Ugandan network. My immediate thought: “My mom would KILL me right now.” After trying frantically for 20 minutes to text Sara or Jamie, I braved walking to a parked car with a couple sitting inside and kindly asked to use their phone…or buy them airtime. And that’s how I met Moses. Thankfully, Moses was an employee of the Ministry of Justice. We walked to a nearby restaurant where he paid for my phone call {only because the smallest bill I had was 5,000 shillings and no one ever has change in Africa} and then walked me up the hill to the shopping center. I gave him the 5,000 shilling bill as a tip. No worries—that’s only about $2.50…and he probably deserved much more considering my prayer was answered that he wasn’t a drug addict or something worse along those lines.
I finally found Jamie {thank
goodness!}. His first question: “Do you feel comfortable taking a boda?” I replied casually with the greatest confidence I could muster knowing that Susan had forbidden me to ride bodas in Nakuru, “Sure.” We hopped on the back of two motorcycles…and zoom! Mark that one off the list! Despite the fact that it’s surely not the safest thing to do without a helmet…especially in a Third World country with hilly terrain…with questionable medical facilities and unlicensed drivers…it was
the best way to see the city. A little breeze in the face {the dust and bugs the exception} made it magical. It was my mode of transportation for the entire trip and I
loved it.
That was just the beginning. My first evening in Kampala we dined at Pavement Tandoor, an incredible Indian restaurant in Kisimente, broadly looking out over what I affectionately call the Hollywood Hills. It is one of the many reasons Kampala is exceptionally beautiful: rolling hills covered in posh homes…occasionally butted up to metal or adobe huts. Over dinner Jamie and Sara shared the news that my blog may now be borderline famous after I typed the combination of magic words in the entry about their July visit to Nakuru, their work with the IJM in Uganda, and my interest in the IJM before I came to Africa. Apparently IJM has an incredibly efficient scanning mechanism that searches out any reference on the Internet to their organization…and blasts an e-mail to every member of IJM worldwide when they find something. Yep. That’s right folks. My blog entry went sailing across cyberspace to eight different countries to some of the finest civil servants and volunteers around. A bit embarrassing and terrifying? Yes, I think so. The news of my newfound fame {well, and my whirlwind day of drug-snorting bus drivers, getting lost in the dark without cell phone service, and riding a motorcycle much too quickly} was only topped by the fact that the security guard at Sara and Jamie’s complex carries a bow and arrow as his means of protecting the dwellers of the Bokoto Brown Flats. I am pretty sure that he’s not a world class archer either, but I would have
loved to see his attempt to pick off a burglar from 50 yards. Amos is
so much more hard core with his machete…
woot woot!
Friday morning early I headed to Jinja near Lake Victoria to raft the Nile with Adrift…and it was surreal. I somehow was voted to the front of the raft after suiting up into an entirely unflattering getup. The front is designated for “strong rafters” and the experienced. Did I mention that I’ve never rafted before in my life? I was clueless. I didn’t even know that there was a rating scale for rapids and that Class 5 is the highest you can go commercially in a raft. Thankfully, Jamie and Sara assuaged my fears and assured me Thursday evening that I did not need to be experienced—Adrift is the most reputable company in Uganda and have been operating for some 25+ years. My guide for the day was hilarious and lovable. His name was Tutu, a native Ugandan. His pep talk before each major rapid came out like this: “Plan A is paddle hod, paddle hod! Plan B is to not fall out of the boat.” Thanks, Tutu—not exactly comforting. Nevertheless, my team successfully made it through four Class 5 rapids and 6 others {mostly 3s and 4s}. We only capsized twice—check out the first flip in the fantastic wipeout series below {that'll be me in the yellow helmet, front left of the boat}! The second capsizing was entirely unexpected and therefore terrifying. We were crossing a Class 3 rapid, we were entirely steady, and then there was a wall of water. I do not even remember flipping…just kicking trying to find the surface. I came up under the boat and a safety kayak eventually carried me back to the raft. We survived and I survived…though with a few cuts and sunburned knees…and, o yeah, that whole threat of finding parasite in six weeks! We covered 31 kilometers over about 6 hours and even had the chance to swim in the deeper parts of the river and through a Class 1 rapid. Adrift provided Nile beer, soda and bbq skewers at the end of the day—so stinkin’ good. I am also 99% sure that I met the evil twin of Jason Eshbaugh, my beloved Wake Forest basketball boss, that sunny day on the river. Isn’t everyone supposed to have one of those somewhere in the world?
The rest of the weekend lived up to the success and thrill of Friday. Saturday I visited a
real bookstore and picked up
The Road and
The Time Traveler’s Wife to restock my dwindling supply. I splurged on a stunning handmade quilt crafted from hundreds of squares of traditional African fabrics. We met up with some of Jamie and Sara’s wonderful colleagues { hi Grace, Sujanya, Emiline and Peyton (!)…and sorry if I just butchered your names (?) } for dinner at a Mexican joint: marginally tasty but insanely spice enchiladas, real tortilla chips, a splendid frozen margarita {though nothing on La Parilla!}, and solid live entertainment by Latin jazz musician Maurice Kirya. I am bummed I can’t get his music anywhere…even of the illegally downloaded nature. Sunday morning we visited one of the most up-and-coming churches in Kampala—Watoto PCEA. I was astounded at the production, the lines forming outside simply to get a seat, and after further research, the organization’s work with IDPs and orphans in the northern part of the country. Church was less than a block from the craft markets…where I could have done significantly more damage that I did. I passed on renowned a Ugandan drum in favor of lots of paper bead jewelry. Later that evening we went to a birthday party for the daughter of the IJM field office director and a tour of their new home. The highlight of the night was when the 6-year-old girl was gifted two live chickens by a family friend. She proceeded to name the white chicken after my friend Sara and the black chicken after Sujanya, Sri Lankan though Australian. Needless to say, the director was laughing so hard and was equally embarrassed that his daughter was so racially sensitive. The pizza was pretty exciting too. ; )
Well, this is getting quite long, isn’t it? My work with the student records has continued all throughout this week and I expect to finish with our nearly 60 Class 8s on Monday. Tuesday we’re closing for the term. Later in the week the Geneva’s Wonderful Women will set up shop for a team of 50 from Salt Lake visiting United Methodist Secondary School across the road. Can you believe it’s almost August?!? In other words, I am 1.57 weeks away from heading to Tanzania for the climb of my lifetime. We’ll see if it can beat floating on my back down the Nile…
Love to you all.
tnick
Posts
