Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Pictures And Videos Are Posted
I've downloaded pictures and videos and put them with the stories they more or less match. I have more pictures to come off of Paul's camera which I think will be better. I'll post those on a single site in the next couple of days... for those of you that are interested.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Back to the Developed World
We arrived in Amsterdam and went to the car rental area to find the agency that we booked our car rental through which was to be at the “Amsterdam Airport”. It was, in fact, not at there at all. We went to the phones and after about $5.00 of Euros we, nor the dutch uncle that met us, could figure out how to dial the strange number supplied on the voucher.
We asked the other agencies and they all refused to help us because we had been stupid enough to book at an agency other than theirs. We went to the airport information booth and they weren't too keen because this agency didn't pay the airport any rent. She did allow that they had a van that came by and gave cursory information as to where we could find it.
We went outside and asked all around and nobody had heard of this pick up spot. Anyways, welcome to the developed world. We eventually found the pick up location that took us to the stupid place. It was a half hour away from the airport in a maze of roads and ramps and turns... this was to create a major problem for us when we had to drop off the car but I won't get into that. The moral of the story is: we were in the world which we knew well: if you had the bucks and you gave them out, you were worth helping. Otherwise, you're on your own, sucker.
We had a very warm welcome from Diana's family. All of them went way too far to accomodate us. We had a personal tour of scenic parts of Leiden. We went to the pilgrim church and I showed the kids the plaque for our ancestor, John Robinson, who was the pastor of the Pilgrim church who sent off the Mayflower to Plymouth Rock. Diana's dutch all came back to her and her relatives were all suitably impressed. As usual, they found my attempts amusing. (To my humiliation, I was corrected on some of my improper use of the English language in this blog by my dutch readers...Argh!) We went to an old traditional dutch village (Volendam) and we went to Amsterdam where we stumbled (honest!) into the outer fringes of the Red Light District where the prostitutes show their wares. That became the trip highlight for the kids.
We went on a great bicycle trip for 3 or 4 hours around some smaller villages which became the highlight for the older members of the family. We ate very well so I think all the weight we lost in Africa came back after a couple of days of those irresistable dutch pasteries...
We found our way to visit my niece and her family in Brugge, Belgium. They put us up in their 4 or 5 star boarding room right in the middle of the old city. It was a fabulous break for us and Brugge has stunning old buildings with remarkable architecture.
From there we buzzed off to France to see my uncle's grave site near Cintheaux south of Caen. He was with the Montreal Regiment of the Black Watch and I have always been inspired by his sacrifice to preserve the good things that we have attained in this world: freedom of speech, democracy, individual rights, etc... A lot of these things are beginning to crumble away in my opinion and I went to be reminded of the cost of these good things.
We had a very warm welcome from Diana's family. All of them went way too far to accomodate us. We had a personal tour of scenic parts of Leiden. We went to the pilgrim church and I showed the kids the plaque for our ancestor, John Robinson, who was the pastor of the Pilgrim church who sent off the Mayflower to Plymouth Rock. Diana's dutch all came back to her and her relatives were all suitably impressed. As usual, they found my attempts amusing. (To my humiliation, I was corrected on some of my improper use of the English language in this blog by my dutch readers...Argh!) We went to an old traditional dutch village (Volendam) and we went to Amsterdam where we stumbled (honest!) into the outer fringes of the Red Light District where the prostitutes show their wares. That became the trip highlight for the kids.
We went on a great bicycle trip for 3 or 4 hours around some smaller villages which became the highlight for the older members of the family. We ate very well so I think all the weight we lost in Africa came back after a couple of days of those irresistable dutch pasteries...
We found our way to visit my niece and her family in Brugge, Belgium. They put us up in their 4 or 5 star boarding room right in the middle of the old city. It was a fabulous break for us and Brugge has stunning old buildings with remarkable architecture.
From there we buzzed off to France to see my uncle's grave site near Cintheaux south of Caen. He was with the Montreal Regiment of the Black Watch and I have always been inspired by his sacrifice to preserve the good things that we have attained in this world: freedom of speech, democracy, individual rights, etc... A lot of these things are beginning to crumble away in my opinion and I went to be reminded of the cost of these good things.
As I stared at his grave, the emotions began to stir up in me and I began to weep. Of course I never knew the man but I well know the measure of loss it was for my family and then you multiply that by many thousands of lost lives... While I was in these thoughts, a small branch from a tree broke off and jarred me in the shoulder. There was not much wind to speak of and the trees were not that close. I felt like I was being told: “Get on with it. Wake up! Stop your grieving. There are still battles to be fought. Go out and do your part.” Then again, if you're a logical sort of person, it could have been that a tree branch simply broke off and hit me...
From there we took the secondary roads (France charges you through the nose to drive on their good highways: $80 of tolls in 8 hours of driving...) to Paris where we saw the Eiffle Tower, Montmartre and Champs Elysee ..all in one (wretched!) day. After fighting Paris traffic, it was basically a blur to get back to the Amsterdam airport to fly home.
I'll be adding some pictures in the next couple of days but to end the journey, I'll close with the faded words that can yet be read on the stone at the grave of my uncle, Lieut. Alan R.W. Robinson:
There is music
In the midst of desolation
And a glory
That shines upon our tears.
Entebbe and the Jets
We got off our bus from the raft trip and all seemed well with me despite the quantities of the refreshing waters of the Nile in my system. We met Bubby and we all went into a Matatoo bus to our hotel in Entebbe. Bubby was off early in the morning and we were not off until the next day. We used the time to go to the Botanical Gardens, the Zoo and an island refuge for Chimpanzees... and now we had to deal with some digestive difficulties for those of us that might have some traces of the refreshing waters of the Nile in their system.
The Botanical Garden was very peaceful. Great big trees, wide open grass and the shores of Lake Victoria. We even saw monkeys at very close range. It was all very beautiful for the others. Although the effects of my plunges into the Nile, were now upon me, I was happy because they had toilets spaced not too terribly far apart... but there was some room for improvement in that regard in my personal and unbiased opinion.
That afternoon we went to a the zoo... and well, we saw animals there. Good zoo... lots of open space for roaming for the animals ...and the toilets were the proper kind and always nearby. A good time was had by all.
The next day we hopped aboard a boat that did not have any toilets but this was okay because the Nile had run its course. We took a 45 minute trip out to a remote island in Lake Victoria and watched the feeding of a ... a... pod(?) of chimpanzees. All of these chimps had been rescued from some sort of abusive situation.
It was fascinating to watch the politics of the er... group unfold. The girls in heat are the territory of the lone alpha male but the subject of much interest from the other males. This lead to a great deal of conflict and resolution and was most entertaining. Only the alpha male gets to do the wild thing with any of the “Chimpettes”. Needless to say, there is great incentive to aspire to be the alpha male in a tribe(?) of chimpanzees. There have been three overthrows of the alpha males in the past 4 months...
We came back at mid day, packed, spent the last of our shillings and we went to the airport and lifted off as darkness fell on the land. We looked down on all the orange specks of light from the open fires that we could see below and knew we were saying good bye to Africa.
The Botanical Garden was very peaceful. Great big trees, wide open grass and the shores of Lake Victoria. We even saw monkeys at very close range. It was all very beautiful for the others. Although the effects of my plunges into the Nile, were now upon me, I was happy because they had toilets spaced not too terribly far apart... but there was some room for improvement in that regard in my personal and unbiased opinion.
That afternoon we went to a the zoo... and well, we saw animals there. Good zoo... lots of open space for roaming for the animals ...and the toilets were the proper kind and always nearby. A good time was had by all.
The next day we hopped aboard a boat that did not have any toilets but this was okay because the Nile had run its course. We took a 45 minute trip out to a remote island in Lake Victoria and watched the feeding of a ... a... pod(?) of chimpanzees. All of these chimps had been rescued from some sort of abusive situation.
It was fascinating to watch the politics of the er... group unfold. The girls in heat are the territory of the lone alpha male but the subject of much interest from the other males. This lead to a great deal of conflict and resolution and was most entertaining. Only the alpha male gets to do the wild thing with any of the “Chimpettes”. Needless to say, there is great incentive to aspire to be the alpha male in a tribe(?) of chimpanzees. There have been three overthrows of the alpha males in the past 4 months...
We came back at mid day, packed, spent the last of our shillings and we went to the airport and lifted off as darkness fell on the land. We looked down on all the orange specks of light from the open fires that we could see below and knew we were saying good bye to Africa.
Time To Start Heading Home...
Our time was up and it was time to say good bye to all our new friends and a completely different world. As fate would have it, we left in the middle of the Saturday time with the Children of Peace. We knew it would be hard to leave but leaving in the midst of a hundred or so orphans who we had come to love would be tougher than we could handle.
They gave us the usual grand ceremony saying good bye through songs and dances and the tradition is to always say “See you tomorrow” to people you don't want to say good bye to who are actually leaving right now. So they were all saying “See you tomorrow”.
As we waved to hundreds of kids, teachers and people in the community... every one of them had a place in our heart... it was just too much. The girls bawled for an hour and the men... well, there were no actual tears that were witnessed but on the other hand, neither of us would face anybody for several minutes despite the girls attempts to look into our eyes. We admit to nothing...
The night before we left, the local Pentecostal church decided to hold a hootenanny or something. They thought that the non Pentecostals would benefit from their religious fervour if they turned the loudspeakers out towards the rest of the community so we could hear their loud worship service and the ranting of their very, very enthusiastic pastor. At about 3 am., in the midst of my internal debating about joining them or going on a rant of my own calling the church into repentance for their inconsideration. By this time, I had worked up a full sermon based on the second most important commandment: “Love thy neighbour as thyself” followed by a few nasty quotes from the epistles of Paul about living peaceably, etc... Anyways, it started to rain so they stopped and we'll never know whether the congregation was spared the sight of my dancing to the bongo drums or my religious indignation.
The end result of the above is that most of us passed out in the car on the way to Jinja where we planned to raft down the Nile. When we got to our destination, we had landed back into the world of Mizoongo excess. It was a backpacker type of place with a happening and very outdoor bar. It was Saturday night so this bar planned it's less spiritual version of its own hootenanny. This one went on to about the same time. The next morning I woke up early and went and surveyed the remains of the riotous evening and found 3 pairs of ladies underwear and one bra...
I say all this to explain that I was very sleep deprived when I stepped into the raft. Maybe that's why I agreed to go with Paul into “Aggressive” rafters category. It may also explain why I was well on track for setting a record for the number of times a rafter fell out of the stupid raft into all manner of froth which is something similar to water except you don't float in it...
They carefully explained to me what I should do in case you fell out. Feet pointing downstream, hold on to the raft if possible, don't gasp for air when you come up, etc... They might as well have taught me how to play pool while submerged in a large washing machine. Point my feet downstream: hah! The only thing that new what direction was what was my life jacket which, fortunately, knew the way up. As for gasping when you come up... riiight. You go 20 or 30 seconds not knowing which way is what or if you will ever see another sunrise... and you come up into something that's more air than water for a fraction of a second and you gasp gentle reader, ...you desperately gasp at any wisps of hope of survival. This means the inhaling and drinking of more of the raw waters of Nile than is advisable from Health Canada.
Gentle reader: I'm sure you know where this is going by now. My famous question to the burly Aussie guide at about mid day when I had fallen into the raging waters five times (Several class 5 rapids, a 12 foot waterfall... I even fell out on a class 2 rapid much to the consternation of the leader): “Gee, do people get sick after falling in so much?” The lecherous leader was not so inclined to give me a serious answer since he was much more attentive to the other bikini clad customers -but he kindly threw back his reply: “Naw. Not a problem mate.” I wondered how he would know because this company picks you off the river, gives you a right skookum barbie and then hurries you off into the bus to Kampala. Once you're in Kampala, they don't have to worry about you. Now it's the responsibility of the unfortunate hotel and the Kampala sanitary sewers to look after your needs...
Anyways, before we went onto the Nile, we had a beautiful dinner (with meat!) in a restaurant overlooking the river. In the middle of the supper, Paul (our 17 year old) made a short but formal speech to us saying that in spite of the fact that he did not want to come to Africa... he gave us an eloquent and heartfelt thank you and acknowledged that it would be one of the best experiences of his life. We were flabbergasted. Diana and I could only glow. The trip exceeded what we had only hoped for. The kids had completely bought into the work and into the community in which we had found ourselves. These third world needs were now no longer conceptual. These people we had met were now their friends and they were in dire need. It has impacted them (and us) in a way that has changed our very outlook on life.
They gave us the usual grand ceremony saying good bye through songs and dances and the tradition is to always say “See you tomorrow” to people you don't want to say good bye to who are actually leaving right now. So they were all saying “See you tomorrow”.
As we waved to hundreds of kids, teachers and people in the community... every one of them had a place in our heart... it was just too much. The girls bawled for an hour and the men... well, there were no actual tears that were witnessed but on the other hand, neither of us would face anybody for several minutes despite the girls attempts to look into our eyes. We admit to nothing...
The night before we left, the local Pentecostal church decided to hold a hootenanny or something. They thought that the non Pentecostals would benefit from their religious fervour if they turned the loudspeakers out towards the rest of the community so we could hear their loud worship service and the ranting of their very, very enthusiastic pastor. At about 3 am., in the midst of my internal debating about joining them or going on a rant of my own calling the church into repentance for their inconsideration. By this time, I had worked up a full sermon based on the second most important commandment: “Love thy neighbour as thyself” followed by a few nasty quotes from the epistles of Paul about living peaceably, etc... Anyways, it started to rain so they stopped and we'll never know whether the congregation was spared the sight of my dancing to the bongo drums or my religious indignation.
The end result of the above is that most of us passed out in the car on the way to Jinja where we planned to raft down the Nile. When we got to our destination, we had landed back into the world of Mizoongo excess. It was a backpacker type of place with a happening and very outdoor bar. It was Saturday night so this bar planned it's less spiritual version of its own hootenanny. This one went on to about the same time. The next morning I woke up early and went and surveyed the remains of the riotous evening and found 3 pairs of ladies underwear and one bra...
I say all this to explain that I was very sleep deprived when I stepped into the raft. Maybe that's why I agreed to go with Paul into “Aggressive” rafters category. It may also explain why I was well on track for setting a record for the number of times a rafter fell out of the stupid raft into all manner of froth which is something similar to water except you don't float in it...
They carefully explained to me what I should do in case you fell out. Feet pointing downstream, hold on to the raft if possible, don't gasp for air when you come up, etc... They might as well have taught me how to play pool while submerged in a large washing machine. Point my feet downstream: hah! The only thing that new what direction was what was my life jacket which, fortunately, knew the way up. As for gasping when you come up... riiight. You go 20 or 30 seconds not knowing which way is what or if you will ever see another sunrise... and you come up into something that's more air than water for a fraction of a second and you gasp gentle reader, ...you desperately gasp at any wisps of hope of survival. This means the inhaling and drinking of more of the raw waters of Nile than is advisable from Health Canada.
Gentle reader: I'm sure you know where this is going by now. My famous question to the burly Aussie guide at about mid day when I had fallen into the raging waters five times (Several class 5 rapids, a 12 foot waterfall... I even fell out on a class 2 rapid much to the consternation of the leader): “Gee, do people get sick after falling in so much?” The lecherous leader was not so inclined to give me a serious answer since he was much more attentive to the other bikini clad customers -but he kindly threw back his reply: “Naw. Not a problem mate.” I wondered how he would know because this company picks you off the river, gives you a right skookum barbie and then hurries you off into the bus to Kampala. Once you're in Kampala, they don't have to worry about you. Now it's the responsibility of the unfortunate hotel and the Kampala sanitary sewers to look after your needs...
Anyways, before we went onto the Nile, we had a beautiful dinner (with meat!) in a restaurant overlooking the river. In the middle of the supper, Paul (our 17 year old) made a short but formal speech to us saying that in spite of the fact that he did not want to come to Africa... he gave us an eloquent and heartfelt thank you and acknowledged that it would be one of the best experiences of his life. We were flabbergasted. Diana and I could only glow. The trip exceeded what we had only hoped for. The kids had completely bought into the work and into the community in which we had found ourselves. These third world needs were now no longer conceptual. These people we had met were now their friends and they were in dire need. It has impacted them (and us) in a way that has changed our very outlook on life.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
The Bagisu Tribe
The people we live amongst are the Bagisu tribe. They are one of 48 tribes that live in Uganda. Their language apparently has Bantu roots but they have no more understanding of other Bantu related languages than I do.
The Bagisu are renown for their circumcision rite. Every two years (maybe 4) they choose the lucky boys who they assess to be ready to er,... become men. These lucky young lads are usually around 14 or so but they could be younger or older depending on their behaviour. Once they have been given the nod, they go up a mountain and think about things (There's a lot to think about... like “Why am I doing this? Do I really want to be Man?”) and then they come down to the valley where they get the ends of their private parts lopped off in a public ceremony. If they go through the process without showing any discomfort, they are highly esteemed by their people.
If I were a Bagisu, I'd act very childish for a long, long, time.
If I read between the lines correctly, this tribe is not on the ruling government's gravy train. The ruling party is mainly from the population dominant tribe called the Bugandans. Whatever the case, this is a very poor part of the country.
Everybody goes to some kind of church. There are frequent references to God and Faith in their day to day lives. They are very kind and warm hearted people and they love to have visitors like us around. It is a completely agrarian world...with the exception of a few teachers and shopkeepers. There are kids everywhere. In the 5 km to the nearest village, there are 4 primary schools all with over 500 students.
The plan for the Bagisu is to have lots of kids. Often one or two die of malaria or something so the plan is to procreate. Lots of kids also mean lots of help in doing the family chores. Most importantly, kids grow up to be adults who can look after you in the off chance that you reach old age. This kind of thinking I believe is at the heart of this country's problems.
The emphasis in families is respect for parents and discipline from the parents. This, in and of itself, is not so bad but there is no noticeable effort made to communicate love back down to the kids. They are very hard on them and don't have any time to invest in them... especially when you have 10 or so to look after on little or no salary. I know that they do love their kids. It's just not expressed through many kind words or hugs.
The above applies to the families that have stayed intact with two parents. So many kids are born outside of the family environment and so many don't have both parents or any parents, the lack of attention to the developing children creates a dysfunctional world. The children reach puberty and they are desperate for love, affection and any kind of attention. The result is lots of very young kids engaging in the intimacy of casual sex, lots of babies and lots of AIDS... which of course feeds back into the loop of more unwanted children not getting enough affection from loving parents.
Diana was teaching about sexuality and she was told that talking about abstinence and fidelity was a waste of time. She talked about it anyways because it is the real problem. AIDS is horrible but virtually all the children are effected by this pervasive and debilitating lack of attention. Maybe this sound too conservative but sorry, generations of affection deprived children is clearly much more insidious than AIDS in my opinion. I don't think we need to pull any punches about safe sex or anything... I just think the emphasis has to be on fidelity, smaller families and less... much less... sex outside of long term relationships.
The other thing is that divorce is easy as pie if you're a man. If you get tired of wife 1, you divorce her and find wife 2. There is no such thing as splitting the family assets. It all goes to the guy. Easy peasy. If you don't want to divorce, you can keep wife 1 around while you pick up wife 2 ...and 3. Polygamy is legal and acceptable here.
The girl looking after our house had a father with three wives. The first wife was taking a lot of in-law heat because she was unable to have kids. She began to look around to find a suitable wife for her man. She found one and the surprised husband was very pleased with new addition to the family. She bore him several children. The whole idea seemed very acceptable to this man so he went out and found wife number 3 ... this time without the assistance of #1 and 2. Nobody raised an eyebrow. The daughter actually seemed perplexed by our questions about the matter.
I make these wonderful people sound so strange and immoral. It's not true. They are not perfect but my ranting has more to do with my strong opinion about the source of the problem for the Bagisu (and Africa?). We are very safe here. There is an incredible sense of community. They all know each other and each others' families for miles around. They all seem to get along well in spite of living so close together with wayward chickens and cows munching on each other's property, etc... They have this thing called humility that is oh-so-foreign in our world. It is so refreshing to be living in that kind of environment. Of course they work hard... and although the women may do the majority of work, it is not so pronounced as I hear about other parts of Africa.
They are full of joy and love to laugh. Big, white smiles & unabashed laughter...it is medicine for the soul to be around them. It's also particularly wonderful for me because now I actually have found people to laugh at my jokes.
As a father of teen aged kids, I can vouch that this is has been most therapeutic indeed.
The Bagisu are renown for their circumcision rite. Every two years (maybe 4) they choose the lucky boys who they assess to be ready to er,... become men. These lucky young lads are usually around 14 or so but they could be younger or older depending on their behaviour. Once they have been given the nod, they go up a mountain and think about things (There's a lot to think about... like “Why am I doing this? Do I really want to be Man?”) and then they come down to the valley where they get the ends of their private parts lopped off in a public ceremony. If they go through the process without showing any discomfort, they are highly esteemed by their people.
If I were a Bagisu, I'd act very childish for a long, long, time.
If I read between the lines correctly, this tribe is not on the ruling government's gravy train. The ruling party is mainly from the population dominant tribe called the Bugandans. Whatever the case, this is a very poor part of the country.
Everybody goes to some kind of church. There are frequent references to God and Faith in their day to day lives. They are very kind and warm hearted people and they love to have visitors like us around. It is a completely agrarian world...with the exception of a few teachers and shopkeepers. There are kids everywhere. In the 5 km to the nearest village, there are 4 primary schools all with over 500 students.
The plan for the Bagisu is to have lots of kids. Often one or two die of malaria or something so the plan is to procreate. Lots of kids also mean lots of help in doing the family chores. Most importantly, kids grow up to be adults who can look after you in the off chance that you reach old age. This kind of thinking I believe is at the heart of this country's problems.
The emphasis in families is respect for parents and discipline from the parents. This, in and of itself, is not so bad but there is no noticeable effort made to communicate love back down to the kids. They are very hard on them and don't have any time to invest in them... especially when you have 10 or so to look after on little or no salary. I know that they do love their kids. It's just not expressed through many kind words or hugs.
The above applies to the families that have stayed intact with two parents. So many kids are born outside of the family environment and so many don't have both parents or any parents, the lack of attention to the developing children creates a dysfunctional world. The children reach puberty and they are desperate for love, affection and any kind of attention. The result is lots of very young kids engaging in the intimacy of casual sex, lots of babies and lots of AIDS... which of course feeds back into the loop of more unwanted children not getting enough affection from loving parents.
Diana was teaching about sexuality and she was told that talking about abstinence and fidelity was a waste of time. She talked about it anyways because it is the real problem. AIDS is horrible but virtually all the children are effected by this pervasive and debilitating lack of attention. Maybe this sound too conservative but sorry, generations of affection deprived children is clearly much more insidious than AIDS in my opinion. I don't think we need to pull any punches about safe sex or anything... I just think the emphasis has to be on fidelity, smaller families and less... much less... sex outside of long term relationships.
The other thing is that divorce is easy as pie if you're a man. If you get tired of wife 1, you divorce her and find wife 2. There is no such thing as splitting the family assets. It all goes to the guy. Easy peasy. If you don't want to divorce, you can keep wife 1 around while you pick up wife 2 ...and 3. Polygamy is legal and acceptable here.
The girl looking after our house had a father with three wives. The first wife was taking a lot of in-law heat because she was unable to have kids. She began to look around to find a suitable wife for her man. She found one and the surprised husband was very pleased with new addition to the family. She bore him several children. The whole idea seemed very acceptable to this man so he went out and found wife number 3 ... this time without the assistance of #1 and 2. Nobody raised an eyebrow. The daughter actually seemed perplexed by our questions about the matter.
I make these wonderful people sound so strange and immoral. It's not true. They are not perfect but my ranting has more to do with my strong opinion about the source of the problem for the Bagisu (and Africa?). We are very safe here. There is an incredible sense of community. They all know each other and each others' families for miles around. They all seem to get along well in spite of living so close together with wayward chickens and cows munching on each other's property, etc... They have this thing called humility that is oh-so-foreign in our world. It is so refreshing to be living in that kind of environment. Of course they work hard... and although the women may do the majority of work, it is not so pronounced as I hear about other parts of Africa.
They are full of joy and love to laugh. Big, white smiles & unabashed laughter...it is medicine for the soul to be around them. It's also particularly wonderful for me because now I actually have found people to laugh at my jokes.
As a father of teen aged kids, I can vouch that this is has been most therapeutic indeed.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Things About Africa
Things That Are Now Normal To Us...
-An inch of mud on our shoes, mud everywhere on our clothes.
-Making cheery chit chat with a group of people carrying AK 47's
-Walking confidently through herds of cattle and hitting their backsides if they get in the way.
-Falling asleep in (or being generally comfortable in) cars that are ready to fall apart and being driven by maniacal drivers in maniacal traffic.
-Waking up at 5 a.m. with the sun ...and the rooster.
-Having people we've never met call out our names: “Mama Diana! Mr. Alan! How are you?”
-Being asked for money by strangers. Getting long letters from people we've just met that tell us 1)They are glad they are now our very best friends. 2)Life is difficult for them. 3)Could we please give them a couple of hundred bucks to tie them over.
-Saying “no” to people who truly need money.
-Old women with no teeth carrying 60 lbs on their heads up mountain paths.
-Talking to people who are picking their noses.
-Having to wait 15 minutes while a vendor asks his neighbour, his brother, the store across the street to get change for the 50¢ purchase you just made.
-Roosters crossing the stage during graduation ceremonies and nobody batting an eyelash.
-Remembering to carry toilet paper where ever you go, at all times.
-Having muscle bound, rugged (straight) men come up to you saying that they really like you, holding your hand and walking down a path saying that they are so glad you are their friend.
-Chickens laying eggs on our beds.
-Bargaining for everything, everywhere at all times.
-Drinking warm beer, warm wine and warm coke.
-Eating the same meal for every lunch: beans, posho, cabbage, and rice... most of which we also have for supper.
Things We Are Most Thankful For in Africa
-The fine people who invented what we now call “Pink Gold” (AKA: Pepto Bismol)
-Thankful for any decrepit toilet as long as it can be sat upon.
-Mouthwatering, succulent fruit.
-60¢ beer in 500 ml bottles.
Things That Surprised Us About Africa
-No man eating bugs or actually not that many bugs at all.
-Everybody has cell phones.
-Cold nights and mornings where you can see your breath... right here on the equator!
-Joy in the midst of hardship
-An inch of mud on our shoes, mud everywhere on our clothes.
-Making cheery chit chat with a group of people carrying AK 47's
-Walking confidently through herds of cattle and hitting their backsides if they get in the way.
-Falling asleep in (or being generally comfortable in) cars that are ready to fall apart and being driven by maniacal drivers in maniacal traffic.
-Waking up at 5 a.m. with the sun ...and the rooster.
-Having people we've never met call out our names: “Mama Diana! Mr. Alan! How are you?”
-Being asked for money by strangers. Getting long letters from people we've just met that tell us 1)They are glad they are now our very best friends. 2)Life is difficult for them. 3)Could we please give them a couple of hundred bucks to tie them over.
-Saying “no” to people who truly need money.
-Old women with no teeth carrying 60 lbs on their heads up mountain paths.
-Talking to people who are picking their noses.
-Having to wait 15 minutes while a vendor asks his neighbour, his brother, the store across the street to get change for the 50¢ purchase you just made.
-Roosters crossing the stage during graduation ceremonies and nobody batting an eyelash.
-Remembering to carry toilet paper where ever you go, at all times.
-Having muscle bound, rugged (straight) men come up to you saying that they really like you, holding your hand and walking down a path saying that they are so glad you are their friend.
-Chickens laying eggs on our beds.
-Bargaining for everything, everywhere at all times.
-Drinking warm beer, warm wine and warm coke.
-Eating the same meal for every lunch: beans, posho, cabbage, and rice... most of which we also have for supper.
Things We Are Most Thankful For in Africa
-The fine people who invented what we now call “Pink Gold” (AKA: Pepto Bismol)
-Thankful for any decrepit toilet as long as it can be sat upon.
-Mouthwatering, succulent fruit.
-60¢ beer in 500 ml bottles.
Things That Surprised Us About Africa
-No man eating bugs or actually not that many bugs at all.
-Everybody has cell phones.
-Cold nights and mornings where you can see your breath... right here on the equator!
-Joy in the midst of hardship
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Real Holidays. With Real Bathrooms...Wow!
After a couple of weeks or so of teaching, visiting the orphans, playing with the local kids, tilling the fields, attempting to defeat any intestinal urges, etc... We decided to take a break and go to Murchison Falls which is a game reserve on the Nile River.
We took a "matatoo" into Mbale. This is a system whereby 25 (I counted them) smelly people (this includes us) are jammed into a mini bus with bald tires and no shocks, squealing brakes, etc... We made it but the kids were all a little car sick. We then jostled our way into the bus into Kampala where, glory of glories: we all had our own seat. As it was a 4 hour drive, we had to stop in the forest for our pee break. For men, this is not unusual but this is not customary procedure for the women. Diana did not hesitate to participate but the girls opted to suffer for 2 hours rather than bare their behinds to take a pee beside several strangers.
When we got into Kampala, the bus stopped in what appeared to be some kind of mass riot. The bus driver informed us that this was not an uprising but the actual Kampala bus station and dumped us off into the turmoil. When we got off, we were swarmed with bus drivers and taxi drivers and beggars all trying to get a piece of the Mizoongo action.
Fortunately, we had brought a nice map of Kampala. This would be really helpful to us except for the fact that there are no street signs in Kampala. Plan B was to ask one of the many people thronging us for their assistance. This created much controversy about a)what we were saying in English b)how to best get there. Finally a burley looking man said "follow me". So that seemed like a good idea at the time.
In the end it actually was a good idea: he brought us the 20 (death defying) blocks to where we wanted to go and seemed very pleased to just walk away. I called him back and gave him 1000 shillings and he seemed stunned.
We arrived at the local backpacker hotel where we had reserved a house for $50 a night. When we unlocked the door, Paul and I went right to the bathroom and ...yes! There it was: something to sit on and it even flushed. The holiday was already a great success.
For us, the backpacker place was Mazoongo Central. They had a guarded gate so only the paying customers could get in so that was a little strange for us. Almost all of the other guests were doing the same thing as us: taking a break from some kind of project work elsewhere in the country.
That evening we went down the street to a spa where the girls got there hair washed and shampooed, a pedicure and Paul and I got a half hour scalp massage all for less than $30. The guy doing Diana's hair had decided to become an assassin as a youngster in the slums. That plan was interupted by his conversion to Christianity so he became a hair dresser... He now owns a bunch of land that he is going to develop into an orphanage.
The next morning we boarded the mini bus with a couple of other Germans and we enjoyed a pleasant ride to the Northeast corner of the country to get to Murchison Falls. On the way, I decided to buy a fried lutoki which is like a banana on a stick from one of the street vendors that push up against your window when you stop on the highway. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
The following description of what was experienced at the pleasant break at Murchison Falls will be given from my family's perspective. Alan's perspective was clutching his stomach in pain in his bed and then, eventually, (thank God) going to the bathroom to get the deep fried lutoki er,... through the digestive process.
We got up early the next day and went to the game reserve and saw everything that could be seen except for the leopards which are very rare to see. We got up close and personal with elephants, giraffes and lions. We saw so many hippos on the trip it became almost boring. That afternoon, we got on a boat and went up the Nile and saw crocodiles, more hippos, baboons and elephants. The next day we got up (Alan is now happy and healthy) and went for a hike to Murchison Falls which is where the Nile narrows to about 15 feet and falls 40 meters or so. We then drove back to Kampala. I did not buy anything from street vendors on the way back. Actually, I could not look at a street vendor on the way back or at any other point in my visit to Uganda.
If you're thinking of going on a safari in Africa, this seems to me like an awesome deal: $240 per person and you get to see it all. I think the cost of a safari in other places are much more expensive. Just stay away from the street vendors and you're laughing.
We took a "matatoo" into Mbale. This is a system whereby 25 (I counted them) smelly people (this includes us) are jammed into a mini bus with bald tires and no shocks, squealing brakes, etc... We made it but the kids were all a little car sick. We then jostled our way into the bus into Kampala where, glory of glories: we all had our own seat. As it was a 4 hour drive, we had to stop in the forest for our pee break. For men, this is not unusual but this is not customary procedure for the women. Diana did not hesitate to participate but the girls opted to suffer for 2 hours rather than bare their behinds to take a pee beside several strangers.
When we got into Kampala, the bus stopped in what appeared to be some kind of mass riot. The bus driver informed us that this was not an uprising but the actual Kampala bus station and dumped us off into the turmoil. When we got off, we were swarmed with bus drivers and taxi drivers and beggars all trying to get a piece of the Mizoongo action.
Fortunately, we had brought a nice map of Kampala. This would be really helpful to us except for the fact that there are no street signs in Kampala. Plan B was to ask one of the many people thronging us for their assistance. This created much controversy about a)what we were saying in English b)how to best get there. Finally a burley looking man said "follow me". So that seemed like a good idea at the time.
In the end it actually was a good idea: he brought us the 20 (death defying) blocks to where we wanted to go and seemed very pleased to just walk away. I called him back and gave him 1000 shillings and he seemed stunned.
We arrived at the local backpacker hotel where we had reserved a house for $50 a night. When we unlocked the door, Paul and I went right to the bathroom and ...yes! There it was: something to sit on and it even flushed. The holiday was already a great success.
For us, the backpacker place was Mazoongo Central. They had a guarded gate so only the paying customers could get in so that was a little strange for us. Almost all of the other guests were doing the same thing as us: taking a break from some kind of project work elsewhere in the country.
That evening we went down the street to a spa where the girls got there hair washed and shampooed, a pedicure and Paul and I got a half hour scalp massage all for less than $30. The guy doing Diana's hair had decided to become an assassin as a youngster in the slums. That plan was interupted by his conversion to Christianity so he became a hair dresser... He now owns a bunch of land that he is going to develop into an orphanage.
The next morning we boarded the mini bus with a couple of other Germans and we enjoyed a pleasant ride to the Northeast corner of the country to get to Murchison Falls. On the way, I decided to buy a fried lutoki which is like a banana on a stick from one of the street vendors that push up against your window when you stop on the highway. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
The following description of what was experienced at the pleasant break at Murchison Falls will be given from my family's perspective. Alan's perspective was clutching his stomach in pain in his bed and then, eventually, (thank God) going to the bathroom to get the deep fried lutoki er,... through the digestive process.
We got up early the next day and went to the game reserve and saw everything that could be seen except for the leopards which are very rare to see. We got up close and personal with elephants, giraffes and lions. We saw so many hippos on the trip it became almost boring. That afternoon, we got on a boat and went up the Nile and saw crocodiles, more hippos, baboons and elephants. The next day we got up (Alan is now happy and healthy) and went for a hike to Murchison Falls which is where the Nile narrows to about 15 feet and falls 40 meters or so. We then drove back to Kampala. I did not buy anything from street vendors on the way back. Actually, I could not look at a street vendor on the way back or at any other point in my visit to Uganda.
If you're thinking of going on a safari in Africa, this seems to me like an awesome deal: $240 per person and you get to see it all. I think the cost of a safari in other places are much more expensive. Just stay away from the street vendors and you're laughing.
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