Jinja Changed

Bustling, chaotic, musical and a bit like a game of Frogger- that’s how I think Kampala feels even with the attempt Kampala has made to introduce traffic lights and define sidewalks. In the end, it seems everything is fair game, so you have to keep your eyes open and ears listening to get anywhere safely!

Home is where the heart is always feels cheesy, and on the 12 hour bus ride from Musanze to Kampala I began to question my own sanity for taking an over-night bus in Africa, but in the end things always do work out alright! Dennis and I left Friday after some survey data entry and our market wanderings. We found a great $1 a plate lunch by the bus station (a risk we decided was worth the price- even considering the 12 hour bus ride ahead of us). After eating, there was a ‘hurry to the bus station’ and then a classic, yet LONG ‘test your patience’ wait. While a bit frustrating, it was brilliant not to lose one’s foresight- as I thought ‘I hate standing here,’ I thought more and more about how we would no longer get into Kampala at 3am in the morning (something I was somewhat dreading). This made the bus seem even better than before! The prospect of sleeping on the bus, getting into Kampala and heading to Jinja sounded fabulous! Then, along came the bus.

Correction, the bus from you-know-where. The seats were alright, and at first the fact that my window wouldn’t close all the way was fine. It gave some fresh air to the relatively musty bus, and eased by relatively volatile stomach which was incredibly full after the lunch/dinner we had just eaten.* Then the bumps began, the fumes that at first I attributed to the breaks got progressively worse. Then came the border crossing (the first time I have seen the top of any of our volcanoes) and the beginning of the dust. At first, I was surprised not to notice a difference in the Ugandan roads, but then it hit: dust coming through the window that wouldn’t close. It came through so thickly, that I was coated in grime and attempting to breathe through my pjs rather than choke down anymore of the fine powdered dirt. Even drinking water couldn’t clear out the fumes and dirt. There was no way to ignore the scents and tastes of these distracting facets to the trip and just fall asleep. Then, enter the road humps. Again from goodness knows where, these road humps are four humps in a row hit at relatively high speeds in order to slow down rides, but probably was more effective at giving me air- in my seat. Every other set of four, we were jostled around so much that I literally had moments of hang time. Not particularly conducive to a cat nap in preparation for the adventure to Jinja in the morning.

So those are the low points (or high flying) points to the ride, but really there was something much more magical about the trip, and that was the stars. Cities like New York and LA are expected to see very few of the night stars, but even in Musanze and Kigali where electricity and sprawl are far more contained, nothing compares to the stars of Uganda. They are so uncountable that it’s breath-taking, and huge! In Phoenix you have to be seeking a planet to have points of light this exquisite, but in Uganda the whole sky is filled with them. There are so many stars that you utterly lose track of the constellations for all the glimmering. There is no were better to view them, and it is impossible to capture in photographs.  (Having never been to Montana, I won’t judge, but thus far my life leads me to believe the best star gazing is that in southern Uganda.) Even from the bus window, I couldn’t help being distracted from the fumes, the cookies, ground nuts, the humps and the cold air- the stars just hold your eyes and don’t let go. Beyond the magnificent stars, I finally found some sleep may only 5 minutes or so of actual sleep, but in the end there were a few hours of rest that would be combined with my adrenaline to get me through the next day of go go go!

As I mentioned earlier, our bus arrived in Kampala very early, and dropped off in a part of town I had never been to before (perhaps-it was very dark…). It was 4:30 am, and here in Kampala just about everyone was still sleeping and the morning glow would not come to for another hour or so. I had mentioned to Dennis that there was a Sheraton in Kampala and he had the bright notion that we go there until the sun came up. Something I was entirely supportive of. It’s quite a challenge to pick out landmarks in utter darkness. I am still not exactly sure where or how we walked were we did, but we came from somewhere in the southern part of the city and made our way to the intersection where Kampala Road becomes Bombo Road were a kind boda boda (motorcycle/moto) driver pointed us toward the Sheraton (after we explained that we literally had no money of value to him (Rwandan Francs don’t just perk up anyone’s ears.) As we arrived, we were asked if we were part of a group leaving for Jinja this morning- while the answer was - not that group-, it allowed us to hang out for a while in the lobby wash-up, have tea and then find out that the hotel had bad rates for foreign exchange rates. Something we already assumed, but thought might be of value in time savings. We took (aka drank) tea in the café near the lobby and looked at an antique store’s windows. Sadly, the Sheraton’s antique store is not open 24/7! Perhaps another day I will be able to return and look through things a little more thoroughly!

Upon finishing tea, some reading on my Kindle and realizing we were going to need to hunt down an actual forex (foreign currency exchange), Dennis and I headed toward the taxi park. Purchasing a SIM card and installing it was like most things- a mild ordeal. After the 7^th or so person, pointing me back the direction I had come from, I finally was helped by a gentleman who popped to wherever the mysterious SIM card seller was. While it left me with no extra airtime, it was the first step to realizing I was going to have a tough time reaching Sasha (my boss) for our Monday/Tuesday meetings in Kampala. After the purchase and exchanging money, Dennis and I were off to the taxi park- the old one.

Those who have heard about my last experiences in Uganda have heard of the “ghetto super shuttles” with bars sticking out here and there, thread-bare cushion covers and cracked glass windshields. They all stop bumper to bumper in what can only be described as organized chaos, or maybe just chaos. There are truly know other words for the mud, the bumpers meeting, the ability of these vehicles to somehow move in the crowd of others, and for my success at picking dead ends (places that you cannot actually walk through because the taxis are parked to closely together for even the skinniest of people to slip through. You weasel your way through the crowd hang on to your bag for safety’s sake and shoot an “oli otya?” back at some of the gawking individuals to make them crack a smile at the muzngu speaking Luganda. Luckily, about the time I was going to ask where the taxi to Jinja was, it was hollered out at me. And Dennis and I hopped aboard for the 2 hour ride through Uganda toward Lake Victoria and the Source of the Nile (Speke’s version of it anyways).

Our tour of Jinja was going to include visiting a park near the ‘Source of the Nile’ and then a visit to Bujagari Falls, all via moto or other mode of transport if possible. For my part, I had tried to plan it out ahead of time in my mind, but we ended up moderately tossing the thoughts to the wind. Upon our arrival in Jinja we decided to wander around/down to the water. Something apparently easier said than done. After walking away from town into a relatively industrial looking area, I was certain we would hit a dead end, but curious nonetheless to see what was towards the end of the road. It didn’t end. We kept walking past some of the giant horned cows, goats on some of the most peculiar perches and some pink pelicans on trees in the distance.

We continued our wandering down past a bunch of pregnant goats until we reached the Jinja port (which can’t actually be toured- we actually got hissed at for pausing to long to take pictures of an old rail road track that got close to the “ferry” area). After receiving a request to keep walking we did just that, and ended up in a small village with a bread seller on moto bike driving by, and bags upon bags of charcoal ready to be loaded into boats to sell across the lake. Besides a fabulous walk down to the water, seeing birds of all types, and some water hyacinth, we also were met by a fisherman named Emmanuel. I typically wouldn’t take a ride from an utter stranger, but a boat ride on the Nile and Lake Victoria seemed like the most fun way to go see the source of the Nile. It seemed like a far more reasonable use of our money than the park fees to walk to the water and walk back to town.

The fishing village clearly made its living doing just that, but the occasional stragglers like Dennis and myself may have made the day of quite a few individuals! While we decided against eating in a village so close to a bad water source, we did take up Emmanuel’s offer of a boat ride. While I expected a lovely ride, and seeing the “source”, I got so much more than I was expecting, because it really turned into a bird and giant lizard watching adventure! From seeing fishing eagles, both types of king fisher, tons of yellow weavers, herons, marabou storks, and so much more to visiting a little island with crafts, sodas, and beers, it was well worth the 50,000 shillings. Our guide’s (Emmanuel) English was great, and our boatman very courteous. The trip was a definite success, and I would recommend it to any vistor in Jinja. The little fishing community could be found just in front of the NaFIRRI building along Nile Cresent Road.

After hearing so much about fishing the lake, there was no other option for lunch than fish. Pirate café was directly next to the matatu stand, so Dennis and I decided to stop eating our biscuits and banana chips and eat a full meal. It was also a perfect place to wait out the rainstorm that seemed to be imminent. We waited out the rain there, enjoying the delicious food and even got to use-to-be classy bit latrine in the back (walking through the kitchen etc to get there). While it was nice to give complements to the chef directly, it was very interesting to see who and what was outside. Mostly women were working behind the scenes, and there were chickens and rosters all over the areas which made me wonder if they ever had to kill them (specifically)…chicken was on the menu after all.

The way it looks now...

The way the falls used to look!

After the bite to eat, Dennis and I were feeling refreshed and the rain had subsided, so we headed to Bugagali Falls. Little did I know that in the past three years a dam had been constructed leaving the falls no more. What was left was a beautiful lake, but far from the beautiful falls I had remembered and that can be seen in the background of my blogger photo. No white crests what so-ever and beyond the snail shells littering the shoreline, you might not be able to convince me that I was looking at the same place as 3 years earlier. So incredibly different from my memories. It felt almost like a waste for Dennis to see it in this state, but it was truly still beautiful, just a much subtler and quiet beauty. Time certainly flies.

Then, it was back to Kampala for the night!