Kampala and Mbale

This past few days in Uganda have seemed to crawl and yet those in Kampala flew by at the same time. I am always excited to come back to Uganda and see my Buganda family where Nakitende becomes my name and no matter how long it has been I am instantly welcomed back to the family. Last time I saw pictures of Grace’s wedding, and this time, I got to visit with Thomas and see his new home. He is no longer living with the parents now that he has his own job. His place was a lovely 1 bedroom with a kitchen and a front room. A perfect place for a bachelor like himself, but even then he was prepared for company, because he had an extra mattress just perfect for me! Besides getting spider bites in some bizarre places that evening, I slept very well once I got there.

Thomas and I got to talk for a while about his work, what was happening in Uganda, my work in Rwanda, and whatever happened to pass on the TV set-up across from the couch. I also told him about the guard at the grocery store where we met-up chatting me up the whole 30 minutes it took him to arrive, and his utter shock when my ‘brother’ turned up and was African. It is too funny to catch them in that moment of ’huh?’ I was glad to have access to a TV for a night, because not only did we watch the Project Fame (a version of American Idol for Africans put on by the beer companies), but I got to watch some news.

Not the best of new, but news nonetheless. It’s been a while since I got any information that wasn’t off BBC World.com! While seemed like things between Congo and Rwanda continue to evolve into a more hostile relationship, Uganda has an outbreak of Ebola…lovely. I will preface this by, no I haven’t gotten it yet (as I am typing this) and also that it is in Kabale not Mbale- opposite end of the country. They have how had a case that made it to Mulago hospital in Kampala only to die, but there have only been 14 fatalities thus far. Hopefully things will be more contained when I pass back through the city, but sadly it also means for safeties sake I probably won’t spend more than a night. The humidity of the rainy season is beginning to set in while the temperatures remain high, so that means people are sweaty, and ebola can be transmitted through something as simple as sweat in a handshake. I sincerely hope it doesn’t claim any more lives, but am not sure that the 14 it has harmed currently will be its last. Additionally, I hope that it does not spread to Congo (where it originated), because with the fighting occurring on the Ugandan border, there would be no way to quarantine the illness from wreaking utter havoc on the poor towns that have already suffered so much in the fighting.

Thomas cooked a delicious pasta, chicken and chipati dinner for me (cooked the pasta and reheated the others). It always surprises me how different foods can be prepared in such different ways. For spaghetti in the US we always follow the directions on the pasta package fill a pot x much and then bring to a boil then add the spaghetti. Here as a method of water conservation I am sure, the pot is filled maybe an inch if not less, and then the spaghetti is broken in half to lay flat at the bottom. Then, if there isn’t enough water, just add more! No timing, just don’t let it burn to the bottom. He also added this Aroma spice to the mix and oh was it delicious! As usual, I couldn’t finish it all, but I did my best and got through all but a 1/3 of my chipati. I had told mama wange (by Buganda mom) that when I got back she had successfully fattened me up last time, and when I got back someone remarked- “how does one gain weight in Africa, aren’t there starving children there?” She had thought that this was just the funniest thing she’d ever heard! I love seeing the family laugh, so after dinner I went to bed thinking- I have got to see the rest of the family in the morning before I catch my bus to Mbale.

Sunday morning I ran into town for a meeting with a ‘real estate agent’ or a close to one as you get from an online expat website and to buy my bus ticket to Mbale that evening. I succeeded at completing both tasks, but was then sweaty dirty and a bit pink in the face as I stepped onto a crowded taxi with my moto helmet in hand to head to mama’s for lunch. By the time I arrived back in my Kansanga family’s neighborhood I had a little more composure to walk through the front gate to the house. The door was open this time around so I just went on in. It was just mama wange home, so we sat and chatted about work, her most recent hobbies (she got an egg incubator, so rather than just raising the hens from day old chicks, she’s now got 42 eggs in an incubator hopefully to hatch in a few more weeks! She also wanted to try (and did) buying some American lotions (Bath and Body Works to be specific) and selling them in Uganda, and apparently its working! She’s sold almost all of the 40 bottles she bought originally! Pretty unbelievable, but people love anything American and she’s just a clever enough lady to pick-up on how to turn it into business. She works at the bank for her ‘real job’ as we would say in the US, but as you can see, she does so much more outside of that job to help support her family. She’s helped but all of her children through school, and some from the village that aren’t even her blood. She told me that part of why Africa stays poor and aid doesn’t work like planned is that Africans are lazy. When she said that, I was shocked (as I clearly didn’t agree), because to me she is the premiere example of how Africans can be so smart, dedicated, creative and hard working- anything, but lazy. The optimist in me will always have to disagree with her on this, but none the less, it hurts to see a lack of faith in the will of her own peoples.

After this discussion, seeing the turkeys, Ugandan (featherless neck and big warbles) chickens, ‘normal’ chickens and her new incubator, I ate the most delicious matooke (mashed plantain) with mushroom g-nut sauce with fresh mango juice. Then it was time to say good-bye to mama, Thomas and Anna. Emma had been at a function and Steven hadn’t actually decided to come home from Dubai. I am sad I have missed him these past few visits home, but perhaps next time he will be home when I visit. So the family walked me not just to the door or the end of the driveway, but all the way to the taxi at the side of the road. They are the most wonderful people and time and time again I am reminded of how lucky I am to have met them half way around the world.

The Elgon Flyer was definitely the right way to get to Mbale, and I was so lucky to have met with Ashley (a GHC fellow I met during my June visit to Uganda) and received her recommendations before heading off to spend the weekend with family. The Elgon Flyer Bus not only had a great website (with all travel schedules, but also had the most kind staff. Partly, I know these things are more about who you meet and when, but the conductor on our bus was just so kind. We chatted off and on during the bus ride (when I wasn’t talking to Scott, snoozing or reading). He was an educated guy, and made the ride far more often that could possibly be enjoyable, but when I told him what I was up to and how I really had no idea where to go to stay or get started he was so helpful. From trying to help me figure out internet in Uganda to suggesting guest houses and restaurants, he was truly very helpful and genuinely very sweet. He wasn’t asking for anything in return for the advice, and it was nice to have no strings for a change of pace. He didn’t propose or ask for my number either, and it was just a relief to be able to talk to someone who was so willing to just talk about something other than me (which tends to be where a lot of the conversations degenerate into- marriage proposals). I also began The No 1 Lady’s Detective Agency. A series of books about a woman born and raised in Botswana that to me is turning out to be a fast read! Very enjoyable, and it is definitely clear that the author gets living in Botswana, and Africa as a whole for that matter. It was a nice ride, and even though I was pretty hungry by the time I got to Mbale, it definitely didn’t feel like a full four hours thanks to my call from Scott, good book and fun conversations.

Dinner after getting into Mbale after dark and overpaying (surely) to take a moto to a guesthouse that was out of my price range (35000 shillings would mean I definitely didn’t have enough to stay until Friday without taking out more money), so I walked next door where the lady said they would likely have cheaper rooms available. The Buteza Guesthouse is down an ally and through an unmarked gate. It’s hard to believe that I didn’t just turn around and leave, but I was tired, and when I was shown a bedroom with a toilette and shower enclosed I was sold this would definitely do for the night. After locking in my bags, I ventured out for food, but didn’t make it far, because as soon as I entered the alley, I was told that there was good food right here at Buteza- there was a bar right there.

My guesthouse was self-enclosed with a toilette and a shower (as cold as it was, it was better than none in Musanze)! The bed was nothing special with a sheet and a blanket, and as I laid down to sleep some rats scurrying and scuffling around above the ceiling boards. As I thought about how awful it would be to have one fall through the hole in the ceiling over the bathroom, I thought- we will just close this door in case. There was electricity, so I was definitely lucky there, but come morning that was something turned off, and the darkness of the room could only be tames by open windows into the little alleyway. Seemed like time to venture out to attempt to find internet.

Now Mbale is similar to Kampala and Kigali in that everyone is awake by 7 oclock, but nothing seems to be open. So as I searched for internet on a mildly wild goose case, I found many a closed store, and the only places open had charging stations, but no way to access wifi. Tough luck! Finally after searching for about an hour (maybe more), I got onto a moto and did what I hate doing. Take me to the ritziest place in town, the Mount Elgon Hotel and Spa. I don’t like to do this, because it’s not what locals do, and I am not a guest or going to be meeting a guest. It seemed like the only option though, so I went, and guess what- it worked. While the lady at the front desk looked a little unsure as to whether or not she should help me, since I wasn’t a guest. She did and I was so grateful. I plopped down with a cup of tea (sadly not spiced), and got some work done much to my relief. I was there so long though that they had to ask me to migrate outside in order to change the linens for lunch. Oops!

I did, and the garden was absolutely fabulous with the small exception of there being tons and tons of ants EVERYWHERE. It is interesting that I haven’t noticed as many in Kigali or in Musanze, because surely they are there, but I just hardly ever see them unless I am sitting near an ant hill during a community visit. It gave me more time though, so I worked on the surveys I needed to entry from those very ant hill inclusive community visits. I stayed until a little after lunchtime, and began walking back toward town now that I knew just where I was going, and how close it had been. Mbale is dusty truly dusty all the time. Even just after a rain, as soon as the sun comes back out, it is dusty again. It makes Mbale feel somewhat like a sandbox if Kampala is ‘dirty’. Few sidewalks would truly ever be swept clean for more than a few minutes, so the trick really is just sweeping for garbage pick-up. The desks, the beds, the chairs are all coated in a fine layer of dust almost as soon as the last is wiped up. Dirt getting under your nails and engrained into your skin is just a fact of life. Painting your nails hides the fact, but definitely doesn’t make it go away!

As I walked home, I passed the National Park Office for Mount Elgon, and stopped in to see what they had to say about getting to Sipi Falls. Since Murchison is clearly not going to be happening this time around, I figure that my day off (either Thursday or Friday) will be a nice hike there. It’s been 3 years since I saw Sipi 1, 2, and 3, and I would like to do it again- even in cowboy boots (since sneakers are in Musanze) I think it will be a worthwhile trip. The office ‘ranger’ gave me lots of advice on getting there, bugs to watch out for (which had been crawling on me in the office) and how long it would take. When I explained why I was here, to find housing, it is amazing how many people have houses for rent… sadly it is harder to breach the subject of our staff don’t want to live alone, and then definitely want to be with other muzngus. There’s nothing quite like a Hotel X in Mbale, because there isn’t the same expat crowd. In Kampala or Gulu maybe that would have been something to find, but in Mbale, there seem to be very few houses with more than 3 rooms let alone ones that would already have muzungus living in them wanting roomies.

I kept on walking back and stopped in a craft shop (who’s salesperson also had a house to rent that she only rents to Muzngus). The more interesting thing about this shop (which was filled with much of the usual worken masks, soapstone bowls, baskets, etc were some extremely fluffy headdresses. Now turns out these headdresses are made of monkey fur, which made me feel much better about not knowing what the heck had fur like that in Africa- phew something I haven’t seen yet. The headdresses are worn during the circumcision ceremonies that they do every even year as a rite of passage for men in this region. Turns out that that even is this year, and this Friday! Apparently the whole town goes, so while I wasn’t sure if that was something I wanted to see, I was definitely intrigued by that bit of cultural knowledge. It will happen all throughout August, but the celebration is Friday, so perhaps we shall see what that entails!

While the walk didn’t take quite as long as it sounds like it was starting to cloud over and rumbles of thunder could be heard as I continued through town. I figured- it’s not too far back to the hotel, I will get back to my room just before the storm hits. Famous last words. As I rounded the corner leading toward my guesthouse, a huge gust of wind began what was to kick-up so much dust I had to nearly walk blindly across the road to get to the side my guest house was on, and as my eyes started to water to the point of tears. I still had at least two blocks to go, and while that wasn’t far, the fact that even my sunglasses weren’t protecting my eyes told me I should duck into somewhere for lunch.

Just as I stepped into the restaurant, the rain hit and more thunder and lightning joined the commotion of people scurrying around town and trying to get their inventory (which had been spread all over the sidewalks for selling) out of the potentially problematic moisture. Depending on you goods- if CDs or bed sheets, the water was probably not a good thing, if mangoes, perhaps they needed a rinse, but either way people and stuff crowded up against the tiny overhangs that seemed to line more of the street than I had recognized. I had stopped into Centre Café, and while I was as usual trying to see what was inexpensive on the menu I really just wanted g-nuts. So I ended up with matooke, rice and g-nut sauce with some delicious goat meat in it. Definitely one of the most delicious meals I have had since my return to Africa. It was pretty crowded inside already, but this only became more obvious by the minute. Sipping on delicious passion fruit and ‘reading’ my kindle, I found myself very interested in the people that surrounded me. Many where just waiting out the storm, but there was a cripple on the floor right next to my chair who was I believe full grown yet was as tiny as a 4 year old. He could not stand and was teasingly played with by the café staff. It was interesting to me to see, because most cripples in Uganda are treated like the untouchables of India. To see someone being played (endearingly or tauntingly) with was just not something I have experienced. Many Ugandans gave this man a coin or two, which I would have two had I not had I been able to pay at my table like the others. I’m sure it was partly my book reading, but I ended needing to chase down my server and didn’t need everyone’s eyes to follow me back to my table after finally getting some change. C’est la vie, maybe next time I will be able to help.

Once back to my room, I read for a while since my computer was long dead. Then I ventured back out for internet. Using the café computers always makes me nervous because they can get so many viruses, but for work they are necessary here. The modem I used in Uganda just doesn’t seem to work here and neither does my sim card allow for internet usage to be deducted- always a busy signal. After checking mail, and coordinating a few more things, I headed for the nearest chapatti stand, because with the past two meals been such interesting conversation I needed to be able to just eat in peace. I talked to the stand owner and his younger relative- a primary student (though I never would have guessed it!) about where I was from, what I was doing and then changed to them. The boys English was quite good, and he is from Kapchorowa on the northern part of Mount Elgon. Then after the rolex (chapatti and fried egg roll) had cooled down enough, I took it and some jack fruit back to my room to eat. Silence was definitely welcomed (even with the mouse sounds), because the evening brought electricity to charge me computer up again. I wanted to be sure to get to sleep early since the 5am prayer from the mosque nearby would come much earlier than I wanted it to!