A Weekend of Contrasts

So last weekend, in the lenten period for the great celebrations that will accompany the arrival of my sisters (or baganda bange in luganda - I will do a post all about luganda soon - promise), I took a quiet one in town an busied myself with local activities.

Saturday night, I went with some friends from work to see a Caberet sponsered by Alliance Française (where I take my french classes) at a boutique hotel called Emin Pasha, with French hits sung by Joël Prévost, who WON the eurovision song contest in 1978 with the song "Il y aura toujours des violons" ("There Will Always Be Violins"). I mean - how could we NOT go??

It was a great evening, despite the wildly-overpriced food. It was mainly a francophone crowd in attendance and the participation element of the concert became a bit nervewracking as a mircophone began to be enthusiastically passed around the audience. We didn't know any of the songs, but happily clapped along anyway. 

On Sunday we then attended the 3rd National Uganda Motocross Championship at Gayaza. If you thought Africa was all about mud huts and malaria - dream on. Ugandas too have a need for speed! My friend Joseph was racing, as were his too little boys. I won't pretend to know alot about motocross, but the event was REALLY popular and all over the news the next day, as the leading champion had been overthrown.

The track was not lined with proper seating areas, so you had to push to get a good spot... unless you were good at tree climbing! When the crowd in the tree cheered the whole tree shook. But the people watching from beneath didn't seem nervous at all.

The best race of the day was the hotly contested boda-boda race. The winner received 1,000,000/- which is more than a month's salary, so the competition was fierce. However, the drivers took the time to pleased the crowd with a few jumps!

This one's dedicated to my Nan...

So… I’m so so sorry.  Sometimes things happen here – elections / Besigye arrests / murder of homosexuality rights campaigners / documentaries made my Scott Mills… etc and I feel ill equipped to comment on them, but I can't very well write to you guys without mentioning them, or at least how they have been affecting my life. I was imagining writing casually and just throwing in the odd… “…oh and we could hear gunshots from our office today…” “…been riding around this week with my windows up and the AC on because the teargas lingers in the air…” but I was worried about alarming the mummies and the daddies.  Truth is, these things are kinda affecting my everyday life – so I guess I will just bite the bullet (excuse the pun) and write whatever’s happening. I hope you are ready for this? You asked for it!!
 
Anyway, I have two nice travel stories to kick off with, which I have NO EXCUSE for not writing up sooner. None at all…
 
Easter In Kabale, South West Uganda

I had a really nice Easter in Kabale.  I went with a guy called Noah, who did an internship with my company last summer, and his friends from University – one of whom had a mother living in Kabale, who we stayed with.  Being a student trip, it typically started in a bar, and involved a 7 hour coach ride that we commenced at 1am on Good Friday morning (there was a lot of talk of postponing to the 5am coach, but in the end sense prevailed).
 
Cross country coached in Uganda are nothing like the National Express in the UK, they are very cramped; you are surrounded by your luggage, everyone elses luggage, tyres, chickens (live, in plastic bags tied at the neck, to stop ‘em flapping) and odd children that seem to vomit spontaneously in their sleep. There are no seatbelts and they are notoriously dangerous – but you just can’t argue with the price. A 7 hour journey for £5, you could easily pay more going Herne Bay to Canterbury.  So the bus flew along at an alarming speed and we arrived in Kabale at 7:30am in a quasi-drunk, dream-like state.
 
We were picked up and drove straight to Graham’s Mum’s house.  I walked into the living room, and behold! I thought I must be dreaming, I thought it had to be something to do with the lack of fresh air or a horizontal bed, but no, in truth, there it was: A Big Beautiful Knitting Machine!
 
I proclaimed: “Graham, what’s this??”
And he replied (to my complete delight) “Oh, it’s Mum’s, she’s a knitting teacher at a local girls’ vocational college”
 
I quickly scanned the corners of the room for hidden cameras fearing a set-up, but as the actual power was off, it didn’t seem likely.  Imagine that!
 
It was decided that the guys would do all the cooking for the weekend, which suited me just fine… until the great slaughter-fest. I tried to look excited when everyone was talking excitedly about the goat-roast, but the trouble for me was that the poor little one was standing in the garden listening, while we were all talking about it.

 
A local butcher came to the house and slaughtered it for us. Apparently, it is very important to go out and watch.  I didn’t really understand the significance, but I went along anyway – for fear of missing out on anything spectacular… Possibly the biggest mistake: Presumably I had completely forgotten about the fact that I am terribly squeamish? But I soon remembered as I dropped to my knees, and lost consciousness as the metallic stench of blood hit my nostrils. Oh well, at least I’ll be remembered.

 

 

So the weekend otherwise was really relaxed, spent relaxing out in Kabale and visiting Lake Bunyonyi, the deepest lake in Uganda, a really beautiful spot. The altitude in this region actually makes the temperature quite cool.  Being all hardy and British, I didn’t bother to take a jumper – instant regret.

 
 
Kalangala, Ssese Islands

 
So this trip was taken just last weekend.  I organised it through work – but only a couple of people came. Nevermind, with colleagues like these, who needs friends?
 
So our journey began on Friday afternoon, with a drive to Entebbe for the “port”.  Lack of planning and EXTREME JAM slowed us down. And we missed the ferry (the only one of the day) by mere minutes!  We sadly watched it float away as we sipped on our Mirinda Fruity (a refreshing soft drink that tastes and looks freakishly like Vimto… as I type this, the idea of Cheeky Mirinda Fruities slowly dawns on me).  But in Uganda, there is always a plan B, and luckily this came in the form of celebrated Ugandan musician and womanizer Jose Chameleon, who was travelling to the same islands as us by speedboat.  A couple of hours and some big smiles and wads of cash later, and we were on.

We stayed at a great place called Hornbill Camp, where there are little, inexpensive, colourful bandas to sleep in and whiled away the weekend. There were even hammocks – though Alex couldn’t really work them.

On Saturday we took a canoe ride and a hike into the forest (in flip-flops) to seek out John Speke’s house, Kalangala’s only famous former resident.  It looked more like an ancient bit of wall and had a massive tree where the middle of the house was supposed to be, but I get the impression that things grow faster here in Kampala.

A nice bit of knitting
Here is a sneak peak at a bit of knitting that I recently finished… I can’t show you the whole thing – but I think that you can gather that it’s buff.

Back to the Bloodshed - Cockroach Wars Part 1

After a wonderful trip back to the UK and France for my birthday, where my only complaint was that the time was too short, I returned to my apartment where the cockroach genocide continues.

Before moving into the apartment, I requested that it be fumigated. You would not genuinely believe that this was done, as the cockroach to human body-mass ratio is strongly tipped in favour of the beetley menaces, except for the fact that every few days, they emerge from their hiding places and spontaneously breathe their last breathes in the middle of the floor. It encourages me to wear my slippers in the mornings.

So before I left, there was an ant-cockroach showdown (a picture that I put on Facebook). Unbelievably and most-unexpectedly, the ants won. It made me question all the facts that I have heard about cockroaches and nuclear fallout.

There was also a particularly traumatic incident (before I had bought any cockroach spray) where a cockroach became trapped inside a saucepan (to anyone who attended my house-warming party : yes, the saucepan that I cooked the beans in). The bottom of the saucepan was uneven, so when I approached it, this little guy would run around in a mad panic, making a very traumatic rattling sound on the floor the shook me to the very soul. I planned to end this situation by using an (oven-gloved) hand to (very carefully) turn the saucepan on its side, so he could make a run for his hole... but as soon as he emerged from the pan, he promptly had a heart attack and died... and I felt like I wasn't far off.

On returning to Kampala, I was prepared to adopt a more tolerant approach. When they are already dead I will dispose of the bodies, but otherwise there will be a live-and-let-live policy at all times.
That was until last night. One guy overstepped the mark and the cease-fire is over. He came one step too close to the thing that I hold dearest and so I took my can of insecticide, closed my eyes and mouth and sprayed like my very being depended on it.

No More Mrs Nice Guy.

Happy Birthday Freddie!

It's my Nephew Freddie's Birthday Today, and I wanted to use my blog to host a mosaic of his First Year.

Happy Birthday Freddie!

Graduation Party, French Class and an Introduction

I've had a very overwhelming week. Alot to do at work and then I moved house into an apartment of my VERY OWN yesterday... but first things first, I must tell you all about:

Patrick's Graduation Party

So a couple of weeks ago, I receive an invitation to Patrick's graduation party and I was delighted to accept. Patrick is a new graduate who has been with my company for a very short time. Educated at Makerere University in Kampala, and achieving a first class degree, he is one of the shining stars in our office. I convinced my managers that they should also attend (and bring along their wives too...!). I was expecting a few light nibbles, a bit of chit-chat and at most some garden dancing. We got a whole lot more.

We arrived at the house of Patrick's parent's right on time. The garden had marquees and rows and rows of plastic garden chairs. I started to worry a little. We sat down, and very little happened for an hour. People poured in and soon all of the chairs were filled. Then a choir began to sing and Patrick and his parents came out of the house to wild applause (Patrick was wearing his graduation gown). There was then a mass mass. All of the proceedings were in Luganda. When a bible was whipped out I thought "phew, at least now there will be some English...", alas no, a Luganda translation bible.

Luganda is the official language of the Buganda people, the tribe from the central region of Uganda. I keep vowing to take lessons... but today I actually rang up the Luganda school, so I'm really hoping that now it might happen. I think it would be a real asset, at least to have some understanding.

I was able to recognise the Lord's Prayer from the rhythm in which it was chanted, but I couldn't tell which book of the bible they were reading from let alone which passage.

The mass was followed by a series of speeches, all in Luganda, including and impromptu one made by my boss (in English!), which went on for several hours.

Following this was some food - it couldn't have come soon enough, because I forgot to have lunch. It was really delicious, the usual buffet style. The problem was, I had selected a seat right in front of the cake and so spent all evening looking at it and salivating... mmm. And I can confirm it did taste lovely.

French School

Now I really must tell you about French School! I'm taking classes at Alliance française de Kampala, and am trying to get my Diplôme d'études en langue française (DELF) A2 certificate this year. Hopefully, I can then achieve a level B1 next year. This is very optimistic, but will allow me to work in francophone countries such as Mali, Côte D' Ivoire, Cameroon etc... and may also allow me to fulfil some career objectives that I have in mind... So the A2 test is in June and I am currently having 5 hours of lessons per week.... Here's hoping!

Me and My Gomesi

On Saturday, I went to my first Introduction. Introductions are like the official engagement part of the marriage process. They are also known as the "traditional wedding" and afterwards you're pretty much married albeit, not legally.

The introduction in hosted by the bride's family, who recieve the groom and a group of his friends/family (notably not his parents, which I found strange) totalling (in this case) about 25. Then there's lots of drama, establishing why the groom's party have arrived (as if we didn't know). Interestingly, the groom nominates a spokesperson, so it's not clear to the audience, until almost the end, which person is actually getting married.

The paternal aunties of both the bride and groom play a huge role in the whole process. I attended as a guest of the brother-in-law of the bride and so was invited into the house to eat after the ceremony. The food was excellent. We had chicken in gravy baked in banana leaves that was so unbelievably tender, it was real melt-in-the-mouth.

The ceremony was all in Luganda again - back to my comment about Luganda lessons... need to get them organised, because too much is lost in translations!

I had a "gomesi" to wear, but in truth, it wasn't a real gomesi. It was a dress that was made to look like a gomesi. A Gomesi is usually wrapped round and round, but this had a zip and was much lighter. To be honest, it still wasn't very comfy - it was SO LONG!! But I love it dearly all the same!

Sadly, I made a very "global" error with the outfit: I wore brand new shoes! Ouch! I was in agony by the end of the day! Otherwise though - Complete success!

New Year, New Start, New Contract, New Home

So, as the title suggests, it's a whole load of new starts around here. I have a new work contract which will see me out here in East Africa for the next two years. It's all very exciting, but has meant a huge overhaul in my contract terms and conditions, making me now responsible for my accommodation and travel. This is good news and I relish the opportunity to have more say in where I live and more freedom to move about.

The accommodation hunt began in the latter half of last month. It was pretty tough to weigh up my requirements - somewhere very secure in a good area, close enough to the office to avoid the morning jam, but far enough away to feel like you actually "leave" work of an evening... and of course the cost. Prices seem to be very high, as there are lots of amusing developments popping up, such as the Kensington Apartments on the Kampala Northern Bypass, which are chiefly advertised by Rio Ferdinand. Nonetheless I set out on my quest and probably looked at about 10 apartments, before setting on one in an area called Naguru. I won't go on and on about about, but the best feature is a set of bunk beds. Pack your bags guys! you're all invited! 

Looking good!

Now a quick update on my Christmas knitting. I didn't go too overboard this year, just a couple of hats and a stocking for Freddie (which in the rush, I forgot to photograph! can you believe that?). But the hats turned out lovely. I particularly like the top one, which I nicknamed "the DNA hat" as the pattern look a little like a single helix.

Here's a close up of the DNA Hat. It's Knit using a Scandinavian technique called twisted stitch knitting which was REALLY SLOW. I began it on the train to Marseille and I think it must've taken about 3 weeks in total.

So I bet you'll all wondering how much wool I brought out here as part of the four-suitcase-Great-Exodus, well I took a picture for you! See below.

As you can see, it's all piled around my safe. To be honest, if I could fit it, it would be going IN the safe as my most treasured possession, but sadly the safe is a little too small!!

I've just started a shrug from some black sparkly "Twilight" wool that my Dad bought me for Christmas as a joke. The joke's on you, Dad, because I actually like this wool! I have a cardigan that I knit last year also, that is in desperate need of sewing up... and I need some buttons for it, but I'm yet to find a button shop here.

In other Kampala news, the pre-Election stuff is hotting up. Lots of good posters everywhere, which I intend to document for you. As yet, no riot police have been required... but as you can see - we are in desperate need of grammar police!