Kumi
The past two weeks or so since my last communication with you all via this online masterpiece has been filled with all sorts of juicy and interesting things happening and a lot of the time I was thinking how much I couldn’t wait to write about this on my Blog so all those a home can share in this. For those of you not informed I spent a week beginning on Saturday the 25th of November through to Friday the 1st of December in a place called Kumi. Kumi, or more specifically Kobwin (Forgive the spelling if you are better informed than I), is the site for what I have affectionately come to call ‘New Hope 2’ though there are a good few people I’m sure who would gladly clap me around the ear for dubbing the place so. But I think of it as ‘New hope 2’ because that basically what it is.
A little History, (As far as I know it, again forgive me if you are better informed) The good folks at New Hope 1 felt a calling to go up north into the territory effected by the LRA or Lords Resistance Army. The core of New Hope being, ‘To bring the Father heart of God to the Fatherless’ there seems like no better place to set up another New Hope than in the middle of LRA effected areas. As far as I picked up over the week when the LRA came and distorted the lives of so may around the area, a bulk of the injured, orphaned, frightened and sometimes luckily escaped people fled to the town of Serotti, a stones throw away from Kumi and Kobwin. Aunty Jennie told us of how when the initial influx of displaced people was arriving, injured and lost in Serotti there were no organisations there at all and how a small team from New Hope had gone to do what they could. It was then, I think, that they got the vision that another home for these children was needed.
This home, however was going to take on different kinds of children for a different purpose other then just to educate. Some of these children will have been told by the LRA that if they ever escape they will find them and kill them. Many of the children will probably have been forced to do things no adult should ever do and even with the threat of death hanging over their heads had run away to places like Serotti. Therefore the site at Kumi would have to be specially designed to take in traumatised children and work through some intense issues. When I was asked if I wanted to join a team to go out and serve them, I didn’t think long about the answer
I was invited to join a team of ‘Investment year’ students. The investment year is, as most things I seem to write about these days, exactly what it sounds like. They spend a year invested in learning valuable skills in life, learning to drive, managing finances, setting up a business and going on work experience. They do the year after GCSEs and before A levels, because the year is meant to give the students a clear picture of what they want to do therefore enabling them to make a wiser choice about what to do for A levels and University. The week at Kumi was a kind of passing out retreat where they reflected on the year and did some service at Kumi as well.
I hope I have written enough background for the following to make sense, I have no idea how long this is going to be at the end but I would like to write up all we did because at the end of the week, I had had some amazing fun.
Day 1, Saturday. – Travelling.
No one told me when I was invited along on the trip that the journey would take 8 hours…but it did. 8 hours on British roads strikes me as extremely boring, where as in 8 hours on Ugandan roads your almost guaranteed to be scared to death, shaken to the point of your internal organs dancing around in reorganisation, orange in the face (your lucky if its only orange) and extremely soar in the back and bottom. It occurs to me that those who have never been lucky enough to experience African roads defiantly need an explanation.
To successfully drive on African roads you need to understand that its every man for himself. Apparently you drive on the left in Uganda, not that I’ve noticed. They say you can tell if someone is driving drunk because they drive in a straight line. The roads in Uganda are generally tarmac full of gapping foot wide, sometimes larger, holes. So the driver is required to dodge and weave all the way. If you find yourself on a road not blessed with tarmac that is two or more lanes wide there tends to be a kind of, ’through path’ etched into the road. In other words, driver after driver has picked out the safest way through the potholes leaving behind a wonderfully smooth but nonetheless one-car-wide road. Add to this the breakneck speed most drivers employ and you can quite often find yourself playing chicken with the oncoming cars, only swerving out of the way and into the potholes at the last moment. Fun. After 8 hours of this bumping and swerving, not to mention the constant stream of incoming orange dust through the windows, one can feel rather worn down upon arrival. But before I move on let me clarify one thing, that’s the way Uganda is, and I love it, and I wouldn’t change it for the world, because it’s the little things like that that make life so much fun to live out here.
Anyway on the journey we were blessed with some chicken from an, “in your face chicken place.” As it is know in the New Hope circles. In your face chicken is the closest you will come to fast food out here. You stop your car in a lay-by and should a window be open it will soon be filled with all sorts of produce ranging from pineapples to drinks to chicken. We nearly always stop at the one on the way to Jinja and get some chicken. I always reflect as I eat the chicken on the sharp pointed stick, that for a chicken, born, raised, killed, plucked, skewered, cooked and finally sold all by the side of the road, it tastes amazing.
We arrived in Kobwin late, 9:00pm, though it felt like 4:00am. We clumsily found our beds, asking no questions, just getting on with it with the promise of sleep not far away. The boys were sleeping in a large round hut full of bunk beds, I found a bottom one, rigged my mossy net, hit the pillow and was out like a light.
Day 2, Sunday – Waking up in England.
When I awoke at 6:30, the agreed time though I don’t remember having a say in that conversation, I could hear the rain beating down on the roof of the hut. I had slept like a log, as well as logs are able to sleep, but none the less was feeling annoyed to be alive at this time of day. After a long and drawn out stump stirring session I heaved my sorry carcass out of bed, dressed and confronted the rain. When I looked outside I was a little confused. Where most mornings in Uganda I leave whatever dwelling I slept in the previous night to be greeted by a cool sun rising in the sky spilling light over plants and trees I don’t recognise and a warm breeze blowing away the cobwebs. When I emerged from the hut in Kobwin I was convinced I had come out in Devon. There was not a patch of blue in the sky, let alone any sign of the sun and there was a cold breeze, not unlike the ones that for some reason haunt campsites everywhere waiting to pounce on those foolish enough to leave the tent without a jumper. I hadn’t brought a jumper with me (“its Uganda for goodness sake, who needs a jumper!”) and the wind was cold. I also noticed some decidedly British plants. Wild mint was growing everywhere and I even spotted what looked like weeds I had regularly plucked from gardens in the UK. Along with the plants to my left rose a tall rock formation looking strangely like it would fit perfectly in Devon. I began to wonder how I had managed to get all the way back to England without my noticing (you would think you would remember such an event) when an African lady walked past and simply said, “Yoga”. Now either the woman decided I was horribly out of shape and was recommending a method of cleansing body and soul, or I was still in Africa, confronting the ever present language barrier. I decided the latter was more likely, and offered an extraordinarily lame, “Hi” in return.
Sunday passed without event, we met Uncle Alan and Aunty Honifa who are in charge of making sure New Hope 2 actually gets built, and were given a tour of the campus and the surrounding rocks. The plan is to build a centre that look very much like New Hope with a few changes. For one there are big rocks all over the land, something which they pointed out would help to make escaped kids feel safe. We went to bed early and once again did very impressive log impressions.
Day 3, Monday – Slashing
On Monday we got up again at 6:30 and went for a breakfast of dry tea with too many sugars and rolls. Once the typical Ugandan Breakfast was finished we set off for the work of the morning. The investment year students were each allocated a day to be leader on. The leader on that day would decide what work would be done and until when as well as being the go-to man for any questions. I was kindly given Friday to rule over, the day we go home. The leader for Monday, I cant for the life of me remember who it was, decided we needed to slash the compound today. For those not savvy with the terminology, the compound is like the garden area (in this case an area the size of a good football pitch and a half) and slashing is basically cutting the grass. Rough British translation, slashing the compound becomes mowing the lawn. Ironically enough more than once in that morning I craved a lawn mower to quickly zip over the grass leaving behind elegant and straight lines, but in the absence of a lawn mower the slashers were employed. At this point I think an explanation of slashing is in order.
A slasher is like a slightly shorted golf club but instead of a sturdy lump of metal on the bottom there is a double edged blade. The technique for slashing involves swinging this golf club look-alike back and forth as fast and hard as possible as close to a centimetre above the ground as possible. As with most things I have encountered out here when it comes to manual labour I am somewhat hopeless, whereas my African friends, due to a lifetime of practice, are sheers geniuses and things like slashing are second nature to them. When I tried slashing at first I managed to brush over the grass and not even come close to cutting it down. I decided some elbow grease was in order so set about attacking the grass as hard as I could. Within a few minuets I had beheaded plenty of grass but also managed to dig up a pretty handsome amount of earth as well. After an hour of so of slashing with various degrees of success I had an opportunity to switch tools. My new tool was, and would be for any self respecting male, like an extension of my very own arm.
The tool is called a Panga, but to save me yet another explanation it’s basically a large machete. Before long I had set upon the bush with this massive sharp knife hacking away at thorns and bushes the slashers couldn’t slash. It struck me then, sad as this is, how this was most guys ideas of paradise, “Here take this massive blade, and go and chop stuff to your hearts content.” And I did. Apparently I am much more proficient with a Panga then I am with a Slasher. I managed to chop down two sizable trees and plenty of bushes while really having the time of my life. By the end of the working morning we went for lunch having cleared most of the compound, an impressive achievement I wish I could take some credit for, with tired arms and a good collection of blisters between us.
As we ate lunch the sun made its presence known in a big way. Monday was my day to do the washing up so after lunch I went outside to wash up various dishes. Half an hour later the job was done and just to give you an idea of just how sunny it was, I had a sunburn on my neck.
That afternoon we gathered under a tree and as expected with 3 Muzungus it wasn’t long before we drew a crowd of children amazed to see some white flesh. That afternoon we did colouring sheets with the kids. No one in the area had ever done any colouring sheets so not only did we get masses of kids but also a large amount of parents sat down under the tree and coloured away with great joy.
By the end of the day we were all ready for bed and we all went straight to sleep, (I won’t mention logs again because I have a whole week to cover and the log references could become a little repetitive…)
Day 4 Tuesday – The news spreads.
On Tuesdays morning I woke up with aching hands covered in blisters due to the lengthy slashing and hacking session yesterday. Yet within an hour of waking up we were out there again slashing away with my technique improving somewhat since yesterdays poor show. I only lost my grip of the slasher once sending it flying in the general direction of my friend Lutu. Nothing to worry about, just a sharp object hurtling through the air and spinning towards my unsuspecting friend rather fast. It missed, just. Suffice to say I kept a tight grip on it after that. The sun was back again in force that morning and us white folk not used to such heat often found ourselves retreating to the shade of the trees and thanking the Lord for every slight wisp of a breeze.
In the afternoon it was clear that the children who came yesterday had informed their friends about the visiting Muzungus because on Tuesday we had nearly twice the number of children, by now coming close to about 300. The leader for that day decided we would play games with the kids today. We had a great time playing various running, throwing, kicking games with them one their favourites being ‘Muzungu Keep Away’. The game would begin with me kicking a mini rugby ball as far and high as I could at which point nearly every child assembled would the run after it, grab at it and if lucky enough to pick it up either run with it or kick it. The only aim of the game seemed to be keeping it away from me. With the odds stacked 250 kids to 1 me I was amazed that I ever managed to get the ball, at which point I would run like mad being followed all the way by enough kids to fill a small school each one faster than me.
When I went to bed on Tuesday it goes without saying that I was such a convincing log that the other occupants of the room were debating chopping me up, taking me outside and burning me. I slept well (apologies for yet another log reference but lets face it, it still works.)
Day 5, Wednesday – Monkeys
On Wednesday we started work on what Jenny described as something that will last, rather than slashing grass that will be back in a matter of weeks. We bought some Orange and ‘Nim’ trees and today was the day we set aside to plant them. Nim (or Nym, again didn’t stop to check the spelling though on reflection I probably should have done) trees I am told ward off mosquitoes and also have edible leaves. We were told to dig out some two foot by two foot holes for the oranges and after digging my fifth hole, and on top of the previous days labour, I was finally exhausted. I felt a little pathetic as I continued to chip away at them sixth hole until finally I called in a much needed sit down break.
After being joined by the others, also exhausted apparently, and after some porridge, we set back to work with the much more relaxing and far easier task of planting the trees. I made careful note of which tree was mine so if by any chance I return here in the future I can point proudly and say, “I planted that one!” to which my friends will ask, “which one”, “the tallest one with the greenest leaves and the most oranges of course!”
We spent the afternoon before the children came either sleeping or falling into heaps on the floor and trying to remember where we keep the spare batteries. It was when I was lying in one of these exhausted states of uselessness that I (well actually my friend Enoch) spotted Monkeys on the rocks. We watched them from a distance for a while before I decided that it was time to do what any self respecting muzungu would do in this situation, I went to get the camera. As I approached the rocks the monkeys ran away to the safety of the trees and I wonder how much of a fool’s errand this is going to be.
I apparently chose the wrong face of the rock to climb. We usually climbed up the rock by an easy slope that could be ascended easily but the monkeys were playing on a very steep and much harder slope to climb. Nonetheless, absolute hero that I am, I scaled the slope with my much worn down converse doing nothing in the way of helping me grip the slippery rock. The monkeys came running and jumping here and there but always heading away from me. After a few minuets of chasing and very far-away photos of monkeys they finally found safety on a large rock they were confident I wouldn’t be able to climb. I had to agree with them, the rock was huge, but I wasn’t telling them that. With the Monkeys feeling secure I inched closer to the rock, snapping the monkeys as I got closer. I stopped about 10 meters from the rock and took more photos of the curious faces peeping over the rock at me.
It was that curiosity that brought one particular monkey closer than the others. Very slowly he made his way down off the rock, sometimes retreating to see how I would respond. I stayed stock still, frozen with my camera inches from my face snapping away and loving every second. Finally when the furry little guy was within 5 meters of me he stopped and obviously wasn’t coming any closer. We spent a long moment just looking at each other it seemed to drag on forever. The monkeys were small, they had little grey bodies with white manes and black faces containing little red eyes. If they didn’t contain an all time top ten list of diseases you really really don’t want to get I might be tempted to describe them as cuddly…but having no wish to get rabies cuddling one of these is not something I would advise. Finally the monkey got bored of my and flew off into the rocks and trees never looking back. I made my way back off the rock the easy way this time and rejoined the group for another afternoon of mayhem with the kids.
Day 6 Thursday – Lake Sipi
Over the Previous days the team and I have noticed the Lake off in the distance and have longed to go and pay it a visit. We were sure it could only be a few kilometres away at best and though our hosts told us again and again it was just too far to walk we disagreed with them time and time again until Thursday when we decided to go to the lake by car, just in case it really was that far. It really was that far and I am grateful we took the car because it was extremely hot that day and walking that distance in that heat would have been a nightmare.
We reached the lake only to discover that the lake was surrounded by tall reeds that meant we now couldn’t even see the lake. The road for some reason didn’t end but instead transformed itself into a little river passage through the reeds with two rather questionable looking boats moored to the side. Of course the natural thing one does when one finds two boats by the side of the river with the owner nowhere in sight is to load up into them and cast off. This we did. The passage though the reeds opened up into the massive lake Sipi and we spent a good half an hour gliding over the surface and bailing out water from the leaky vessels. The owner of the other boats soon joined us bringing some of our friends with them. We didn’t seem annoyed we had taken his boats but a certain amount of money changed hands once back on dry land to further sweeten the deal.
That night being our last in Kumi we decided to have a bonfire and roast some meat. We went into the local village and bought goat and beef and roasted them over the fire until they turned black as charcoal and tasted not much better but it was fun to cook it none the less. The fire slowly died and drifted off to our beds only to wake up at 5:30 the next morning for the trip home
After our stupidly early start we arrived at Gerenge near Entebbe in good time and spent a weekend swimming in Lake Victoria playing games on the makeshift beach there. The weekend was to make the end of one investment year and the beginning of a new one with all the students along for the ride. After the weekend the clays and I spent three days in Jinja swimming in water not infested with bilharzias and eating food with a slightly more western slant.
I hope you are still awake at this point and I am sorry if at any point you fell asleep of contemplated suicide at the thought of reading that epic entry. I recommend you go and do something constructive now to make up for the hours spent sitting and reading this, but not before you leave a comment! With Christmas around the corner packages are arriving thick and fast (many thanks to all those sending them) and I’m forced to remind myself that despite the weather it is in fact now December.
Before I sign off I will finally add that I have reached the halfway point in my stay. So far it hasn’t been easy and there have been many moments when I have wanted to throw the towel in and give up. I want to thank all my friends and especially my family for supporting me through good and bad, one thing I have learnt over these past 3 months is the unquestionable value of family and the definite need for good friends. Take care
Dan
A little History, (As far as I know it, again forgive me if you are better informed) The good folks at New Hope 1 felt a calling to go up north into the territory effected by the LRA or Lords Resistance Army. The core of New Hope being, ‘To bring the Father heart of God to the Fatherless’ there seems like no better place to set up another New Hope than in the middle of LRA effected areas. As far as I picked up over the week when the LRA came and distorted the lives of so may around the area, a bulk of the injured, orphaned, frightened and sometimes luckily escaped people fled to the town of Serotti, a stones throw away from Kumi and Kobwin. Aunty Jennie told us of how when the initial influx of displaced people was arriving, injured and lost in Serotti there were no organisations there at all and how a small team from New Hope had gone to do what they could. It was then, I think, that they got the vision that another home for these children was needed.
This home, however was going to take on different kinds of children for a different purpose other then just to educate. Some of these children will have been told by the LRA that if they ever escape they will find them and kill them. Many of the children will probably have been forced to do things no adult should ever do and even with the threat of death hanging over their heads had run away to places like Serotti. Therefore the site at Kumi would have to be specially designed to take in traumatised children and work through some intense issues. When I was asked if I wanted to join a team to go out and serve them, I didn’t think long about the answer
I was invited to join a team of ‘Investment year’ students. The investment year is, as most things I seem to write about these days, exactly what it sounds like. They spend a year invested in learning valuable skills in life, learning to drive, managing finances, setting up a business and going on work experience. They do the year after GCSEs and before A levels, because the year is meant to give the students a clear picture of what they want to do therefore enabling them to make a wiser choice about what to do for A levels and University. The week at Kumi was a kind of passing out retreat where they reflected on the year and did some service at Kumi as well.
I hope I have written enough background for the following to make sense, I have no idea how long this is going to be at the end but I would like to write up all we did because at the end of the week, I had had some amazing fun.
Day 1, Saturday. – Travelling.
No one told me when I was invited along on the trip that the journey would take 8 hours…but it did. 8 hours on British roads strikes me as extremely boring, where as in 8 hours on Ugandan roads your almost guaranteed to be scared to death, shaken to the point of your internal organs dancing around in reorganisation, orange in the face (your lucky if its only orange) and extremely soar in the back and bottom. It occurs to me that those who have never been lucky enough to experience African roads defiantly need an explanation.
To successfully drive on African roads you need to understand that its every man for himself. Apparently you drive on the left in Uganda, not that I’ve noticed. They say you can tell if someone is driving drunk because they drive in a straight line. The roads in Uganda are generally tarmac full of gapping foot wide, sometimes larger, holes. So the driver is required to dodge and weave all the way. If you find yourself on a road not blessed with tarmac that is two or more lanes wide there tends to be a kind of, ’through path’ etched into the road. In other words, driver after driver has picked out the safest way through the potholes leaving behind a wonderfully smooth but nonetheless one-car-wide road. Add to this the breakneck speed most drivers employ and you can quite often find yourself playing chicken with the oncoming cars, only swerving out of the way and into the potholes at the last moment. Fun. After 8 hours of this bumping and swerving, not to mention the constant stream of incoming orange dust through the windows, one can feel rather worn down upon arrival. But before I move on let me clarify one thing, that’s the way Uganda is, and I love it, and I wouldn’t change it for the world, because it’s the little things like that that make life so much fun to live out here.
Anyway on the journey we were blessed with some chicken from an, “in your face chicken place.” As it is know in the New Hope circles. In your face chicken is the closest you will come to fast food out here. You stop your car in a lay-by and should a window be open it will soon be filled with all sorts of produce ranging from pineapples to drinks to chicken. We nearly always stop at the one on the way to Jinja and get some chicken. I always reflect as I eat the chicken on the sharp pointed stick, that for a chicken, born, raised, killed, plucked, skewered, cooked and finally sold all by the side of the road, it tastes amazing.
We arrived in Kobwin late, 9:00pm, though it felt like 4:00am. We clumsily found our beds, asking no questions, just getting on with it with the promise of sleep not far away. The boys were sleeping in a large round hut full of bunk beds, I found a bottom one, rigged my mossy net, hit the pillow and was out like a light.
Day 2, Sunday – Waking up in England.
When I awoke at 6:30, the agreed time though I don’t remember having a say in that conversation, I could hear the rain beating down on the roof of the hut. I had slept like a log, as well as logs are able to sleep, but none the less was feeling annoyed to be alive at this time of day. After a long and drawn out stump stirring session I heaved my sorry carcass out of bed, dressed and confronted the rain. When I looked outside I was a little confused. Where most mornings in Uganda I leave whatever dwelling I slept in the previous night to be greeted by a cool sun rising in the sky spilling light over plants and trees I don’t recognise and a warm breeze blowing away the cobwebs. When I emerged from the hut in Kobwin I was convinced I had come out in Devon. There was not a patch of blue in the sky, let alone any sign of the sun and there was a cold breeze, not unlike the ones that for some reason haunt campsites everywhere waiting to pounce on those foolish enough to leave the tent without a jumper. I hadn’t brought a jumper with me (“its Uganda for goodness sake, who needs a jumper!”) and the wind was cold. I also noticed some decidedly British plants. Wild mint was growing everywhere and I even spotted what looked like weeds I had regularly plucked from gardens in the UK. Along with the plants to my left rose a tall rock formation looking strangely like it would fit perfectly in Devon. I began to wonder how I had managed to get all the way back to England without my noticing (you would think you would remember such an event) when an African lady walked past and simply said, “Yoga”. Now either the woman decided I was horribly out of shape and was recommending a method of cleansing body and soul, or I was still in Africa, confronting the ever present language barrier. I decided the latter was more likely, and offered an extraordinarily lame, “Hi” in return.
Sunday passed without event, we met Uncle Alan and Aunty Honifa who are in charge of making sure New Hope 2 actually gets built, and were given a tour of the campus and the surrounding rocks. The plan is to build a centre that look very much like New Hope with a few changes. For one there are big rocks all over the land, something which they pointed out would help to make escaped kids feel safe. We went to bed early and once again did very impressive log impressions.
Day 3, Monday – Slashing
On Monday we got up again at 6:30 and went for a breakfast of dry tea with too many sugars and rolls. Once the typical Ugandan Breakfast was finished we set off for the work of the morning. The investment year students were each allocated a day to be leader on. The leader on that day would decide what work would be done and until when as well as being the go-to man for any questions. I was kindly given Friday to rule over, the day we go home. The leader for Monday, I cant for the life of me remember who it was, decided we needed to slash the compound today. For those not savvy with the terminology, the compound is like the garden area (in this case an area the size of a good football pitch and a half) and slashing is basically cutting the grass. Rough British translation, slashing the compound becomes mowing the lawn. Ironically enough more than once in that morning I craved a lawn mower to quickly zip over the grass leaving behind elegant and straight lines, but in the absence of a lawn mower the slashers were employed. At this point I think an explanation of slashing is in order.
A slasher is like a slightly shorted golf club but instead of a sturdy lump of metal on the bottom there is a double edged blade. The technique for slashing involves swinging this golf club look-alike back and forth as fast and hard as possible as close to a centimetre above the ground as possible. As with most things I have encountered out here when it comes to manual labour I am somewhat hopeless, whereas my African friends, due to a lifetime of practice, are sheers geniuses and things like slashing are second nature to them. When I tried slashing at first I managed to brush over the grass and not even come close to cutting it down. I decided some elbow grease was in order so set about attacking the grass as hard as I could. Within a few minuets I had beheaded plenty of grass but also managed to dig up a pretty handsome amount of earth as well. After an hour of so of slashing with various degrees of success I had an opportunity to switch tools. My new tool was, and would be for any self respecting male, like an extension of my very own arm.
The tool is called a Panga, but to save me yet another explanation it’s basically a large machete. Before long I had set upon the bush with this massive sharp knife hacking away at thorns and bushes the slashers couldn’t slash. It struck me then, sad as this is, how this was most guys ideas of paradise, “Here take this massive blade, and go and chop stuff to your hearts content.” And I did. Apparently I am much more proficient with a Panga then I am with a Slasher. I managed to chop down two sizable trees and plenty of bushes while really having the time of my life. By the end of the working morning we went for lunch having cleared most of the compound, an impressive achievement I wish I could take some credit for, with tired arms and a good collection of blisters between us.
As we ate lunch the sun made its presence known in a big way. Monday was my day to do the washing up so after lunch I went outside to wash up various dishes. Half an hour later the job was done and just to give you an idea of just how sunny it was, I had a sunburn on my neck.
That afternoon we gathered under a tree and as expected with 3 Muzungus it wasn’t long before we drew a crowd of children amazed to see some white flesh. That afternoon we did colouring sheets with the kids. No one in the area had ever done any colouring sheets so not only did we get masses of kids but also a large amount of parents sat down under the tree and coloured away with great joy.
By the end of the day we were all ready for bed and we all went straight to sleep, (I won’t mention logs again because I have a whole week to cover and the log references could become a little repetitive…)
Day 4 Tuesday – The news spreads.
On Tuesdays morning I woke up with aching hands covered in blisters due to the lengthy slashing and hacking session yesterday. Yet within an hour of waking up we were out there again slashing away with my technique improving somewhat since yesterdays poor show. I only lost my grip of the slasher once sending it flying in the general direction of my friend Lutu. Nothing to worry about, just a sharp object hurtling through the air and spinning towards my unsuspecting friend rather fast. It missed, just. Suffice to say I kept a tight grip on it after that. The sun was back again in force that morning and us white folk not used to such heat often found ourselves retreating to the shade of the trees and thanking the Lord for every slight wisp of a breeze.
In the afternoon it was clear that the children who came yesterday had informed their friends about the visiting Muzungus because on Tuesday we had nearly twice the number of children, by now coming close to about 300. The leader for that day decided we would play games with the kids today. We had a great time playing various running, throwing, kicking games with them one their favourites being ‘Muzungu Keep Away’. The game would begin with me kicking a mini rugby ball as far and high as I could at which point nearly every child assembled would the run after it, grab at it and if lucky enough to pick it up either run with it or kick it. The only aim of the game seemed to be keeping it away from me. With the odds stacked 250 kids to 1 me I was amazed that I ever managed to get the ball, at which point I would run like mad being followed all the way by enough kids to fill a small school each one faster than me.
When I went to bed on Tuesday it goes without saying that I was such a convincing log that the other occupants of the room were debating chopping me up, taking me outside and burning me. I slept well (apologies for yet another log reference but lets face it, it still works.)
Day 5, Wednesday – Monkeys
On Wednesday we started work on what Jenny described as something that will last, rather than slashing grass that will be back in a matter of weeks. We bought some Orange and ‘Nim’ trees and today was the day we set aside to plant them. Nim (or Nym, again didn’t stop to check the spelling though on reflection I probably should have done) trees I am told ward off mosquitoes and also have edible leaves. We were told to dig out some two foot by two foot holes for the oranges and after digging my fifth hole, and on top of the previous days labour, I was finally exhausted. I felt a little pathetic as I continued to chip away at them sixth hole until finally I called in a much needed sit down break.
After being joined by the others, also exhausted apparently, and after some porridge, we set back to work with the much more relaxing and far easier task of planting the trees. I made careful note of which tree was mine so if by any chance I return here in the future I can point proudly and say, “I planted that one!” to which my friends will ask, “which one”, “the tallest one with the greenest leaves and the most oranges of course!”
We spent the afternoon before the children came either sleeping or falling into heaps on the floor and trying to remember where we keep the spare batteries. It was when I was lying in one of these exhausted states of uselessness that I (well actually my friend Enoch) spotted Monkeys on the rocks. We watched them from a distance for a while before I decided that it was time to do what any self respecting muzungu would do in this situation, I went to get the camera. As I approached the rocks the monkeys ran away to the safety of the trees and I wonder how much of a fool’s errand this is going to be.
I apparently chose the wrong face of the rock to climb. We usually climbed up the rock by an easy slope that could be ascended easily but the monkeys were playing on a very steep and much harder slope to climb. Nonetheless, absolute hero that I am, I scaled the slope with my much worn down converse doing nothing in the way of helping me grip the slippery rock. The monkeys came running and jumping here and there but always heading away from me. After a few minuets of chasing and very far-away photos of monkeys they finally found safety on a large rock they were confident I wouldn’t be able to climb. I had to agree with them, the rock was huge, but I wasn’t telling them that. With the Monkeys feeling secure I inched closer to the rock, snapping the monkeys as I got closer. I stopped about 10 meters from the rock and took more photos of the curious faces peeping over the rock at me.
It was that curiosity that brought one particular monkey closer than the others. Very slowly he made his way down off the rock, sometimes retreating to see how I would respond. I stayed stock still, frozen with my camera inches from my face snapping away and loving every second. Finally when the furry little guy was within 5 meters of me he stopped and obviously wasn’t coming any closer. We spent a long moment just looking at each other it seemed to drag on forever. The monkeys were small, they had little grey bodies with white manes and black faces containing little red eyes. If they didn’t contain an all time top ten list of diseases you really really don’t want to get I might be tempted to describe them as cuddly…but having no wish to get rabies cuddling one of these is not something I would advise. Finally the monkey got bored of my and flew off into the rocks and trees never looking back. I made my way back off the rock the easy way this time and rejoined the group for another afternoon of mayhem with the kids.
Day 6 Thursday – Lake Sipi
Over the Previous days the team and I have noticed the Lake off in the distance and have longed to go and pay it a visit. We were sure it could only be a few kilometres away at best and though our hosts told us again and again it was just too far to walk we disagreed with them time and time again until Thursday when we decided to go to the lake by car, just in case it really was that far. It really was that far and I am grateful we took the car because it was extremely hot that day and walking that distance in that heat would have been a nightmare.
We reached the lake only to discover that the lake was surrounded by tall reeds that meant we now couldn’t even see the lake. The road for some reason didn’t end but instead transformed itself into a little river passage through the reeds with two rather questionable looking boats moored to the side. Of course the natural thing one does when one finds two boats by the side of the river with the owner nowhere in sight is to load up into them and cast off. This we did. The passage though the reeds opened up into the massive lake Sipi and we spent a good half an hour gliding over the surface and bailing out water from the leaky vessels. The owner of the other boats soon joined us bringing some of our friends with them. We didn’t seem annoyed we had taken his boats but a certain amount of money changed hands once back on dry land to further sweeten the deal.
That night being our last in Kumi we decided to have a bonfire and roast some meat. We went into the local village and bought goat and beef and roasted them over the fire until they turned black as charcoal and tasted not much better but it was fun to cook it none the less. The fire slowly died and drifted off to our beds only to wake up at 5:30 the next morning for the trip home
After our stupidly early start we arrived at Gerenge near Entebbe in good time and spent a weekend swimming in Lake Victoria playing games on the makeshift beach there. The weekend was to make the end of one investment year and the beginning of a new one with all the students along for the ride. After the weekend the clays and I spent three days in Jinja swimming in water not infested with bilharzias and eating food with a slightly more western slant.
I hope you are still awake at this point and I am sorry if at any point you fell asleep of contemplated suicide at the thought of reading that epic entry. I recommend you go and do something constructive now to make up for the hours spent sitting and reading this, but not before you leave a comment! With Christmas around the corner packages are arriving thick and fast (many thanks to all those sending them) and I’m forced to remind myself that despite the weather it is in fact now December.
Before I sign off I will finally add that I have reached the halfway point in my stay. So far it hasn’t been easy and there have been many moments when I have wanted to throw the towel in and give up. I want to thank all my friends and especially my family for supporting me through good and bad, one thing I have learnt over these past 3 months is the unquestionable value of family and the definite need for good friends. Take care
Dan
posted by Daniel at 4:07 PM
2 Comments:
heylo dan! oh i love the chronicles of smith, they nake wonderful reading, and having been to uganda, i often find myself smiling at just how typical most of the things are! Im glad you're having such a wonderful time and that you're experiencing a whole range of things. love u lots, floss xxxxxx (ps, its neem) :)
that was rather tiring. and if i don't get to talk to you again on sunday, I MET GERALDINE PEERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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