Masaka and Elizabeth!

Dear Blog World,

  Please forgive the lack of posting… the following posts I am sure will explain why I haven’t been writing much this month!

On Oct 3^rd, I traveled to Masaka for meetings about the S5 school program, and other upcoming work in the area.  I was informed that the program is going ahead as of February (which is the start of the new school year for secondary school here).  So this is now my major work, or my baby.  I need to finish writing the program and see about getting it pitched to a few other schools.  I also met with Fred Muwanda about the incoming NET team.  They are a team of 10 college grads who work with young people in a Christian setting for a year.  I worked with them some last year, giving some trainings and such to them.  They want me back… that’ll be the 3^rd week of November.

Anyways I arrived back to Kampala, and had a few hours before going to the airport to collect Ms. Elizabeth Saunders!  J  My first visitor.  Hooray!

We had a lovely chat on the ride home, at 3 in the morning.  Slept in the next day, went to the market to get her dress started, ate some food, and hung out.  The next morning we got up and headed to Arua.  Elizabeth was a trooper, learning how to ride boda (motorcycle taxis) and how to navigate the world of public transport.  The bus actually left on time, which almost never happens!

However, that was the end of our good luck for the day.  Our bus broke down about 2.5 hours out of Kampala. We sat for over 3 hours, waiting for a new bus.  Finally it came, but took forever to get to Arua.  12 hours later, Jan, Chris, and Ruth (a new Zealand family who come to Uganda every few months and have a connection between Ora New Zealand and Ora Uganda.) collected us at our drop off point.  We finally made it to the Ora International compound, but had missed the party which was going to be partly in our honor.

The next day, after seeing the compound and meeting the team, we ventured out with Chris and some of their Ugandan staff to see about buying land.  We trekked through a beautiful field, and sat under a mango tree talking with the village women for a long time. It was great fun.  The one woman who spoke English started talking pictures with E’s camera.  They are pretty cool.

In the afternoon, I went into town with Jan, Ruth and Rogers.  I needed to buy our bus tickets for the next day, and also talk with Jan about future collaboration and programming.  Ali, a New Zealand volunteer, had Malaria, so we picked them up her and her husband Marty from the clinic on our way back.  (Side Note:  Marty is an Olympic level Tri athlete… he’ll probably be in the London Olympics!  So cheer for New Zealand during the triathlon!)

Jan and I finished up some practical business, and Elizabeth listened in.  I was really tired, so I took a late siesta, while Elizabeth spent some time with the kids who live on the compound.  I’ll be doing an organizational leadership training course for the Ora staff in March. 

That evening was really fun.  We had dinner, and then I picked up the guitar.  I have a habit of writing impromptu music, about the people I am with, the places I am in, or about totally random things.  They are, actually, usually pretty hilarious.  Elizabeth and Ruth (who is 14 and a new little sister) found them to be so!   

We spent most of the night laughing and enjoying.  Jan had to travel down to Kampala that night to get some a new volunteer who would be staying with Ali once Marty went to Kenya to train.  So we said bye to Jan and she was off.

We scheduled to leave the next morning at 10 am, and we did.  It was nice to have a bit more of a restful morning.

The trip that day was not one I care to talk much about.  It was probably in the top 5 most stressful and hard experiences I have had in Africa.  So we won’t dwell on it.

None the less, we arrived at Murchison Falls National Park, and by the evening were talking with other white people and relaxing in the beautiful park.  

Northern Uganda is still struggling to recover after years of civil war, life is not easy for the people

Sunset over the Nile... the little glimmer of water is the Nile! 

Rwanda: The End... a detailed account

 

The end of trips like these are always strange.  I’ve been on 3 now, where I am randomly thrown in with people whom I did not know before.  It’s weird, like “lets have this random life experience together!”  Sometimes I don’t know where in my mind these things fit.

So the night before I left, I wrote up some notes to my amigos.  I wasn’t able to pack really because some of my clothes were still wet from being washed.  Sometimes I long for things, like clothes dyers.

The plan was to have breakfast, then head into Kigali.  So said goodbyes around 9:15 and myself, Maureen, Saive, Kevin, Francios and, of course, Isaiah drove off into the hills.  I’d decided to go to Mbarara, instead of all the way back to Kampala.  The community where I use to live is literally ON the road that takes me to Kampala.  So I knew I should stop for a few days to visit. 

I almost died once along the way to Kigali.  We went around a corner, and someone was dead stopped in the middle of the road.  Isaiah slammed on the breaks.  I was sitting in the far back seat of the mini bus, where in front of me was empty space (with seats that can be folded down into it).  I went flying forward and almost did the slits in the isle.  I made a snarky comment to Isaiah, and Francios came to his defence right away that it was not his fault.  So I made a joke and we laughed.   

We reached Kigali in good time, the beautiful hills providing endless vistas to gaze at as we flew around hairpin turns.  I knew the bus park.  As soon as we got close, I knew we were there.  Isaiah had bought me a ticket earlier in the week.  We went to the horizon office.  I jumped out with a “back to Africa”!  My white colleagues waved and stayed in the van.  Francis and Isaiah went with me to the booking office.  I squeezed into the small space with Isaiah, across the desk from me was a very large, incredibly over made-up woman.  She spoke English.  I got annoyed she charged me the whole fair to Kampala, even though I was only going to Mbarara.  She didn’t seemed to bothered. 

We left the office and said goodbyes, Francis saying that he wants to see me very soon to visit with his family.  No problem, good man.  I promised Isaiah I would call him when I need a taxi in Kigali.

The bus people pointed me to a seat, the crowd parted and I plunked down on a dirty old bus bench, covered in faded, crusty gold fabric.  Let’s just say it’d never been reupholstered.  Throughout the time I sat there, various people squeeze next to me on my golden bench.  At one point a mom with a baby sat next to me.  The baby was intrigued by my stuffed haggis key chain.  I knew that’d come in handy someday.  I read.  I made annoyed faces at the lady in the office, once the bus was late.  I watched the people around me. 

Finally, an hour late, we were herded to a parking lot across the street.  We were a strange crew of people.  2 very old Rwandan men who looked like they’d never left the village.  One of them had a cool hat on.  A family of a dad and 3 boys, all dressed in their Sunday best.  The little one was all dressed up, with a big protruding belly which popped one of his buttons.  A very old man, who had sat next to me most of the time we waited, who had a scarf wrapped around his neck, covering a large goitter.  Actually rather fashionably.  Two tall, young men.  They asked me if we were waiting for the bus to Kampala.  I responded that we were.  The man who asked then said “Should I give you a buiscuit”?  I declined.  No, you probably shouldn’t.

We finally get on the bus.  1:15.  Only an hour and 45 minutes late.  Wow, that’s pretty good.  Once on the bus, I look for a window seat.  About 2/3rds of the way to the back of the bus, I found an empty row and squeezed in with my backpack wedge on the floor and my small bag on my lap. 

The two very old Rwandan men decided that sitting with me is their best bet.  So they squeeze in next to me, squishing me hard against the window.  Over the course of the trip, in my mind, I ended up calling them my two Rwandan boyfriends.

About 10 minutes into the ride, I feel the old man next to me poke my leg.  I look down.  My skirt had gotten caught under my leg while climbing into the seat and was showing a very small part of my lower thigh.  The old men giggle, I sigh and correct my skirt.  Thanks modesty police.

The roads in Rwanda are smooth.  Smooth enough that you can nap, so I did a little.  And enjoyed the mountains.

The border crossing was rough.  The men who were sitting with me were clueless, but I wasn’t able to help them because I knew it would be a disaster.  I had high hopes that they wouldn’t make me pay to re-enter.  But after an argument with two of the border officials, I finally put down 50 dollars and ran out of the building.  I was hungry and annoyed so I went to buy chapatti and the man charged me 1000 for one chapatti,  I was so annoyed.  Everything in me was tired, and I cried in my seat, overwhelmed by it all.  My boyfriends got back on the bus, and needed a water.  One of the men had 200 shillings, not enough for water to buy water.  But I still stuck my head out the window and asked how much water was. They were charging 1000 shillings for a small bottle!  This is highway robbery.  A small bottle is 5-600, no more.  I argued with the man for a long time. 

I believe that clean, drinkable water is a basic human right.  The man refused to change his mind.  So finally I reached into my bag and pulled out my personal second bottle of water and gave it to the men.  They were very happy and grateful, sharing it between the two of them, and of course saving some for later. 

The ride took a long time.  The driver decided that it would be cool to stop and buy matooke 4 time... my blatter did not agree.  At one point, one of my “boyfriends” bought a bunch of yellow bananas. 

Of course they offered me one.  Usually, I would have accepted.  This time, however, I didn’t think my stomach needed anything else in it.  And the bananas they bought were very brown on top, they looked a little over rip for me. 

Then began the most “terrifying” 15 minutes of the trip.  In Uganda, when you travel, you buy food along the way.  So when you need to discard something you throw it out the window.  Now, I am sitting next to the window, and these men are eating a whole bunch of bananas. 

After their first ones they want to throw the peels.  I tentatively open the window about 3 inches, cringing and praying that I don’t get a peel in the face.  The aerodynamics are NOT in my favour.  We had one very very close call, but in the end my face came out unbananaed and the men’s bellies were somewhat full. 

 By the time we neared Mbarara, I was about to explode.  Thankfully the road to the community is RIGHT on the Kabale road, which is the one you take out of Rwanda.  So I got out at the road and began to walk up the long, pothole filled red hill.  Suddenly I heard a car behind me.  I looked and it was the red truck, so I stopped walking knowing it would pick me up.  As it approached I heard screams from inside, screams of delight.  Father Emmanuel parked the truck and jumped out and gave me a hug, from inside I could hear the happy hellos from Rose and Maura.  I climbed in and we drove up the hill, together.