The new Kampala post-11/7
Al Shabaab bombings in Kampala – the impact
Evacuation from the bar before either team had scored was the last thing we expected as we watched the World Cup Final that fateful evening in Kampala, July 11th. “What is it with the 11th day of a month?” people keep asking.
We’d been watching the World Cup Final from the crowded Dutch-owned Iguana bar in Kisementi, north side of Kampala, when the texts came through that two well-known locations – the Ethiopian Village restaurant and Kyadondo rugby club – had been bombed. It didn’t seem real.
“On ground at rugby, where are u now? remember u love 2 b in crowded places. ope dis makes sense abt yr security” read the text message from T.
I was relieved to hear T was ok, but why was he at the rugby club (where two of the bombs had exploded)? Had he been watching the game there or had he gone to help out when he heard the news? I told myself not to worry: he’s Ugandan, he’d probably just gone to stand around and look.
I was happy he was safe. When he arrived with breakfast the next morning he said he’d been up all night, visiting the scenes of the bombings with journalist friends and the Deputy Police Commissioner. “Important people need to know what’s going on” he smiled.
He laughed in that unnerving Ugandan way as he recounted how they’d been watching the ‘comic goings-on’ of a cocktail of security – ‘or insecurity’ – police, army and private security companies (of which there are many).
As shocking to me as the bombings has been the media coverage: photos of the victims, the wails of a dying woman, a man being bundled into the back of an ambulance with a stump of an arm in full view, live interviews with victims who are still looking for friends and relatives at the bombing scenes. In the newspaper they even showed a colour photo of birds picking on human remains. Ugandans don’t shy away from the gore and, much as it turns my stomach, I sometimes wonder if we’re overprotective in the West. A shocking picture can have quite an impact.
And so, last Monday, for the third morning in a row, I was woken by a mosquito inside my net. After only 4 and a half hours sleep, disturbed, the events of the previous night come into my mind. I wanted to find out what was happening in Kampala and switched on the news.
Kampala is like a huge village or many interconnected villages. You always know someone who knows someone who was been affected by whatever the issue of the day is.
On that fateful night – 11th July 2010 – we’d gone to Iguana Bar to hang out with Dutch friends. Normally Jan watches football at the Ethiopian Village, in Kabalagala, the nearest bar to her house. She had watched a number of other football games at the Ethiopian Village. I had persuaded her to hang out with us at Iguana that night.
Mike, my old boss at the Uganda Conservation Foundation, had helped establish Uganda’s first rugby team. Tragically, he knew people who died at the Kyadondo bombings.
Uganda is under attack by Al Shabaab (an organisation linked with Al Quaeda) because our soldiers are part of the African Union peacekeeping force in Somalia. Al Shabaab want Ugandan soldiers to withdraw from Somalia. The Army Spokesman said “What terrorists want is a safe haven. They’ve been dislodged from Afghanistan and are looking for somewhere else to operate from. If Somalia stabilises they have nowhere to hide; if Somalia is in chaos they get a safe haven and they have time to build capacity and then no-one is safe.”
People are scared. Terrorist acts are very rare here in Kampala. Today’s rumour, that Al Shabaab are employing pigeons to carry bombs, is typical of the overreaction.
My VSO nurse friend Stacey worked through the night of the bombings at IHK, International Hospital, Kampala’s biggest private hospital, just a few hundred metres from the Ethiopian Village. God only knows what she saw, but she hasn’t been quite right since that night. I’ve thought a lot about my VSO volunteer friends this week. Many volunteer doctors, nurses and cardiologists that are now back home would have been in the thick of it: doctors Rob and Richard in particular, and nurse Duncan, all worked at IHK.
The best I could do was encourage people to donate blood. The supplies are desperately low. My friend Jan and I eventually found our way to the blood bank but were rejected. Our iron count was low. “You should eat liver,” came the answer right back from T, trying to persuade me to eat meat. I just laugh at his constant efforts to convert me to back to eating meat.
There was a moment’s silence at Monday’s Hash for the 70+ victims of the bombings before T attended the vigil of a 24 year old law graduate, brother of a good friend of his, who was killed at the rugby club bombings. He had graduated just two months ago and was from ‘a very humble family’ so getting him through law school was a major achievement (there’s no such thing as grants or even loans for students).
A week later, the National Week of Mourning behind us, Kampala is hosting a week-long meeting of the heads of state of the African Union, as planned, a quick PR strike back at Al Shabaab.
Sixty FBI agents are reported to be in Uganda to help track down the perpetrators and there have been arrests.
It seems like we’ll all be having lots more house parties over the coming weeks. Many NGOs are not letting their workers go out in Kampala for a month until they can assess the security situation so the usual bars and clubs are empty. Kampala has changed overnight.
[NO PHOTOS this week. You wouldn’t want to see them].
How do you deal with an elephant in your garden?
Human wildlife conflict – the reality of living with wild animals
A herd of elephants, slowly ambling along, is the ideal way to admire elephants. This photo was taken at sunset on safari in Queen Elizabeth National Park. But when elephants invade your crops, the picture isn’t so pretty: if you’re a subsistence farmer, it can be an issue of life or death.
A big part of Uganda Conservation Foundation’s work focuses on “mitigating Human Wildlife Conflict (HWC),” that is stopping humans and elephants from killing each other. Simply put, if we can protect the humans, we can protect the wildlife.
It’s a big problem – you try dealing with an elephant in your garden! – and it’s going to get worse.
The fact is, in most cases, humans are encroaching on wildlife territory. As you cut back the forest for firewood or clear bush to grow more crops for your expanding family, you enter the habitat of the baboons.
This situation is made worse in areas of northern Uganda where, after the war, people have been returning to their homes after 20 years living in IDP camps (temporary camps for Internally Displaced people). Elephants have become used to wandering unhindered and eating the fruits from the trees planted by the farmers 20+ years ago. Based on UCF’s success in Queen Elizabeth Protected Area (trying to manage elephants and buffalo) and in Budongo Forest (baboons and wild pigs), we’re now doing a Feasibility Study on mitigation projects in northern Uganda, specifically in the Murchison Falls region, an area of over 4,000 square kilometres.
A toolkit produced by the Food and Agriculture unit of the UN is designed to help resolve, prevent and mitigate the growing problem of conflict between humans and wild animals.
According to the FAO (Food and Agriculture unit of the UN) “With the world’s population growing at some 75 million a year, humans and wildlife are having to squeeze ever more tightly together, thereby increasing the risk of conflict between them.”
Uganda Conservation Foundation (the organisation I work for) continues to trial different solutions to mitigate Human Wildlife Conflict. Conflict can be either direct (e.g. attacks on humans or livestock by predators) or indirect (crop raiding); its effects overt (e.g. financial, starvation) or hidden (children missing out on education to guard crops or family members being sick). [Source – Thirgood].
The people most likely to be affected are those least able to cope, either physically or financially and those who usually benefit least financially from the presence of wildlife. It’s for this reason that UCF, in partnership with the Uganda Wildlife Authority, invests in a programme of sensitisation to the potential benefits of conservation-based tourism.
UCF’s experience in Ishasha in southern Queen Elizabeth Protected Area, tells us that there is no single solution to mitigating Human Wildlife Conflict: a number of complementary measures are needed. For example, the excavation of 20 km elephant trenches and erection of fencing create a physical barrier which makes all the difference to the survival of both the human and elephant populations. In valley areas, in the nearby Kikarara Parish, UCF is using bee-keeping as a deterrent to help prevent elephants crop raiding. (Elephants will generally avoid angry bees).
As the human population increases – Uganda has the third highest birth rate in the world – and the elephant population does the same – thanks in part to our anti-poaching work – mitigating HWC will become ever more of a priority.
This is one of many blogs I’ve written about the Uganda Conservation Foundation, human wildlife conflict, the Uganda Wildlife Authority, hippo poaching and conservation in general. Why I love elephant dung is a perennial favourite!
Would you be a Ugandan child?
Ugandan kids are delightful but they live tough lives by Western standards.
With the third highest birth rate in the world, kids are everywhere in Uganda. Slung on a hip, being coralled by older siblings or just sitting playing in the dirt, Uganda has a very young and inquisitive population.
“Mzungu, mzungu bye!” The kids scream at me everywhere I – the mzungu – go. They never fail to make me smile. Few conversations go beyond “how-are-you? I’m fine” but they’re always so excited just to get a wave back.
Happy children Uganda
The reasons for such a high birth rate are many and complex, it’s not just about access to contraception. After a year and a half living in Uganda, I only understand a few of the reasons: infant mortality is high at 87 deaths per 1,000 births; big families are admired (having many children improves your status); pride; and besides, what else do you do for entertainment if you don’t have TV?
Despite an abundance of fertile land and the weather that, in most parts of the country means two harvests a year are possible, many children are malnourished: their bellies may be full but they don’t have a balanced nutritious diet. Almost one third of children under 5 have stunted growth.
The children of Kapchorwa, eastern Uganda, on slopes of Mount Elgon
One of the major household chores is collecting water, usually performed by children and women. Toddlers are given tiny yellow jerry cans; the bigger you get, so the size of the jerry can increases. In the countryside you may have to walk miles everyday to find a river. In Kampala I see the children from the slum collecting water that washes down the hill from a domestic overflow. 48% of the country’s population is without access to clean water.
Children and assorted jerry cans below Sipi Falls, eastern Uganda
Danger is everywhere here. One of my first impressions of Kampala was seeing a husband and wife on the back of a boda boda tearing down one of the better, i.e. faster, roads. Three adults on the bike, the lady with a baby in her arms. Our eyes met: the baby looked terrified.
Human sacrifice (to bless the fortunes of a new business for example) is a modern phenomenon that is on the increase in some neighbourhoods. Ugandans say it is a crime brought into the country by ‘outsiders’. Children are easy targets.
Burning hot charcoal stoves are left untended outside houses – but how can you have eyes in the back of your head? Household burns are frighteningly common.
At the local Super Grocery, I spot a little girl wondering around at the back of the shop. I haven’t seen her before. The shopkeeper tells me “She’s my neighbour’s child. The father died last year and now her mother’s died. I’ve had her tested and she’s negative.” It’s a very matter of fact conversation about the heart-breaking impact of HIV / Aids as I buy my breakfast. “What else can I do?” she said “but take her in and look after her.”
“Everyone takes care of the African child” my Ugandan boyfriend reminds me.
Children kids at Royal Pride Academy are fascinated by the new ‘pop-up’ reading books given by VSO volunteer friends Alan and Alison. Their friends and family in the UK raised money to have concrete floors laid in the classrooms, so they no longer get flooded
PHOTO: the kids at Royal Pride Academy are fascinated by the new ‘pop-up’ books given by VSO volunteer friends Alan and Alison. Their friends and family back home raised money to have concrete floors laid in the classrooms, so they no longer get flooded.
The number of orphaned and vulnerable children due to AIDS is estimated at 1.7 million and is expected to rise to 3.5 million by 2010. This, in a country of just 30 million people.
Universal Primary Education means every child is entitled to a free education but with very poorly paid teachers, facilities (a roof and an old wooden bench), and class sizes of 100 and even 120, it’s a numbers game where quality of education takes a back seat to quantity of pupils through the door. That said, the standard of the children’s work (I have a glimpse of beautiful neat handwriting for instance) can be amazing, the discipline second to none (British schoolchildren take note), and the dedication of the teachers truly humbling. They survive on a pittance and many contribute half their wages to help keep the schools open.
Many Ugandan children go to boarding school, as many as 36 kids in one dorm! All sleeping in ‘triple deckers’ (triple bunk beds). The kids all have to do their own washing – by hand of course – a world away from the pampering I got at a British boarding school!
Washing dries on the barbed wire boundary fence at Equatorial College School in Kamwenge, western Uganda
On the brighter side of life, girls walk arm in arm, boys – and even men – walk hand in hand. Camaraderie is everywhere: adults often talk fondly of their O.B.s and O.G.s (Old Boys and Old Girls from school) so friendships forged at school seem to last and last. Life here is simpler in many ways yet mere everyday survival is more complex.
So where would I choose to have a child – the UK or Uganda? That’s a hard one, you’ll have to keep following my blog to see how that particular personal decision pans out.
This post has been written for Lonely Planet’s Kids Around the World blog carnival kindly hosted by Glennia Campbell.
Go Ghana! Go Ghana! Gone …
Oh Ghana, you were Africa’s last hope. Watching the World Cup 2011 in Kampala, Uganda
Every four years I take a break from being anti-football to scream at the big screen with the rest of the world.
This year has been particularly special: I watch it as a resident of the host continent AFRICA.
On my trip to South Africa in 2009, preparations for Africa’s World Cup were well underway: World Cup advertising hoardings everywhere… World Cup merchandise was handed out at Cape Town’s new airport… there were shiny new football stadia, newly planted flowerbeds. You simply couldn’t ignore it.
Uganda didn’t qualify for a place in the World Cup. No matter, for if passion were all that were required they’d have been among the first through. Everyone’s been talking football, and I can confidently say there are more avid British Premier League supporters here than in the whole of the UK. On match nights, crowds of men line up 10-deep in the street outside bars and restaurants, peering at the small TV sets.
And so last Friday the huge expectant crowd of Ugandans, expats, volunteers, NGO workers and visitors from across Africa crowded into the bar and onto the pavement of Kisementi, Kampala. The early birds – still in shock at the earlier thrashing of Brazil by the Netherlands? – had the best seats, or at least they had seats. Inside, necks were craned up at the screen in expectation, ladies perched on upended beer crates. The Vuvuzela Virgins passed the instrument around nervously, daring each other to purse their lips around it, as if they were caught smoking in public. (We don’t worry about a little thing like smoking in public in Uganda anyway, it’s just another one of many well-meaning but ignored laws).
The bar will remain nameless thanks to their World Cup pricing policy (you’re supposed to see double, not pay double). I was slighted by the “manager’s substitution” too: replacing Triple Distilled Uganda waragi (gin) with the local village yellow jerry can variety. (I didn’t wake up blind like some people have, so at least I can see my lucky stars to thank them).
You could hardly contain the Kampala crowd’s excitement as the Ghana players walked onto the pitch. There was no doubt that everyone believed the Black Stars would get through to become the first African team to make it to the World Cup’s last four.
Oh Ghana, you were our last hope.
An American woman screamed full-blast in my ear and I knew the game had kicked off.
The atmosphere was palpable: hoots, cheers and screams accompanied the incredible build up to half time. After a bit of practice, the Vuvuzela Virgins were getting into their stride. Barely discernible above the baying of the crowd, the TV commentator screamed “ … and, with just 20 seconds to half time, if Ghana want to get through …..”
GOAL!!!
The whole bar went into total meltdown. The man behind me leaped onto my shoulders, I couldn’t see the screen for people jumping wildly up and down, arms and beer bottles waving in front of me; you’d have thought we’d won the match there and then!
The atmosphere soon changed in the second half after Uruguay equalised.
The Congolese guy in front of me shifted his body weight from one foot to another, back and forth nervously, willing Ghana to pull ahead.
So many chances, so many lost opportunities. The man moved in such an exaggerated fashion that I had to mirror his movements just to see the screen. His movements were giving me ‘mal de mer’ (seasickness) so I pushed my way in front of him.
With disbelief, and our hearts in our mouths, we watched as Uruguay’s Luis Suarez snatched the ball out of the mouth of the goal in the last seconds of extra time. Everyone agreed it was clearly a goal.
It was all over for Ghana when Asamoah Gyan’s penalty hit the crossbar. Who’d want to be in his shoes? We all wanted to cry for him.
According to the BBC “It was a truly remarkable final few minutes, surely some of the most dramatic in World Cup history, and came at the end of an engrossing and occasionally bad-tempered contest.”
Back in Kampala, people hung outside the bar, unsure what to do next.
And so, exhausted and hoarse, I drove home, the solemn words of a passing boda boda [motorbike taxi] driver marking the end of Ghana’s dream: “They cheated us” he said.
Tragically, we didn’t get to watch the end of the next World Cup football matches as Al-Shabaab targeted Kampala….
It’s Hip to be a Hippo
Protecting the hippos of Queen Elizabeth National Park
Look at me – I’m gorgeous! Ugandan men prefer a bit of meat on their ladies…
During the 1970s and 1980s, severe poaching decimated wildlife numbers.
Improved park management is leading to a slow repopulation, but today killing hippos for meat remains the most frequent form of poaching. The frequency and impact of poaching is easy to see, with many of Queen Elizabeth National Park’s rivers and ‘hippo pools’ noticeably empty.
Hippos bask on the shore of the Ishasha River, Queen Elizabeth National Park. The distant riverbank is the DRC (Congo)
Hippo carcasses are quickly collected and disposed of, following the Anthrax outbreak of 2010 in Queen Elizabeth National Park. PHOTO Uganda Wildlife Authority
The UCF / Uganda Wildlife Authority (UWA) biannual hippo survey of Queen Elizabeth National Park involved three weeks of sometimes risky work across very difficult terrain: of uncharted swamps, fast-flowing rivers and turbulent lakes, all while on the look-out for hippo, a mammal responsible for more deaths across Africa annually than any other. (Did you know that?) The survey team noted that hippo are very wary of humans where there is illegal fishing, highlighting the fact that poachers have been killing and smuggling hippo meat via boat. On the rivers, hippo tend to congregate in safe havens such as ranger camps. Far from the camps, they are easily scared, jumping out of the river when the team approached, an indication that man is an enemy to them.
‘Rebel lookalike’ Patrick and I laughed at this one! Actually these are the good guys! In the middle, wearing a baseball cap, is my UCF colleague Patrick with the Uganda Wildlife Authority rangers, patrolling Queen Elizabeth on the biannual hippo count PHOTO Uganda Conservation Foundation
Just for the Hash of it
Running the chalk mark trails through Kampala’s slums
Luckily the chalk marks along the route were reliable for a change. In my dash out of the house to take Baldrick for his Rabies jab, I’d forgotten my trainers so there I was sliding about in the size 12 deck shoes T’s lent me as Baldrick pulls me along in his constant quest for food, particularly acute at this time of day.
So there we were, just the two of us negotiating the chaotic, muddy trough that passes for a road, wending our way downhill through the discarded garbage of the slums washed down the hill and trying to get back to the KH3 (Kampala Hash House Harriers) meeting point before sun sets. Jumping on the back of a boda boda is a Hash sin (and with a large dog not easy!) so we try and keep pace with the rest of the Hashers and walkers.
We don’t get too close, Ugandans are ‘feared of’ dogs and most startle easily at the approach of my canine friend.
Typical slum scene: Hash routes take us through every part of town: through rubbish heaps and slums, across swamps and along smart avenues
Even without running, last Monday’s run was exhausting. The everyday shouts of “mzungu, mzungu, bye!” are this evening accompanied by screams of hilarity from the women. If seeing a mzungu is unusual, seeing a mzungu with a dog is borderline insanity. (I just make out the words mzungu, mama and embwa) and of course there’s no mistaking the subject of the wide eyed stares and pointing. Us – but it’s all good natured.
Ugandan children are delightful. I return as many of the shouts and waves as I can and proceed down the road with a big grin on my face. You can’t help but feel special and you just know that kids are going to run home and tell the family they’ve had a smile from a mzungu. One morning I walked out of my compound straight into the arms of a small child: he was only 4 or 5 years old but he ran up to me, grabbed hold of one of my legs and gave it a big hug, ten ran off. It’s a great way to start the day.
Lake Nabugabo, Uganda. Harriet buys gonja by the roadside. I knew my luck was in when T offered me his hot roasted gonja…
Hash hijinks on the bus on the way to the Lake Nabugabo run
Can we stick with the mammals please?
Give me a mammal – even a crop-raiding elephant! – any day. Just spare me the insects, please…
I feel sick, I feel excited, I feel sick. What the hell is happening to me?
I’m getting excited at the thought of T coming over tonight so I set about cooking – for a change. Living on my own has made me lazy and I realise how I miss cooking for someone, how the thought of having him around is good for me.
2 ring gas cooker. my kitchen in Kampala
Time to cook dinner.
I picked up our heavy wooden chopping board and placed it on the counter. I didn’t like the look of that side so flipped it over: SCREAM! What? How can that be?
Stuck to the wood, squashed paper thin is the biggest – and certainly the flattest – cockroach I’ve ever seen. I scream.
Now what?
Luckily Simpson is home so he does the honours and scrapes the offending insect off the board and scrubs the board clean for me. I quickly put the scene behind me – see how I’ve grown up since I arrived in Uganda? – and dinner’s soon bubbling away on the stove.
A little later, I hear the telltale sign of the tank (a.k.a. T’s diesel engine) in the compound. In walks T with an enormous and beautiful fish, a Nile Perch “introduced into Lake Victoria by your grandfathers” he says. I wasn’t sure if T would definitely turn up so I’m delighted to see him and quite touched that he’s decided to surprise me with this beautiful fish.
It’s over a foot long, glistening silver and beautiful. We stand there admiring it – and then I freeze. Cockroaches. Cockroaches?! They’re coming from everywhere, they’re running all over the counter, jumping in the drawer, scurrying under the cooker.
I feel sick.
“You’ve brought them in with the fish!” I accuse, in the nicest way I can find.
“No way. They can’t have been in the fish, you must have them in your kitchen.”
“They must’ve been in the cavera (plastic bag),” I say and he doesn’t argue with me.
T quickly kills most of them, mashing them into the wall with a spatula, and I try and forget about them, kicking their bodies out of sight for Eva to pick up in the morning. (It’s ok, she and I have an understanding).
We can’t agree on how to cook the fish. I try and explain how I’m used to having an oven and that I don’t know how to cook a big fish like this on the gas ring. I feel pathetic: I can’t cook fish on the gas and have never cut up or prepared a big fish like this. I think of the sanitised individual portions I used to buy back home in the UK. T’s been trying to persuade me to start eating meat again, and I’m wary of discussing the subject of ‘what to do with this big fish.’
I feel sorry for him. He’s hardly talking, he’s still ill (suspected Malaria is now suspected Typhoid) and I expect the last thing he wants to do is hack up a big fish, but I cannot do it. I’m still reeling from the explosion of insects and I’m upset that communicating with T seems to be getting harder for some reason. I would really have to be in the right frame of mind to tackle this. A blunt knife doesn’t help – he’s not getting it done quickly enough for me! I don’t want to be around this.
I try to button my lip (who wants to hear the moaning mzungu?) The sight of blood and scales blocking the sink makes me go pale but I’m relieved and grateful that he’s almost done, now washing the chopping board and the knife.
Then, when I think the worst of the carnage is out of the way, and he’s about to start frying the fish, he decides to cut the head in two. For God’s sake. It’s quite normal for Ugandans to eat the head but he does this transverse section, slicing directly though the brains. I have never seen so many shades of red. I couldn’t suppress one “YUCK!” I think I earned it.
I screamed that this was a cockroach but this lookalike is apparently a cicada that lives in the trees in our compound
So all in all quite an evening: that big cockroach that Simpson insists isn’t a cockroach (it’s just got enormous wings and can’t run like one but it IS one), then the many little ones.
Let’s not forget the mosquitoes – the house if full of them. Every room. T spent the rest of the night with the mosquito bat investigating every nook and cranny of the house. Twice. As he finishes sweeping one area he moves back to where he started : he’s a man on a mission, especially now he thinks he’s had Malaria.
Coffee-break, Ethiopian-style
Four hours to kill in Addis Adaba and I’m seated in a smoke-filled cafe at the airport.
It’s strange, nearly everyone’s smoking. It took me a while to click: it’s not just that you can’t smoke in any airports in the UK, few people smoke in Uganda. I was surprised when a Ugandan friend asked me if I smoke. “I thought most mzungus smoke?” he said.
He has since said I am “quite a unique mzungu.” But that’s another story.
Ethiopian coffee ceremony. Fragrant rich Ethiopian coffee is served in tiny cups, fresh from the charcoal stove at one of the cafes in Addis Ababa Airport
To get the cheapest fare I’m flying home with Ethiopian Airlines. The seats are tiny and there’s a large man from Burundi in a pale gold pinstripe suit shoehorned into the seat next to me. Gerald seems like a very gentle guy, a refugee from the war in Burundi in the late 1990s, travelling back to his home in Canada from work in Zimbabwe. He’s a fellow vegetarian but says he was forced to eat meat in Zimbabwe as it’s impossible to find vegetables.
He asks me if I’m going home to meet my husband and I reply no, my boyfriend’s in Uganda. “My boyfriend’s in Uganda.” The words still sound strange to me!
The first leg of the journey from Uganda is only two hours and I do at least have the window seat. And I have the most spectacular view: the shimmering reflection of a meandering river, unexpected high peaks below us and a grey treeless landscape that looks beautiful in its bleakness.
I arrived in East Africa for the first time 15 months ago as the sun rose above the Indian Ocean and flooded the plane with orange light. It was magical. Today I left East Africa to a spectacular and unusual sunset, a bold yellow and bright blue night sky, the golden disk of the sun a faint haze behind wispy cloud.
As we gently touch down, Gerald looks out of the window and says “thank you for the safe landing.” Ten minutes before we took off, he heard that another Ethiopian Airlines flight had crashed in Libya killing everyone on board, except for a child. “I was praying to God as we landed” he said. I’m just praying that mother hasn’t heard the news and is having the vapours! (I’ve since heard that it was another airline, not Ethiopian, whose plane crashed).
Addis is a modern airport, substantially bigger than Entebbe but we’re still quite (in)visibly in Africa as the power goes off while we’re staring up at the screens for details of the connecting flight. The toilets are clean and modern but the cockroach crawling round the mirror is an unavoidable part of the fittings, de rigeur at every African airport I’ve visited so far.
This first Ethiopian experience was just in transit. Read Feeling irie in Addis Ababa for my first real impressions of this magnificent country.
Hanging with a baby gorilla!
Have you ever wanted to go gorilla trekking in Uganda?
Despite working in conservation in Uganda for nearly three years, tracking the gorillas was never top of my wildlife wish list, until now. I still can’t get enough of safari game drives in Queen Elizabeth and birdwatching all corners of Uganda – but I have to say: today’s trek to see the gorillas was very special.
Here are the Muzungu’s reasons why gorilla trekking in Uganda should be on everyone’s travel bucket list!
A gorilla peeks at us through the thick leaves of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. Gorilla trekking Uganda
Bwindi is heavenly. The air is pure. The height and age of the majestic trees are awe-inspiring. Before I came to Uganda, the revered mahogany was just something my great aunt’s table was made of (!) and now there they were growing ahead of me in the forest: century-old mahogany trees.
After an early start, and a briefing by our Uganda Wildlife Authority (UWA) guide David, we trekked uphill through a small tea plantation and a field of bananas.
Briefing from Uganda Wildlife Authority ranger before our Mountain gorilla trekking in Bwindi, Uganda. Here we were shown photos to introduce us to the gorilla family members we were hoping to encounter
“But the other hills we can climb them seated” advised David, as we slid down a muddy hillside to the edge of the forest.
It was a typical misty Bwindi morning – it’s not called Bwindi Impenetrable (Rain)forest for nothing! Treks to find the gorillas vary; occasionally the gorillas are seen in the grounds of the lodges around Bwindi. Sometimes you may have to walk three, four or even five hours before you find them.
More mist… climbing through the banana plantation. Mountain gorilla trekking in Bwindi, Uganda
Our Uganda Wildlife Authority (UWA) guides helped us every step of the way. Here we slid down a steep slope and traversed a small stream
The hike through the countryside (one and a half hours in our case) was a big part of the thrill for me: would we turn a corner and find the gorillas right in front of us?
How would the gorillas react when they saw us?
And finally, in a dense section of the forest, clambering through the bushes, we met up with another group of UWA rangers who would show us where the group of 10 or more gorillas from the Habinyanja family were feeding and sleeping.
Every gorilla trek is different. We saw the Silverback, although all we could see of him was a mere glimpse of silver grey fur through the foliage. This photo shows how difficult it can be to get a good photo in the dark forest…
None of the gorillas seemed at all perturbed by our presence, as we shuffled quietly from tree to tree, peering through the dark green of the forest to make out gorilla mothers’ suckling gorilla babies and young adults grooming each other, all just a few metres away from us. Even the Silverback gorilla, the often awesome male leader, slept through our entire visit (grunts notwithstanding).
But it was the smallest, youngest gorilla that stole the show….
Can you spot the baby gorilla? … It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d see a Mountain Gorilla in the trees above my head!
Effortlessly. Hanging out with the baby gorilla. Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. Gorilla trekking Uganda
There was no chest thumping, we didn’t get charged at and there were no scenes of drama for the humans to witness on this particular morning.
Carefree.
Not to be ignored, the youngest gorilla of the group entertained us to an aerial display, dangling by one arm and pirouetting above us, eye-balling us with those beautiful big dark brown eyes.
He seemed to share our fascination as we watched, transfixed. I’d trek Bwindi all over again, just to relive those few precious moments.
This moment made the whole hike worth it. Hanging out with the baby gorilla. Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. Gorilla trekking Uganda
Diary of a Muzungu’s (first) gorilla trekking certificate, issued by UWA, the Uganda Wildlife Authority
Next lifetime, I’m coming back as a Mountain Gorilla!
September 2013: With over 7 million views, this Uganda gorilla trekking video has been an internet sensation: showing one tourist having the type of wildlife experience we all dream of. Such moments are few and far between. They certainly can’t be manufactured, nor can these animals be coerced – and it just shows how gentle and inquisitive gorillas truly are.
This wasn’t my first time in Bwindi meeting primates. Coming eye to eye with my totem – the Red-tailed Monkey – is a moment Nagawa (the Muzungu) will never forget!
Nagawa AKA Diary of a Muzungu. My totem is enkima, the red-tailed monkey. This painting is by Taga. I adore his art!
South western Uganda has become famous for gorilla trekking, but there are plenty more activities for tourists nowadays, including canoe trekking across Lake Bunyonyi, hiking the volcanoes of Mgahinga, golden monkey trekking, or hiking across Bwindi. The day-long walk from Buhoma through the thick of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest south to Nkuringo is one of my favourite Ugandan expeditions.
Before you start this adventure, make sure you have comfortable footwear and some high quality insoles for hiking Globo Surf.” I prefer walking boots that support my ankles but many locals love wearing gum boots. They don’t have much grip (but they certainly keep the ants out!)
Have you been gorilla trekking in Uganda? I’d love to read your experiences!
If you’re planning a trip to Uganda, feel free to contact the Muzungu or check out Diary of a Muzungu’s Ultimate Guide to Mountain Gorilla Trekking.
And now the human safari – and all its smells
Downtown Kampala Owino Market on a Saturday afternoon is intense.
For all the human pressure, Owino’s a friendly place and there’s no need to worry about my British visitor Neil, accompanying two ladies shopping.
“Eh muzungu how are you?”
“Which [Premier League] team are you?” all the vendors ask and as we head back people are still talking about ‘the muzungu from Oxford who supports Man United.’
Saturday evening leaving the Old Taxi Park is as crazy an African scene as you’re going to encounter. It’s exhausting. People call at you from all sides, traffic – bikes, boda bodas (crazy motorbike taxis) and matatus (crazy minibus taxis) – come at you from every direction simultaneously. People and vehicles groan under the collective weight of their wares and purchases.
Belts on sale at Owino market Kampala
Owino Market, downtown Kampala
We hold on tight to our pockets as we push through the tiny narrow rough mud paths of the makeshift market. The ground is bumpy, following the contours of the gullies where the rain forces its way through. The roof is a patchwork of overlapping canvas, cardboard and wood, everything the colour of dust. Light shines through the gaps in the wooden walls.
It’s a veritable maze and we’re soon lost (hence the use of stock photos on this blog. I did not venture there with my camera!)
“There are more clothes here than in the UK!” Neil says.
Not the best view in Kampala but certainly the best shoe repair prices!
And much as imported second hand clothes give people access to cheap clothes – and I mean VSO volunteers as well as local people! – I can’t help but feel bad that we’re helping undermine the local economy. Traditional African patterns are fabulous and dress-making is cheap, but still can’t compete with Owino prices and the designer labels on sale here: NEXT, McDonalds staff uniform and ‘George at Asda.’ Oh the irony.
Everyone stares at Neil’s tattoos.
Simpson is in awe “how long do they last?” he asks, his eyes wide open, rubbing Neil’s arms to see if the ink comes off.
This is one of the more visible differences between Ugandans and the British – the way strangers will touch you – but Neil doesn’t flinch. I love being part of his Ugandan adventure and I love how open he is to everything.
Kids admire muzungu’s tattoos Kampala
On our ten day safari, Neil and I have covered several hundred kilometres and seen hundreds of animals but the human safari back in Kampala – with all its smells, of animals, humans, vehicles, burning charcoal, roasted meat, sewage and everything else – is just as overwhelming.
And the dust!
And the noise!
Expeditions to Kampala’s markets are city adventures in their own right! Read Owino – justice in the balancing act and Downtown dreadlocks, the muzungu’s first date.
A fiery start to an “amazing” Safari
“I arrived in Uganda with three animals on my wish list: elephants, lions and chimps, and I’ve seen two of them within 24 hours,” my visiting friend Neil says.
The days starts far too early: and as we push through Kampala’s heavy early morning traffic we read that Kampala’s Kasubi Tombs, the main historical site of Uganda’s Buganda tribe, have been raised to the ground. Speculation abounds and there’s a tendency to react first and ask questions later.
Within 48 hours Neil’s been baptised Segawa, brother to Nagawa (yours truly) from the Red-Tailed Monkey clan.
In just a week, Uganda has transformed Neil: “I want to get so close that its breath steams up the camera lens,” Neil says – and that bloody great male baboon nearly does too. The baboons at Kyambura are enormous and don’t run off like they do elsewhere. My colleague Patrick tells me very seriously “a boy on a bicycle carrying ripe bananas cannot even pass by there.”
Our family of Mongooses trot off into the Bush at Mweya, Queen Elizabeth National Park, Uganda
The mountains are breathtaking – if you can see them – and this is one of the wonders of Queen Elizabeth National Park. Ten minutes of rain and the landscape is transformed, the barely discernible outlines of hills have metamorphosed into hills and mountains. The night spreads out before us as we scan the floor of the Rift Valley on our evening game drive, elephant-shaped shadows silhouhetted by the sunset behind them.
As we drive on we pass a herd of “Boofalows” as the indefatigable Rashid points out. We sip Amarula around the campfire before falling asleep to the sound of trumpeting elephants (I sometimes wonder whether I’m making this all up!)
I’m really lucky that work takes me out to the bush (Queen Elizabeth National Park) every few weeks and every visit is different.
A number of firsts for me include:
- A black snake, measuring at least 8 feet, that shoots away from our car like a bolt of lightening. (There’s a tendency to call every black snake a Black Mamba – in fact, a Black Mamba is grey)
- Stacey and Cathy have a green snake in their shower! (Ditto. There’s a tendency to call every green snake a Green Mamba. It was in fact most likely a grass snake. Grass snakes are harmless).
- We see two bright green Chameleons, walking very s-l-o-w-l-y along a branch
- We see a Spoonbill on the Kazinga Channel. It’s a weirdly beautiful bird. Twitch!
So for the second time in six months, I’m keeping my head down in Queen Elizabeth National Park, far away from the trouble as angry Baganda, sporting strips of the traditional barkcloth fashioned into bandanas, bracelets and headbands take to the streets of Kampala.
“President angered by Kasubi rumours” the newspaper headlines read. So if ‘truth is the first casualty of war’, I wonder whether the tombs are the first casualty of the elections? If not, by the torching, then by the political capital that one or both sides will endeavour to make of the situation.
Anti-poaching: the answer’s in the gumboots!
It’s the simple things that can have the biggest impact: gum boots for the rangers and a few days paid work for the ex-poachers. Equipping anti-poaching patrols in Uganda.
Uganda Wildlife Authority rangers will soon, for the first time ever, have a permanent base in the Dura sector, an area of 400km² north of Lake George in Queen Elizabeth National Park, thanks to the Uganda Conservation Foundation, the organisation I work for.
Construction workers finish the last section of brickwork for the ranger station built by UCF for UWA. Queen Elizabeth National Park
Why is UCF building ranger accommodation in Queen Elizabeth?
Away from the popular tourism areas, the Uganda Wildlife Authority is massively under resourced. Rangers cover an enormous territory – Queen Elizabeth National Park (QENP) covers an area of nearly 2000 km2 – of difficult and often inaccessible terrain. We need to house rangers in the heart of the area so they can get straight to the areas that need policing. We’ve employed a local construction company and the finished block will house four rangers and their families.
What does this mean for the poachers?
The mere presence of rangers is often enough to deter many poachers. At the end of last year, 400 poachers were reported to have voluntarily handed in spears and hunting equipment to UWA! This followed straight after a three week programme when we employed 25 ex-poachers to clear Papyrus and Hippo Grass as part of works to establish our new boat station on northern Lake George. UCF and UWA used this opportunity to sensitise the local community to our conservation aims, to the potential benefits (revenue, jobs) they can earn through tourism and of the penalties for poaching / smuggling bushmeat or live animals.
Confiscated spears, Black and White Colobus Monkey skin. UWA armoury, Mweya, Queen Elizabeth National Park
The fact is this is a very remote part of the world, where unemployment is high and traditional belief systems and ways of living dominate: you can’t just tell people to stop poaching, alternative ways of living have to be encouraged and supported.
As part of the Dura recovery project, the rangers stationed in the new accommodation will start removing snares. Snares are indiscriminate. They hurt, capture and ultimately kill all kinds of animals: feet can become trapped; wire can get tightly wrapped around an elephant’s trunk; in neighbouring Kibale Forest, 50% of chimpanzees have limbs missing because of snares.
Snare removal and anti-poaching is dangerous work and we will be relying on the cooperation of the ex-poachers to show us where snares and poachers camps are located.
How do boats help stop poaching?
Previously UWA had been helpless in controlling poachers operating by boat and smoking bushmeat along the dense and inaccessible Papyrus shorelines. Shipped through the waterways, boats link up with vehicles in the villages or public roads that cut through the Park. Disturbingly, significant amounts of live wildlife and bushmeat are smuggled out of the adjoining Virunga National Park in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Every week there are reports of Uganda being used as a smuggling route for ivory, usually for onward shipment to Asia where demand for ivory continues to dramatically increase.
The Uganda Conservation Foundation has developed a strategic network of marine ranger stations, each comprising a reclaimed shipping container, small aluminium boat, outboard engine and life jackets, manned by marine rangers trained to Royal Yachting Association standard. Now deployed across Queen Elizabeth, Murchison Falls and Lake Mburo National Parks, the impact of the Waterways project has been extraordinary.
UWA’s Chief Vet removes a wire snare from an elephant’s trunk in Murchison Falls National Park. This elephant was lucky to survive. Many animals bleed or starve to death.
Queen Elizabeth’s Chief Park Warden Tom Okello explains: “Law enforcement operations across Queen Elizabeth’s almost 2000 km² are limited due to only two vehicles being available. Vehicle maintenance and fuel costs are very high. Travel across the Kazinga Channel to patrol the other bank would usually entail driving 150 km to drop off our rangers, in full view of the poachers! Boats allow us to cross whenever and wherever we need our patrols. We are really winning against the poachers and proud to add this waterborne capacity to conserve our elephants and other animals.”
Site clearance at Kahendero was quite a big task but provided cash payment for 25 ex-poachers. Paid work is hard to find in remote parts of Uganda
What next for anti-poaching patrols in Queen Elizabeth?
We’re now focusing on fund-raising for construction of a ten man ranger post to boost permanent ranger presence in the same area. We’re nearly there and work should start soon. We’ve also submitted funding proposals for additional equipment to support the rangers: simple solutions such as protective clothing (‘gumboots’ and waterproof clothing), tents, mosquito nets and bicycles for mobile patrol units all make a big difference. Rangers are on incredibly low wages – less than £40 a month – so having the right equipment makes a massive difference to motivation levels.
