How to avoid Bilharzia
You won’t always get Bilharzia if you swim in Lake Victoria and, if you do, it may take weeks, months or even twenty years for you to show symptoms.
Bilharzia (also known as Schistosomiasis or snail fever) can be horrible. You will feel under the weather and nauseous for weeks.
How to avoid Bilharzia. “Swimming is at your own risk” reads the signpost in Munyonyo on Lake Victoria, Uganda
The best advice? Many people would just never swim in Lake Victoria or the River Nile but my tips to avoid Bilharzia are:
- Swim from a boat or pontoon, or at least in an area away from the reed beds where the Bilharzia snail’s larvae hatch. It’s these larvae that get into your bloodstream and make you ill.
- If you crunch on a bed of tiny snail shells as you walk into the Lake, that’s a sure sign Bilharzia’s around.
- After your swim, give yourself a good all-over scrub in the shower. Best to do this within 20 minutes of getting out of the lake.
- My friend Julia says ‘enjoy your swim! And afterwards, give the soles of your feet a good hard scrub!’ Apparently that’s enough to prevent you from getting Bilharzia.
- Don’t just assume you’re ok. Bilharzia can remain dormant for years and, left untreated, can lead to liver damage.
- Buy the Bilharzia tablets from any pharmacy in Kampala. They are very cheap. If you’re just visiting Uganda, I’d recommend buying some and taking them when you get home. You need to take them any time after three months of exposure. Take them one evening before you go to bed. You’ll feel a bit nauseous but wake up right as rain the next morning. Last time I asked, the Praziquantel (Biltricide) tablets cost just 600 Uganda shillings each. You should take one tablet for every 10 kg of body weight.
Alternatively….
Don’t let any of this put you off swimming in Uganda. There are hundreds of lakes scattered across the country. The good news is you can swim in most of them.
How to avoid Bilharzia. It’s safe to swim in Lake Nabugabo. There’s no Bilharzia, no crocodiles and no hippos!
Swimming in Uganda. Sandy Beach at Lake Nabugabo, just outside Masaka, is popular for a weekend away from Kampala.
How to avoid Bilharzia in Uganda. Swim in Lake Bunyonyi. Photo of washing clothes in Lake Bunyonyi
The crater lakes such as Lake Bunyonyi, in the far south west of Uganda, and Lake Kyaninga near Fort Portal are Bilharzia-free as well.
To swim or not to swim? At the end of the day, do what you feel comfortable with.
Have you swum in Lake Victoria? What are your tips for avoiding Bilharzia?
Do you have any other Uganda travel tips or expat travel advice you’d like to share?
Please leave a comment here or check out the Diary of a Muzungu Guest Post page for more information, I’d love to hear from you!
The Muzungu’s travel highlights of 2011 – Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda, Ethiopia, South Africa, Turkey!
Travel highlights – from across Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda, South Africa, Ethiopia and Turkey
If 2011 was busy, 2012 looks set to be busier still! Here are a few of 2011’s highlights for Diary of a Muzungu, Uganda travel blog …
Nairobi to Lake Naivasha Relay – local Maasai watched bemused as 100 Hashers ran through Hell’s Gate National Park
Travel to Kenya
The annual Naivasha Relay (84 km from Nairobi to Lake Naivasha) is one of the highlights of Nairobi Hash House Harriers’ calendar.
40 Ugandan Hashers travelled from Kampala to Kenya for the week-end party (I mean run!) I ran my share of tghe relay- 3 km to be exact – ‘good enough’ as we say in UG.
The weekend started with a 12 hour bus journey: The real ‘boda boda’ experience – travelling sidesaddle into Kenya.
Travel across Rwanda
A full day’s travelling by bus across Uganda, through Kigali, and onto the fabulous Volcanoes National Park (Parc Nationale des Virungas) to stay at Le Bambou Gorilla Village in Kinigi.
The muzungu travelled with her personal physician
Rwanda’s reputation precedes it in many positive ways nowadays.
The smooth tarmac in Kigali made a pleasant change from Uganda’s potholes; the legal obligation to wear a helmet on a boda boda (motorbike taxi) in Kigali came as a bit of a shock after Kampala’s very relaxed attitude to road safety!
A flight to South Africa via Nairobi
TIP: next time you fly, look at the map before you select your seat – choose a window seat, check which side of the plane to sit and have your camera ready. Some of my most memorable travel moments of 2011 have been from on high (and I haven’t even joined the Mile High Club yet!)
- Mount Kilimanjaro through the clouds;
- Traversing the seemingly endless azure blue of Lake Malawi;
- Skirting around the edges of Tanzania’s Ngorongoro Crater;
- Seeing volcanoes emerge over the horizon as we approached Nairobi;
- The shot of Kilimanjaro – en route to Johannesburg – is a favourite. Sigh …
Daybreak at 30,000 feet – Mt. Kilimanjaro in the distance
Johannesburg, South Africa
U2′s ‘Beautiful Day’ will forever remind me of a great ten days in Johannesburg, with a great friend and her beautiful daughter, and something deeper – retracing my political and musical roots:
South Africa – Under a blood red sky with U2
Thank you Holly! For the trip, for the friendship and for being a part of my journey as a Voluntary Service Overseas volunteer.
Ethiopia
Hashing – the ‘drinking club with a running problem’ – led me on a very merry dance (hic!) around Ethiopia for two truly memorable weeks. I can’t stop reliving and writing about Ethiopia, here’s one of my posts:
Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Feeling IRIE in Addis Ababa
Traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony overlooking Tissisat Falls
A stopover in Istanbul, Turkey
On a trip back home to the UK, I stopped over in Istanbul for a day. Istanbul looks like my kind of place.
A day in … Istanbul got me thinking about how much I’d like to be travelling and writing about travel full-time.
Travel across Uganda
This year, I was excited to take part in the Uganda Wildlife Authority’s new tourism experience: Walking with Mongooses, a really fun and informative day out in Queen Elizabeth National Park. You may have watched the BBC’s ‘Banded Brothers’ TV series, all about these fascinating fellas.
Muzungu with Mongooses at Mweya, Queen Elizabeth National Park
This year has been a year for:
WRITING – articles for The Eye Magazine Rwanda, Uganda’s Business Today magazine and writing and producing Uganda Matters, the annual newsletter for the Uganda Conservation Foundation.
Diary of a Muzungu has been featuring on Lonely Planet since 2009 (PHEW! no wonder I’m knackered!)
Diary of a Muzungu was a Lonely Planet Featured Blogger from 2009 to 2012
CONNECTING – with published authors, Lonely Planet bloggers and the global travel blogosphere. Thanks in particular to Todd Wassel at Todd’s Wanderings, for the beautiful and fantabulous Around the World with 40 Lonely Planet bloggers ebook; Mazarine Treyz of Wildwoman Fundraising for her boundless creativity and energy; Wandering Trader Marcello Arrambide who dropped by Kampala and shared some awesome tips on travel blogging. Writing and blogging can be an introspective way to spend your spare time – but you guys keep me motivated. Thank you so much!
CHANGING CAREERS – I’ve always said that in Uganda, “business is social and social is business” and I like it that way…
After two and a half years as a VSO volunteer for the Uganda Conservation Foundation, it was time to move on and employ a local man to take over my role. I’m so proud to have been part of UCF (work trips to the Bush – safari yeah!)
A big achievement. Launch of the Pan African Conservation Education training manual, Ggaba PTC, Kampala with the Uganda Conservation Foundation team and Voluntary Service Overseas,
Despite the global recession, UCF’s donors continue to support our work with the Uganda Conservation Foundation. The Uganda Wildlife Authority is so pleased with UCF’s work in Queen Elizabeth National Park that UCF is now working with them to tackle poaching and human wildlife conflict in Murchison Falls National Park. (Damn, that’s one trip I missed out on!) As you can see, I still talk about UCF in the present tense and I’ll continue to do as much as I can to promote this fantastic charity.
Life as a VSO volunteer in Uganda has certainly had its ups and downs. It’s been a truly incredible three years so far. I love life in Uganda – but it does sometimes get the better of me:
Shotgun wedding – a surreal and intense day
Here’s a bit more about life as a volunteer in Uganda –
Still counting myself lucky! 2 years on …
So why am I still in Uganda? Here’s one reason – one of my favourite blogs from last year:
Early morning sights and sounds
Happy New Year everyone!
A day in … Istanbul
Looking for Things to do in Istanbul?
Istanbul looks like my kind of place.
Obviously, you can’t see that much of a new city in one day but my day in Istanbul gave me a feel for the city and helped me plan a longer trip there some time later:
Crossing continents – the Muzungu’s Istanbul city tour – my brief stopover certainly whet my appetite to see more of Istanbul!
Entrance to the Blue Mosque, Istanbul, Turkey
I arrived in Istanbul at nine o’clock in the morning.
Istanbul’s Atatürk airport is modern, clean and well-organised. The tiny tourist information office is at the far end of the hall, worth a visit for a free map and advice on where to spend your day. Opposite is the Left Luggage counter where, for between 10-15 Turkish lira (US$5–8 per item), you can stow all your hand luggage. I hadn’t had much sleep so I hung out at Starbucks and hooked up to their free wireless and checked with my Lonely Planet blogger and Twitter friends on ‘must-do’s in Istanbul. This gave me time to acclimatise: Uganda, Turkey, UK. With three currencies to get your head around in less than 24 hours, you need to give yourself a bit of time to adjust. I liked the local menu: breakfast was strong coffee and fig and goat’s cheese roll.
Armed with my new map, I headed straight for the Metro, quick and easy to find, just a short walk from within the main airport building. Public transport in Istanbul is cheap, clean and easy-to-use. Each ticket costs 1.75 Turkish Lira (US$1) and you’ll need two tickets to get into town. There aren’t that many signposts in English but I managed to work things out quite easily (many people don’t speak any English at all but don’t let that deter you).
Courtyard of the famous Blue Mosque. Things to do in Istanbul
Top of my sightseeing list of Things to do in Istanbul was the famous Blue Mosque, approximately 45 minutes by train from the airport. It’s an immense and beautiful structure. Unfortunately I arrived at prayer time so couldn’t enter. Instead, I walked down to the sea along the waterfront, where I watched a dolphin swim in one of the world’s busiest shipping lanes!
Men sat fishing while others played cards, islands in the mist on the horizon in one direction and skyscrapers in the other. I walked back up the hill through some pretty cobbled streets. It was a hot day.
For lunch, just wandering the streets, I grabbed a gigantic bread pretzel coated in sesame seeds and filled with cream cheese. Delicious.
“I’m sure it was this way back to the gate …” Grand Bazaar, Istanbul. things to do in Istanbul
Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar has been on my wish list since forever.
I imagined noise and chaos, of hundreds of traders throwing themselves at me, barging past me with carpets…
My imaginations proved to be seriously outdated: although the architecture is old, it’s less a market, more an enormous shopping mall. I guess I’ve become used to the hectic street markets of Uganda, with their earth floors and ramshackle shops. In stark contrast, the Grand Bazaar’s streets are tiled, the whole place is well lit and each stall is in fact a separate shop front.
Turn left at the scarves, right past the carpets, right again at the antique jewelry… Grand Bazaar, Istanbul. things to do in Istanbul
According to the free guide, “the Grand Bazaar is the oldest and biggest closed Bazaar in the world. It was founded in 1461. Like an enormous labyrinth, it is a spectacular and unique part of the city with 60 streets and over 3600 stores on an area of 30,000 m². It includes five mosques, seven fountains, one stream, one public fountain, 18 gates and 40 public houses.”
It’s possible to walk from the Blue Mosque to the Grand Bazaar; in fact there are interesting streets and buildings all around you. The train from the Bazaar back to the airport takes about 40 minutes.
One thing I’d highly recommend, but didn’t go prepared for, was a Turkish bath and massage, the perfect antidote to a day’s travelling and a night flight. There’s a very reasonably priced Turkish bath between Çemberlitaş train station and the road down to the Nuruosmaniye Gate into the grand Bazaar. Warning: both male and female friends say that massages can be ‘very intimate’!
Cafe culture, Istanbul street, Turkey. things to do in Istanbul
My day in Istanbul cost me less than 50 Turkish lira (US$30), not including the following souvenirs:
- Turkish Delight! This comes in many flavours and always looks beautiful
- Nutty halva and baklava dripping with honey are other favourites
- Turkish slippers for a seven-year-old friend
- Handmade lavender soap
- Baggy Turkish ‘harem’ trousers
- Lapis lazuli beads
- An ‘evil eye’ pendant to ward off evil spirits
- Coffee
On my next trip – I’ll definitely be going back and for longer – I’d love to buy the gold leaf miniature paintings and glass hanging lamps from the Grand Bazaar. Istanbul is a vast city and there’s a ton to do: shopping, sightseeing (mosques, synagogues, churches, museums), dining out, or even hitting the beach.
Istanbul felt very accessible and very safe. I had no hassle at all, just the occasional seller asking me if I wanted to look in their shop, much the norm anywhere.
My Day in Istanbul helped me plan a PROPER visit:
Crossing continents – the Muzungu’s Istanbul city tour
I flew with Turkish Airlines and just LOVED the food.
Have you visited Istanbul? What things to do would you recommend for a Day in Istanbul?
A short-tempered muzungu flies to Istanbul
The overhead screen flips down, up, down and then back up again. Finally it settles to reveal the route we’ll be flying from Entebbe, Uganda, to Istanbul, over two countries that have been in the news non-stop since my last flight overhead: South Sudan (and North of course) and Egypt. There are a number of routes to Uganda from London, but this route has become my favourite.
I’m flying Turkish Airlines for the first time and so far I’m loving it. 40kg baggage is very good for the cheapest flight I could find online, and despite the warning to take only one piece of hand baggage, I arrive with a rucksack, a laptop and a large framed mirror – but no questions asked.
The seating is spacious and comfy. It looks like I may – luxury of luxuries! – have a row of three seats to sleep on (it is 2 a.m. after all).
I’d hoped for some shut-eye at Entebbe and headed for the least congested area of the departure lounge. The metal bench seating was uncomfortable but I was ready to sleep anywhere. Another lady had the same idea: she threw herself violently onto the seating, almost catapulting me off and then proceeded to fidget with each of her bags in turn, throwing herself back hard againist the shared bench every couple of minutes. No chance of sleeping til take-off then.
Damn it. Fat ignorant man arrives to congest the aisle, chuck unwanted blankets and pillows at me, clipping the newspaper I’m reading (no sign of a sorry) and shout loudly to his friend across the aisle from him. Immediate dislike registered!
We settle down. Just after take-off, I make to go to the toilets. I stand up, look around, make the obvious ‘can I get past?’ signs and he eventually looks up and makes a really big deal out of letting me pass. He takes his belt off, but doesn’t get up; he just moves slightly to one side. Just as I try to push past (bum in face? or crotch in face?) the seat in front of him suddenly drops back and I almost sit on him. It’s that woman again! My rowmate mumbles something under his breath.
As I wait my turn for the toilet, I hear sneeze after sneeze coming from the little cabin. Yuck. No way I’m locking myself in there with all those germs.
Back in my seat, there’s turbulence as we fly over South Sudan. It’s not a lot more stable on the ground. News coming out of the country is not good; newspapers report that as much as 10% of the land has been sold, at ridiculously low prices, to foreign interests. In Uganda, everyone’s talking about the opportunities there, but of what benefit to the local people?
I settle – only to smell something nasty… hmm, yes I blame him. I insert the Turkish Airlines-supplied earplugs (where are the noseplugs?) My companion puts his headphones on and starts shouting to his friend above the music.
Thirsty, I yank my bottle of water out of the seat pocket in front of me. With it comes a gooey string of chewing gum thoughtfully rammed inside the pocket by a previous passenger. I try and untangle it. Great.
Sleep quickly draws me in. I wake with a start, as my travelling companion bellows at me and the hostess thrusts a plastic meal tray at me. Behold – metal cutlery! What a pleasant surprise to have the real thing, not plastic. I wolf the food down, eager to get back to sleep.
Then there’s that smell again …
Six hours after leaving Uganda, we touch down in Turkey, en route for the UK and a three week holiday with my nearest and dearest.
Istanbul airport is fabulous: clean, very modern, well signposted and incredibly efficient. As I rifle through my bag looking for my wallet, the clerk orders me to move out of the way and barks at me “Madam you are not ready!”
My passport quivers in anticipation of a new country stamp! I realise, to my chagrin, that I don’t even know whether Turkey is in the EU yet … (quiz me about East Africa and I may have an answer for you, but Europe? Frankly, I’m out of touch).
Selfishly, I’m delighted that Turkey hasn’t joined the EU yet – I get my stamp – it’s worth the £10 and the rudeness of the clerk. (Yes mate, that’s all you are, for all your jumped-up attitude).
If you enjoy my travel diaries, read Airport drama # 1- “The plane is closing!”
If you’re flying to or via Europe, make a stopover in Istanbul – I highly recommend it! Read two favourite blogs A day in … Istanbul and Crossing continents – the Muzungu’s Istanbul city tour.
Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Magnificent Tissisat Falls
Monday: the Hashiest day of the week.
Tibs (meat) and injera bread (I grew to love it!)
The breakfast promised ‘as soon as we get out of Addis’ was actually brunch several hours later. I ate the best scrambled eggs ever and the Ethiopians shared tibs and injera. I noticed how everyone ate only with their right hand and pretended to do the same. I even sat on my left hand at one point, eager not to accidentally offend.
As we drove north, the landscape changed. I watched a child remove a big brown ‘pancake’ from a pile and tried to work out what it was: well fancy that, it’s a big pile of shit! Dried cow dung ready to put on the fire.
Comparable to Colorado’s Grand Canyon, the Blue Nile Gorge is a sight to behold. Next to a sign that read “the road is highly slipping. Stoping prohibited” we stopped for photos, a small rock wedged beneath one wheel of the coach. As we descended in altitude, the heat intensified.
Flagging, after a whole day on the coach and more than ready for beer, we talked the driver into another stop. It had started raining as I walked out of the restaurant. The coach driver started to drive off, sounding his horn loudly. I chased after the driver, ready to abuse him. Desire and Jesus ran behind me, both careering on the wet road and landing in the ditch hidden behind the coach.
Wailer stands above Helvetas’ remote footbridge near Tissisat Falls“I banged my finger” Desire said as he showed me a rather bent looking digit. “Oh dear, that doesn’t look right.” A First Aid box was produced and Wailer proceeded to yank Desire’s finger back into position with a crowd of Ethiopian lovelies crowding around them. Desire was force fed local gin, for purely medicinal reasons.
“Monday is definitely not going to be a finger day then,” we teased. “Can’t every day just be a Thursday?” Desire asked. (You work it out).
As we pulled away there were shouts of “Strap, On!” Sheila’s a road safety consultant, so belt up!
Despite what the Ethiopia Bradt guide says, Tissisat Falls are most definitely worth a visit – if you know someone who can turn the tap on! As we turned a corner, three dramatic waterfalls came into view. Possibly the highlight of the whole trip, the Falls and the surrounding vista of mountains in every direction were out of this world.
Hashing transcends cultures, professions, ages and running ability. It’s a real leveler and includes some well-connected people – you never know who’s underneath that Hash T shirt. And so, with a simple phone call, the water flowing through the hydroelectric dam was rerouted for an hour so we could see – and feel from 100 metres away – the full force of the original Falls. How lucky were we?
An Ethiopian lady Hasher, Tissisat (Blue Nile) Falls behind her
Mekdes ‘Madness’ in Gonder, with the next day’s newspaper – featuring the very same Falls!
View a short video clip Blue Nile Falls, Ethiopia
Thanks to Helvetas who sponsored the Hash T -shirts for the run. Helvetas constructed the fabulous metal footbridge, one of nine they’ve built in remote parts in Ethiopia. Just see how people crossed before!
Terrifying: some of us would pay good money to scare ourselves witless bungee jumping and the like – but to have to do this to get to work? or receive medical treatment? without any kind of equipment?!
A recap of Africa Hash 2011
Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Part 1: three days in Addis Ababa
Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Part 2: road trip to Bahir Dar and Tissisat Falls
Thank you! Amaseganalu
Thanks to the Africa Hash main sponsor St. George beer. Africa Hash served as the launch event for their mobile draught beer bar – I can safely say we gave it the baptism it deserves.
Hashing has given me the opportunity to travel abroad with my Ugandan friends, reconnect with English friends I met at Africa Hash 2009 in Kampala, and make friends in Ethiopia, Kenya and Tanzania friends. Mombasa May 2012 is now firmly in the diary (I can’t wait to party with Nairobi Hashers again) and Africa Hash 2013 in Ghana pencilled in…
Special thanks to Addis Hash for inviting us to your fabulous country. I’ve wanted to visit for years but you provided the opportunity, gave us a fantastic welcome, an awesome party and continued to enchant me even after the official festivities were over. I WILL BE BACK!
ON ON
View the whole Ethiopia photo album on Facebook
Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Feeling irie in Addis Ababa
Of a forecast 50+ Kampala Hashers, about half that number slowly dripped into Addis Ababa for Africa Hash 2011, mpole mpole ‘slowly by slowly’ all the way – one of them arrived on Sunday morning. Seriously guys, that’s a lot of beer drinking time you wasted.
Hashing, ‘a drinking club with a running problem’ is open to everyone, everywhere. Africa Hash takes place every two years and lasts three days.
The Constitution of the Hash House Harriers states:
- To promote physical fitness among our members
- To get rid of weekend hangovers
- To acquire a good thirst and to satisfy it in beer
- To persuade the older members that they are not as old as they feel
“Out of all the bars in all the world, he had to walk into mine.” I’d only been in Ethiopia an hour and who sat next to me? The Hasher I’d done my best to get away from at Africa Hash 2009. But with 300 other Hashers to drink, dance (and possibly even run with!) it hardly mattered.
Friday is a hashing day! The Entoto run – altitude 3,211m
Time to register and to dive into the goodie bag: I loved the Ethiopian flavour, especially the tej (honey wine) glass and the coffee condoms (they keep you up all night, apparently).
Stuffed full of spicy Fir Fir (and ready to catch up on some sleep), I climbed aboard a coach for Entoto. “Ten people need to get off or we won’t get up the hill!” Bozo yelled. We yelled back. Nobody moved; we were too busy singing along to Sucker’s Hash songs as the coach slowly crawled up the hill past the two donkeys f**king by the side of the road.
After Bozo’s proclamation that “Kampala Hash is shit,” I was keen to see exactly what makes Addis ‘so bloody brilliant.’ But, I’ll give it them: Addis Hashes are better marked than Kampala ones. There’s a colour scheme for the different shredded paper marking the trails (until it rains!) and you really led us a merry dance with your check backs, you w**kers.
Kampala is 1000m above sea level but I still found Addis tough going. We walked – and panted – our way uphill for two and a half hours, through the smell of Eucalyptus, pine, sage and thyme. I chose the harder walk first: I knew by the next day I’d be f**ked.
It was a blustery circle back at the top of Entoto and we just hung around long enough to empty the keg of St. George.
Back at Tropical Gardens that evening, the boys from the slum shook their shoulders for us in a terrific dance routine. Sidney Salmon and his reggae band got the crowd feeling Irie. “One love,. …. let’s get together … and drink all night.” Learning more about Rastafarianism was just one highlight of being in Ethiopia.
At this point I have to say that Mismanagement did not live up to their name: the entertainment programme ran so smoothly; it was hard to imagine it was really a Hash event.
Several St. Georges later and the Hashettes Toad Under and Lobster and I turned our attention to the model Ethiopian Airlines plane, strategically misplaced right next to 300 drunken Hashers cavorting on the dance floor. “That thing’s not going to last the week-end!” Toad Under said, as we suggestively draped ourselves over it and set to scheming how the three of us were going to ride it (all puns intended).
My first Blue Donkey (taxi) experience later that night was scary; convinced we were trying to rip him off, the driver pulled over and screamed abuse at us at the top of his voice for five minutes. No-one moved (not that you can in a Lada anyway). Another U turn and another screaming fit later, I was relieved when it was my turn to jump out.
Note: Lobster had asked another Hasher to see I got home ok. He didn’t, he made his own arrangements. I suppose I should forgive him; he’d been locked out of his room the night before while one of the local ladies tested out the contents of the goodie bag with an Antipodean Hasher she’d picked up at the airport. Yes – I do have names!!
Saturday is a hashing day! Suluta Valley run – altitude 2750m
Back on the coach up the hill past the two donkeys (still) fucking by the side of the road.
I made no pretence at running – nor did many others! But enjoyed the scenery and walking with Drainoil, a fascinating man from Kuala Lumpur Hash and a walking piece of Hash history. What he doesn’t know, isn’t worth knowing. Hashing started in 1938 in Kuala Lumpur.
I lagged behind but was delighted when I turned a corner to see a Hasher languishing on a rock, St George in hand. This was undoubtedly the best circle of the week-end … DESPITE THE BEER RUNNING OUT! Ben Ghazi entertained us with the bagpipes (I left Europe to avoid that sound), Queenie dragged (not so innocent) Hashettes into the circle, Sucker was merciless with a cane and the locals looked on, mouths open, as Hashettes mounted Hashers on the open grass.
Back in town, the highlight of Saturday night was the Tam Tam (African music) Club in town. “I’m digging your Ugandan moves” Strap On said. (Two years as a volunteer in Uganda have not been wasted then!)
“I’m staying at the Hilton,” some Hasher chancer told me, “but it’s a bit lonely on my own” he hinted.” I glanced down at his wedding ring. “You should have brought your wife then,” I thought, as I sought refuge on the dance floor to wiggle my kabina some more.
Sunday is a hashing day!
The Red Dress Run was a hoot: there weren’t many Red Dresses (we were uncommonly well behaved after that nice Slave Trader’s warning not to offend the locals) and there was no Running but it was certainly er … Red.
The tree planting was a nice surprise. As a conservationist, I can bore you silly about how much I love trees. The Red Dress Run was in aid of Cheshire Services – a charity that works with Ethiopian children and young people with disabilities.
Back at the Tropical Gardens for our last get-together, a treat was laid on for us: grown men and women vomiting beer everywhere. Nice. Apparently it’s the gas that makes you heave, not the three days and nights of continuous drinking.
Sunday night, I crashed and burned. I hear Nairobi Hashers were giving it large back at the Phoenix Pub. I had another 2 weeks to go; I was pacing myself.
A recap of Africa Hash 2011
Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Part 2: road trip to Bahir Dar and Tissisat Falls
Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Part 3: Shoulder shimmying in Gondar
Thank you! Amaseganalu
Thanks to the Africa Hash main sponsor St. George beer. Africa Hash served as the launch event for their mobile draught beer bar – I can safely say we gave it the baptism it deserves.
Hashing has given me the opportunity to travel abroad with my Ugandan friends, reconnect with English friends I met at Africa Hash 2009 in Kampala, and make Ethiopian, Kenyan and Tanzanian friends. Mombasa May 2012 is now firmly in the diary (I can’t wait to party with Nairobi Hashers again) and Africa Hash 2013 in Ghana pencilled in.
Special thanks to Addis Hash for inviting us to your fabulous country. I’ve wanted to visit for years but you provided the opportunity, gave us a fantastic welcome, an awesome party and continued to enchant me even after the official festivities were over. I WILL BE BACK!
ON ON
The meaning of the Jamaican/rasta”IRIE” – my favourite is “I Respect I Eternally” – you have respect for yourself; being happy with who you are.
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.
Getting wrecked in Cape Town
The South African coastline – particularly near the Cape – is littered with shipwrecks and Arniston (Waenhuiskrans) takes its name from the ship that was wrecked here in 1815.
Only six of the 378 on board survived.
Next to it is Kassiesbaai, the tiny fishing village ‘where the coloureds live’. I find the whole race / how you refer to people’s ethnicity a real struggle in South Africa. I find it hard to get my head round the ‘funny foreign sounding’ place names in South Africa too. In Uganda I’ve become used to African names; and now they’re Afrikaans and English and my brain doesn’t compute (aren’t we still in Africa?) I hadn’t realised either just how many coloureds (God this is a minefield) speak Afrikaans as their first language. I say I only speak English and the reply still comes back in Afrikaans.
While out shopping one day, I’m mistaken for the mother of Odille, the South African baby adopted by W-A (two of H’s friends have adopted orphans). It’s an interesting feeling.
Baby Odille – what a cute chick!
Agulhas, where the Indian Ocean meets the Atlantic Ocean. South Africa
Cape Agulhas, ‘the southernmost point of Africa,’ and where the Atlantic meets the Indian Ocean, was worth the trip, just for the fun we had larking about at the monument. The rockpools were teaming with life and the quaint but charming tearoom under the lighthouse was very welcoming but we were on a mission: “Alan wants chips” so we trotted off down the road for a ‘Hake and Calamari Combo’ in the sunshine outside the fish and chip shop.
Considerable energy was focused on eating and drinking during my three weeks in South Africa. Considerable time was invested in arguing over controversial topics such as “do you like grapes in salad? or scrambled eggs on Marmite on toast?” as we ate large breakfasts, discussed what we were having for lunch – and what we needed to buy for dinner.
Introducing Waterkloof Winery
So with food, wine (and little else) in mind, next stop was the Waterkloof winery, above Sir Lowry’s Pass, for a fabulous lunch and some sensational wine (I particularly liked the rosé). It was very exciting to eat there during its first week of opening.
Exterior of Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape. The winery has breathtaking views across False Bay
Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape view of the recently planted vines. December 2009
What a fantastic day: my first time with family for 9 months & a quick drive round the Waterkloof estate. (I was very envious to hear K and P had ridden the estate on horseback that morning!) Waterkloof has a breathtaking view across False Bay and Cape Town. The planting of indigenous plants along the roadside was interesting to see, as were the large artworks on display (and sale) and the combination of traditional production methods and a very modern restaurant …
Lunch at Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape. South Africa. The food was simply out of this world!
A superb lunch with my aunt and uncle and friends at Waterkloof Winery. South Africa
I have to ask myself: back in Uganda, is matooke ever going to taste the same?
Nairobi, Johannesburg, Arniston, Betty’s Bay, Cape Town, I certainly packed a lot in: new cultures, new friends, two job offers, family time, an underwater meeting with Great White Sharks, my first whale sightings, even a few more freckles.
Shark bait – I was this close to a Great White Shark!
Diving with Great White Sharks off the coast of South Africa
Awaking from a nightmare at 4.45 a.m. was not the ideal start to a day that involved leaving the house before dawn, on my own, for a drive across country to dive into cold Atlantic water with man-eating sharks ….
I was this close. Great White Shark diving, Gansbaai, South Africa. PHOTO Michael Rutzen’s www.sharkdivingunlimited.com
Photographing Great White Sharks, Gansbaai, South Africa
Six of us fitted into the cage at a time, flatteringly attired in wet suits and face masks. The cage looked sturdy enough but there were big gaps between the bars – big enough for a Great White to put his snout through! O yes. As the crewman reeled the bait towards us, one slammed right into the cage just a few inches from my right knee, I can still see it now, my knee / its snout in the same frame. In a spilt second I screamed inwardly “Get me out of here now!” willing there to be an ejector seat button under my finger.
Great White Shark diving Gansbaai. Each small-looking fin is attached to over two metres of Great White Shark!
Human bait. Were we mad? We took it in turns to climb into the cage and duck under the water as the Great White Sharks were lured towards us
The sharks – we were lucky enough to see two – slowly swam under or round the boat. And they weren’t small. The second measured a whopping 3.2 metres. I’ll say it again: 3.2 metres of killing machine.
But it was after the arrival of The Big One that I got back in the cage for the second time (how I’d forgotten about the ejector seat I don’t know!) The shark came steaming at us, his jaw opening and snapping shut, opening and snapping shut, chasing after the tuna head. I rammed myself to the back of the cage and in seconds he’d gone. That was scary. As we came up for air, me and the guy next to me screamed at each other “that was a bit f**king close!!”
Even when viewed from aboard the boat, I just can’t get over how big that Mother was.
The muscular flick of the shark’s tail reminds you of its strength. Great White Shark turning. diving Gansbaai
The force of the animal is something else. It swims along quite serenely but when it flicks its tail, you know about it; the cage rocked from side to side violently, even the boat did. You have to respect the power of that beast.
Senseless, ridiculously scary, these are all just words that frankly don’t mean anything at all. I leapt up out of the cage at one point screaming “F**K MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” and even then it meant nothing. I quite simply ran out of swear words and Ladies and Gentlemen, you know I know a few!
This simple silhouette measures over three metres in length. Great White Shark diving South Africa
The afternoon was bound to be an anticlimax after all that adrenalin yet there was more excitement on the way home as we passed a pod of dolphins. As the boat suddenly pitched to one side I threw myself onto the deck; there was no way I was risking being thrown into the sea – not now I knew what’s down there! I had to laugh at myself.
White sandy beach Western Cape South Africa, seen from our shark diving boat
Being in the water with the Great Whites was an amazing experience. Naomi, H’s South African nanny, was so dumbfounded that I’d been in the water with the sharks that when I told her about the crew ‘chumming’ the water to attract the sharks, she pulled a face and asked “what – with human blood?”
I mean – there are extremes and then there are extremes!
A quick limb count (two arms, two legs, a full set of fingers and toes) before driving back to Arniston with a detour via the village of De Kelders and the most breathtaking panoramic view across the enormous bay, Cape Town in the far distance. Two little Afrikaaner boys came running upto me, pointing excitedly to the coastline where a mother and calf Southern Right Whale (so named because they were the ‘right ones’ to kill back in the day) were lazily floating by on the current.
Great White Sharks, dolphins and whales – what an incredible day!
First impressions of Johannesburg – a ‘busman’s holiday’?
The summit of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania pokes through the thick blanket of cloud thousands of feet beneath us – an image I’ll never forget – as we fly south.
Day breaks over Kilimanjaro, en route to South Africa
The three hour journey to Johannesburg seemed to last an eternity: a week of burning the candle at both ends, a head cold, just 3½ hours sleep in Nairobi, and I’m unable to sleep bolt upright in a seat that refuses to recline.
I’m sat next to a large, thick-set man. There’s barely room for him to move in his seat but he daintily eats his lunch with the tiny plastic cutlery. I casually try to start a conversation; I mistake his shyness for arrogance and it’s only as we prepare to land that he starts chatting. He’s an ex-policeman, returning home from Sudan where he works as a security consultant for the UN. He lives on an enormous military base outside Darfur “the biggest operation the UN has ever undertaken” he says and points proudly to the UN logo on his shirt.
I can’t get used to the smooooooth Tarmac … the newly resurfaced airport road, Cape Town
Despite what I’d heard, I felt safe enough in Jozi (Johannesburg). I’d certainly forgotten about the city’s reputation as I drove my friend’s brand new car around the ‘carjacking capital of the world.’
But there are constant security reminders: high walls, electric security gates, outdoor lighting, security firm plaques, electrified fencing, security beams around the garden, the odd siren. The doors to the house are never left unlocked and we padlock a gate at the top of the stairs before retiring to bed with the dogs.
Life in Uganda has got me used to the security guards in car parks and shopping malls. What surprised me in Johannesburg were the ‘rear view mirrors’ at eyeline on the cashpoint machines / ATMs. You can’t ignore the sign at the airport that says “Any person making inappropriate comments about hijackings, bomb warnings, carriage of firearms or weapons will be prosecuted.”
H has a small army of paid workers and I’m soon part of the support team. H and I were flatmates in London many years ago and we joke about how “VSO really doesn’t prepare you for how to manage domestic staff.”
Busman’s holiday? **
First day of my ‘holiday’ and I’m supervising the four gardeners landscaping her garden. They all wear blue overalls, not a gum boot in sight (unlike Uganda where it’s not a surprise if workers are barefooted – even on a construction site). Next day I’m reading a poem to fifty people at Baby Lizzie’s naming ceremony (thanks for the half hour notice H!) By the end of the week I’ve cooked dinner, started redecorating the baby’s bedroom and become an au pair!
Arniston Bay, Western Cape, South Africa
At the airport, the baby entourage includes Naomi the nanny and we all get fast-tracked onto the plane. We all chorus ‘cluck-cluck-cluck’ chicken noises to distract the baby all the way to Cape Town. H jokes is breast-feeding and nicknames herself Express Dairies.
We’re quickly processed at the newly refurbished airport then it’s a two hour drive east to Arniston, mountains to our left, the sea to our right. Perfectly round rockpools, jellyfish washed up on the shore, African Black Oystercatchers and a dazzling turquoise sea. We head towards Overberg bypassing the Winelands (temporarily!)
“You’ll notice your eggs boil a lot quicker here than in Johannesburg,” H says and I click: being at sea level, I’m 1000 metres lower than the usual altitude of Kampala. This doesn’t make me feel good as I recall how difficult my early morning run had been (it should’ve been easier)…
What is a busman’s holiday?
“A holiday in which you spend most of your time doing the same or something very similar to your normal work. It comes from the late 1800’s, where a man who drives a bus for a living goes on a long bus journey on their holiday.” Johannesburg was a change of scene for me but H had me working as hard as if I was back in Kampala!
