Still counting myself lucky! 2 years on …
As I stumble home through the craters of Tarmac, alternately blinded by oncoming motorbikes and plunged into darkness, thanks to yet another power cut (who knows how long for this time) I count myself lucky: for the last two and a half years as a volunteer, I’ve essentially worked from home in a quiet, controlled environment. I haven’t had to fight through the dust and the traffic every morning, sit on stuffy public taxis or risk being pulled over by hungry Traffic Police on the way to work. I’ve been able to (mostly) get on with my job (give or take electricity / internet connection / resources!) Eva mops the floor, makes the bed and does the shopping – it’s therefore no surprise I’ve become fat!
I haven’t had to visit patients in the slum whose pathetic makeshift houses flood every time it rains. One medic friend told me how one of his patients (sick with HIV and tuberculosis) had turds floating through his home when he last visited. There’s no such thing as a bed base, just a foam mattress, which absorbs whatever enters into his house. As a visitor, hospitality dictates that you take the seat you are offered.
Need I say more?
The view over my compound wall. Namuwongo ‘go down’ by railway Kampala
One day, I don’t know when, I’ll miss the sounds of human activity from beyond our compound that connects my sometimes isolated life to the real world. The music and the drums, the screams of babies and a hammering of tin mabati roofs can annoy me though. As for the man who slowly pushes a frozen food container along on his bicycle, up and down the railway track, every afternoon to the sound of Greensleeves played on his cheap Chinese speakers; I can’t say I’ll miss him – but I’ll never forget him. He always seems to come at that moment in the afternoon when we’re all feeling lethargic or trying to rework that crucial bit of a funding proposal.
It’s only 8.15 pm but it’s pitch black and I’m exhausted after a late-night working and a few Waragis (local gins).
I’ve been bitten to buggery this evening.
I’m often aware of how easy my life has been here in Kampala. Simon, a VSO doctor, tells us of the clinic he’s trying to develop in Lira, Northern Uganda. You expect to hear about a lack of resources and a lack of facilities. There is no question of them having any medicines – that’s not such a surprise either. But, you would think the hospital might have some stock of sutures (stitches) and surgical gloves. So, if you need a Caesarean section, the deal is this: you go to the hospital, are given a shopping list and you then nip to the shops and buy your sutures, gloves etc. Sometimes people come back an hour or two later with the wrong items – at which point they are sent back to the shops. Needless to say, many babies – and their mothers – simply die.
Last week I gave blood to help a seven-year-old boy who was very sick with Sickle Cell Anaemia. It’s the first time I’ve ever known anything about the person who receives my donation. The urgent plea for donations came from a nurse Diane, another VSO. The urgent request came because the blood bank had said they didn’t have any the right type of blood left. An official letter had been written, e-mails were sent and favours were asked. By the time we arrived at the blood bank, they said they had plenty in stock! I don’t know how I would cope with this kind of bureaucracy and lack of communication on such a crucial issue. We’ve had plenty of setbacks at UCF, but to have to physically run between buildings on different sides of the city, when you have very sick people in your care, I think I would have gone berserk.
On a personal note, however, I was delighted to get through the blood screening straightaway, no longer anaemic (for the first time here in Uganda). The diet of iron tablets and the occasional bit of stringy chicken are obviously working!
Link to my blog ‘Count yourself lucky’ written exactly two years ago.
Percy the Rescue Puppy – the first 24 hours
Within just one day, Percy the rescue puppy has snapped two leads, (something that Baldrick hasn’t ever attempted in two years); he has chewed and destroyed the doormat, eaten several banana leaves and the lower leaves of the avocado tree!
Is it the first time Percy has encountered all these things? He waved his Get Out of Jail Free card yesterday and left confinement at the USPCA in Mbuya. (Or is his behaviour simply that of a little Fokker?) I guess he’s teething and trying out his new teeth.
He’s very happily trotting around the compound after Baldrick, who has been giving him the cold shoulder most of the day.
It was sad to split the two surviving puppies, but I can’t have three dogs. (I told Ronald to keep reminding me of this!) I thought it best to leave the pretty one behind because she’ll have more chance of attracting a new owner.
Percy was immediately submissive and affectionate to me so should be an easy first puppy for me – I hope!
Percy and Ronald Kyobe, great friend and owner A to Z Mobile Dog Training Unit Kampala
Ronald bundled Percy up and put him in the car as we left the USPCA. He didn’t make a sound, although it did take Ronald a few minutes to yank him out from underneath the passenger seat when we got home!
Baldrick inspects the new arrival
The new arrival was wedged under the car seat hiding!
The first thing Ronald did was put Percy on the lead and drag him round to the outside tap for a good shampoo (he did whiff). No sooner was Percy clean and glossy then he lay down in a big puddle of course. I think he enjoyed the warm water, although it must seem very strange to him: the smell of the shampoo and all the different sounds out in the big wide world. I wonder what he thought of the loud Sunday afternoon drumming from the slum by our house?
A nice clean puppy! Don’t you love those white socks?
Percy glugged down his bread and milk in seconds, giving me shifty looks, daring me to take it, racing against the clock. I guess that’s a hangover from life at the USPCA – there were 83 hopeful dogs in there yesterday! They’ve done a fantastic job with him.
Two months ago, Ronald and I delivered Percy and his brother and sister to Dr Alex the USPCA vet. The puppies had severe mange, anaemia, allergy to fleabites and had to be quarantined. One died. They were rolls of skins on bare bones; their transformation is incredible. Unfortunately, there are few facilities or money for neutering animals, hence this situation is very common.
I often look in drainage channels for puppies as my first dog Baldrick was a rescue too. I thought I found one puppy – one closer inspection, there were THREE!
Ronald picks the puppies out of the drainage channel in Namuwongo
Percy and brother – ‘fresh’ (and stinking) from the drainage ditch, where they had been abandoned
Sunday morning, Baldrick seemed off his food. I had to call him over and point his nose into his breakfast.
Percy, on the other hand, has no problem eating! He spent his first night in the warmth of the garage. He squeals and whines a bit if you close the door on him, but soon shuts up.
I tied him up under a tree after breakfast, so he can start getting to use the toilet area. Within minutes I could hear him run round the back of the house. While Paul mended the yellow and black lead, I tied Percy up using the purple one. Just one minute later, I hear the sound of the chain again as little puppy bounds round the back of the house with a second snapped lead!
I just stood staring at him for couple of minutes, I couldn’t believe this tiny puppy had broken free. Incredible – those teeth again. I gave up at that point – well, I rang Dog Trainer Extraordinaire Ronald Kyobe. He suggested a chain and luckily for me, he came round to sort Percy out.
There was incredibly loud squealing and yelping earlier, I ran outside to see Baldrick standing over Percy, leaning on him. Not sure exactly what happened, whether it was just heavy-handed play or amateur dramatics.
Getting the dogs to bond – Baldrick and Percy eat their first meal together
Later this evening, general whining turned into incredible yelping and I steamed outside to see Percy had wrapped himself tightly around the tree (the toilet training post), had one paw stuck between trunk and metal chain, and was half strangled. For a second, I thought he’d choked to death!
I ran out of patience, locked him in the garage and can now hear plaintive howling! I wonder if Paul – in the room right next to the garage – will get any sleep tonight?!
See the full puppy rescue story in pictures (some of the photos are quite shocking).
If you’re looking for a dog trainer in Kampala, I recommend Ronald. He’s highly professional and dogs adore him! Reach him via his A to Z Mobile Dog Training Unit Facebook page.
Last days as a VSO volunteer …
“Watch that binge drinking!” Warned Mum, on our last phone call. The fact is, the socialising is making up for the binge working I’ve been doing recently: trying to tie up my last projects with UCF, recruiting and training my replacement, and looking for a job. I’ve always felt there are lots of opportunities in Uganda, but when I found out freelancing wouldn’t be as easy as I thought ($1500 for a year’s work permit), and I realised in two weeks’ time I may be homeless – as opposed to simply being a penniless volunteer! – I had to pull my finger out and submit a few job applications.
It’s strange to think that I won’t be a VSO volunteer by this time next month. VSO has been my reason for coming here in the first place, and it’s been the link between me and so many people here. It’s been a wrench when many of my VSO friends have gone back home, one of the reasons I threw myself into being Cluster Chair for Kampala volunteers. It seemed like a good way of reconnecting with VSO.
“Dr Rasta” has left his placement at Mulago Hospital and headed off to Mengo, where they call him “the Nigerian Doctor.” He’s neither a rasta nor Nigerian but at least they appreciate him at Mengo. Last week a grateful patient invited him to his home where they killed and cooked a chicken especially in his honour.
I miss him and he’s still in the country.
Damn that Jamaal – his songs always make me cry.
Save Mabira Forest! we can live without sugar
To everyone’s horror – but few people’s surprise – the President has decreed that ‘the degraded part’ of this ancient and fabulous forest, protected under international law, should be cut down. And for what crucial development project?
The president says the current scarcity of sugar warrants giving away the Forest. Ugandans aren’t silly (and they love discussing current affairs); everyone thinks that the President is just using the high price of sugar as an excuse.
The Mabira issue is in every paper and on TV every day. Conservation organisations have come together to issue a statement with Nature Uganda supported by Friends of the Earth and Uganda’s National Association of Professional Environmentalists.
So, the President (against the wishes of many in his Cabinet) plans to give away one third of the 30,000 hectare rainforest to SCOUL (the Mehta Group’s Sugar Corporation of Uganda Ltd), a producer with significant operations in the area, near Jinja. A planned giveaway was opposed in 2007, culminating in a demonstration that left three people dead and a boycott of Mehta sugar. The victim people often talk about was Indian, the same ethnic group as Mehta’s owners. This man strayed into the angry demonstrators and was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and beaten to death. Thus not only do we have the very real possibility of violence, but I’d hazard a guess that increased racism against Indians is likely, and will last well beyond this debate. Rumour has it there are soldiers guarding Mabira forest.
The President claims opposition politicians and activists who supported the giveaway in 2007 are to blame for the current sugar scarcity. On August 13, he said “how can Uganda import sugar? This indiscipline should stop. We have defeated armed terrorists. We cannot accept to be defeated by unarmed terrorists.”
In the last few weeks, the price of sugar in Uganda has risen dramatically, from 2,500 shillings* / kilo to a high of 7,000 shillings / kilo and has since dropped to approximately 3,500 shillings / kilo and today the inflation rate is at 21.4%, the highest in 18 years. The rising cost of living is affecting everyone and everything: high fuel costs, high commodity prices, a badly weakening shilling and economic strikes, walk to work campaign, and strikes by taxi drivers, traders, teachers and doctors. *(Normally I’d convert this into dollars / sterling but that’s losing meaning as the shilling continues to fall).
This deceptively beautiful green is a tea plantation. The two trees are all that remain of this section of Mabira Forest
The most obvious challenge (well, to me with my conservation hat on) is environmental: Mabira is home to 300 bird species, including the endangered Nahan’s Francolin, the Papyrus Gonolek and nine endemics (species not found anywhere else in the world). Mabira is the only remaining large natural forest on the northern shores of Lake Victoria.
Uganda has 4.9 million hectares of forests and woodlands cover, according to the National Forestry Authority. Mabira is categorised as a ‘protection forest,’ crucial for safeguarding watersheds and catchments, biodiversity, ecosystems and landscapes. In 2007 the World Bank, the National Forestry Authority and an inter-ministerial committee all advised against the Forest giveaway.
Environmentalists say the revenue lost to government by giving away part of the Forest for sugar growing, in terms of carbon credits, is estimated at US$316m. The value of the land is estimated at US$5m and the value of the wood at US$568m. That means the Ugandan public stands to lose almost US$890m, about 1.5 trillion shillings, equivalent to 25% of the 2011-2012 national budget, as a result of the government’s plan to degazette part of the Forest, according to the NGO, Environmental Alert.
Note: this is just valuing the land and the timber, how do you value a catchment area for Lake Victoria, Lake Kyoga and three rivers including the River Nile? What about the lost livelihoods of local people who are dependent on the Forest? How do you value biodiversity? A species? What will the impact be on tourist dollars?
If the President gives away this Protected Area, what about the others, where will be next? In 2010 he announced he would let the Madhvani Group build a golf course right in the middle of Murchison Falls Protected Area. “Where is the pollution from golf? Where are the fumes?” He is reported to have said. Thankfully that idea got mothballed.
The Mabira issue is not just an environmental one, it gives a fascinating insight into Ugandan society. Some of the other issues, discussed in this week’s media:
Alternative solutions to addressing the lack of sugar have been offered:
Let the president take the land offered by the Baganda kingdom offered as an alternative to Mabira in 2007. This isn’t the first time the Baganda kingdom has offered alternative land for sugarcane growing. If the issue is to increase sugar production, then the kingdom’s offer will suffice. Otherwise, insisting on Mabira would imply there are ulterior reasons to giving away the natural forest land, since sugarcane can grow almost anywhere.
The Church of Uganda is also said to have offered land for the same purpose.
Other people have suggested plots of land right across the country; in fact many say that Mabira is not good land for sugarcane growing: there is too high a water content in the cane and a comparatively low ratio of sugar extracted (all while polluting the local rivers and using disproportionately higher levels of electricity).
Here are key parts of an interview with respected commentator Godber Tumushabe, Executive Director of ACODE (Advocates Coalition for Development and Environment).
Q. What will be lost and gained if the Forest is given away?
Apart from being a vital water catchment area from Lake Victoria, if you’re building dams around River Nile* you do not want to do anything in the hinterland that will disrupt the hydrological feature. Forests are considered to be one of the major carbon sinks, if you then destroy a forest like Mabira you would have destroyed a very important sink very close to the capital city with a fast-growing industrial sector. We have not developed the technological capacity to cope with adverse climate change and ecological disruptions. We would lose the climate modifying element of an important forest like Mabira.
*The new Bujagali hydropower project is being constructed close to Mabira, due to come online within the year. Currently, the country is experiencing major power outages throughout the day. Lack of capacity, inefficiencies at the providers, high cost of fuel, increasing population size are all blamed.
Economically, agricultural communities around Mabira depend on the forest’s resources, and are therefore highly vulnerable.
*NEWSFLASH*
In an interesting twist, today Mehta say they don’t want the forest land and never asked for it. The Indian business community are understandably worried about how the proposed giveaway affects them and have come together to form their own lobbying group. Even without any protests, Indian businesses must have been losing revenue these last two weeks.
We watch the news with interest! Now what will the President do?
Information sources
Extracts from The Independent magazine Aug 26 – Sept 1 2011
Bwindi – eye to eye with my totem
Nagawa meets the Red-tailed Monkeys of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest
THUMP!
THUD!
CRASH!
If ever there was a rude awakening, this was definitely it.
It’s early.
It’s been one hell of a journey to get here (a whole day’s public transport from Kasese to Buhoma). The house rat has kept us awake half the night and I need my shut-eye… I turn over and try to get back to sleep.
But it’s not to be.
Above my head it sounds like the gates of hell have burst open!
At any moment I feel the tin roof will give way and whatever’s out there will land right on top of us. I can’t imagine what’s making such a racket.
The noise seems to move from one side of the roof to the other.
“What the hell …?” I shout loudly at Steve above the noise.
The unholy din subsides. They’ve gone.
Woken from my deep sleep, I’m not appreciating the hullabaloo created by the family of Red-tailed monkeys – locally known as Nkima – emerging from Bwindi Impenetrable Forest to clamber across Stevie’s little tin-roofed shack in search of their breakfast.
Nagawa’s totem, the gorgeous Red Tailed Monkey, nkima, clan totem of the Buganda Kingdom. Bwindi Impenetrable Forest
There’s a rat in the rafters, what I’m a gonna do… [to coin a popular UB40 song].
Across the field of pineapples, tucked away in a damp corner at the edge of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, stands my home for the week-end. It’s a typical Ugandan house construction: a coating of plaster covers a wattle and daub box; wooden shutters cover the two paneless windows. There’s no electricity, no running water and the toilet, an earthen pit latrine, is a two minute stumble in the dark from the house.
My first night in Bwindi, mosquito nets tucked in tightly, we take bets on “whose bed the rat will scamper across in the night.” We snuff out the kerosene lamp.
As our laughter subsides, the house comes to life. There’s a definite pitter patter of small rodent feet. It’s getting louder.
“It’s in the rafters above us!” Steve cries. “IT’S COMING OVER!”
The house has two rooms. The wall that separates them only extends two metres high. We’ve attempted to pull the warped wooden door shut to keep the rat out of the bedroom but rats make their own rules. They love height. It will obviously climb over the top. I try not to snigger; I secretly look forward to a rodent encounter.
The morning after
With “the upstairs neighbours’ party over” – but unable to sleep again – I get up to make my morning tea. As I strike a match to light the gas ring, the rat leaps out from its nest inside (yes, inside!) the stove’s metal casing. It’s a WHOPPER!
Tea mug in hand, I wander outside to investigate the bird-like ‘tut tut’ coming from a nearby tree. I twitch, ready to reach for my binoculars.
A blue face peers down at us. He sports a white, heart-shaped patch on his nose. Pure white cheek whispers frame his distinctive features. Seen straight on, the effect is quite alarming.
Resting to feed on some leaves, the Red Tailed Monkey’s sumptuous long copper tail loops suggestively around a branch. He quietly chomps away. His thick tail fur glows russet in the sun’s early rays.
Red-tailed Monkey on roof. Bwindi Forest
“He must like women,” Steve comments. “He’s never let me get this close before,” he says, sounding slightly put out. (I can’t help but smile at my luck for such a close encounter!) Steve has lived a stone’s throw from Bwindi Impenetrable Forest for months. We are fellow VSO volunteers.
Wildlife enthusiasts like me thrill at the chance to get so close to nature. However, my work with the Uganda Conservation Foundation has shown me what a grind it is to deal with noisy, foraging animal behaviour every day. It’s hard to imagine how the average poor Ugandan farmer copes, especially when you have your own family to feed. But, I admit to a real soft spot for these forest guenons.
The early morning sunshine glow of a Red-tailed Monkey in Bwindi Forest
Protecting my totem, morning tea in hand. Nagawa meets Red-tailed Monkey. Bwindi Impenetrable Forest
Nagawa, protector of Nkima, the Red Tailed Monkey
At an exhibition by the artist Taga, I bumped into a Ugandan lady called Nagawa in front of this painting of our totem! Nagawa, enkima clan, protector of the Red-tailed Monkey
“If you stay in Uganda, you must have a Ugandan name,” my tour driver friend Rashid had insisted one day, and so I was named Nagawa, protector of the Nkima (or Enkima) clan. In Buganda culture, each clan is represented by a totem, which can be an animal, bird, fish or plant – even a mushroom! You are not allowed to hunt, eat or kill your totem. I am honoured to have been awarded custody of such a fabulous creature.
Back in Bwindi, our red-tailed observer follows us around the forest clearing as we finish our tea.
The sunlight picks out a spectrum of colours in the grizzled brown fur of his back. The white fur on his belly looks as soft and downy as a baby rabbit’s. I imagine how it might feel to brush my face against it.
Takeaway chicken
A little later, Nkima pauses on the dry banana leaf roof of Steve’s chicken shed, peering beneath his front feet into the empty shed below. (The chicken was carried off by the Safari ants one week-end when Steve had left Buhoma).
Safari ants can be vicious – and put the organisational skills of the average human to shame! As we leaned over them to take photos, the big guy waved at us menacingly. His job is to protect the worker ants
The chicken may have gone but a bag of chickenfeed remains to tempt a hungry monkey. He quickly climbs down the outside of the shed and hops inside to grab a handful of feed before he jumps away across the tin roof of Steve’s house, back to his family group waiting in the larger trees.
Monkey business done for the day, a cold ‘bucket shower’ and a breakfast chapatti beckon the bazungu!
The celebrated Ugandan artist Taga Nuwagaba has dedicated many years to researching and painting Uganda’s totems, in order to preserve their culture and promote conservation.
African Elephant painting by Taga
Visit the Buganda Kingdom web site for more information on clans and totems. (The Baganda are not the only tribe in Uganda to have clan totems, but their system is the most complex and best documented).
This story took place on the edge of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, south western Uganda. It was my entry into this year’s BBC Wildlife Nature Writer of the Year competition. Alas I was unsuccessful – fingers crossed for another year then!
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.
Somebody ill, somebody dead – start of another week
The muzungu lacks #MondayMotivation
I found it hard to get up today. I lost count of the number of times I put the snooze on. I enjoy seeing the sunlight filter through the new curtains I made from the scarves I bought in Ethiopia.
I get up and unbolt the heavy metal at the back of the house, and listen for the tell-tale sound of claws on concrete as Baldrick bounds round to greet me. I walk through the kitchen across the living room to take the padlock off the front gate; it’s like having two dogs – in a flash, Baldrick is at the front of the house too.
Enid is bright and breezy this morning and we compare notes on the electricity situation. Has her compound experienced load shedding (rationing of power apparently because the government owes the supplier Umeme so much money)? We’ve both been fortunate: our fridges still work.
Erik is at university today, doing some research and a text comes through to say Patrick’s at a burial.
Enid in the UCF compound Kampala
Eva meets me at the gate as I’m driving to a meeting. She’s late for work and very apologetic. Both the babies are sick. One has measles and the other has been vomiting. She’ll “do her work” and go home early.
Thus starts another typical Monday morning – somebody ill, somebody dead.
As I drive past the single petrol pump, home to my favourite Luganda teachers, I suddenly remember that I owe them 20,000. Getting credit – and being trusted to return – is one of the many small things that make living in Uganda so enjoyable. These guys are lovely, and delight in teaching me new words. On a good day we only communicate in Luganda. They’ve invited me to share lunch with them more than once, if I happen to be passing at dinner time.
I can’t believe my eyes as I drive along Namuwongo Road and see twenty men and women using brand-new brooms and sweeping piles of dirt from the side of the road. The makeover continues! See photos on a previous blog about how dire the roads have become.
I hoped I’d miss the Monday rush-hour traffic, alas, no. As I turn right into the Industrial Area, we come to a standstill. One lorry, manoeuvring or unloading, can easily cause a 10 minute jam.
I arrive at the shopping centre. I hate these places. I particularly hate the fact that this one is built on reclaimed wetlands (evidenced by the way the paving tiles are uneven and coming loose even before the second part of the shopping centre is open). As I turn off the main road, the group of ‘insecurity’ stop me, checking my glove compartment for a gun. Security’s become lax over the last few months but today – the anniversary of the bombings in Kampala – everyone is on high alert. How things change in a year – read last year’s description of Kampala after the bombings
Sunday night reflections
Sitting here watching my TV in Kampala, the capital city, it’s quite easy to forget that the vast majority of Ugandans are subsistence farmers and have no electricity.
The government has various incentives for improving agricultural production. Industrialisation through technology can mean something as simple as a hand grinder for removing kernels from maize cobs, as demonstrated by the Minister this evening. Up to a staggering 25% of agricultural products are lost before they get to market, mainly as a result of bad storage. 15% of cereals and pulses and up to 25% off roots and tubers are lost. This affects every household – as producer or supplier.
Elsewhere, in northern Uganda the Acholi people are demanding compensation from the supplier erecting electricity pylons for a World Bank funded project, denying the company construction access until they are paid. Others argue that if construction is delayed, the World Bank will think they’re not serious and pull out altogether.
In Kampala, we have connection but we don’t always have power! Last week Umeme announced a load shedding programme. The government hasn’t paid Umeme (a private company) and the consumers are paying the consequences. The government has found X million USD to buy fighter jets, widely believed to have splashed out over half the annual budget on securing the election, and inflation is spiralling, as we all knew it would. The Uganda shilling hit an all-time low last week, only good for a handful of people who are paid in dollars. I fear things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.
Kampala’s thirsty policemen
Why is it that I’ve been stopped twice in two weeks, driving down the same stretch of Namuwongo Road at night?
Incident #1
It’s not far from my house to the centre of town. As the (local) Pied Crow flies, it’s probably only a mile or two but, in a developing country where virtually the only infrastructure is what’s left behind from the 1950s, following the tortuous road through the maze of thousands of potholes and random speed humps is quite a feat. And a drag. Late at night, and with no other traffic around, I can get from my house to the main intersection in town in approximately 7 minutes; during the day you need to double that; at rush-hour, forget about moving at any kind of speed: it’s not uncommon for the journey to take an hour.
So late one evening, I returned home from dinner at a friend’s house on the back of Michael’s boda boda. I trust Michael’s driving; he doesn’t drive too fast and he doesn’t do silly manoeuvres, at least not until a night two weeks ago.
As we turned off the main roundabout onto Namuwongo Road, two policemen on another motorbike overtook us, suddenly cut us up, trying to force us to pull over. Michael braked hard to avoid hitting them, and at the last second swerved sharply to the right, pulled on the throttle and we sped off down the dark road. We sped across the railway line that cuts across the tarmac, up the slight incline towards The Monitor newspaper headquarters. In this 200 metre section there must be 200 potholes. In the last few months, each one has been individually and laboriously filled in by hand. They haven’t fixed the section beyond that yet and we careered around the potholes and over the occasional speed hump for the next kilometre, Michael frantically checking his wing mirror over his shoulder to check we’d made our getaway.
“Mpole mpole sebo (slow down mate)” I whined from the back.
“Those guys – they want our money!” he exclaimed.
It was simple. It was highway robbery.
Incident # 2
I always lock the car doors as soon as I get in. It’s not that I really feel you need to in Kampala, it’s just a habit.
I was halfway home, it was around midnight and I just knew I was going to get stopped by the police that night. I couldn’t say why, but I just knew it was going to happen. There was a period where I got stopped several times in a month, but that was a year ago.
I took my earrings and my necklace off and stuffed my money inside my bra, all except a single 1000 shilling note I left on the dashboard. (There’s no point looking like you have money to throw away – it’s an assumption too many Ugandans make about us muzungu anyway).
Namuwongo Road is deserted that time of night. It’s a road I know very well and I feel very comfortable driving up and down it. I couldn’t quite believe it when a police pickup overtook me and indicated for me to pull over. Was I imagining it? Was I in some kind of deluded state and making it happen?
So the policeman came over, we exchanged greetings and he asked me whether I realised that one of my headlights wasn’t working. “I’m very sorry Officer; I must get it fixed tomorrow.”
It’s very common to see a car with only one headlight working – and mistake it for just a boda boda. I’ve mentioned the headlight to Patrick; he looks after the car, I wouldn’t know where to get anything fixed and I’d get even more ripped off than he does. He’s had a few things fixed recently, I guess that just got overlooked. The policeman asked to see my driving licence and I produced the paper photocopy that I keep in the glove compartment. I’ve heard stories of people who’ve had their driving licences taken; I’m not prepared to make seven visits to the central police station to get mine back.
“You are going to pay a fine of 50,000 shillings” said the officer in the dark blue uniform as he started to write something down. I assumed it was a ticket. “You can put the light on,” he told me, pointing to the light inside the car. He put his arm through the open passenger window and went to unlock the door. I quickly put the windows up. Interesting that he didn’t complain (they’re not supposed to get into your vehicle).
“Hello madam, how are you?” asked a younger policeman with an ingratiating voice and a sickly smile who appeared next to him. Two can play the charm game: I answered him in Luganda. He thought it was hilarious.
I was tired, I just wanted to get home and I wasn’t really in the mood for playing games. I tried to play along but my heart wasn’t in it. “Can you just give me the ticket please?” That floored him.
“Anyway madam, the police station it is shut and we don’t want to waste your time. Maybe you can give us some money for water?” I knew where this was all heading; if the guys in the truck didn’t know they were dealing with a muzungu to start with, they sure did once I’d put the inside light on.
“Okay you can have this, this is all I have. I’m just on my way home.” I held up the 1000 shilling note.
“Is that it?” he asked, “is that all you have?” (1000 shillings should buy two bottles of water). “It’s okay, we know you now, we can find you another time.”
My heart sank.
I think he thought he was doing me a favour, letting me defer payment until the next time they pull me over. Now I’m thinking I’ll have to run the gauntlet of these ‘stupid hyena’ (words not to be used lightly) every time I’m out late at night.
Patrick laughed his head off when I told him this story. “These ones aren’t allowed to stop you, they are not traffic police! Only the traffic police can stop you and even they can’t stop you after five o’clock.”
So now I know: the jewellery’s back on, the cash is in my pocket – and my headlights are on full beam.
Warning – this blog contains snakes!
Entebbe’s Reptiles Village has been on my list of places to visit for ages.
Chameleon, Reptiles Village Entebbe. Close-up of one of the world’s most fascinating creatures!
When I suggested to the team that we all have a day out together at the Reptiles Village in Entebbe, organised by Nature Uganda, we were equally split down the middle: two for, two against. Enid’s words were in fact “No way, I’m not giving up my Saturday to see snakes!”
After the office was repainted, I noticed that she put back the posters of birds, butterflies and mammals – but not the one of the snakes. Patrick is equally averse to snakes – I remember his look of disgust when we walked past the enormous python at UWEC (a.k.a. Entebbe Zoo). To be fair though, last year a cousin of theirs was killed by a notorious Puff Adder out in the bush towards Tanzania; he was dead within a few hours.
It’s run by a Ugandan who is passionate about snakes in particular and reptiles in general. All the animals he rescues are native to Uganda. He rescues reptiles that are in danger of being killed by humans, and tries his best to ‘sensitise’ people (as we seem to be doing with elephants, dogs, birds, you name it)…
The message is generally: “you don’t have to kill it – it’s unlikely to harm you unless provoked and there are measures to deal with elephants, dogs, birds” [complete as appropriate]. Today at Reptiles Village, I couldn’t stop myself telling people off. I was tired, I wasn’t very gentle, I just said “stop doing that.”
Each reptile has a story. The Monitor Lizard only has one claw on its left paw, as a result of the fight he had with the humans who wanted to use his skin to make a drum. The shell of one of the Leopard Tortoises seems to have melted, where it was rescued from a fire. “I hear they are very good for traditional medicine,” one lady said. “Some people eat them,” someone else said.
Monitor Lizard and baby crocs – cute – at this size!
If you turn a tortoise upside down, it will panic and wee itself. If it does this too often it will become dehydrated and eventually die. I didn’t know this myself until last year. I bought a tortoise from some boys down one of the back roads in Muyenga (I shouldn’t have, I realise now). Anyway the tortoise (who didn’t hang around long enough to get a name) tumbled over a step and overturned. I turned him the right way up – and he did the most enormous turd (a sure sign he was scared!)
Being on today’s trip reminds me how much people need to be sensitised. These are not even your average Ugandans; these are people with a proven interest in conservation, and yet they were letting the kids pull leaves off the young saplings and getting too close to the animals. It was a fun and interesting day out but it just reminds me how much work there is to do in conservation in Uganda.
The lady guide was very informative but admitted she won’t hold a snake! We were lucky enough to have a HERPS (herpetology / reptile) specialist, Mathias, on our group. He was a mine of information.
Watching us without moving. An African Rock Python, Reptiles Village, Entebbe
Like a sentry on duty, the first snake we saw was the Forest Cobra, head up and in aggressive mood. Reptiles Village Entebbe
The three metre (?) long African Rock Python is a constrictor. Apparently this is the only snake large enough to consider eating a human but attacks are very rare, although their long teeth can inflict painful wounds. These beasts are often found in caves.
We couldn’t believe our eyes when we saw a small manky-looking puppy curled up asleep in the same cage. “Breakfast,” we asked? Twenty minutes later it had gone, nowhere to be seen! The snake hadn’t moved though so we can’t blame him…
Jackson’s Chameleons at Reptiles Village, Entebbe
Holding the pretty Von Hohnel’s Chameleon was a highlight of the day. Its black tongue is coiled tightly like a spring enabling, it to PING into action and trap insects half a metre away! Its eyes are hilarious, constantly rotating, one looking forward and down while the other looks backwards and up! “How does the brain process all that information?!” Erik asked.
Everyone loved the Twig Snake. It was the thickness of a twig, brown and only a foot long. Amazingly, however, this tiny little snake can give you a nasty death, poisoning you over the course of a week.
Death by other snake bites can be much quicker, especially if you’re in a remote area without access to the anti-venom injections, which is most likely. To put this in perspective though – assuming you’ve had the courage to read this far – only 10% of the snakes in Uganda are venomous. You’d be incredibly unlucky to meet one of that 10% and if you were to get bitten, they don’t necessarily release their poison either. I do love seeing Ugandans interacting positively with reptiles. (There seems to be so much fear around them, even though most are harmless).
Frankly I’ve hardly seen any snakes in my first two and a half years living in Uganda: two dead grey ones in the road and a couple of harmless Grass Snakes in our compound.
I had to wait a year before I saw a decent snake: and there it was stretched across the whole length of the road ahead of us, an enormous black snake (not a Black Mamba, they’re actually grey), on the road to Uganda Wildlife Authority campsite in Ishasha. It was a beauty!
Have you visited Reptiles Village? How do you feel about snakes and chameleons?
Ethiopia calling me – from my sickbed
Two days before I fly to Ethiopia, and I’m lying in bed with a temperature. I’ve a bed in Addis Ababa and someone to pick me up to the airport – but I still haven’t got a plane ticket.
Some mix-up at the bank. My debit card was refused on Friday, and after two long and very expensive calls to the UK, I’m told there’s no bar on the card anyway. (Apparently Visa is blocking its use, not my bank). What a bloody pain. I really don’t need it this week.
I’ve wanted to visit Ethiopia for years. Like many Westerners, Ethiopia first really came into my consciousness thanks to Bob Geldof and Band Aid’s “Feed the World” movement following the 1984 – 85 famine. Pop and politics was a potent mix for this British teenager. Every word and note had me hooked. It came as a shock, some years later, to watch film of the most fantastic green gorges and canyons, stretching for miles and miles, with enormous rivers – Ethiopia is one source of the Nile – thundering through them. I couldn’t believe it was the same country. Pictures of the unmistakeable red dusty African roads reminded me of the Africa I’d been yearning for since younger, pre-Bob days.
Another part of the African puzzle slots into place. I just know I’m going to fall in love with Ethiopia. I wonder if this is the start of my next African love affair?
The mattress seems surprisingly comfortable tonight; I can feel myself falling into it. I don’t remember when I was this physically exhausted, although reconnecting with my body is actually quite a nice feeling.
I was exhausted even before I left the compound with Baldrick at 6 p.m. We walked for an hour to Al’s Bar in Kansanga for the Hash. I stood around for an hour, had dinner and then walked home. It was a terrible Hash venue: dark and dim, crowded and terrible traffic for those driving.
I wonder if I have malaria? If I’m honest, I’m a bit worried about being away from civilisation for two weeks, essentially on my own. I brought a big bag of medication with me two years ago and have hardly used any. I’ve rarely been ill and with VSO nurse and doctor friends and International Hospital just 10 minutes walk away, health has never been a worry but, unusually, I have a headache.
I woke up hot and sweating this morning. The pillow was wet and the mattress was soaking – on both sides of the bed – and I thrashed around all night. Something’s given me a sore neck. It’s been a stressful day, and I’ve been on a mission to do as much as I can, so I’ve hunched over the laptop without a break. My shoulderblades and neck are locked solid, a sure sign of malaria according to Harriet. Better get tested.
I’m totally shattered now though. Last week was a tough week.
Shotgun wedding – a surreal and intense day
The word surreal is overused. But let me run this scenario past you, and I wonder if you – like me – would feel your brain split down the middle.
There’s no way around it, Friday was an intense day.
It started off well – we had a plan. The plan was that we would put the finishing touches to a donor report, due in the next day. This report is to an important donor, the final one for the project. There was a hell of a lot of work to report on, stretching back 18 months.
Did we need a 7 hour power cut?
However, we were both focused. UCF is a very small organisation; four of us work here full-time and Trustees, Directors and others all contribute on a voluntary basis, with very busy lives of their own. Pulling a report like this together can be a challenge, because we all have shifting priorities, and are spread across three time zones: Uganda, UK and the US. At the last minute, two key contributors had been reassigned to work on other projects. Our boss had to jump on a plane to see his girlfriend in hospital, and we were left to make some last minute decisions about things that we didn’t really feel qualified to answer.
It took Patrick hours to reach the office: he’d had to take a massive detour to avoid the trouble hotspots, which were multiplying by the minute.
Kampala was in a state of high alert. We were in the middle of the Opposition’s ‘Walk to work’ campaign, which started off as a protest about the increases in fuel prices and cost of living. The protest quickly led to riots across the capital. The state’s heavy response has further aggravated and politicised the populace.
But none of this affected our quiet little house here in Namuwongo.
Throughout the day I received SMS from the VSO emergency number and the British High Commission, telling me which areas of the city to avoid. The information was good, but the situation kept changing. People came and went from the office with reports about which areas of town were no-go areas. Eva told us of people being taken to hospital, and people being injured. Some of it was true, some of it wasn’t. It was weird to know all this trouble was only a few kilometres away, while we were totally unaffected by it.
The government had ordered television stations not to broadcast live footage of the demonstrations. We therefore relied more than ever on the radio, SMS and eyewitness accounts from friends. One of our volunteer friends was barricaded in her office, close to Mulago hospital, an inner city area which is often a scene for disruption. This time was more intense, there were battles on the streets and burning tyres.
As Chair for the VSO volunteers in Kampala, I needed to make sure I kept up to speed with the security situation. I called the VSO Programme Office and we agreed to watch the situation. Would we need to issue further security guidance to volunteers? At what point would we need to consider evacuating the volunteers? We agreed things would probably calm down over the weekend and that we’d review security first thing on Monday morning.
With serious security SMS to read, digest and share, while pushing hard to meet a crucial report deadline, the muzungu was stressing about something altogether less serious: I wanted to finish early to watch Great Britain’s Royal Wedding.
During the build-up to the wedding, I began to feel homesick.
I remember what a great day Charles and Diana’s wedding was, and always swore I would attend the next one, and take my place in the Mall. I also longed for a long week-end with my family.
As noon approached, I received another SMS from VSO: no non-essential travel allowed. How essential was it for me to go and watch the wedding? And what would Daniel say if he heard the Cluster Chair had ignored the advice? I’d planned to go to Bubbles (an ex-pat bar) to watch it but resigned myself to staying in the house, determined not to work through the wedding.
At five minutes to one, I shut down my laptop. “I’m not here,” I told the others. I have a TV but the others were still working (two of us work in my living room), preparing to email the report to the donor, and I wanted to be on my own.
I went into my bedroom, climbed under the mosquito net, put on my headphones and tuned into the World Service. I felt surprisingly emotional – the classical music stirred me.
I couldn’t see Pippa’s bottom, I didn’t see Beatrice’s awful hat and I didn’t follow the whole service; it was enough to just connect with home for a few minutes, especially after all the stress and madness going on around us.
