Human Wildlife Conflict – in my bedroom
We are living through an extreme period of mosquitoes. It’s also incredibly hot. On Friday night I killed 30 mosquitoes in my little bathroom. On Saturday night, much the worse for wear, I staggered around and killed a mere 20 before giving up and seeking refuge under the net before I quickly started snoring.
Every house needs a Gecko
Last night I wasn’t quite so lucky. I didn’t notice the sound of the mosquitoes until I turned out the light. Then they seemed to be everywhere. The noise was so loud they distracted me from sleeping. At one point I was actually scared; scared that if I was to put the light on I would see an angry black swarm around my bed. The noise can be very misleading – there may only have been three of them.
Today I took action! I threw open the curtains and the hanging covering the bookshelves and sprayed the hell out of them all. I felt guilty afterwards: the spiders and geckos have been my friends, even though the geckos do make me jump sometimes. Will I now have the smell of a dying gecko to find? It seems so unfair; they and I are on the same side after all, hunting down mosquitoes.
Justice in the balancing act – Owino Market Kampala
Owino Market (St Balikuddembe) and the surrounding markets in downtown Kampala have more clothes than I’ve ever seen in my life. Imagine London’s Oxford Street, Petticoat Lane, the biggest Marks and Spencer you can find and Primark: take everything off the shelves, pile it high in neatly folded layers or mountainous heaps; remove the roof, take away the flooring and replace it with a fractured and muddy uneven mess; run some sewers through it. Condense this into some dark passageways where it is almost impossible for one person to pass – let alone for one person to pass, one to sell and another one to try on jeans – turn off the lights, fill it with more people carrying suitcases of goods on their heads; and then perhaps you can start imagining Owino. How our friend Alan came shopping here with three young girls quite amazes me!
So, well over her luggage allowance and having already purchased one excess bag for her flight home, Nat had talked herself into needing even more clothes to return to the UK with.
I needed some new clothes; I’ve put on far too much weight to fit into most of the clothes I brought with me two years ago. As someone said to me before I arrived in Uganda: “women go to Africa and put on weight. Men lose it.” And some!
There are serious bargains to be had at Owino if you’re prepared for the constant calls of “muzungu-how-are-you?” and the haggling. It’s persistent but mostly fair and a firm “No” is usually enough before you get sidetracked by the next sellers. The occasional “Sagala” (I don’t want it) from me generally stops people in their tracks, unaccustomed to hearing Luganda from a muzungu. You should hear the howls of laughter!
Nat caused quite a stir in her own right: every third or fourth man was trying to call out to her or touch her arm as we went past… “Is she your daughter?” They asked me. Humph.
Two hours of incident-free shopping behind us, we emerged into a sunlit area of the market to buy ice cold water and I spotted a ruddy faced lady selling sheets stacked high above our heads. One of the luxury items I brought back to Uganda was a duvet. My English friends back home scoffed at the idea – but they haven’t experienced a cool Ugandan night.
The lady didn’t seem to speak any English and wasn’t at all personable (unlike most of the other people in the market) but we agreed a reasonable 18,000 shillings (£6) for a duvet cover, a fraction of the 65,000 an earlier seller had asked for one. As I handed over the 50,000 note, I sensed something wasn’t right.
These valuable – & therefore rare – notes are much cleaner than the rest
Wary of being pick pocketed, I’d carefully stashed notes in various pockets of the handbag that I always have strapped to me. I knew exactly where the 50,000 note was – few ever pass through this volunteer’s hands! – and I can picture its distinct brown colour as the lady briefly disappeared behind the tower of sheets to get ‘the balance.’
“Where’s the other 10,000?” I asked without hesitation as she offered me change of a 20,000 note.
I wasn’t having any of it. She was trying to say something to me but I was adamant. I’d given her 50,000 shillings and I wanted 32,000 balance.
Her (apparent) lack of English meant other people quickly took over the argument, all taking her side and questioning my memory and my knowledge of the local currency. Within minutes ten men were arguing with me, insisting I’d made a mistake. I kept my calm, I didn’t accuse anybody but I was completely sure I’d passed over a 50,000 shilling note, so was Nat.
“All I’m saying is someone’s made a mistake” I insisted.
Ugandans love to argue and they love to stand around and watch, for hours on end so we were soon in the middle of a blazing row, watched from all sides, everyone keen to have their say. “We’re not getting anywhere here” Nat said after about ten minutes. I muttered something about contacting the police, hoping that somebody might back down but it didn’t seem to make a difference.
“So what are you going to do?” Someone asked as we prepared to walk off.
“What can I do? I am one person and you are 30.” I fumed.
Ooh I’m still cross about it now!
I handed back the duvet cover and the lady gave me the bright red 20,000 shilling note that she insisted I’d given her.
A hundred metre walk away, lo and behold we stumbled upon the police station! Nat and I exchanged looks and before we knew it we were inside the station filing a complaint. What were we getting into now though? And how much of the day were we about to lose? What would VSO say? Was I doing the right thing or about to cause a load more trouble for myself? Would this spiral out of control and end up in court or a plea for school fees that would exceed the amount that I was out of pocket?
With all these questions going through my head, we were quickly ushered in to make our complaint and within five minutes we were making our way back through the market, accompanied by three armed policeman. O god, no backing out now!
The ruddy faced lady was still there. The main protagonist in the argument looked surprised to see us again. Ha! But nothing changed. We had the same arguments all over again as the police listened to both sides. The market sellers’ rep chimed in too this time. I was 100% sure that I was right but I was careful not to call anyone a thief; I hoped I was offering them a way out.
Another ten fruitless minutes passed. The crowd grew, arms folded, all staring (you become immune to it).
Back at the tiny two room police station, I was surprised to be led straight to the chief, a senior policeman in his 50s. I greeted him in Luganda and he smiled from behind his big desk. He was very charming and held court over the assembled group of ten people seated either side of him on narrow wooden benches.
I wondered what the chief was thinking as he asked how long I’d been in Uganda and what I’m doing here. The questioning carried on around me in Luganda and I just had to trust that justice would be done.
Mid-questioning, someone walked past and unlocked the metal gate to the cell five feet to my left.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that this was all going terribly wrong. Who was being thrown in the cell – me or the lady I was trying so hard not to accuse?
“We have never seen this lady in here before” he said “and since you both insist you’re not mistaken, perhaps you’d consider a compromise?” (This kind of situation must happen all the time).
With the negotiations over, and an agreement to buy the duvet cover which (perhaps surprisingly) I did still want, ‘the balance’ was down to me. (OK OK it still riles me but at least I didn’t get a bill for school fees!)
I handed the boss a 20,000 shilling note. As he passed it through the bars of the window to a boy in the street to get balance, I cried out in mock horror “Oh no! It’s starting all over again!”
There was a pause before one person laughed and the others quickly reassured me “No, no, it’s ok we know him.”
“I was joking,” I said, relieved to be on my way.
It’s official: life in a developing country wears you down
Striding through Heathrow Airport’s Terminal 5, travelling back from Uganda, laden with heavy bags, I realise how this place suits me.
I don’t have the same energy levels I left the UK with two years ago.
Here at Terminal 5, the flooring is flat, as far as the eye can see, and there are no potholes – you can just put one foot in front of the other, safe in the certainty you will not stumble. I have proper shoes on (not silly strappy sandals) and it’s cool.
“Wow!” I exclaim out loud to no-one in particular, as our coach pulls out of Heathrow. Anyone looking at the same view would think “she’s gone nuts,” staring at the pale grey sky and the nondescript grey industrial buildings next to them. The greyness is just so uniformly drab, I’d just forgotten how grey it can be.
We turn onto the motorway and come to a standstill in traffic straightaway.
It’s weird, I expected us to motor on. Suddenly it’s like driving in Kampala – mpole, mpole -“slowly by slowly” – I tell myself, nothing to stress about it, I’m on holiday after all.
I wonder if journeys here in the UK will ever seem as long again? Nowadays I’m used to day long drives to Uganda’s Queen Elizabeth National Park and ten minute journeys into town (that take an hour or more because of the ridiculous traffic jams).
On the train to Oxford, a man now wears latex gloves to pick up the passengers’ rubbish. I notice the posters at the railway station, asking us to “take care not to slip” and to not ride bicycles and skateboards through the station. How very considerate, and what a contrast to the dire lack of care or information in your average developing country.
It’s just so easy to telephone everyone! I get through straightaway. I can receive voicemail. I can leave messages on answerphones. I can send a number of texts at a time for virtually nothing. In Uganda, sometimes I wonder if I’m making excuses for my frustrations; back in the UK I’m consoled: I’m not imagining it, everyday life in Uganda really does wear you down.
Keeping a close eye on my expenditure in Uganda had been wearing me down again recently too. Life on a volunteer allowance can be tough.
Everything here in the UK seems so expensive to me! Two half litre bottles of water for ‘only £2.20’ – but I only want one small one! The Sun newspaper costs only 20p and I snap it up, eager to catch up on the latest gossip (I’m going to feel a bit lost otherwise over the next four weeks). The broadsheets can wait.
Do I just need a holiday?
Leaving town for the airport and why, oh ,why does Rashid choose to drive via the Clock Tower in the centre of town? We sit motionless in solid traffic for half an hour. It’s not the delay I mind, we have plenty of time; it’s sitting in the fumes.
When I first arrived in Kampala and people moaned about the traffic, I didn’t get it; it couldn’t be as bad as London rush hour. London has a lot more cars, but it moves a lot faster too – it’s managed. Here management means a set of traffic lights that change colour pointlessly while traffic police impeccably dressed in white (despite the red dust) offer random and contradictory hand signals to the passing traffic. At the start of the academic year, hand signals become more random and unpredictable, in the quest to pay school fees. Management of the traffic is forgotten, the lights merrily change in the background, the unsuspecting driver doesn’t know which set of rules s/he’s breaking – and does it matter? The traffic policeman or woman will pull you to one side and collect money for their school fees regardless.
Rashid’s car is overrun with cockroaches, again. I spot three through the car window before I (still) get in. They’re small though so I tuck my shirt in my trousers and forget about them. They often find their way into travel bags but they won’t last long in a British winter. Funny how blasé I’ve become about the once Unmentionables! Early blog followers will remember the stories!
I wonder how Kampala will have changed when I get back. Which roads will have been (temporarily) fixed? How many more election posters can you stick on telegraph poles and walls? How well trained will Baldrick be? How will I feel about another 9 months working for UCF?
I saw a dark brown grass snake yesterday at the top of Muyenga Hill. The sky was clear blue, the evening light was beautiful and the evening light reflected off Lake Victoria in such a way I thought I saw a savannah for a second. It was magical.
I felt my love of Ugandan returning. I never tire of the view from atop the hills and I’ve been working so hard I’ve been denying myself these walks.
“There’s nothing in here for you to steal mate.” A’s comment to the attendant doing the security check at the entry to the car park was disappointing. I don’t want to be associated with some ex-pat’s cynicism; I don’t want to become one of them. Is it inevitable? Will I in time become the same?
Kampala has shrunk. Everyone goes to the same places. I didn’t worry about the size of the place when I was having fun and had lots of girlfriends to go out with. I used to enjoy the fact everyone’s connected but now I see the city’s limitations.
Or do I just need a holiday?
Grasshoppers back on the menu!
Yet grasshoppers are quite a delicacy in Uganda. Last week, we experienced a biblical moment as clouds of grasshoppers flew above our heads as we ran through the banana groves. (So that’s what a plague of locusts must look like!) I kept my mouth shut just in case a grasshopper …
In the Old Taxi Park Kampala, with Diary of a Muzungu
It feels like the middle of the night but it’s just 9 p.m. in the Old Taxi Park. Commuters are standing in line patiently until a taxi arrives and then it’s a free for all. No chicken on my lap for this journey at least.We pass the boys selling chapatti, their wooden glass cabinets on the front of their bicycles lit up by a candle. The journey home is thankfully quick. I’m tired and I ache all over after yesterday’s 10 km race (part of the MTN Marathon).
muzungu runners MTN Marathon 10km
Half of Kampala turns out every year to run the annual MTN marathon. Not everyone is happy to wear yellow though (as it happens to be the colour of the ruling NRM political party too).
Today’s ‘recovery run’ at the Hash was hard work; I just didn’t have it in me.
As I limp home the last few hundred metres (hark at me, I’ve only got a blister!) I see dozens of cars parked either side of Namuwongo Road, where normally there are none. Thirty or more people are gathered outside the front of a house. And then I remember seeing the funeral services car outside the same house this morning.
I hear the sound of singing and notice the bowed heads.
A blog from last year was Grasshoppers – eat them or smoke them? Discuss.
Modelling condoms on World AIDS Day
To commemorate the significance of World AIDS Day, this week Kampala Hash House Harriers baptised me … “Used Condom.”
SIGH … as the momentum to give me my ‘Hash Handle’ grew over the last few weeks, so I sought the shadows of the weekly Circle. There was no escape. I encouraged them to call me by my Ugandan name ‘Nagawa’ but they were hearing none of it.
Eh banange!
The real highlight of the evening was a lady Ugandan doctor showing us how to put a condom on – to a stick of deodorant, which she was using “because I have no live penises here.”
With that, there were great roars from the crowd as men jostled to push their friends into the circle as volunteer models!
Used Condom. Modelling condoms on World AIDS Day
This time last year I was in South Africa visiting Holly, a flatmate from London student days. It was quite poignant to be with her in South Africa for World Aids Day. We both arrived in Africa via VSO. Holly traveled to Africa with VSO ten years ago to work for a tiny HIV/AIDS organisation that she has helped develop. The organisation has since grown significantly thanks to big name funders such as the Gates Foundation.
Last year the US Ambassador to South Africa said the country is beginning to wake up to the fact that ARVs (Anti Retro Viral drugs) save lives.
“If South Africa can defeat HIV, the whole of Africa can” he said. Quite a statement.
Red ribbon worn to commemorate World AIDS Day
Here in Uganda, a march – a “match” in the local Uglish – was planned to commemorate World AIDS Day. Unfortunately I was too caught up with a funding application deadline to take part.
On a girls’ night out last week, I pointed out a handsome-looking guy to one of my friends. “He’s (HIV) positive,” my doctor friend said.
“How do you know?” I asked. “Well his mum is and his dad are – so he probably is.” A sobering reminder that you just can’t tell who has HIV.
I’d hoped to travel to Kigali in Rwanda this month. Not knowing a lot about the country I decided to read “A Sunday by the pool in Kigali” by Gil Courtemanche, a haunting yet amazing book that relives the horror of the 1994 genocide (in which 800,000 people were slaughtered in just 100 days). It’s the most shocking backdrop to a love affair.
In the book is a character that willfully infects women with HIV. The book reads:
“Compared to this country [Rwanda’s] violence, Justin’s vengeance was rather gentle ….He has AIDS. When worried ladies demanded that he put on a condom, he would brandish a forged HIV negative certificate.” This man’s carefully executed vengeance (and this is just a taste of it) is astounding.
Condom machine – ‘preservatifs’ – in the ladies toilet in Kigali Rwanda
It’s tempting to lull ourselves into a false sense of security, believing that AIDS is the scourge of Africa and that back in Europe, AIDS isn’t a problem. My doctor friend reminded me: 10% of the population in London is HIV positive.
Uganda won international acclaim for the country’s head-on tackling of the HIV crisis in the 1980s. Something’s gone wrong in the last few years – and the statistics are climbing up again, particularly in married couples.
Managing HIV and AIDS starts with knowing your HIV status.
Do you know your status?
A bird’s eye view of Uganda – Big Birding Day
What is Big Birding Day?
It seems I can’t get enough of volunteering!
So, as Big Birding Day arrived, I was up before dawn to take part in this year’s 24 hour birding race (held to coincide with the World Bird Festival) entered by over 39 teams covering 33 sites across Uganda. Together we recorded 606 species.
And the best bit? Our team won!Uganda has more bird species per square kilometre than any other country in Africa. Uganda’s unique geographical positioning means there are more birds migrating north to Europe and back south to Southern Africa via Uganda than virtually any other African country.
Red Necked Falcon was a highlight of Big Birding Day Uganda. Photo courtesy of biodiversityexplorer.org
The Big Birding Day race
It was a grey start to the day, the clouds gathering over Lake Victoria threatening rain. Our first birds of the day, at a grassy hill above Lweza, seemed to confirm the trend for the morning’s weather:
Grey-headed sparrow, Grey-backed Fiscals (nine of them), African Grey Parrot, Grey-backed Cameroptera, Grey Heron, Eastern Grey Plantain Eater.
I couldn’t help but smile as I jotted down birds with such picturesque names as:
Laughing Dove, Brown Twinspot, Helmeted Guineaufowl and Scaly Francolin.
Nathan spots the Beeeaters on Big Birding Day
The lucky team of me, Roger and Nathan, had almost made it back to the car as the heavens opened, ideal time for us to drive the few kilometres to the next site, the fish ponds at Kajjansi, where we saw two types of Sandpipers, Long-toed Lapwing, Broad-billed Roller, African Harrier Hawk, Fan-tailed Widowbird, Yellow-throated Longclaw and two types of Vulture.
As the rain passed our count moved to the quarry to spot a Eurasian Reed Warbler, Wattled Starling, a Grosbeak Weaver – spotted by yours truly – and the highlight of the day, a rare Red-necked Falcon, not recorded in Kampala for 25 years.
On a hill overlooking Lutembe Lagoon near Kajjansi airfield we derided the enormous flower farm, whose fertilisers leech unchecked into Lake Victoria. Lutembe is both a Ramsar site and IBA, Important Bird Area, recognised internationally for their unique biodiversity. Pollution of the waters should not be happening here of all places.
Ramsar sites are areas of wetlands which are among the world’s most productive environments. They are cradles of biological diversity, providing the water and primary productivity upon which countless species of plants and animals depend for survival. They support high concentrations of birds, mammals, reptiles, amphibians, fish and invertebrate species.
Blue Breasted Beeeater, courtesy of flickr.com
On the Papyrus fringed wetlands overlooking Kajjansi airfield our binoculars picked out many firsts for me: Sooty Chat, Striped Kingfisher, Little Bee-eater, the beautifully named Red-faced Lovebird, Blue-breasted Bee-eater, Lesser Swamp Warbler, Black-shouldered Kite, Black-crowned Waxbill, and Lizard Buzzard. Without the indefatigable Roger “no time to hang around” I would usually have been content to watch the Sunbirds, ignorant of the difference between a Copper Sunbird and a Bronze Sunbird. Roger’s observations were a real eye opener and made me forget the pre-dawn start!
Wandering around Zika Forest with a clipboard, I was delighted to see Red Tailed Monkeys – my totem – in the high trees above us. One of them tutted at us loudly. “We don’t have time for mammals” a disappointed Roger scolded. It was as we left the Forest that we had the most bird sightings and Roger’s mood lifted. We were delighted to see Purple Headed Starlings and a Red-shouldered Cuckoo-shrike, rare visitors to Kampala and its environs.
Roger: “I know there’s a Papyrus Gonolek here somewhere …” Big Birding Day Uganda
As we drove onto the Entebbe peninsula, through the narrow tunnel underneath the airport runway, a lady skirted the perimeter fence, balancing several metres of firewood on her head. The sight seemed incongrous, the juxtaposition of the traditional and the supersonic.
With all the birds noted down, my binoculars strayed to the man in his underpants, fishing in the shallows…
“Charlotte, stop looking at that naked man!” Roger shouted.
There were more monkeys waiting for us at Entebbe’s Botanical Gardens: both Vervet and Black and White Colobus. (I had to admire the bravery of the nut seller who casually walked beneath a tree full of monkeys with his open basket of groundnuts).
Tired, but happy we’d secured a good score, we drove back to Kampala so Roger could start comparing scores with the other teams. Big Birding Day Uganda was a fantastic day out. Roger and Nathan introduced me to a whole new range of birds and some fabulous habitats (sewage ponds excepted!)
Papyrus Gonolek, photo courtesy of birdfinders.co.uk
A successful day – the official word
Teams recorded birds in all National Parks, Wildlife reserves, Important Bird Areas, Ramsar sites and Forest reserves and included community groups, groups of tourists, teams from NatureUganda, Uganda Wildlife Authority, Uganda Bird Guides Club and more. The highest record came from Kampala-Entebbe area with 175 species (that was us!), followed by Murchison Falls National Park (162), Queen Elizabeth National Park (160), Kidepo National Park (150), Mabamba Ramsar site (138), Bwindi Impenetrable Forest National Park (137), Mabira Forest Reserve (136), Bahai Temple-Park Alexander, Kampala (126), Kibale National Park (110), Lake Mburo National Park (110).
During the day, a number of key species were recorded that have not been documented on the Ugandan (bird) list for over 50 years and were about to be removed from the list; species that are not on the Uganda list at all and those that have over time extended their ranges to areas where they have not been recorded before.
Based on the Big Birding Day Uganda race, NatureUganda plan to develop a tour of Uganda that birders – from Uganda or from overseas – can follow to record the highest number of species. Birding is important for the development of Uganda’s tourism industry, with the potential for it being an even bigger revenue earner than gorilla tourism.
So what’s Ramsar all about?
The Ramsar Convention on Wetlands: Uganda presently has 12 sites designated as Wetlands of International Importance, with a surface area of 454,303 hectares.
Lutembe Bay Wetland System. 15/09/06; Wakiso; 98 ha; 00°10’N 032°34’E. Important Bird Area. Situated at the mouth of Lake Victoria’s Murchison Bay, this shallow area is almost completely cut-off from the main body of Lake Victoria by a C. papyrus island. The site supports globally threatened species of birds, endangered Cichlid fish, and over 100 butterfly species, including three rare ones. It is a breeding ground for Clarias and lungfish, and regularly supports more than 52% of the White-winged Black Terns (Chlidonias leucopterus) population. The system plays an important hydrological role, with the swamps surrounding the Murchison Bay acting as natural filters for silt, sediments and excess nutrients in surface run-off, waste waters from industries, and sewage from Kampala City. Lutembe Bay is being reclaimed and decimated for horticultural activities and the surrounding highly populated areas have been strongly affected by commercial and industrial development, urban wastewater, and conversion to agricultural land. A number of NGOs have been conducting conservation education activities in and around Lutembe, with the Uganda Wildlife Education Center (UWEC) only about 5 km from the bay. Ramsar site no. 1637.
Do you want to take part in Big Birding Day in 2013? The event is growing bigger and bigger every year and Diary of a Muzungu is delighted to be one of the media sponsors.
To register for Big Birding Day, visit NatureUganda or the Uganda Wildlife Authority websites.
If you like birds, check out the Muzungu’s Birds page for lots more Ugandan birding stories!
Power off – who gives a dam(n)?
I’ve been getting the hang of doing my make-up by candlelight this week-end but it is a faff to have to grope round in the darkness; I’m just glad it’s not too often.
What is it with Sundays? Some texts go through, others don’t, and this week-end MTN are charging me twice for every SMS. I refuse to phone unless it’s an emergency! Phone calls are extortionate (but a change of providers might help)…
The radio announced that the power will be off for three days this week. Apparently there’s a problem down at Jinja (the new dam?) and there’s a national diesel shortage (we’re arguing with the Kenyans again) so generators will only be on for a limited period. So far so good but it’s the unpredictability of supply that plays havoc with the semi-charged laptop, the forgotten torch and the contents of the fridge. The internet goes off of course and office work slowly grinds to a halt as the laptop batteries drain and the surge protector unit – between the mains and the PCs – beeps louder and louder.
Orange internet seems no better than UTL, our previous internet provider: having our internet cables dug up and stolen was the last straw so now we’re wireless. Is it because we’re at swamp level here in Namuwongo that the connectivity’s so slow?
During work hours, we go into Kampala to catch up on errands when the power goes and Patrick makes an early start to beat his way through the ridiculous traffic. Without electricity to power the ‘iron box’ and do the ironing, Eva manages to slowly stretch the remaining household chores into the rest of the working day. She moves around so slowly at times, silent as a ghost.
I rather like overhearing the moment when the electricity suddenly cuts out: there’s a collective ‘OH!’ from the other side of the compound wall as the background music to my life suddenly stops. Ah, silence!
Face made-up by candlelight (after a fashion) I tiptoe my way to the boda boda stage by the light of my phone, aiming for the Indian shop, a (generator-powered) beacon of light amidst the darkness. “Take care” says the unusually attentive shop owner (that’ll be the low-cut top) and with that I trip on a pebble back into the darkness.
Choking through the potholes of Kampala
Traffic around Kampala is notorious and getting worse.
PHOTO: Enormous craters along this road have given it the nickname ‘The Mountains of the Moon’ – a reference to the Rwenzori Mountains between Uganda and the DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo). After the rains this 200 metre unnavigable stretch of road (even in a 4X4) becomes known as ‘Lake Bukoto.’
It’s quite common to turn your engine off as you sit still for 10 minutes or more. Yesterday it took us an hour and a half to drive 3 kilometres / 2 miles, bumper to bumper, in and out of the potholes of Kampala’s Industrial Area, choking on the black diesel fumes from lorries we disposed of in the West 30 years ago. A Nature Uganda speaker this week told us how air pollution is a major contributor to heart disease in places like Uganda: road pollution, burning rubbish (including plastics and batteries), cooking over a charcoal stove, kerosene lamps and more.
door to door salesman Kampala
Stuck in traffic on a boda boda crossing Kampala Road. This day was pretty calm. Often the streets are PACKED with bodas
A birding safari here in my Kampala backyard
Early Sunday morning – when few people are around – is the best time to spot birds: through the slum, along the railway track, through the Papyrus down to Port Bell on Lake Victoria.
“Up with the lark” last Sunday for a spot of birdwatching with Roger and Jean. (Strangely, the lark was one of the few birds we didn’t see!) What a fantastic way to wile away a few hours.
Roger volunteers with Nature Uganda and gets paid to travel to every corner of Uganda to do bird counts. Nice job! His knowledge is amazing. Jean is a fellow VSO volunteer and is a midwife at Kibuli Hospital. He’s nuts about birds, she’s nuts about babies.
My house is separated from the marsh – and one of the city’s shanty towns – by the railway line a few metres beyond our compound wall. I love living in Namuwongo. I have the quiet of being in a cul de sac with the reassuring buzz of human activity beyond: men hammering iron sheet roofs onto new shelters, laughing children, salesmen broadcasting their (usually crappy Chinese) wares via the repetitive strain of Greensleeves played on a loop on cheap tinny speakers (did I mention crappy Chinese wares… ?) Except of course, it’s not always a buzz of activity out there but one – or many – loud pulsing rhythms. The drums and the sound of people ululating fill the night air on market days. Even after 18 months here it still sounds magical to me.
We are of course encroaching onto the wetlands. Our house is on legitimate land, the ‘right side’ of the railway, but nonetheless our house is surely part of the wider problem.
On our walk we lamented the loss of the wetlands (the natural filter for the heavy run-off from rains in Kampala for instance) but were delighted to see seven Grey-Crowned Cranes, Uganda’s national symbol. What does it say about a country’s environmental management that its national symbol faces extinction within 20 years? Survival of the Grey-Crowned Crane is threatened due to wetland habitat destruction, where the Cranes breed. Wetlands in Uganda are under threat from a variety of human activities, especially conversion to farmland and agricultural activities. Consequently, the Crane’s critical breeding and roosting habitats are disappearing while the remaining ones are highly degraded. Nature Uganda is spearheading the campaign to protect this extraordinarily beautiful bird.
We were gobsmacked at the sight of a Black Headed Heron swallowing an enormous frog and you have to wonder how the clumsy-looking Pink Backed Pelicans balance atop the tree. We searched for the beauty in the ugly Marabou Stork. Viewed while it’s on the ground you won’t see it: admire its gracious flight, we all agreed it’s quite spectacular for such a big bird.
A Long Crested Eagle watched us pass. He looked a bit odd; the wind dishevelled him, making his crest feathers flop over his eyes, reminding me of my grandfather whose single strand of hair covered a receding hairline – until he ventured out in windy weather.
We argued about the merits – or not! – of the Woodland Kingfisher’s call. A beautiful bird it may be but its call, from the avocado tree overlooking my bedroom, is shrill and unforgiving at 5.30 a.m. every bleeding morning.
A few of the amazing 86 bird species we saw on our walk (Roger has actually recorded 120 in this small area) included the Hadada Ibis, who scolded us at regular intervals, like a child who uncovers you playing ‘hide and seek’ and has to alert everyone to your hiding place.
The African Hobby is quite the cutest bird of prey I’ve seen. The bird reminded me of my UK life and the long distance we’ve both travelled. We also saw a Sandpiper and some other avian visitors from northern Europe.
As the railway track curved round towards Port Bell we heard a terrific blood-curdling screaming as a pig had its throat cut at the open-air abattoir below us. Roger told us about another day trip he’d been on: counting the vultures at the main city abattoir near Luzira. “I’ve never seen anything like it” he said. “Hundreds of sheep and goat heads in a pile.” Four hundred cattle are killed a day, and in the most rudimentary fashion.
Marabou Storks and Hooded Vultures jostled for the best picking among a big pile of bones which, on closer inspection (I couldn’t stop myself) turned out to be fresh pig heads. Yes I am somehow still a vegetarian!
The one and only: Baldrick
Dogs rushed us from all directions as we approached Port Bell and for once my happy-go-lucky Baldrick looked rattled. “He’s alright” Jean said. “Not sure Baldrick thinks so!” Roger added. Being charged by an enormous cow – loose and feeding on a rubbish dump we passed – was a bit scary though.
We followed the railway track right down to Port Bell, on the edge of Lake Victoria. It’s the first time I’ve seen draught Bell – or any other lager – in Uganda, served an inch at a time! We had our drinks in a little shack by the beach as the waitresses argued over how to lay out the tables. The freight ships arrive in Port Bell from Tanzania. We know they’ve docked when we hear the train shuttle up and down 2 or 3 times a day from the Lake to the Industrial Area approximately 5 km away.
Back home along the railway track and we tripped over Baldrick as the day heated up and he started to lag behind. Jean and I waved and shook hands with the kids screaming “muzungu, how are you?” as Roger kept walking on.
“We’ve blown your cover!” I said, laughing.
“I’ve spent months trying to ignore them. Now they’ll all be calling at me next time I walk along here.” Sorry Roger, I just hope you get to hear the Papyrus Gonolek above the screaming children next time you walk to Port Bell.
The full list of birds we saw on our birdwatching safari to Port Bell, in the order they appear in Stevenson and Fanshawe’s “Birds of East Africa” is:
Pink Backed Pelican
Great Cormorant
Long Tailed Cormorant
Cattle Egret
Little Egret
Purple Heron
Black Headed Heron
Grey Heron
Marabou Stork
Hammerkop
Open Billed Stork
Marabou Stork
Hadada Ibis
Black Kite
Black Shouldered Kite
Palm Nut Vulture
Hooded Vulture
African Marsh Harrier
Shikra
Long Crested Eagle
Grey Kestrel
African Hobby
Grey Crowned Crane
African Jacana
Black Crake
Spur Winged Lapwing
Long Toed Lapwing
Wood Sandpiper
White Winged Tern
Gull Billed Tern
African Green Pigeon
Speckled Pigeon
Red Eyed Dove
Laughing Dove
Grey Parrot
Eastern Grey Plantain eater
Diederik Cuckoo
White Browed Coucal
Blue headed Coucal
Little Swift
Palm Swift
Speckled Mousebird
Pied Kingfisher
Woodland Kingfisher
Malachite Kingfisher
White Throated Bee-eater
Yellow fronted Tinkerbird
Yellow rumped Tinkerbird
Double Toothed Barbet
Sand martin
Barn Swallow
African Pied Wagtail
Common Bulbul
White Browed Robin chat
African Thrush
Little Rush Warbler
Winding Cisticola
Red-faced Cisticola
Tawny Flanked Prinia
Grey capped Warbler
Grey backed Camaroptera
Northern Black Flycatcher
Black and White Shrike Flycatcher
Brown Throated Wattle eye
African Blue Flycatcher
Yellow White eye
Bronze Sunbird
Olive bellied Sunbird
Copper Sunbird
Red chested Sunbird
Grey backed Fiscal
Black headed Gonolek
Papyrus Gonolek
Pied Crow
Ruppell’s Long Tailed Starling
Splendid Starling
Grey headed Sparrow
Black headed Weaver
Grosbeak Weaver
Slender billed Weaver
Fan tailed Widowbird
Red billed Firefinch
Common Waxbill
Black Crowned Waxbill
Bronze Mannikin
Black and white Mannikin
Yellow fronted Canary
Fun and games at the ballot box
If “the path to true love isn’t always smooth”, how about the path to democracy?
Ugandans would like to say they live in a democracy but if the last week’s events are anything to go by, the country’s not there yet.
I have a feeling tonight’s set to be another noisy night. I live behind a high wall, next to Kampala’s railway track and the slums of Namuwongo slum. “Soweto” is one of the better known parts of the slum.
It’s quiet now but several hundred people have just passed by on the other side of the wall, cheering loudly. I expect it’s do with the election primaries being carried out across the country. Our house girl Eva will fill me in on the local gossip tomorrow!
Today’s Sunday Vision reports that “the (ruling) NRM (National Resistance Movement) party primaries for Kampala were yesterday called off following theft of the ballot papers.”
According to the acting chairperson of the Electoral Commission: “The ballot papers which were dispatched to Kampala in the evening of September 3 have been stolen and are in the hands of unscrupulous people who intend to rig the elections in Kampala.”
Last week a number of senior Government Ministers were voted out during the first stage of the primaries. They disputed the results and all hell broke loose.
Lady NRM candidate on the campaign trail in Jinja
According to the Daily Monitor newspaper: “It was evident that some ballots were ticked prior to the voting dates. Some incumbents are said to have ferried students from their schools in order to get more votes. In another region one candidate got more votes than the voters in the area – was this magic?”
It’s going to be an interesting few months …
The general election is due to take place in March.
Girls’ adventure in Jinja and a sneak preview of an amazing new lodge
A stroke of luck – and a chance to explore Jinja
My finances had dried up and I wasn’t looking forward to staying in all week-end with only 10,000 Uganda shillings (£3) to survive on until payday this week. After only 3 sessions, the English conversation class I’ve been giving has been put on hold.
I was going stir crazy.
“We’ve been working far too hard for volunteers!” Stacey and I agreed, only half-jokingly. I’d produced four fund-raising proposals in two weeks and I needed to get out of town. When my colleague asked me how he could thank me for my hard work, I immediately said “take me on your next field trip!” Sadly, as the week passed, the car filled up with researchers and so I was left behind in Kampala to stew alonein my very lovely house. Since the organisation office is in my spare bedroom, it can be difficult to switch off from work, especially when you’ve been working long hours.
And then out of the blue came an invitation to accompany fellow VSO volunteer Jan and a visiting Irish Member of Parliament for a week-end in Jinja. What luck!
Jinja sits on Lake Victoria, three hours drive east of Kampala. For Ugandans it’s a symbol of the country’s industrial heyday but I find the derelict factories and the run-down 1950s architecture depressing; it could have been so different. For visitors however, Jinja’s famous for being the Source of the Nile and the adrenaline capital of East Africa.
Our timing was spot on: a group of rafters and canoeists – there to heave rafters out of the water if the raft overturns – were approaching the falls. I had butterflies in my stomach. Were these the falls where we’d flipped over and I’d panicked?
The rafters floated on downstream and we stopped for lunch at the Fork and Paddle, a high vantage point overlooking the river. The sun was beating down and for a moment I thought I was on holiday.
As we left Bujagali Falls, three big buses thundered past us at speed, throwing up billowing clouds of thick dust. How blessed were we to have been virtually run off the road by the visiting African Anglican Bishops.
Kingfisher Safari Resort offers no chance of game viewing but does have a beautifully landscaped view of Lake Victoria through lush vegetation and palm trees of varying heights. We loved the funky bandas and it was great to be in the pool after a muggy dusty day.
We’d promised VSO we’d take good care of our VIP guest so we had to laugh when, en route to dinner along the Kanunga Road, our car ended up in the middle of a heaving mass of several hundred people, shouting, dancing and ululating!
As we waited for everyone to pass, the crowd changed direction and moved towards us.
We were stuck. People gestured us to drive forward. People beckoned us to reverse.
In the build-up to the general election next year, we had ended up slap bang in the middle of an election rally of not one, but two, candidates.
It was market day and the whole world was out on the street. Resplendent in gold and yellow – the dominant colour of the National Resistance Movement that has been in power for 24 years – the lady candidate danced and laughed with the crowd. There’s not a whole lot going on in this neck of the woods so, regardless of your political colours, you’ll get a good turn-out if you roll up with a big sound system. You have to wonder how many of the cheering crowd will actually vote though.
On our guided tour along the randomly designed wooden walkways, we murmured approvingly at the way the walkway had carefully been built around the trees. The individual bandas are large and stunning, each with their own private decks. I thought of how relaxing it would be to go to sleep to the sound of the falls. Every element of the construction is unique: the Zanzibari wood carvings above the doorways, the granite hand basins, the natural rock pool next to the falls that will soon be the lodge’s swimming-pool.
As we paddled back across the Nile through the dark night back to the waiting car, a flicker of lightening gave a rosy glow to the far horizon.
