Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Shoulder shimmying in Gondar
Secure in the knowledge that Ethiopia has been reported to be one of the safest African countries for a woman to travel independently, I’d mentally prepared to spend the rest of the fortnight travelling on my own. But I’m glad I didn’t; I couldn’t have wished for better travelling companions and, to be honest, there was no escaping the Hashers anyway! No sooner had we said goodbye to one group than we bumped into another.
And so Wailer, Mekdes ‘Madness,’ (Love and) Desire and I set off for Gonder on public transport. I‘d have loved to have sat next to Wailer for a few hours but not in the front of a minibus without a seat belt. The decision was quickly confirmed when a middle aged businessman sat down next to me and a rival ‘conductor’ leapt through the gap in the seats (where I’d have been sitting) and punched the driver several times. Words were said – and he punched him again, the crime seemingly that the driver had ‘stolen’ the wealthy-looking passenger.
A hand pushed open the window next to me to demand money. I quickly slammed it shut and turned to feel his hand reaching through the window behind me – this was going to be an eventful journey!
Things settled down as we left town and we overtook donkeys laden with enormous heavy sacks, horses and carts, kids walking home from school carrying satchels hand stitched from grain sacks. Vehicles were few and far between. A toothless man in his 50s climbed in, crook in hand, and a wooden cross at his neck. The smell of animals clung to his many layered dirty shawls, slowly intensifying as the taxi heated up. A sweating carrier bag of onions added an extra edge to the atmosphere.
Gonder – They came, they saw, they played table football (Veni, vidi, vinci) with apologies to Julius Caesar
Five hours later, we arrived in Gonder. I loved the 1950s style Italian coffee shops (I felt a pang of homesickness for Europe!) and the fabulous ‘nasfiq’ breakfast of spicy tomato lentils, with scrambled eggs and a dollop of yoghurt, served with crusty bread (at the Telesatellite Club below the Post Office).
I love Ethiopian food! Espris or a ‘Spritzer’ is 100% juice: layers of freshly pureed fruit – mango, avocado and paw paw, served with a twist of lime – in a tall ‘knickerbocker glory’ glass and a long spoon. Heaven.
Top on Gonder’s tourist itinerary is the 17th Century Royal Enclosure, a UNESCO heritage site of castles, halls and even an enclosure for the king’s lions! Uganda has little architecture and I lapped up the history. (Funny the things you don’t realise you miss until you see them again).
Read my review of Fasil Ghebbi (the Royal Enclosure)
Highly recommend using a guide. Ours was very informative, UNESCO registered. We negotiated a group price. 100 birr entry for each of us + 150 birr for the guide. Finished the tour with a fabulous coffee ceremony, opposite the ticket office.
Place had a calm and welcoming feel.
The castle was developed over several centuries, thus captures different architectural styles and periods of history. Close your eyes and try and picture the lions in the enclosure and the halls full of people!
I enjoyed the place but I live in Uganda where there is little architecture, thus Gondar was a treat. If you’re someone who lives in the West, you may find this castle lacks the facilities you’re used to (e.g. no shop, nothing interactive, toilets very basic).
Don’t miss the Church of Debra Berhan Selassie. I went at dusk, it was fabulous and then on a tuk tuk to the Goha Hotel for a sundowner (couldn’t afford to stay there but the view was wonderful).
If in Gondar, would recommend a drink at the hotel to watch sunset.
My TripAdvisor review of Fasil Ghebbi (the Royal Enclosure) Gondar, August 2011
Later that afternoon I followed fellow Hasher Jesus into the church of Debre Burhan Selassie (how many people can say that?) Inside we admired the church’s beautiful hand-painted walls and ceilings, bedecked with cherubs, one of the more familiar images of Ethiopia. The priest was welcoming and didn’t seem to mind us floating in and out and taking photos.
Traditional Ethiopian dancing, two nights in a row, with our lovely friend and de facto guide Madness, was a riot. The painted plaster walls, traditional musical instruments and goatskin paintings created an inviting and intimate atmosphere for our evenings of shoulder shimmying at Belago and Ansari Bet. The singer worked the room; teasing and entertaining us with poems created for each person in the room, accompanied by a man playing the masenqo a potent mix of string and percussion. She stuck the proffered notes first on her forehead then in her bra. The superb range of her voice was only spoiled by the stink of the latrines. Ethiopia, you need to sort your toilets out.
The masenqo is a single-string violin common in the musical traditions of Ethiopia and Eritrea. The square-shaped resonator is normally covered with parchment or rawhide. [Image courtesy of Abesha Bunna Bet, a really cool English language web site about all things Ethiopian).
Next morning, in the Ethiopian Airlines office (for the umpteenth time), the Man Who Would Not Go Home deliberated about where to travel next. Desire had changed his flight back to Nairobi twice already. When offered the option to get an open return, he’d said no (a decision he was to regret at least two more times).
A very nice man made our flight reservations to Lalibela. We couldn’t believe it when the same man checked us in at Gondar airport. “Are you flying the plane too?” “Yes, I will be on the plane” he said.
Wow, that’s some personal service.
A recap of Africa Hash 2011
Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Part 1: three days in Addis Ababa
Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Part 2: road trip to Bahir Dar and Tissisat Falls
Thank you! Amaseganalu
Thanks to the Africa Hash main sponsor St. George beer. Africa Hash served as the launch event for their mobile draught beer bar – I can safely say we gave it the baptism it deserves.
Hashing has given me the opportunity to travel abroad with my Ugandan friends, reconnect with English friends I met at Africa Hash 2009 in Kampala, and make friends in Ethiopia, Kenya and Tanzania friends. Mombasa May 2012 is booked (I can’t wait to party with Nairobi Hashers again) and Africa Hash 2013 in Ghana pencilled in…
Special thanks to Addis Hash for inviting us to your fabulous country. I’ve wanted to visit for years but you provided the opportunity, gave us a fantastic welcome, an awesome party and continued to enchant me even after the official festivities were over. I WILL BE BACK!
ON ON
Lonely Planet votes Uganda No. 1 for 2012!
Lonely Planet Uganda: Lonely Planet votes Uganda No. 1 for 2012!
This is my shortest post ever – the title says it all!
I’m so delighted to be part of something that is helping promote the beautiful country of Uganda, and her fabulously warm and welcoming people. I’ve been voting for Uganda every day since I arrived two and a half years ago.
Diary of a Muzungu has been appearing on Lonely Planet, as part of the travel bloggers’ Blogsherpa programme since 2009.
“We go, we go, Uganda – WE GO!”
Read the short review on Lonely Planet here:
Lonely Planet’s Best in Travel: top 10 countries for 2012 – the results
Jebale bassebo! Jebale banyabo! “Well done!” as we say in UG.
Here is what the Lonely Planet judges wrote about Uganda in 2011:
“It’s taken nasty dictatorships and a brutal civil war to keep Uganda off the tourist radar, but stability is returning and it won’t be long before visitors come flocking back. After all, this is the source of the river Nile – that mythical place explorers sought since Roman times. It’s also where savannah meets the vast lakes of East Africa, and where snow-capped mountains bear down on sprawling jungles. Not so long ago, the tyrannical dictator and ‘Last King of Scotland’ Idi Amin helped hunt Uganda’s big game to the brink of extinction, but today the wildlife is returning with a vengeance. This year Uganda also celebrates the 50th anniversary of its independence; Kampala, one of Africa’s safest capital cities, is bound to see off the event with a bang. Still, Uganda still isn’t without its problems. Human rights abuses aren’t uncommon, and the country breathes a collective sigh whenever President Museveni thinks of another ruse to stay in power for a few more years. But now, as ever, explorers in search of the source of the Nile won’t leave disappointed.”
What is the muzungu doing in Uganda anyway? Read Interviews with the muzungu.
A close encounter with lions!
One of the incredible benefits of working with UCF, the Uganda Conservation Foundation, has been work trips to the Bush – and free game drives. Friends and family back home may be under the impression that’s all I’ve been doing for the last two and half years! Unfortunately, once I’d got the hang of the projects, trips and wildlife encounters (in the Bush at least) were few and far between and I spent as much time chained to the laptop as I did in any other office job I’ve ever had, writing one funding proposal after another.
Feline like a quickie in the Bush – then time for breakfast
Yet the Bush is still within a day’s drive from home, UCF has given me some wonderful contacts in Queen Elizabeth National Park, and I am indeed a very lucky girl to (continue to) have this experience. I make the most of every day I have in Uganda – here’s a highlight from last week:
The driver had promised us the earliest of starts (although I was disappointed that the agreed game drive would happen in a bloody saloon car!) I’d insisted that we should go in a 4×4 but come 6.30 in the morning, I’d buttoned my lip, deciding to make the most of the cheap price and trusting in the fact that a locally based guide should be able to find all the wildlife straightaway.
Eddie the driver gave us the normal tourist platitudes, and I switched off. UCF has spoiled me. We’ve travelled with rangers off the beaten track; we’ve followed the lion researchers at night and heard all kinds of wildlife close-encounter stories round the campfire.
At the famous Kasenyi track, south of Lake George, we headed for where the lions had last been seen. With the grass long, thanks to the seasonal rains, spotting a lion can be near impossible. Sometimes all you see are the tips of their ears or a flick of a tail.
Awesome, truly.
“Look, he’s just finished mating! Now he will want to hunt.”
Three handsome adult lions, a female and two brothers, were in a lazy, playful mood and Eddie anticipated their next move.
I was captivated: I had never seen male lions at such close quarters. They really are magnificent.
The males casually sauntered off to our right and the female lay down to drink water. As we slowly drove past her, I suddenly had a tight feeling in my stomach, realising what a powerful, and potentially lethal, animal I was approaching.
We stepped on the gas to head the lions off, further along the track. And there they were, not at all perturbed by our presence, two magnificent male lions walking directly towards us (walking directly towards us?! Hang on a minute shouldn’t I be scared?) Admiration turned to fear right at the last minute as the two enormous lions walked the length of our car just a metre from us. I grabbed the camera.
What a handsome creature!
As the big pussycats and I made eye contact, I felt myself slide down my seat (much to the delight of my friend, who giggled and poked fun at me from the back of the car). The lions crossed the track heading for the Uganda kobs’ mating ground (their favourite place for breakfast). I’m just glad it wasn’t me on the menu…
These aren’t the best wildlife encounter photographs. To photograph wildlife requires a good zoom lens and more than an impromptu five minutes with the animals in question. I’m pretty pleased with my x10 optical zoom but hey, when wildlife gets this close – who needs the zoom anyway?
Kampala to Nairobi by bus – 14 hours of speed bumps!
Travel by bus between Uganda and Kenya – with tips and links to some of my favourite travel stories!
It was a terrible night’s ‘sleep’ – a 14-hour bus journey from Kampala to Nairobi: the speed bumps shuddered us awake every few minutes. I swear I woke a hundred times. I awoke cold, shivering and aching.
A few glasses of Waragi – it was my birthday after all – would have knocked me out, but I daren’t drink too much when I know (from the equally long bus ride to Kigali in Rwanda) that the bus drivers have bladders like camels and only stop once, twice if you’re lucky, on the whole journey.
Cowhides for sale along the road to Nairobi from the Uganda border
As night became day, I heard Chinese say “Nagawa, look!” and she pointed to a beautiful caldera (volcano), tinted pale brown, with a pale blue sky and mist in the distance. What a magical sight.
An hour before reaching Nairobi, I watched people walking to work: a man carried enormous lidded baskets over his shoulder, donkeys trailed box carts, a man lay on the ground inspecting his bicycle. Stalls sold cowhides displayed at the roadside.
The bus sped past the ‘Master Kitchen Hotel’ and ‘Hotel Paradise’, two-room shacks painted in bright vertical stripes. Despite their simplicity, I enjoyed the variety of the architecture, in contrast to the uniformity of Uganda.
As we passed tree plantations, I thought of Professor Wangari Maathai founder of the Green Belt Movement and wondered whether they were her work? She died just a few days before we travelled. Since 1977, the Green Belt Movement has planted over 45 million trees in Kenya, and thousands of women have been empowered to lift themselves and their families out of poverty. In 2004, Wangari Maathai became the first environmentalist and African woman to win the Nobel Peace Prize. I’d been thinking about her all week and what an incredible role model she was so it was quite moving to be racing through Kenya and seeing plantations of young trees.
In Nairobi, street sweepers’ brooms have handles! – unlike the back-breaking work in Kampala where the ladies are bent double, laboriously sweeping the roads by hand, as rush hour traffic speeds past inches away from them.
Despite the grubbiness of downtown Nairobi (why do bus stations always take you to the shittiest parts of town?) I had to smile at the wonderfully named shops ‘Recovery Pharmacist’ ‘Arise and Shine Fashions’ and ‘Best Care House Girls.’
Our group stumbled, bleary-eyed, out of the bus and jumped in a matatu (slightly less battered than the Kampala ones!) and headed to our hotel in a leafy part of town. I couldn’t believe it when we pulled up next door to the HQ of the Green Belt Movement! The Hashers made for the bar; I made my way to the condolences book and paid my humble respects, alongside tributes from governments and politicians from across the world. I couldn’t believe the timing – I confess I’d only recently known of Professor Maathai’s work and here I was staying a few metres from the base of this fantastic operation, during the week of condolences.
Paying respects – condolences book. late Professor Wangari Maathai
This cross-border bus journey marked the start of the epic Nairobi to Naivasha Relay which Kampala Hash House Harriers have emulated with our equally awesome Kampala to Jinja Relay!
I love the Hash – together we have travelled all corners of East Africa – and beyond – to Hoima, Kigali, Addis Ababa, Malindi and even to the border with South Sudan (where some silly muzungu got rather lost!)
If you enjoy my cross-border bus journeys, read The real ‘boda boda’ – Nagawa travels sidesaddle into Kenya and MASH-tastic the muzungu’s bus tips from Kampala to Nairobi.
The real ‘boda boda’ – Nagawa travels sidesaddle into Kenya
There were plenty of seats on the bus – so why does the big man always have to sit next to me? As we prepared to leave the Kampala bus park, he reclined his seat and wedged two greasy paper bags between us. “Do you even have an apple to eat?” he asked me as he proceeded to munch fried chicken from one hand and a chapatti from the other; he sprawled in every direction for 14 hours.
We drove straight into heavy evening traffic – and the side of a car. After ten minutes of arguing and arm waving, the consensus was that the car was the one-size-fits-all-Ugandan-term: “stubborn.”
The journey to the Uganda Kenya border passed without incident until one in the morning, when I was roused from the night’s only decent bit of sleep to see somebody in a uniform wave some banknotes right in my face.
In my effort to not be ripped off at the border, I got ripped off at the border – not so much by individuals as by the system: money from my British bank account was issued in Ugandan shillings at the ATM in Kampala. I changed some into Kenyan shillings for the border crossing. Much to my annoyance, I then had to purchase a single $50 note for my visa! (They wouldn’t let me pay the equivalent in either shilling). I don’t even want to think how much money I literally threw away but I didn’t have much choice: my special (work) pass ran out with my Voluntary Services Overseas placement and I needed to leave Uganda in order to reenter on a new tourist visa while my new special pass is being processed.
As the only muzungu on the bus, it was hardly surprising that the bus drove off without me while I took time to change money and fill in forms at the border. “It’s ok” Dirty Dick said “we’ll get on the bikes” and he pointed to the two boys who’d just appeared on pushbikes next to him.
I hitched up my dress and lifted one buttock onto the small padded seat above the back wheel and the four of us pedalled off into the darkness of the no-man’s-land between Uganda and Kenya.
Kampala’s (in)famous boda boda motorbike taxis – that seem to swarm around Kampala like cockroaches – started here, on the border crossing between the two countries. Like them or loathe them, they provide an invaluable public transport service and we couldn’t do without them now.
A big bat swooped beneath the arc of a solitary street light as we coasted down a short slope through a lorry park. The place seemed deserted. I felt the bike wobble (or was that my *kabina?)
Crossing back into Uganda three days later, under my Ugandan name Nagawa (according to the bus ticket) I was issued with a 3 month visa which says I – travelling on a British passport – am a citizen of the USA!
*A kabina is what a lady sits on – the bigger it is, the more compliments she gets!
Nairobi to Lake Naivasha Relay – local people watch as runners and carloads of Hashers motor through to Naivasha
This cross-border bus journey marked the end of the epic Nairobi to Naivasha Relay which Kampala Hash House Harriers have emulated with our equally awesome Kampala to Jinja Relay!
I love the Hash – together we have travelled all corners of East Africa – and beyond – to Hoima, Kigali, Addis Ababa, Malindi and even to the border with South Sudan (where some silly muzungu got rather lost!)
If you enjoy my cross-border bus journeys, read MASH-tastic the muzungu’s bus tips from Kampala to Nairobi and Kampala to Nairobi – 14 hours of speed bumps and No hurry in Africa.
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!
An English summer- more scones, less ignorance please
Ahhh… Devon in the summer. Seagulls cry overhead in a blue sky wisped with white and I’m instantly transported to childhood holidays by the sea.
Salcombe, Devon, home to childhood holidays
Grockles* crowd outside the cake shop window drooling as they peer in at the homemade Victoria sandwich cake and the giant date slices. The rounded peaks of the Lemon Meringue pie make me think of Ena Sharples’ hat circa 1970. My stomach is groaning after the huge English breakfast I’ve just wolfed down but we agree to return for that most English of afternoon snacks: a Devon cream tea of scones and clotted cream. I wipe the imaginary dribble from the shop window as we head uphill.
I admire the order in Totnes Public Library; I breathe a deep sigh of satisfaction at the chronological placing of each and every book, the dust-free environment, the sense of certainty and purpose: a place for everything and everything in its place.
We pass the day walking up and down Fore Street. I’m happy to just window-shop. After so long in Uganda, it’s reassuring to see favourite knick-knacks still on sale. (At the same time though, I do wonder whether I will ever be able to afford to live in the UK again).
Every Tuesday Totnes, in south Devon, holds an Elizabethan market and I swoop on the second-hand book stall (you don’t have that much choice in Kampala). “There are travel books this side of the table” the lady says. I ask if she has any books about Africa and she replies: “There’s nothing to write about Africa.”
“You’ve obviously never been there then,” I spit back at her.
“Yes I have, I’ve travelled the world,” she says indignantly.
Reeling, I explain that there are many books about Africa but that there is a lack of awareness, and that I am in fact thinking of writing a book about Uganda.
The bookseller has been to Kenya and Zanzibar, beautiful and popular tourist destinations where it is possible (I imagine) to pass a holiday without meeting any Africans. (This woman’s narrow-mindedness has made me as judgemental as her). Amazing how you can ‘travel the world’ but still return home with exactly the same attitudes intact.
“I wouldn’t travel to that country on my own if you paid me” she said, oblivious to the fact that Africa is a continent of many countries not just one homogeneous fearful country. “Actually I feel safer in Uganda than I did in London,” I tell her “and they say Ethiopia is one of the safest countries for a woman to travel on her own.” “Oh no, no, no ….” she wouldn’t let me finish her sentence. She’s having none of it.
There are things about the UK I miss, and I love coming home to get my British ‘fix’ but I can’t bear this particular type of ignorance.
It’s after 4 o’clock when Ana and I walk into the teashop but alas! – just as we take our seats, the last two fluffy fat scones are whisked away to the neighbouring table. So near but yet so far. We settle for a pot of Earl Grey tea and an enormous slab of fresh moist Bakewell Tart. The almond taste reminds me of my first ever cross-country road trip, many moons ago, with my Socialist Worker friend Phil. We travelled in my Morris Minor along all the B roads, through the Peak District from Warwick to Sheffield ‘to see how the other half lives’ as he said. I have fond memories of that trip: the driving, the Derbyshire bakeries, my stay in his mum’s ‘two up, two down’ terraced house overlooking the redundant colliery.
Back in Totnes, our “Ghosts of Totnes” walking tour takes us onto the walled ramparts, past the Guildhall, up Lepers’ Walk and down to the wells. Few history books hold my attention but our guide Bob gives us a very human and comical introduction to local history. His stories make it easy to imagine the tin merchants and pilchard fishermen inhabiting the Elizabethan houses, the humiliation of petty thieves in the stocks – and worse.
Whether the Trojans really set foot in Totnes, who’s to say? But we enjoyed the story.
I was reassured to hear that the ghost that frequented the rooms above the ‘King Bill’ pub (the King William IV) where I am staying has moved on! If there were any ‘bumps in the night’, I certainly didn’t hear any, nor did I notice any flying furniture (although Dave the landlord very kindly offered to make some spooky sound effects for me).
Back on the train, I can’t help but stare at the first black man I’ve seen in several days.
The train clings to the edge of the River Teign, and I gaze across the water at the jetty and the pastel painted fishing cottages lining the waterfront. The river is mooring point for hundreds of pleasure boats, redundant on a weekday. It’s a beautiful sunny day.
As the river joins the sea, I’m mesmerised by the wide expanse of water that is Babbacombe Bay. I miss the sea.
At Teignmouth, a black Labrador swims out from the beach. Yellow buoys mark the safe swimming area and a boy walks along the sea edge with a metal detector. Girls in sunhats walk along the cliff’s edge as the train heads towards Dawlish. What a treat to enjoy the sea and the sand for a few minutes as we whizz onto Exeter.
* A ‘grockle’ is an informal and often slightly derogatory term for a tourist, first popularised in a film set in Torquay, another Devon resort.
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.
