Ethiopia calling me – from my sickbed
Two days before I fly to Ethiopia, and I’m lying in bed with a temperature. I’ve a bed in Addis Ababa and someone to pick me up to the airport – but I still haven’t got a plane ticket.
Some mix-up at the bank. My debit card was refused on Friday, and after two long and very expensive calls to the UK, I’m told there’s no bar on the card anyway. (Apparently Visa is blocking its use, not my bank). What a bloody pain. I really don’t need it this week.
I’ve wanted to visit Ethiopia for years. Like many Westerners, Ethiopia first really came into my consciousness thanks to Bob Geldof and Band Aid’s “Feed the World” movement following the 1984 – 85 famine. Pop and politics was a potent mix for this British teenager. Every word and note had me hooked. It came as a shock, some years later, to watch film of the most fantastic green gorges and canyons, stretching for miles and miles, with enormous rivers – Ethiopia is one source of the Nile – thundering through them. I couldn’t believe it was the same country. Pictures of the unmistakeable red dusty African roads reminded me of the Africa I’d been yearning for since younger, pre-Bob days.
Another part of the African puzzle slots into place. I just know I’m going to fall in love with Ethiopia. I wonder if this is the start of my next African love affair?
The mattress seems surprisingly comfortable tonight; I can feel myself falling into it. I don’t remember when I was this physically exhausted, although reconnecting with my body is actually quite a nice feeling.
I was exhausted even before I left the compound with Baldrick at 6 p.m. We walked for an hour to Al’s Bar in Kansanga for the Hash. I stood around for an hour, had dinner and then walked home. It was a terrible Hash venue: dark and dim, crowded and terrible traffic for those driving.
I wonder if I have malaria? If I’m honest, I’m a bit worried about being away from civilisation for two weeks, essentially on my own. I brought a big bag of medication with me two years ago and have hardly used any. I’ve rarely been ill and with VSO nurse and doctor friends and International Hospital just 10 minutes walk away, health has never been a worry but, unusually, I have a headache.
I woke up hot and sweating this morning. The pillow was wet and the mattress was soaking – on both sides of the bed – and I thrashed around all night. Something’s given me a sore neck. It’s been a stressful day, and I’ve been on a mission to do as much as I can, so I’ve hunched over the laptop without a break. My shoulderblades and neck are locked solid, a sure sign of malaria according to Harriet. Better get tested.
I’m totally shattered now though. Last week was a tough week.
Around the World with 40 Lonely Planet bloggers
Did you know Diary of a Muzungu featured on Lonely Planet from 2009-2012?
If you like travelling – real or armchair! – you’ll love this …
Diary of a Muzungu has been appearing on Lonely Planet, as part of the travel bloggers’ Blogsherpa programme since 2009.
The Lonely Planet “Blogsherpas” is a group of 250 of the world’s best-known bloggers. Our free photo e-book “Around the World with 40 Lonely Planet Bloggers” takes readers on a world tour of almost 70 countries, and introduces the world of professional travel blogging. You can download a copy for FREE!
Diary of a Muzungu was a Lonely Planet Featured Blogger from 2009 to 2012
In the e-book, Diary of a Muzungu highlights some of the incredible places I’ve visited in Uganda. I had just two pages in which to select my favourite photos of Uganda – so it wasn’t an easy decision!
It took me weeks to decide which of my photos of Uganda I could include. I have hundreds more… Photos – Diary of a Muzungu – as featured in the Lonely Planet bloggers’ e-book
“Around the World with 40 Lonely Planet Bloggers” features a collection of stunning images that capture the essence of our travel experiences.
The gathering of this eclectic group of travel experts was born out of Lonely Planet’s effort to broaden content for their audience. “The concept was simple – get the best 10% of travel bloggers out there to share their thoughts and ideas…shining a light on the very best travel writing and photography on the planet,” tells Matthew Cashmore, former Innovation Ecosystem Manager at Lonely Planet on the creation of the BlogSherpa Program.
“The 40 BlogSherpas showcased in the e-book specialize in travel modes ranging from solo to couples to family travel, road trips, budget travel, expat living, voluntourism and even perpetually traveling digital nomads,” explains Karen Catchpole, one of the featured bloggers.
Fishermen in a dugout canoe paddle through the early morning mist on the Rover Nile, near Jinja. Photo – Diary of a Muzungu – as featured in the Lonely Planet bloggers’ e-book
The BlogSherpas have reached beyond our own blogs, featuring in National Geographic Traveler, Huffington Post, Travel + Leisure, AFAR and more.
I’m delighted to be associated with Lonely Planet and to share and learn so much from the Lonely Planet Blogsherpa global community.
“Around the World with 40 Lonely Planet Bloggers” is free to download here.
It’s a big file so make yourself a cup of tea while it’s downloading … we hope you enjoy the e-book as much as we’ve enjoyed collecting the content for you 🙂
If you want to see more of my photos, check out my Gallery on Flickr or follow Diary of a Muzungu on Instagram and Facebook.
Erection* fever
Every monday evening I run through the slums and wetlands of Kampala, through the traffic or across the golf course, in and through the lives of thousands of Ugandans along with 150 fellow Hashers. Dr Ian Clarke, founder of Kampala’s International Hospital (IHK), is one of us.
Like him or loathe him, he’s an impressive character. This month he is standing for the seat of L.C..III (Local Councillor) and, if elected, will govern a quarter of Kampala, Uganda’s capital. He’s popular with many Ugandans as they think if he has his own money – IHK is the biggest private healthcare provider in the country – he’ll be above corruption.
International Hospital overlooks Namuwongo which has a slum of some 100,000 people. With inadequate public health infrastructure, many Kampalans look to the free service offered by the Hope Ward or the Touch Namuwongo outreach project. For many in Ian’s constituency, he’s already proved he can deliver. His public promise to improve the roads is already having an impact: I hear that hundreds of potholes across the capital have been patched up in recent weeks, as if to prove the point.
Hashers are crazy for free T shirts! So this Monday we waited in line to collect our free Ian Clarke T shirts and off we ran, shouting “Busuulwa!” Ian’s Ugandan name. It was hilarious.
We stopped at a few trading centres along the way to pose for photographers.
PHOTO: Ian leads the ensemble.
Silly songs, complete with embarrassing movements, are all part of the Hash culture.
Local kids couldn’t wait to take part in our silly antics
PHOTO: “ON IN” we cry as we take the last leg of the hour long run, back into the venue (a bar!)
It’s very hot at the moment and we were all glad to get back.
The dust was immense.
Much as I love the kids running alongside us, their little flip flops kicked up clouds and clouds of dust, making breathing even harder!
PHOTO: gathering at a trading centre.
A chance to catch your breath – and for Ian to meet another journalist.
*A word about this week’s blog title: these T-shirts must have been printed by a Westerner. The letter L doesn’t exist in the local languages.
“So what’s your plobrem?” they ask. It gets confusing.
Kampala to Jinja relay – the sugar cane Hash
Map of the Kampala to Jinja Relay
Map of the Kampala to Jinja relay route that gives the quite correct impression that 1) there were indeed lots of hills and 2) our collective blood pressure would rise and fall like the proverbial yo-yo, ending in a slump by the Nile.
The dusty back roads of the Kampala to Jinja Relay
They came from Kigali and Nairobi to join Kampala Hash House Harriers (KH3), an assorted bunch of Ugandans, Americans, Brits and the occasional Dutchie: thin ones and fat ones, professional runners (a few) and the usual party animals (carloads of them).
My lucky English socks!
Some of them brought dogs…One Harriette wore her lucky English socks!
The team Waragi bus. Kampala Hash House Harriers
In true Hash Mismanagement style, we were still shopping for supplies at 11.30 pm the night before the annual Kampala – Jinja relay, and on the road (minus the required tent, what tent?) at 6.30 the next morning.
Last year’s knee injury sustained climbing Mount Elgon meant this was my first time to take part in the (in)famous Kampala Jinja Relay, now in its sixth year.
Jinja is Uganda’s second city and famous for being the Source of the Nile (but don’t mention that to an Ethiopian, they get upset).
Harriet and Martin ran in the afternoon heat. Rather them than me! Kampala Jinja Relay Hash KH3
Each relay team comprised nine ‘seeds’ (runners) and miscellaneous hangers-on (well someone had to be responsible for forgetting the tent). The weekly cries of the Hashmasters: “No more than ten people in a team!” were closely adhered to by everyone: our team had 13 members, another had 32.
Two seeds ran/walked one section each, six seeds ran two sections and Seed One ran three sections: the first of the day, immediately after lunch, and the last stage of the day. Needless to say, Seed One was the hardest slot.
Waitinf for team mates to cross the line. Kampala Jinja Relay Hash KH3
Here’s how it works, if you like the detail…
Kampala Jinja relay seeding for all 17 stages and distance in km in brackets. Total is 87 km (er… in reality more like 92 km on the day!)
Seed 1– 3 stages (7.4 + 6.6 + 5.5 = 19.5 km)
Seed 2 – 2 stages (5.7 + 6.3 =12 km)
Seed 3 – 2 stages (4.9 + 6.0 =10.9 km)
Seed 4 – 2 stages (5.8 + 4.1 = 9.9 km)
Seed 5 – 2 stages (5.9 + 4.0 = 9.9 km)
Seed 6 – 2 stages (6.2 + 3.1 = 9.3 km)
Seed 7– 2 stages (5.4 + 3 .1 =8.5 km)
Seed 8 – 1 stage ( 3.5 km)
Seed 9 – 1 stage (3.5 km)
The Kampala Jinja Relay takes us through the sugar cane plantations
What was different about the Relay was running through the day (Monday’s Hash starts at 6pm, as the sun’s going down). With the sun high above us, I joined Lynda and the walkers for the 3.5 km stage.
I felt uncomfortable walking through the cane fields. Large sections of the (supposedly) protected Mabira Forest were illegally sold off by the government. Public anger was such that riots broke out in Kampala. An innocent passerby – who just happened to be Indian, like the owners of the sugar company – fell victim to the mob. As a conservationist, it makes me sick, or was it just the sickly sweet smell of the crushed cane getting to me?
Apparently, the local advice is: come into the fields and eat as much sugar cane as you like – just don’t take any with you.
Make some NOISE!
Late afternoon I opted to ‘fun run’ 3.5 km to keep Cathy company. No pressure.
I disappeared into the bushes to take a short call and emerged a few minutes later to see Cathy had disappeared. Her father Jerry pointed in the direction of the disappearing convoy of cars so I trotted off after them, keen to catch up (I kidded myself). I ran past a few cars, but no other runners.
As the road widened, carloads of cheering Hashers beeped me and egged me on “ON ON!” they cried. I enjoyed running the flat road. And then something strange happened. Jerry overtook me. Hmmm. He was supposed to be AHEAD of me, I thought… The road seemed to go on and on and, just as I was thinking the 3.5 km run must be finishing, the route got steeper.
As I approached the finishing line it seemed everyone was calling my name “Nagawa! Nagawa!” It was quite overwhelming. My moment of fame (and embarrassment) was short-lived as a speeding police car appeared out of nowhere and a quick scuffle ensued as they jumped a boda boda driver trying to run off. My red face and I were grateful to retreat into the crowd. Boy that run was tough. I found out why afterwards – in my rush to catch up with Cathy I’d actually run the longer 5 km stage, the stage before hers! “Sorry you’ll have to do this one on your own after all” I said.
Life away from the main road to Jinja is as poor and underdeveloped as anywhere I’ve visited in the border areas of south western Uganda but the thrill of doing an event like this is seeing people and places you’d never normally see.
A young man – covered in mud – stops to say hello as we run through the sugar cane
A man emerged from his field drinking his morning mug of tea to see what all the fuss was about, as 350 people, three small coaches, 30 cars and a travelling sound system bounced and sang its way along the dusty back roads. Following the runners through the fields and villages was a fantastic driving experience.
Local people watched our convoy run and drive past
Children shrieked with delight as John blasted the vuvuzela at them out of the open car window. Some of the Hashers handed out exercise books and pens they’d brought with them. We couldn’t help but stare at the two albino children we passed.
When the combined results of the seeds came in, our team Ruff Ryders came 15th out of 21 “which adequately reflects our comprehensive training programme” Jerry said.
What a great day it was.
Ruff Ryders – not to be confused with Rough Rider condoms! – team members were: Charlotte “Nagawa” [member of the Red Tailed Monkey clan], Harriet ‘Dry Climax’, Timo, John, Virus, Martin, Apollo, Mukyala, the Burton family (Jerry, Lynda, Peter and Cathy and their 2 dogs of course!). Thanks for being such great team mates.
The final circle was at the Source of the Nile in Jinja! Time for a beer – or three!
As the all-night party kicked off in Jinja we sped home to Kampala along deserted roads.
I was glad to be back in my own bed.
“Hashing is a state of mind – a friendship of kindred spirits joined together for the sole purpose of reliving their childhood or fraternity days, releasing the tensions of everyday life, and generally, acting a fool amongst others who will not judge you or measure you by anything more than your sense of humor.”
[Jerry’s friend in Addis Ababa Hash designed our T shirt logo. Here Jerry’s pictured riding a croc on the Nile, beers in hand].
Here’s the official account of the KH3 Hash House Harriers Kampala- Jinja Relay.
The new Kampala post-11/7
Al Shabaab bombings in Kampala – the impact
Evacuation from the bar before either team had scored was the last thing we expected as we watched the World Cup Final that fateful evening in Kampala, July 11th. “What is it with the 11th day of a month?” people keep asking.
We’d been watching the World Cup Final from the crowded Dutch-owned Iguana bar in Kisementi, north side of Kampala, when the texts came through that two well-known locations – the Ethiopian Village restaurant and Kyadondo rugby club – had been bombed. It didn’t seem real.
“On ground at rugby, where are u now? remember u love 2 b in crowded places. ope dis makes sense abt yr security” read the text message from T.
I was relieved to hear T was ok, but why was he at the rugby club (where two of the bombs had exploded)? Had he been watching the game there or had he gone to help out when he heard the news? I told myself not to worry: he’s Ugandan, he’d probably just gone to stand around and look.
I was happy he was safe. When he arrived with breakfast the next morning he said he’d been up all night, visiting the scenes of the bombings with journalist friends and the Deputy Police Commissioner. “Important people need to know what’s going on” he smiled.
He laughed in that unnerving Ugandan way as he recounted how they’d been watching the ‘comic goings-on’ of a cocktail of security – ‘or insecurity’ – police, army and private security companies (of which there are many).
As shocking to me as the bombings has been the media coverage: photos of the victims, the wails of a dying woman, a man being bundled into the back of an ambulance with a stump of an arm in full view, live interviews with victims who are still looking for friends and relatives at the bombing scenes. In the newspaper they even showed a colour photo of birds picking on human remains. Ugandans don’t shy away from the gore and, much as it turns my stomach, I sometimes wonder if we’re overprotective in the West. A shocking picture can have quite an impact.
And so, last Monday, for the third morning in a row, I was woken by a mosquito inside my net. After only 4 and a half hours sleep, disturbed, the events of the previous night come into my mind. I wanted to find out what was happening in Kampala and switched on the news.
Kampala is like a huge village or many interconnected villages. You always know someone who knows someone who was been affected by whatever the issue of the day is.
On that fateful night – 11th July 2010 – we’d gone to Iguana Bar to hang out with Dutch friends. Normally Jan watches football at the Ethiopian Village, in Kabalagala, the nearest bar to her house. She had watched a number of other football games at the Ethiopian Village. I had persuaded her to hang out with us at Iguana that night.
Mike, my old boss at the Uganda Conservation Foundation, had helped establish Uganda’s first rugby team. Tragically, he knew people who died at the Kyadondo bombings.
Uganda is under attack by Al Shabaab (an organisation linked with Al Quaeda) because our soldiers are part of the African Union peacekeeping force in Somalia. Al Shabaab want Ugandan soldiers to withdraw from Somalia. The Army Spokesman said “What terrorists want is a safe haven. They’ve been dislodged from Afghanistan and are looking for somewhere else to operate from. If Somalia stabilises they have nowhere to hide; if Somalia is in chaos they get a safe haven and they have time to build capacity and then no-one is safe.”
People are scared. Terrorist acts are very rare here in Kampala. Today’s rumour, that Al Shabaab are employing pigeons to carry bombs, is typical of the overreaction.
My VSO nurse friend Stacey worked through the night of the bombings at IHK, International Hospital, Kampala’s biggest private hospital, just a few hundred metres from the Ethiopian Village. God only knows what she saw, but she hasn’t been quite right since that night. I’ve thought a lot about my VSO volunteer friends this week. Many volunteer doctors, nurses and cardiologists that are now back home would have been in the thick of it: doctors Rob and Richard in particular, and nurse Duncan, all worked at IHK.
The best I could do was encourage people to donate blood. The supplies are desperately low. My friend Jan and I eventually found our way to the blood bank but were rejected. Our iron count was low. “You should eat liver,” came the answer right back from T, trying to persuade me to eat meat. I just laugh at his constant efforts to convert me to back to eating meat.
There was a moment’s silence at Monday’s Hash for the 70+ victims of the bombings before T attended the vigil of a 24 year old law graduate, brother of a good friend of his, who was killed at the rugby club bombings. He had graduated just two months ago and was from ‘a very humble family’ so getting him through law school was a major achievement (there’s no such thing as grants or even loans for students).
A week later, the National Week of Mourning behind us, Kampala is hosting a week-long meeting of the heads of state of the African Union, as planned, a quick PR strike back at Al Shabaab.
Sixty FBI agents are reported to be in Uganda to help track down the perpetrators and there have been arrests.
It seems like we’ll all be having lots more house parties over the coming weeks. Many NGOs are not letting their workers go out in Kampala for a month until they can assess the security situation so the usual bars and clubs are empty. Kampala has changed overnight.
[NO PHOTOS this week. You wouldn’t want to see them].
Just for the Hash of it
Running the chalk mark trails through Kampala’s slums
Luckily the chalk marks along the route were reliable for a change. In my dash out of the house to take Baldrick for his Rabies jab, I’d forgotten my trainers so there I was sliding about in the size 12 deck shoes T’s lent me as Baldrick pulls me along in his constant quest for food, particularly acute at this time of day.
So there we were, just the two of us negotiating the chaotic, muddy trough that passes for a road, wending our way downhill through the discarded garbage of the slums washed down the hill and trying to get back to the KH3 (Kampala Hash House Harriers) meeting point before sun sets. Jumping on the back of a boda boda is a Hash sin (and with a large dog not easy!) so we try and keep pace with the rest of the Hashers and walkers.
We don’t get too close, Ugandans are ‘feared of’ dogs and most startle easily at the approach of my canine friend.
Typical slum scene: Hash routes take us through every part of town: through rubbish heaps and slums, across swamps and along smart avenues
Even without running, last Monday’s run was exhausting. The everyday shouts of “mzungu, mzungu, bye!” are this evening accompanied by screams of hilarity from the women. If seeing a mzungu is unusual, seeing a mzungu with a dog is borderline insanity. (I just make out the words mzungu, mama and embwa) and of course there’s no mistaking the subject of the wide eyed stares and pointing. Us – but it’s all good natured.
Ugandan children are delightful. I return as many of the shouts and waves as I can and proceed down the road with a big grin on my face. You can’t help but feel special and you just know that kids are going to run home and tell the family they’ve had a smile from a mzungu. One morning I walked out of my compound straight into the arms of a small child: he was only 4 or 5 years old but he ran up to me, grabbed hold of one of my legs and gave it a big hug, ten ran off. It’s a great way to start the day.
Lake Nabugabo, Uganda. Harriet buys gonja by the roadside. I knew my luck was in when T offered me his hot roasted gonja…
Hash hijinks on the bus on the way to the Lake Nabugabo run
A one minute pitch in the car park
A fateful bump!
How timely, just as I’m developing Uganda Conservation Foundation‘s Marketing Strategy, fate literally deals me a blow!
Me and my car keep running into bother recently, quite literally last Monday when I reversed into a car parked right up my **** – but it was clearly my fault, I didn’t look behind me.
Upshot of it was the lady driver asked me for 60,000 shillings [£20] to fix the dent in her bumper, which seemed reasonable. It turns out she’s Creative Director for an advertising agency. Alarm bells started ringing and – not one to miss an opportunity – there in the car park I delivered an impromptu one minute pitch on UCF’s successes, our desire to make the charity more sustainable by getting core funding from Ugandan corporate sponsors and bingo – she’s offered to email our newsletter out to all her clients.
I can see her next ad campaign now: “With a one-off investment of just 60,000 Uganda shillings, you too can target corporate Uganda.”
Looks like that’s the Marketing Strategy written then: drive into other cars while sustaining the smallest amount of damage possible. (Our Suzuki’s a wreck anyway).
Obviously the car park of one of Kampala’s private hospitals is a good place to network. Just watch out for me if you’re parked in any of Kampala’s four star hotels ;
“Next!”
Making a Hash of it
Hash virgin attends Africa Hash 2009 in Kampala!
Kampala Hash House Harriers run
Happy May Day Bank Holiday!
Feet are killing me this morning. Several hours dancing to the most fantastic African music, after a run round the streets of Kampala with 250 Hashers descending on Kampala for Africa Hash 2009. The week-end’s only just started: at 10 am I get on a coach to Jinja ‘Source of the Nile’ for an hour’s run along the river, ‘the most scenic spot in Uganda’ (that’s some claim). Another party laid on tonight, then off to run through the Botanical Gardens at Entebbe tomorrow morning, along the shores of Lake Victoria…. followed by another party!
I’m a Hasher ‘virgin’ – no ‘Hash Handle’ yet though I’ll be amazed if I don’t acquire a (normally) rude nickname by the end of this w/end. Dancing with my legs wrapped round the waist of a gorgeous Ugandan as he twirled me around on the dancefloor last night may just have been noticed … no wonder I’m stiff this morning!
Hashing great way to meet people Kampala
Joining the Hash is a great way to meet people, 95% of whom are Ugandans. It started out as an expat club (not normally my type of thing) and there are lots of silly public humiliations, e.g. if you’re spotted wearing new running shoes you’re forced to drink beer out of one of them! Yesterday someone was drinking beer out of a flip flop somehow! The beer was flowing all day but no-one got stupidly drunk which was good.
First Hash was last week, about 7 km, longest run for months. Really had to push myself, thoughts of Prince’s Trust week-end came flooding back! We passed through a village and everyone stood at the side of the – steep and very uneven – ‘marram’ road, laughing and cheering us on. Was kept motivated by young boy of about 11, who joined us as we ran through a village; he ran next to me for 30 minutes, in his flip flops, onto the main road, through someone’s back garden, back through another village… it’s moments like that I treasure here.
It was a treat to be invited to the British High Commission, along with other VSO volunteers
This week was spent In-Country Training with VSO. I made the most of having some ‘thinking time’ out of the office and plan to make use of VSO’s networks and use them to help me develop UCF’s strategy. You get so caught up in the UCF work, it’s good to have a reminder of how we fit into VSO’s strategy for Uganda. We come under the Participation and Governance programme, helping to build capacity of grassroots (community-based organisations).
I’m investigating how, through our access to remote communities, we can help other VSO programme areas. It might be as simple as providing mosquito nets but we could facilitate introduction of other health organisations, working with HIV/AIDS or disability for example. Malaria is the biggest killer here and only a third of rural Ugandans sleep under a net; 78 000 of every 100 000 deaths are due to HIV/AIDS; the disabled are mostly hidden, they are seen as an embarrassment (or worse) and few make it to school. School fees are higher for Special Needs children and schools lack the facilities to cater for them.
It was great to meet up with the other (12) VSO volunteers who I spent my first week in Uganda with. I’ve been so lucky with this placement – one volunteer is quitting hers after six months and another’s leaving early.
I’ve signed up for more Luganda lessons. Pa and Valere: I haven’t forgotten the request for the next Luganda lesson!
Thought for the day – cross-cultural explanations
When you teach someone how to use a PC, you notice how it reflects Western society, and not just in terms of the currency characters on it. (It does get confusing using an English / Thai keyboard set up with North American settings!)
Try explaining to a 21 year old Ugandan what the return [“carriage return”] button. Why is it called return? And what is the big arrow for? I mean, let’s start with asking What is a typewriter? A manual typewriter had a big return key which you usually had to hit hard for it to make the heavy carriage of the typewriter (holding the paper in position) return to start typing the next sentence.
As you wait for programmes to load on a PC, you see a moving mini eggtimer graphic. How do you explain what the eggtimer on the screen means?
A traditional method for boiling eggs to perfection is to use a sandglass or sand timer. It comprises two glass bulbs connected vertically by a narrow neck that allows a regulated trickle of material (historically sand) from the upper bulb to the lower one.
sandglass egg timer
Here in Uganda eggs are boiled until they’re hard enough to peel and eat whole. No such thing as our very English soft boiled ‘egg and soldiers’! [That’s thin slices of toast for dipping into egg my northern European friends!]
It’s all about culture, and context…
