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Mandela and Me. A homage to Nelson Mandela

Mandela and Me. A homage to Nelson Mandela

This time last year, I was too sick with Malaria to pay homage to Nelson Mandela.

Crying over his obituaries made me feel even more sorry for myself – but I owe Mandela so much.

South Africa politicised me. It was the Anti-Apartheid Movement of the 1980s that made me decide to study politics at SOAS (the School of Oriental and African Studies) at the University of London. That made real my desire to come and live in Africa, a dream it took me too many years to fulfil.

anti apartheid march Trafalgar Square London
Back in the day – the Student Muzungu – at Trafalgar Square in London. The South African High Commission is in Trafalgar Square, making the square the main site for anti apartheid demonstrations for decades.

Mandela was freed while I was a student at SOAS. We couldn’t wait to celebrate his freedom: just a few weeks after his release, the Awesome Man Himself appeared onstage at the now defunct Wembley Stadium – to thank the world for helping secure his release, and telling us to continue exerting pressure for the end of Apartheid.

‘Free… Nelson… Mandela!’ We sang for the thousandth time … and there Mandela was, in the flesh.

How British pop song helped free Nelson Mandela.

Top Ten Songs About Nelson Mandela

It was around this time that I made my first enquiry to VSO (Voluntary Service Overseas). “Call us again in a few years,” they said – I had little work (or life) experience – and I shelved my plans to volunteer in Africa.

My then-flatmate Holly was to move to South Africa with VSO before me – and is still there 15 years later. Visits to South Africa ‘close the circle’ for me: stays with Holly in Johannesburg give us a chance to relive our shared memories of Mandela’s release and our experiences as VSO volunteers in sub Saharan Africa. Spending World Aids Day in South Africa with her was another pivotal moment.

My pilgrimage to Mandela’s Robben Island cell was a longed-for moment.

Robben Island Mandela's cell keyhole. tour
Mandela and Me. A homage to Nelson Mandela. The keyhole to Mandela’s prison cell on Robben Island.

Nelson Mandela spent nearly two decades on the other side of this metal gaol gate. Isn’t it uncanny how the outline of the African continent has emerged as the paint has chipped away? How many thousands of times did the key turn in that lock? The Robben Island tour (courtesy of previous Robben Island inmates who were incarcerated at the same time as Mandela and other heroes of the movement such as Steve Biko) is humbling beyond words.

Rereading Mandela’s obituaries, a few facts jumped out at me:

– He left power voluntarily, when his presidential term was up. He played by the rules, unlike so many African rulers who want to stay in power forever.

– Mandela stayed on the United States ‘terror watch list’ until 2008 “in time for the anti-apartheid leader and Nobel Peace Prize winner’s 90th birthday on July 18. Really? It just beggars belief now.

– Mandela visited Uganda on July 5, 1990, just five months after his release from prison. Mandela chose Uganda as the first African country outside South Africa to visit.

From student days drinking Snakebite in the ‘Nelson Mandela bar’ to SOAS, Johannesburg, Cape Town and Uganda, Mandela remains an inspiration to me:

On writing, he wrote to one of his daughters:

“Writing is a prestigious profession which puts one right into the centre of the world and, to remain on top, one has to work really hard, the aim being a good and original theme, simplicity in expression and the use of the irreplaceable word.”

Robben Island Nelson Mandela. tour. jpg
Robben Island Nelson Mandela tour

Who can possibly count the millions – billions? – of people’s lives affected by this great man. RIP Madiba, the world remains a better place for you having been in it.

What effect did Nelson Mandela have on your life?

Free Nelson Mandela

21 years in captivity,

Shoes too small to fit his feet,

His body abused but his mind is still free,

Are you so blind that you cannot see?

I said: Free Nelson Mandela,

I’m begging you,

Free Nelson Mandela.

On the first anniversary of his death, feel free to share your thoughts.

The Muzungu’s travel highlights of 2011 – Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda, Ethiopia, South Africa, Turkey!

Travel highlights – from across Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda, South Africa, Ethiopia and Turkey

If 2011 was busy, 2012 looks set to be busier still! Here are a few of 2011’s highlights for Diary of a Muzungu, Uganda travel blog …

Nairobi to Lake Naivasha Relay - local people watch on. Uganda travel blog

Nairobi to Lake Naivasha Relay – local Maasai watched bemused as 100 Hashers ran through Hell’s Gate National Park

Travel to Kenya

The annual Naivasha Relay (84 km from Nairobi to Lake Naivasha) is one of the highlights of Nairobi Hash House Harriers’ calendar.

40 Ugandan Hashers travelled from Kampala to Kenya for the week-end  party (I mean run!) I ran my share of tghe relay- 3 km to be exact  – ‘good enough’ as we say in UG.

The weekend started with a 12 hour bus journey: The real ‘boda boda’ experience – travelling sidesaddle into Kenya.

Travel across Rwanda

A full day’s travelling by bus across Uganda, through Kigali, and onto the fabulous  Volcanoes National Park (Parc Nationale des Virungas) to stay at Le Bambou Gorilla Village in Kinigi.

The Doctor enters Rwanda - Uganda travel blog

The muzungu travelled with her personal physician

Rwanda’s reputation precedes it in many positive ways nowadays.

The smooth tarmac in Kigali made a pleasant change from Uganda’s potholes; the legal obligation to wear a helmet on a boda boda (motorbike taxi) in Kigali came as a bit of a shock after Kampala’s very relaxed attitude to road safety!

A flight to South Africa via Nairobi

TIP: next time you fly, look at the map before you select your seat – choose a window seat, check which side of the plane to sit and have your camera ready. Some of my most memorable travel moments of 2011 have been from on high (and I haven’t even joined the Mile High Club yet!)

  • Mount Kilimanjaro through the clouds;
  • Traversing the seemingly endless azure blue of Lake Malawi;
  • Skirting around the edges of Tanzania’s Ngorongoro Crater;
  • Seeing volcanoes emerge over the horizon as we approached Nairobi;
  • The shot of Kilimanjaro – en route to Johannesburg – is a favourite. Sigh …

Kilimanjaro at dawn

Daybreak at 30,000 feet – Mt. Kilimanjaro in the distance

Johannesburg, South Africa

U2′s ‘Beautiful Day’ will forever remind me of a great ten days in Johannesburg, with a great friend and her beautiful daughter, and something deeper – retracing my political and musical roots:

South Africa – Under a blood red sky with U2

Thank you Holly! For the trip, for the friendship and for being a part of my journey as a Voluntary Service Overseas volunteer.

Ethiopia

Hashing – the ‘drinking club with a running problem’ – led me on a very merry dance (hic!) around Ethiopia for two truly memorable weeks. I can’t stop reliving and writing about Ethiopia, here’s one of my posts:

Africa Hash, Ethiopia – Feeling IRIE in Addis Ababa

Ethiopian coffee ceremony Tissisat Falls

Traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony overlooking Tissisat Falls

A stopover in Istanbul, Turkey

On a trip back home to the UK, I stopped over in Istanbul for a dayIstanbul looks like my kind of place.

A day in … Istanbul got me thinking about how much I’d like to be travelling and writing about travel full-time.

Travel across Uganda

This year, I was excited to take part in the Uganda Wildlife Authority’s new tourism experience: Walking with Mongooses, a really fun and informative day out in Queen Elizabeth National Park. You may have watched the BBC’s ‘Banded Brothers’ TV series, all about these fascinating fellas.

Muzungu with Mongooses at Mweya, Queen Elizabeth National Park. Uganda travel blog

Muzungu with Mongooses at Mweya, Queen Elizabeth National Park

This year has been a year for:

WRITING – articles for The Eye Magazine Rwanda, Uganda’s Business Today magazine and writing and producing Uganda Matters, the annual newsletter for the Uganda Conservation Foundation.

Diary of a Muzungu has been featuring on Lonely Planet since 2009 (PHEW! no wonder I’m knackered!)

Diary of a Muzungu Lonely Planet Featured Blogger

Diary of a Muzungu was a Lonely Planet Featured Blogger from 2009 to 2012

CONNECTING  – with published authors, Lonely Planet bloggers and the global travel blogosphere. Thanks in particular to Todd Wassel at Todd’s Wanderings, for the beautiful and fantabulous Around the World with 40 Lonely Planet bloggers ebook; Mazarine Treyz of Wildwoman Fundraising for her boundless creativity and energy; Wandering Trader Marcello Arrambide who dropped by Kampala and shared some awesome tips on travel blogging. Writing and blogging can be an introspective way to spend your spare time – but you guys keep me motivated. Thank you so much!

CHANGING CAREERS – I’ve always said that in Uganda, “business is social and social is business” and I like it that way…

After two and a half years as a VSO volunteer for the Uganda Conservation Foundation, it was time to move on and employ a local man to take over my role. I’m so proud to have been part of UCF (work trips to the Bush – safari yeah!)

Team UCF, VSO, PACE conservation learning launch, Ggaba PTC

A big achievement. Launch of the Pan African Conservation Education training manual, Ggaba PTC, Kampala with the Uganda Conservation Foundation team and Voluntary Service Overseas,

Despite the global recession, UCF’s donors continue to support our work with the Uganda Conservation Foundation. The Uganda Wildlife Authority is so pleased with UCF’s work in Queen Elizabeth National Park that UCF is now working with them to tackle poaching and human wildlife conflict in Murchison Falls National Park. (Damn, that’s one trip I missed out on!) As you can see, I still talk about UCF in the present tense and I’ll continue to do as much as I can to promote this fantastic charity.

Life as a VSO volunteer in Uganda has certainly had its ups and downs. It’s been a truly incredible three years so far. I love life in Uganda – but it does sometimes get the better of me:

Shotgun wedding – a surreal and intense day

Here’s a bit more about life as a volunteer in Uganda –

Still counting myself lucky! 2 years on …

So why am I still in Uganda? Here’s one reason – one of my favourite blogs from last year:

Early morning sights and sounds

Happy New Year everyone!

Johannesburg – don’t hit the panic button until after dinner

There is a feeling of space in suburban northern Johannesburg, by far the largest city in South Africa. The plots are big, the streets are lined with large beautiful trees and the treetops are full of the sound of birdsong. There are three big Hadeda Ibis on the chimney stack, a Crested Barbet appears by the dining-room window and the enormous and noisy Grey Louries or “Go Away birds” clamber about in the treetops and swoop low with floppy wingbeats.

Now on my second visit, I have become used to the high walls, the electric fencing and the electric security date.

I notice more people on the street this time around, particularly kids laughing and shouting on the way home from school. House staff sit and chat on street corners, male runners are accompanied by dogs. At clean and orderly road junctions, people sell Zulu beaded statues of lions, zebra and chameleons. The beggars seem friendly enough too.

PHOTO: Sex and shopping? Oh if you insist! Rosebank sunday market. The Zulu people have traditionally used beads as a means of communication especially as love letters. Colours and arrangement of the beads convey the message. Deep blue for example portrays elopement because it refers to the flight of the Ibis. Green is a good sign: it stands for peace or bliss.

Apart from H’s parting shot as she went out the other day “you do know where the panic button is don’t you?” I feel quite unperturbed.

H lives in Parkview. Shopping malls at Rosebank, Hyde Park and Craig Hall Park are close by. “Not another shopping mall!” I moan to H one day – even the Montecasino Bird Park is part of a shopping mall. In this paranoid part of the world, they make sense. Security is easier to manage but I have always hated enclosed shopping malls. It would be wrong to say this is not the real Jo’burg, but I feel it is only one version of it.

Perhaps unkindly, the 1998 Lonely Planet guide states:

“The northern suburbs of white middle-class ghettos – this is where you want to go if you want to pretend you’re not in Africa. White people driving Mercs and BMWs rush to busy antiseptic shopping centres and the only blacks are neatly uniformed maids and gardeners waiting for minibus taxis. There is little communal life although scattered about you find many of the city’s best restaurants and shops.”

The food is indeed fantastic, such a variety, so fresh and colourful. The large amounts of cash and diversity of immigrants in Johannesburg make for a good culinary combination. H spoils me at every opportunity. I sit drooling over another menu, savouring the choice and in no rush to order: white wine, halloumi, calamari, raspberry jam, lemon meringue pie for god’s sake! smoked salmon, egg’s Benedict, veggie shepherd’s pie. I AM IN HEAVEN. It’s such an antidote to the lacklustre cooking I’m used to in Uganda. I do not miss matoke.

In stark contrast to where she lives, H works in Hillbrow in central Johannesburg. The same 1998 Lonely Planet guide states: “Although large-scale outbreaks of violence are things of the past violent crime is still rampant especially in the centre and the Hillbrow area.” How those words must have stuck in H’s mind when she arrived in Jo’burg with VSO hmmmm, when was it – 1998?

South Africa – Under a blood red sky with U2

Soccer City fills up and the countdown starts ...

Soccer City fills up and the countdown starts ...

U2’s ‘Beautiful Day’ will forever remind me of a great ten days in Johannesburg this February, with a great friend and her beautiful daughter, and something deeper – retracing my political and musical roots. Thank you Holly! For the trip, for the friendship and for being a part of my VSO journey.

I’d watched excitedly from Uganda as “the claw” was put into position and an incredible 5,600 person crew prepared Soccer City for “the biggest rock band in the world.”

Billed “The 360° Tour” because of the revolving stage that is surrounded by the audience on all sides, the rigging had to be seen to be believed. The big screen suspended from the claw above the centre stage was actually hundreds of smaller screens, a complex multimedia experience simultaneously broadcasting live and recorded footage.

Note: although I live in Uganda where we don’t have anything like this sophistication, I’ve seen a few big bands in my time – but this show was in a league of its own.

With 100,000 people converging on Soccer City (the FNB Stadium), Russell decided to drive us through the back streets of Jozi. Our journey gave me a feel for the sheer size – and sprawl – of the Johannesburg megapolis. The dual carriageways looped back on themselves giving a vista across the city. “How exactly do you know this side of town then?” his wife quizzed. “You’re showing me places I’ve never seen before.”

“Do you know Mayfair in London?” Russell asked. “Well, this Mayfair is the complete opposite.” More Whitechapel than Mayfair, he wasn’t wrong. We drove through an area of typical urban dereliction: sacks of rubbish heaped on street corners, piles of discarded car tyres, a broken sofa lying with its guts spewing out onto the pavement. Men idling outside squat blocks of flats and shabby shops, metal bars on every window of every building we passed. Even the football pitches were made of concrete.

We sped on through.

As dusk fell, we approached the stadium, the red glow of the sky showing the multi-coloured glass it at its brilliant best. In the lead-up to the concert, I’d read in the newspapers a long list of concert do’s and don’ts. One of the banned items was “any whistle, horn, musical instrument, loudhailer or public address system.” Do you mean I’ve come this far not to be able to blow my Vuvuzela?

Walking to our seats, a large black South African man came up to me and gave me a big hug. He wanted to hang out with me but I joined my friends. I gave him a big smile and we waved goodbye.

The sight as you walk into the gigantic stadium bowl is just mind-blowing, especially for a visitor from Uganda! Our seats were halfway up the auditorium. What did it matter that we weren’t close enough for either of us to be the lady who Bono pulls onstage at every show?

While H’s friend Francois gloated by SMS from the hospitality tent, I queued for beer. The confusing beer token system was very African (queue for tokens then queue for beer, why?) the difference being that in Uganda, the main act would be half way through their set by the time we reached the front of the queue ( at which point we’d probably find they’d sold out of beer anyway!)Tick tock.As nine o’clock passed on the big screen, something weird happened. The second hand appeared to be getting faster and the clock seemed to start melting. Not expecting the show to start for a few more minutes, I was caught off guard. The near-capacity crowd went ballistic as the band walked onto the stage. H mumbled something under her breath about the band’s Adam Clayton being too old to wear silver sequins and white trousers. “I hadn’t realised how U2 are the soundtrack to my life” H yelled. For me, ‘I will follow’ takes me back to being a teenager and listening to the ‘Boy’ LP on my record player! (You didn’t know I was that old, did you?)

“People who sit down between songs aren’t real fans” we jibed at the couple in front of us as we sang and screamed our heads off to every song.

I’m not a music writer, in no way can I describe the show and do it justice, so I hope you enjoy our short video U2 – 360 degrees – live in Johannesburg – and if you ever get the chance to see  – just go! Bono’s energy was mind-blowing, but the night belonged to Nelson Mandela, on the 21st anniversary of his first public rally after being released.

As the band laid into Sunday Bloody Sunday. the video screen showed images of Egypt and Tunisia in turmoil. The previous Friday had marked the 21st anniversary of Mandela’s release (27 years captive) and marked the resignation of the Egyptian leader 30 year rule. Poignant times.

Desmond Tutu

The world's favourite Uncle: Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu

Bono “the first anthropologist of modern rock” (according to the Saturday Star) paid a very moving homage to Amnesty International.Seeing and hearing Archbishop Desmond Tutu, South Africa’s favourite uncle, up on the big screen was an emotional moment. The appearance of the legendary trumpeter Hugh Masekela during ‘I still haven’t found what I’m looking for’ was a magic moment too. Imprisoned during the apartheid years, he’s one of the first South African musicians I listened to.

All in all visits to South Africa close the circle for me. South Africa politicised me. It was the Anti Apartheid movement in the 1980s that made me decide to study politics at SOAS (the School of Oriental and African Studies). H was a flatmate during those student days. I made my first enquiry to VSO when we lived together and in fact she arrived in South Africa with VSO 12 years ago – and stayed.

It was at dusk, at another stadium – the now defunct Wembley Stadium – in 1990, when H and I were flatmates, that I saw Nelson Mandela, a few weeks after he was released from prison. ‘Free… Nelson… Mandela!’ We sang, and there he was in the flesh. Another day I’ll never forget.

Main Set: Beautiful Day, I Will Follow, Get On Your Boots, Magnificent, Mysterious Ways, Elevation, Until the End of the World, I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, North Star, Pride (In The Name Of Love), In A Little While, Miss Sarajevo, City of Blinding Lights, Vertigo / She Loves You (snippet), I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight / Two Tribes (snippet) / Relax (snippet), Sunday Bloody Sunday, Scarlet, Walk On / You’ll Never Walk Alone (snippet)

Encore(s): One, Amazing Grace (snippet) / Where The Streets Have No Name, Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me, With Or Without You, Moment of Surrender

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

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 World Aids Day

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

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?

Go Ghana! Go Ghana! Gone …

Oh Ghana, you were Africa’s last hope. Watching the World Cup 2011 in Kampala, Uganda

Every four years I take a break from being anti-football to scream at the big screen with the rest of the world.

This year has been particularly special: I watch it as a resident of the host continent AFRICA.

On my trip to South Africa in 2009, preparations for Africa’s World Cup were well underway: World Cup advertising hoardings everywhere… World Cup merchandise was handed out at Cape Town’s new airport… there were shiny new football stadia, newly planted flowerbeds. You simply couldn’t ignore it. 

Uganda didn’t qualify for a place in the World Cup. No matter, for if passion were all that were required they’d have been among the first through. Everyone’s been talking football, and I can confidently say there are more avid British Premier League supporters here than in the whole of the UK. On match nights, crowds of men line up 10-deep in the street outside bars and restaurants, peering at the small TV sets.

And so last Friday the huge expectant crowd of Ugandans, expats, volunteers, NGO workers and visitors from across Africa crowded into the bar and onto the pavement of Kisementi, Kampala. The early birds – still in shock at the earlier thrashing of Brazil by the Netherlands? – had the best seats, or at least they had seats. Inside, necks were craned up at the screen in expectation, ladies perched on upended beer crates. The Vuvuzela Virgins passed the instrument around nervously, daring each other to purse their lips around it, as if they were caught smoking in public. (We don’t worry about a little thing like smoking in public in Uganda anyway, it’s just another one of many well-meaning but ignored laws).

watching World Cup Kampala bar
Watching the World Cup in a Kampala bar

The bar will remain nameless thanks to their World Cup pricing policy (you’re supposed to see double, not pay double). I was slighted by the “manager’s substitution” too: replacing Triple Distilled Uganda waragi (gin) with the local village yellow jerry can variety. (I didn’t wake up blind like some people have, so at least I can see my lucky stars to thank them).

You could hardly contain the Kampala crowd’s excitement as the Ghana players walked onto the pitch. There was no doubt that everyone believed the Black Stars would get through to become the first African team to make it to the World Cup’s last four.

Oh Ghana, you were our last hope.

An American woman screamed full-blast in my ear and I knew the game had kicked off.

The atmosphere was palpable: hoots, cheers and screams accompanied the incredible build up to half time. After a bit of practice, the Vuvuzela Virgins were getting into their stride. Barely discernible above the baying of the crowd, the TV commentator screamed “ … and, with just 20 seconds to half time, if Ghana want to get through …..”

GOAL!!!

watching World Cup Kampala bar screen
Watching World Cup 2011 on the big screen

The whole bar went into total meltdown. The man behind me leaped onto my shoulders, I couldn’t see the screen for people jumping wildly up and down, arms and beer bottles waving in front of me; you’d have thought we’d won the match there and then!

The atmosphere soon changed in the second half after Uruguay equalised.

The Congolese guy in front of me shifted his body weight from one foot to another, back and forth nervously, willing Ghana to pull ahead.

So many chances, so many lost opportunities. The man moved in such an exaggerated fashion that I had to mirror his movements just to see the screen. His movements were giving me ‘mal de mer’ (seasickness) so I pushed my way in front of him.

With disbelief, and our hearts in our mouths, we watched as Uruguay’s Luis Suarez snatched the ball out of the mouth of the goal in the last seconds of extra time. Everyone agreed it was clearly a goal.

It was all over for Ghana when Asamoah Gyan’s penalty hit the crossbar. Who’d want to be in his shoes? We all wanted to cry for him.

According to the BBC “It was a truly remarkable final few minutes, surely some of the most dramatic in World Cup history, and came at the end of an engrossing and occasionally bad-tempered contest.”

Back in Kampala, people hung outside the bar, unsure what to do next.

And so, exhausted and hoarse, I drove home, the solemn words of a passing boda boda [motorbike taxi] driver marking the end of Ghana’s dream: “They cheated us” he said.

Tragically, we didn’t get to watch the end of the next World Cup football matches as Al-Shabaab targeted Kampala….

An amazing 365 days in Uganda

A few travel highlights from my first year living in Uganda

Feeding time at Ngamba Island Chimpanzee Sanctuary is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. It’s pure magic. Lilly Ajarova’s project was voted Best Ecotourism Project at the World Travel Market in 2009. Lilly is also a director of Uganda Conservation Foundation, the organisation I work for.

Ngamba Island Lake Victoria chimpanzee feeding time
You have to ask yourself: who is who? Are the chimps like us? Or are we like them? Endlessly fascinating. Ngamba Island Lake Victoria chimpanzee feeding time

Ngamba Island Lake Victoria chimpanzee feeding time

We Kampala VSO volunteers sometimes ask ourselves whether we’re having “the real VSO experience” (compared to our colleagues in remote areas of developing countries across the world. I have it easy. I have electricity (most of the time), a flushing toilet and even internet (well ok, sod all internet last week but …) so it was interesting to spend a few days staying at the house of my volunteer friend Steve, on the edge of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest (home to the gorillas). Seeing the miles and miles of rainforest for the first time from up on high made me feel quite emotional. In the West we talk about ‘saving the rainforest’ – and finally I saw it, in all its beauty.

Did you know…? My Ugandan name is Nagawa meaning I am the protector of Enkima, the Red-tailed Monkey.

Red-tailed monkey enkima Bwindi Forest
Red-tailed monkey enkima Bwindi Forest

Every morning we were woken up by the deafening thud of Red-tailed Monkeys on Steve’s mabati tin roof. We had to shoo the resident rat out of the 2 ring gas stove before we could make our morning tea. You might enjoy the blog Eye to eye with my totem.

The novelty of this all wore a bit thin after two days of rain. Dark and damp, with no way of getting warm or dry, Bwindi in the (frequent) rain reminded me of Scouting holidays in North Wales. I admit I was happy to get back to the dust of Kampala, despite the 11 hour coach journey home…

Nagawa Diary of a Muzungu. enkima clan Taga painting
Nagawa Diary of a Muzungu with enkima my totem, a painting by Taga

As for Sharing Skills, the VSO motto, I haven’t done anywhere near as much of that as I wanted to. Mind you, I was a bit gobsmacked when, out of the blue, a lodge manager asked me to fix his printer! I waved my wand and did my mzungu magic on it, thereby accidentally living up to the stereotype. Sometimes you just gotta suck it up.

Sunset boat cruise from The Haven Lodge Jinja
Cheers! Sunset boat cruise from The Haven Lodge Jinja – that’s my mum 😉

Another (regular!) Uganda travel highlight is The Haven which has a stunning view overlooking the River Nile near Jinja. Mother even went for a dip! Dawn over the river, watching the early fishermen as the mist rises, is like a dream.

I loved Murchison Falls

Rothschild's giraffes' necking Murchison
We were captivated by the (Rothschild’s) giraffes’ necking!

A few travel highlights from my first trip to South Africa

Nelson Mandela spent nearly two decades on the other side of this metal gaol gate. Uncanny how the African continent has appeared as the paint has chipped away. The Robben Island tour, courtesy of previous inmates, is humbling. I had been in Uganda for nine months before I left the country. I had culture shock in Johannesburg!

Nelson Mandela's cell lock. Robben Island
Nelson Mandela’s cell lock. Robben Island, Cape Town coast

Last week we passed a petrol tanker jack knifed in Mabira Forest. Scenes like this are very common. 

Overturned lorry midway along Ishasha Road, Maramagambo Forest
Overturned lorry midway along Ishasha Road, Maramagambo Forest

Simpson and Baldrick keep me sane. Our gate boy Simpson is very wise for his 22 years and helps me understand life in Uganda. He’s also a great dancer!

Baldrick happy. dog compound life Kampala
Baldrick always looks happy
Baldrick happy. dog compound life Kampala
Happy days. Saturday morning on the compound with Balders and Simpson

I nearly accused our house girl Eva of stealing two avocados this morning. It turns out that Baldrick had sneaked into the kitchen and grabbed them from the vegetable rack! Dogs and cats love avocado. Whoever would have guessed!

On a Mission(ary) – remembering the Muzungu’s first Christmas in Uganda

An expat Christmas in Kampala

It hardly befitted common (misconceived) notions of the starving in Africa: there was marquee after marquee of food.

I’ve never seen so much food in my life, honestly.

The buffet was immense.

Here I am ‘busy saving the world’ – apparently – spending my first Christmas in Africa and we’re all wasting platefuls of food. I was quite disgusted at how many rich Ugandans piled their plates high with food and didn’t eat more than a few spoonfuls of it.

Christmas Day buffet Speke Resort Kampala

Christmas Day buffet Speke Resort Kampala – that’s a lot of food – and this was just one of many marquees …

Speke Resort Munyonyo is where we impoverished volunteers had decided to blow our December allowance. Living on a volunteer allowance means you end up eating the same food, day in day out. This one day feasting at Speke Resort more than made up for the penny pinching! (How my belly hurts just remembering my repeat trips to the various marquees!)

Christmas cheese selection Speke Resort

Despite the country’s obsession with cows, cheese remains an imported delicacy in Uganda

There was a double marquee of Ugandan food, another of international food including various pastas.

There was a small marquee dedicated to Chinese stirfry!

expat Christmas in Kampala

Seafood – a whole table of it – never before seen in Kampala (not by a volunteer at least!)

Another marquee was full of cheese – CHEESE! in Uganda! – which was mostly plasticky and a bit foul to be honest; but of course, that didn’t stop me eating far too much.

The last marquee I visited had a massive cake. I’ve actually been inside a REAL Ugandan church the same size as this one (but the roof didn’t taste so sweet and lovely).

Christmas cake Speke Resort

Christmas cake Speke Resort. Yes, I’m holding two plates… two plates x several visits to the various marquees = way, way too greedy, I confess

Christmas in Kampala was fun – apart from the bloody weather. It started drizzling the moment we arrived at Speke Resort. It didn’t stop raining until the next day as we packed our bags into the car to leave! So much for making use of the fantastic (almost Olympic) swimming pool.

“This is the last time I spend the Bank Holiday with you!” I teased Cheryl (we had previously spent a very wet week-end at Lake Bunyonyi at Easter). Is she the Wet Weather Omen?

Twenty of us VSO volunteers and families had a poolside table booked … so we could watch the rain come down… it seemed, rather than enjoy sunbathing and swimming, as planned.

Christmas staff rain Speke Resort

Bedraggled Christmas Day staff at the fantastic Speke Resort, Munyonyo on Lake Victoria, Kampala

Christmas Eve was spent fumigating the kitchen cupboards: “Oh how festive!” you cry.

And so onto my first Kampala New Year’s celebrations…

“There’s not enough sex on your blog” was the feedback on last year’s blogging – and that was just from the family!

So, not wanting to besmirch the family reputation, out I went on New Year’s Eve … on a Mission.

The evening started with a few drinks with fellow VSO volunteers Jo and Liam and pharmacist friend Cheryl, at her accommodation in Nsambya hospital.

In the bathroom, Cheryl’s ‘new housemate’ Gerald nearly steals the show! With antennae of at least an inch long, wiggling at me from underneath the hand basin, I don’t hang about to see how long his fearful body must be. [In my first year living in Uganda. I had an obsession: with cockroaches].

En route to (miscellaneous) Kampala nightclubs, we pass the nuns as we walk down through the hospital to catch the boda bodas into town. The traffic is hell: dust, pollution, vehicles everywhere, everyone in a hurry to go to church, return to the village or simply GO PARTY.

Steamed matooke: no Ugandan meal is complete without the famous green banana

I was too busy dancing at midnight to see the fireworks.

Typical Uganda, it was several minutes after midnight that our countdown to the New Year started…

Was it the Full Moon or was it the tequilla? Long awaited moment with a Certain Someone was but a blur and I woke up the next day wondering if I’d dreamed it all…

It’s not easy being a single woman in Kampala: the social life is fantastic but where are all the single men?

The Dutchman is married, the Ugandan has a girlfriend, the Congolese guy is cute but has terrible breath … I get upset sometimes but tell myself “at least I have Baldrick.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Last night I decided to laugh about it.

Christmas Day bread and butter pudding Speke Resort Munyonyo Kampala

OK so repeat after me: “I just came to Uganda to volunteer, I was not expecting you to kill me with food” – did they really think there would be room for a hefty slab of bread and butter pudding on top of several marquees of savoury dishes?

So where will you be this Christmas?

And will you save me some bread and butter pudding?

Getting wrecked in Cape Town

The South African coastline – particularly near the Cape – is littered with shipwrecks and Arniston (Waenhuiskrans) takes its name from the ship that was wrecked here in 1815.

Only six of the 378 on board survived.

Next to it is Kassiesbaai, the tiny fishing village ‘where the coloureds live’. I find the whole race / how you refer to people’s ethnicity a real struggle in South Africa. I find it hard to get my head round the ‘funny foreign sounding’ place names in South Africa too. In Uganda I’ve become used to African names; and now they’re Afrikaans and English and my brain doesn’t compute (aren’t we still in Africa?) I hadn’t realised either just how many coloureds (God this is a minefield) speak Afrikaans as their first language. I say I only speak English and the reply still comes back in Afrikaans.

While out shopping one day, I’m mistaken for the mother of Odille, the South African baby adopted by W-A (two of H’s friends have adopted orphans). It’s an interesting feeling.

baby Odille

Baby Odille – what a cute chick!

 

Agulhas. Indian Ocean meets Atlantic. South Africa

Agulhas, where the Indian Ocean meets the Atlantic Ocean. South Africa

 

Cape Agulhas, ‘the southernmost point of Africa,’ and where the Atlantic meets the Indian Ocean, was worth the trip, just for the fun we had larking about at the monument. The rockpools were teaming with life and the quaint but charming tearoom under the lighthouse was very welcoming but we were on a mission: “Alan wants chips” so we trotted off down the road for a ‘Hake and Calamari Combo’ in the sunshine outside the fish and chip shop.

Considerable energy was focused on eating and drinking during my three weeks in South Africa. Considerable time was invested in arguing over controversial topics such as “do you like grapes in salad? or scrambled eggs on Marmite on toast?” as we ate large breakfasts, discussed what we were having for lunch – and what we needed to buy for dinner.

Introducing Waterkloof Winery

So with food, wine (and little else) in mind, next stop was the Waterkloof winery, above Sir Lowry’s Pass, for a fabulous lunch and some sensational wine (I particularly liked the rosé). It was very exciting to eat there during its first week of opening.

Exterior of Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape, South Africa

Exterior of Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape. The winery has breathtaking views across False Bay

Waterkloof Winery, vineyard. Western Cape

Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape view of the recently planted vines. December 2009

What a fantastic day: my first time with family for 9 months & a quick drive round the Waterkloof estate. (I was very envious to hear K and P had ridden the estate on horseback that morning!) Waterkloof has a breathtaking view across False Bay and Cape Town. The planting of indigenous plants along the roadside was interesting to see, as were the large artworks on display (and sale) and the combination of traditional production methods and a very modern restaurant …

Lunch at Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape. South Africa

Lunch at Waterkloof Winery, Western Cape. South Africa. The food was simply out of this world!

 

Waterkloof Winery lunch. South Africa

A superb lunch with my aunt and uncle and friends at Waterkloof Winery. South Africa

I have to ask myself: back in Uganda, is matooke ever going to taste the same?

Nairobi, Johannesburg, Arniston, Betty’s Bay, Cape Town, I certainly packed a lot in: new cultures, new friends, two job offers, family time, an underwater meeting with Great White Sharks, my first whale sightings, even a few more freckles.

Only one thing missing from this story: a man – and I’ve been working on that one … (or has he been working on me?)

Shark bait – I was this close to a Great White Shark!

Diving with Great White Sharks off the coast of South Africa

Awaking from a nightmare at 4.45 a.m. was not the ideal start to a day that involved leaving the house before dawn, on my own, for a drive across country to dive into cold Atlantic water with man-eating sharks ….

Great White Shark diving. PHOTO Michael Rutzen's www.sharkdivingunlimited.com

I was this close. Great White Shark diving, Gansbaai, South Africa. PHOTO Michael Rutzen’s www.sharkdivingunlimited.com

The day at Gansbaai, two hours outside Cape Town, started quietly enough. Few of us said much as we ate breakfast and watched a video about “how cute and fluffy Great White Sharks really are.” Needless to say it wasn’t long before you could hear the screaming…
Normal people were still in bed when we piled onto the Barracuda and set out to sea. Within half an hour the party soon came to life as we saw our first Great White, a solid grey lump of muscle, slowly swim towards the boat a few feet beneath the surface. With two men ‘chumming’ – throwing buckets of fish blood and oil onto the surface of the water – we soon had a taker. A big ugly tuna head was tethered to a long piece of rope, chucked over the side of the boat and quickly reeled in towards some senseless individuals who had actually paid to go in the water (in a cage I hasten to add!) for this ridiculously scary experience.

photographing Great White Sharks South Africa

Photographing Great White Sharks, Gansbaai, South Africa


Six of us fitted into the cage at a time, flatteringly attired in wet suits and face masks. The cage looked sturdy enough but there were big gaps between the bars – big enough for a Great White to put his snout through! O yes. As the crewman reeled the bait towards us, one slammed right into the cage just a few inches from my right knee, I can still see it now, my knee / its snout in the same frame. In a spilt second I screamed inwardly “Get me out of here now!” willing there to be an ejector seat button under my finger.

Great White Shark diving Gansbaai South Africa

Great White Shark diving Gansbaai. Each small-looking fin is attached to over two metres of Great White Shark!

human bait. Great White Shark diving cage

Human bait. Were we mad? We took it in turns to climb into the cage and duck under the water as the Great White Sharks were lured towards us

The sharks – we were lucky enough to see two – slowly swam under or round the boat. And they weren’t small. The second measured a whopping 3.2 metres. I’ll say it again: 3.2 metres of killing machine.

But it was after the arrival of The Big One that I got back in the cage for the second time (how I’d forgotten about the ejector seat I don’t know!) The shark came steaming at us, his jaw opening and snapping shut, opening and snapping shut, chasing after the tuna head. I rammed myself to the back of the cage and in seconds he’d gone. That was scary. As we came up for air, me and the guy next to me screamed at each other “that was a bit f**king close!!”

Even when viewed from aboard the boat, I just can’t get over how big that Mother was.

Great White Shark turning. diving Gansbaai

The muscular flick of the shark’s tail reminds you of its strength. Great White Shark turning. diving Gansbaai

The force of the animal is something else. It swims along quite serenely but when it flicks its tail, you know about it; the cage rocked from side to side violently, even the boat did. You have to respect the power of that beast.

Senseless, ridiculously scary, these are all just words that frankly don’t mean anything at all. I leapt up out of the cage at one point screaming “F**K MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” and even then it meant nothing. I quite simply ran out of swear words and Ladies and Gentlemen, you know I know a few!

silhouette. Great White Shark diving South Africa

This simple silhouette measures over three metres in length. Great White Shark diving South Africa

The afternoon was bound to be an anticlimax after all that adrenalin yet there was more excitement on the way home as we passed a pod of dolphins. As the boat suddenly pitched to one side I threw myself onto the deck; there was no way I was risking being thrown into the sea – not now I knew what’s down there! I had to laugh at myself.

beach Western Cape South Africa

White sandy beach Western Cape South Africa, seen from our shark diving boat

Being in the water with the Great Whites was an amazing experience. Naomi, H’s South African nanny, was so dumbfounded that I’d been in the water with the sharks that when I told her about the crew ‘chumming’ the water to attract the sharks, she pulled a face and asked “what – with human blood?”

I mean – there are extremes and then there are extremes!

A quick limb count (two arms, two legs, a full set of fingers and toes) before driving back to Arniston with a detour via the village of De Kelders and the most breathtaking panoramic view across the enormous bay, Cape Town in the far distance. Two little Afrikaaner boys came running upto me, pointing excitedly to the coastline where a mother and calf Southern Right Whale (so named because they were the ‘right ones’ to kill back in the day) were lazily floating by on the current.

Great White Sharks, dolphins and whales – what an incredible day!

First impressions of Johannesburg – a ‘busman’s holiday’?

The summit of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania pokes through the thick blanket of cloud thousands of feet beneath us – an image I’ll never forget – as we fly south.

Kilimanjaro at dawn

Day breaks over Kilimanjaro, en route to South Africa

The three hour journey to Johannesburg seemed to last an eternity: a week of burning the candle at both ends, a head cold, just 3½ hours sleep in Nairobi, and I’m unable to sleep bolt upright in a seat that refuses to recline.

I’m sat next to a large, thick-set man. There’s barely room for him to move in his seat but he daintily eats his lunch with the tiny plastic cutlery. I casually try to start a conversation; I mistake his shyness for arrogance and it’s only as we prepare to land that he starts chatting. He’s an ex-policeman, returning home from Sudan where he works as a security consultant for the UN. He lives on an enormous military base outside Darfur “the biggest operation the UN has ever undertaken” he says and points proudly to the UN logo on his shirt.

Cape Town airport road

I can’t get used to the smooooooth Tarmac … the newly resurfaced airport road, Cape Town

Despite what I’d heard, I felt safe enough in Jozi (Johannesburg). I’d certainly forgotten about the city’s reputation as I drove my friend’s brand new car around the ‘carjacking capital of the world.’

But there are constant security reminders: high walls, electric security gates, outdoor lighting, security firm plaques, electrified fencing, security beams around the garden, the odd siren. The doors to the house are never left unlocked and we padlock a gate at the top of the stairs before retiring to bed with the dogs.

Life in Uganda has got me used to the security guards in car parks and shopping malls. What surprised me in Johannesburg were the ‘rear view mirrors’ at eyeline on the cashpoint machines / ATMs. You can’t ignore the sign at the airport that says “Any person making inappropriate comments about hijackings, bomb warnings, carriage of firearms or weapons will be prosecuted.”

H has a small army of paid workers and I’m soon part of the support team. H and I were flatmates in London many years ago and we joke about how “VSO really doesn’t prepare you for how to manage domestic staff.”

Busman’s holiday? **

First day of my ‘holiday’ and I’m supervising the four gardeners landscaping her garden. They all wear blue overalls, not a gum boot in sight (unlike Uganda where it’s not a surprise if workers are barefooted – even on a construction site). Next day I’m reading a poem to fifty people at Baby Lizzie’s naming ceremony (thanks for the half hour notice H!) By the end of the week I’ve cooked dinner, started redecorating the baby’s bedroom and become an au pair!

walking baby at Arniston Bay, South Africa

Arniston Bay, Western Cape, South Africa

At the airport, the baby entourage includes Naomi the nanny and we all get fast-tracked onto the plane. We all chorus ‘cluck-cluck-cluck’ chicken noises to distract the baby all the way to Cape Town. H jokes is breast-feeding and nicknames herself Express Dairies.

We’re quickly processed at the newly refurbished airport then it’s a two hour drive east to Arniston, mountains to our left, the sea to our right. Perfectly round rockpools, jellyfish washed up on the shore, African Black Oystercatchers and a dazzling turquoise sea. We head towards Overberg bypassing the Winelands (temporarily!)

“You’ll notice your eggs boil a lot quicker here than in Johannesburg,” H says and I click: being at sea level, I’m 1000 metres lower than the usual altitude of Kampala. This doesn’t make me feel good as I recall how difficult my early morning run had been (it should’ve been easier)…

What is a busman’s holiday?

“A holiday in which you spend most of your time doing the same or something very similar to your normal work.  It comes from the late 1800’s, where a man who drives a bus for a living goes on a long bus journey on their holiday.” Johannesburg was a change of scene for me but H had me working as hard as if I was back in Kampala!