Uganda be Kidding Me


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Africa » Uganda
April 25th 2014
Published: July 26th 2014
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Ugandan princessUgandan princessUgandan princess

A beautiful girl poses for me outside her home in the hills of Kibale, Uganda
Gah. Chelsea Handler! You stole my blog title.

I actually came to a dead stop at the airport bookstore when I saw your latest novel displayed. I also cursed you out...but then I got over it. Hey, it's not like my frivolous little travel blog will ever be anything more than a digital memento for me when I develop onset dementia. But Chelsea, if you ever need another catchy title, give me a ring, boo.

Uganda was just on the horizon as we travelled northwest through Kenya for the Boda Boda (border). Here, thousands of transport trucks all attempt to squeeze over a shaky bridge at exactly the same time. Anyone not driving has to walk across. We did a zombie shuffle with the crowd towards the immigration wickets, dodging unruly drivers while flailing off the occasional samosa and ginger beer salesmen. A sleepy officer stamps my visa after inexplicably barking at me for not putting my fingers on the scan-pad correctly.

Without further pomp, we were unceremoniously through to Uganda.

Vibe is extremely important to me when I travel. I judge a country solely by feel...I cannot risk clouding my judgement by reading up on a
Hills of Uganda at dawnHills of Uganda at dawnHills of Uganda at dawn

Misty start to the morning as we leave lake Bunyonyi
place prior to arrival. This strategy works well but often gets me into conflicts with fellow travellers, especially those that hug their lonely planets tightly to their chests. Debates often spark (especially with smug Kiwis) and I must activate my Canadian charm to smooze over the sitch. Sure, I know all about Idi Amin, and Kony, and the latest bans on homosexuality, but that won't effect how I see a country. Besides, I had just been bathed in the glorious warmth and friendliness of the Kenyans, so I was eager to see what Uganda had to offer. Well, as it turns out, Ugandans are extremely welcoming, and happy to meet us too.

Overlander truck is a great way to see Africa. Granted, its driving along miles and miles of open highways, slowed only by speed bumps aka lazy policemen that announce the start and end of each little shanty truck-stop perched alongside the roadways, but you also get to see the ever-changing countryside, and make frequent stops for fresh provisions. Stopping allows you to meet random locals. This is brilliant. Usually they gawk at us (seeing a bunch of Mzungas clamber off a spaceship-like truck still a novelty) but
In De Nile on Da NileIn De Nile on Da NileIn De Nile on Da Nile

Felt like Cleopatra on the Nile, lounging on deck with a cold drink and a beautiful sunset.
excitement ensues and they converge upon us in droves with their wares. Most don’t know where Canada is, so I begrudgingly admit I am an American. After a few pictures and discussions about rap artists, they insist on introducing us to their elders who live in villages farther aloft, so we follow zigzaggy paths up to cluster near round clay huts with straw roofs to politely drink banana brew poured from yellow jerry cans.

First impressions of Uganda are positive, the roadsides less plastic trash, and life more orderly than neighbouring Kenya. We have been on the truck for several days now and becoming increasingly relaxed with one another. The jingle jangle of African beats competes with the Killers. We whil away the time playing cards, reading, or hanging out the windows pretending to be gonzo photojournalists. The Australians would shriek every so often BUSH STOP!!! And we would all bail off the truck to do our business. Once you've squatted on the side of the road together, with the locals look on, nothing is sacred. As we get closer to the Equator, the saturation factor was probably a plus eight…me and my clothing are now permanently moist. Kampala,
PosingPosingPosing

Little girl posing by a termite hill. She had been working in a banana field and came out to stare at the Mzungu that stopped on the side of the road
the capital of Uganda was muddy red but bustling. Here, I pick up on an overwhelming vibe of hard life, and acceptance.

Since this is my first experience with Africa, I cannot help but notice groups of men just hanging around all day long. Captain Orange, our jovial guide suggests that African men must do a lot of 'planning' and therefore spend many of their waking hours gathered for this particular activity. It becomes the standard joke amongst us. Any man caught 'planning' was suitably mocked. Turns out, foreign men do just as much planning, they are just better at hiding it.

A hardy cheer from the Australians erupts as we roll into the Red Chili outside of Kampala, our campsite for the night. Picture a luxury backpackers on a swamp…apparently Australians are easy to impress. Armed by a thick coating of bug spray, we head for the pool bar to find something cold to drink and chat up our fellow wanderlusters. For an extra $3, I upgrade myself to a dorm room with bed and mosquito net, not having to set up my mouldy tent in the rain again, priceless.

At 1900 hours sharp, Animal, our
Boys being boysBoys being boysBoys being boys

These guys were playing with a football they had created with scraps of clothing and string. Nonetheless worse for wear, they were hysterical and engaging.
weirdo camp cook, claps his hands strictly to command our attention. He likes to announce his menu each night to his captive audience. Toiled over, a hot vegetable soup made from scratch (and I know this because I was on vegetable peeling duty), then an array of African fair, always fascinating yet delicious. He'd also not take no for an answer, ladling seconds onto your plate under protest, thereby forcing me to do covert plate-scraping when he wasn't looking, so I don't offend.

The deeper you go into Uganda, the thicker the labyrinth of neatly trimmed tea fields that zigzag the hilly slopes. Our local guide Iggy suggests that all Ugandan tea is picked and then sent off to India where they package it up and resell it as Indian tea. Wot?

Finicky tea drinkers bamboozled! ...And there you have it, a glimpse of corruption within Uganda benefiting only the elite few Ugandans, and International businesses that ride in and make billions off all the natural resources, while Ugandan citizens are kept in dire poverty.

Part of our itinerary is to see chimpanzees at the Kibale National Park which is a spanse of 795 square km of
Glamping in UgandaGlamping in UgandaGlamping in Uganda

Luxury backpackers Red Chili, an oasis near Kampala.
thick tropical rainforest. Our campsite is located on the manicured lawns of a private plantation nearby. Maybe it was lush green tea hills off in the distance or the dark rolling storms on the horizon, but I just stared off for longer than I usually do. As we set up our tents and start dinner, the clouds seemed to sparkle upon a pink sunset. The Australians squabble amongst themselves. We, the more organized campers are showered and laundered and sipping cold wine in the cookhouse talking excitedly about our upcoming primate trekking. As expected, one of the Canadians accidentally exposes himself when his shower door swings open revealing his lathered nakedness to the entire cookhouse. Animal was first to notice but doesn’t say anything until one of the Australians lets out a bloodcurdling shriek. When asked why he didn’t point it out he gives his deadpan shrug and smiles slyly, apparently he thought it had been one of us girls. And so we can now officially add pervert to Animal's resume. Oh, and we’ll need to get him some glasses too.

"Boss," our kamikaze truck driver was in a social mood and BBQ’ed the hell out of our Kudu
OuchOuchOuch

Cattle with chandaliers for horns
steaks to a medium-rare tire tread. We politely chewed for hours and then invited them to join us as we retreated to the plantation’s cozy lounge bar with no walls and fluffy couches arranged around wood-burning clay chimineas where we watched thunderstorms with purple lightening roll across the horizon, all the while sipping creamy Amarula. Yes, it was a glimpse of what heaven is actually like…No seventy-two virgins though.

Up early, Animal is yelling "Heggs!" "Heggs!" Even if you don’t want an egg you get an egg. We arrive inside the park just as the skies opened up and it rained elephants, so we tromped around in slippery mud for hours before we found a family group that had retreated to their tree nests to wait out the thundering rain. Us, their silly albino cousins, just stand there looking up, I ruined another camera trying to capture one measly photo. Every so often a chimp would peer over, trying to work out why we were still standing there. At one point, I think I gave one the middle finger. Jane Goodall I am not.

Of course, as soon as we left the park, the skies brightened allowing us
Equator poseEquator poseEquator pose

You don't need a sign to know you are at a humid equatorial zone.
to take little walkabouts through the tea plantations to visit villages and interact with the locals. Although most locals have seen Mzungu before, their children would gawk like we were space aliens before following us around the countryside like the pied piper.

After travelling a short distance we spent over three days in Queen Elizabeth National park and another two days at lake Mburo where we did jeep safaris, night safaris, boat safaris, truck safaris, and my favourite - walking safaris for that real “Out of Africa” vibe of wading through waist-high grasslands sprinkled with thorny acacia trees, termite hills, ancient Euphorbia trees and flanked by rifle-toting park rangers. We kept a keen eye out for fiendishly elusive leopards, only to be startled time and again by ridiculous Pumbas. None of the safaris were disappointing, we saw so many bugs, birds, and critters (elephants, giraffe, topi, warthogs, impalas, kob, water buffalo, hippos, crocodiles, zebras, klipspringers, elands).

Our campsite on Mburo lake is spectacular, our tents quickly surrounded by warthogs and impalas munching grass which is forgotten until your flashlight accidentally hits their eyeballs. Hippos bump around in the shrubs making weird noises. The bonfire becomes the safety zone
A bloat of hipposA bloat of hipposA bloat of hippos

Was wonderful to get so close to this magnificient beasts
for reflection and stargazing.

In Canada we can’t see the milky-way like here in Africa, a clear swath of intense stars that cluster across the night’s sky. I find myself gawking upwards a lot thereby setting my marshmallows prematurely ablaze. One of the Australians is a meteorologist (handy), and pulls out his cell phone, points it upward, and it immediately starts to explain each constellation and star, and I am beyond captivated. Job? Home? Bills? Life? Who cares.

I’m not much into shopping, but a highlight for me was the Rwendi Saturday market. There were so many people bustling about, the colour and chaos, strange smells intoxicating. We wandered around with our strict instructions from Animal on how much to buy and what. I find most of the items on my list and attempted to haggle to the pleasure of the staring crowds. Most of the vendors are camera shy but some sewing ladies befriended me after they attached a stray button back to my jacket. We pose. I looked at the pictures later and unfortunately no one told me I looked like an idiot with my Princess Leia braids…I was going for travel-Bjork….Fail.

Unlike Kenya, I
Sugar highSugar highSugar high

Boys chew on sugar cane while they work in the potato fields.
saw things in the hills of Uganda that left me with mixed emotions. Here, the children would materialize out of the woodwork each time we stopped to follow us around wearing their dirty frock hand-me-downs and muddy bare feet. While most of them go mental trying to wave at us as we pass through their villages, I am heart-struck to see so many of them doing hard labour. My privileged Canadian heart is outraged. They should be in school! But obviously, children are a necessity to help out. Anyone under the age of ten was more likely to be helping their mothers break rocks in a quarry, or wield gigantic machetes in the banana groves, or dig potatoes in fields with their snotty noses. I wanted to feel outraged but the kids seemed reasonably unscathed, and wired from gnawing sugarcane stalks. I interacted enthusiastically with mild discomfort.

Postcard perfect lake Bunyonyi is our next campsite after doing switchbacks up a steep mountainous jungle all day. This retreat used to be a favourite hiding spot for Dictator Idi Amin, his huge mansion a leftover reminder. At our lakeside spot, Animal fried up Tilapia with chips while we sit out on
Kibale CampsiteKibale CampsiteKibale Campsite

What a stunning view at this private property near the Kibale park.
our camp deck sipping Savannah Dry and watching a naked Australian do a back flip into the frigid inky waters. We were treated to dance hall music and fireworks (and perhaps gunshots too) across the water as the night wore on.

More travel through the endless roadways, we arrive in the town of Jinja, situated on lake Victoria’s dam, and it is reminisce of a blast furnace. Thankfully our campsite is a breezy oasis located on the Nile river. The Adrift campsite is obviously geared for the Contiki backpacker complete with bungee jumping platform and blaring music from a rickety bar that hangs precariously over the water. Insert shrug here. After upgrading to a tent cabin for $15, I find a few like-minded travellers who want to enjoy the wicked sunset and cold drink without being hurled off of anything. We all swap stories while glancing down at our phones to check for periodic wifi...sigh, we may be older but technology has gotten to us too. The younger Australians effortlessly cram excessive drinking, river rafting, bodaboda racing, bungee jumping, and nightclubbing into their itinerary, and stumble back into camp at 5:30 am just in time to board our truck.
Friendly merchantsFriendly merchantsFriendly merchants

Although she didn't speak English we managed to communicate well, although I am still not sure what the root veg was she was selling.
Oh to be young again. Not! While they moaned all day, us older generation enjoyed shopping the local artisan markets, and wandering around getting into things.

So far, I must crown Uganda my favourite African country. But I'm pretty sure I will say this each time my visa gets a fresh stamp. I also thought I’d be too old for camping, but this experience has been amazing. 'Camping: Where you spend a small fortune to live like a homeless person.' I have to admit, I did bring a couple luxury items from home, including a twin air mattress with foot pump which has allowed me to sleep on a cloud while my tent mate toss/turns on the pad mattress supplied. And I get quite incensed when the showers aren’t hot enough, or I have to fight an Australian for a plug to recharge my iPhone.

Oh my God, have I become one of those travellers?!!

We have so much more to explore as we make our way to Rwanda. I’m cognisant enough not to exclaim my love for Uganda anywhere near Capt. Orange (my Kenyan brother from another mother) because I’ll probably get kicked off the truck.
The PlannersThe PlannersThe Planners

Boys taking a break from the fields to stare at us.
He wouldn't hear of it, as Kenya is the holy land and how dare I suggest otherwise! Capt. Orange minimizes Uganda's obvious glory and we play along but then make faces when he wasn't looking. Bah, ugh yuck Uganda, can't wait to leave. But honestly, if you had told me I had to stay forever, I would have.


Additional photos below
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Bungee!Bungee!
Bungee!

Captain Orange shows us how its done in Jinja.
Rainy blurry dayRainy blurry day
Rainy blurry day

Chimps don't take good photos in the rain.
Pied Piper kidsPied Piper kids
Pied Piper kids

Where ever we went we would be followed by kids wearing ill fitting clothes and no shoes.
The local deliThe local deli
The local deli

Drive up, cut off a slab and go. Convenient and gross.
Boating the Crater LakeBoating the Crater Lake
Boating the Crater Lake

Dug out canoes are not exactly waterproof, I was a little concerned with this mode of transport
Tea hills of UgandaTea hills of Uganda
Tea hills of Uganda

Who knew? Tea everywhere you looked, all shipped to be packaged as grown somewhere else.
Banana salemanBanana saleman
Banana saleman

Michael Jackson was an incredible kid. He sold bananas at the boda boda and appeared to be paralyzed on one side, but full of life and struck a hard bargain, so we bought him out of his stock. He couldn't stop smiling!
Shopping day at the Kampala MarketShopping day at the Kampala Market
Shopping day at the Kampala Market

Anywhere we stopped we had to pick up provisions at the local markets and shops. It was a great way to interact with the locals.


26th July 2014

Uganda You
Uganda You stole my heart rings through this blog. So many wonderful observations of life on an overland truck and life passing you by. I relate to all of them. Beautifully written blog with beautiful pictures. May the rest of your trip warm your African heart.
27th July 2014

Hi Mr. Dancer!
I have you to thank for all your wonderful Africanpictures that sparked my interest on. So thank you. We played The Killers - Are we Human or are we Dancer? over and over in the truck, in your honour!
26th July 2014
Hills of Uganda at dawn

Fine adventure!
How wise to go with an overland truck group with stops in luxury backpacker camps! Seems you had a fine balance of familiar ease and also contact with the locals--both people and animals. As a single, Africa had seemed daunting--you've made it much more approachable--thanks.
27th July 2014
Hills of Uganda at dawn

Singles!
Oh yes, it was too daunting for me to figure out on my own, so although I usual loath group travel, this overlander gig is the bomb. Make sure you get a mixed crowd. We saw a few gap-year type tours behaving badly and I would have murdered all of them if I had been on those.
27th July 2014

Too old for camping, Bah!
Good for you Andrea...just another great adventure. You are one of travel blogs great story tellers. A keen eye and sense of observation. Felt like we were right there on the truck with you and attempting to eat that steak. Good show...and waiting for the next installment of which country will Andrea fall in love with next -- you two timing wench.
28th July 2014

The wenched
It can't be helped, this falling in love with every country I go! Definately not the camping I grew up doing in Canada. This is glamping! Anways, I hope all is well Binkleys. Where to next for you?
28th July 2014

Damn that Chelsea Handler!
I so love your blogs Andrea...and the way you seem to gravitate to aussies :)
28th July 2014

Oi!
Aussies by far are the best travelmates. Where have you been lately mate? I am so behind on my TB reading it is appalling!

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