I’ve come to pass most of my mornings at the Kope Café, a Western-style coffee house run by the family of Jolly from HEALS. With the café’s proceeds going to help local kids through the organization, it’s become a favorite pit-stop for NGO workers looking to indulge their philanthropic impulses over coffees and curries. Partly they come to help a worthy cause; mostly I suspect they - like me - are happy to find a place in Gulu that feels close to home. With colorful murals on the walls and fairy lights twinkling over the couches, it’s just a shade removed from the sort of hang-out you’d find in any American college town. Not surprisingly, the place was conceived by an enthusiastic young volunteer from the Pacific Northwest. He’d come to Gulu to work with Invisible ... read more

In what I’d like to consider an unfortunate coincidence, panic has swept across Uganda just days after my arrival. More than a dozen cases of ebola have been confirmed in the western Bundibugyo district in the past week - which, coupled with recent cholera and bubonic plague (bubonic plague!) scares, is further proof that you can’t spell Uganda without the letters H-O-L-Y-S-H-I-T. Already health workers and government officials are sounding the alarms. An article in the New Vision cites the cautionary words of President Museveni, who has “urged all Ugandans to stop shaking hands until the ebola pandemic is completely contained.” Beleaguered medical staff in Bundibugyo, meanwhile, have been especially hard hit by the highly contagious virus. New Vision reporters, covertly entering a western hospital, shed some possible light onto why: The doors were not locked ... read more

These last days in Nairobi have taken a turn for the surreal, with Papa Ken’s mind unraveling, and an odd cast of characters popping in to bear witness to the inevitable demise of Backpackers. Ken shows up one afternoon, having been discharged from the hospital with what passes for a clean bill of health in Kenya. Despite the damage done to his brain and liver by years of alcohol abuse, the doctors had no immediate reason to keep him around. (His brother John, meanwhile, visibly worn down by the ordeal of these past two months, couldn’t continue to justify a hospital tab that was costing him a cool €200-a-night.) A week after checking into the loony bin, Ken struts back through the front gate of Backpackers, pours himself a stiff drink, and asks why no one’s ... read more

After three jet-setting weeks around the country details of which I'll get to, eventually, I swear, I’ve finally wrapped up my gig for Concierge.com - a five-star orgy of gourmet food, king-sized beds, and thin-lipped pensioners mumbling, “My, that’s a fine job!” into their gin and tonics. It was a swell time. Back in Nairobi, I even decide to relive those heady, luxury highs with a night in Ngong House - a creative, $600-a-night interpretation of the humble tree house. The rooms are decked out in hand-carved furniture, in batiks and bronzes and colorful Congolese fabrics; the blue-tinged silhouettes of the Ngong Hills roll away in the distance. It’s as pleasant and genteel a way to get myself reacquainted with Nairobi as any. And it’s not until the next morning, returning to the drama of life ... read more

Having squared myself with Islam and eaten more prawn curry than my waistline can bear, it’s time to finally leave Lamu behind. It’s an emotional scene on the terrace at Casuarina, watching the wind shake the trees and the tortoises mount each other like sex-charged stallions for the last time. Downstairs I say my goodbyes to the staff, sharing a sad parting with the Prince of Peace. He’s a sweet, smiling, self-conscious kid who, for the past month, endeared himself to all the guests with oddball flourishes like his baroque handshakes and, well, his habit of introducing himself as the “Prince of Peace.” At times he was moody, and would grow suddenly sullen; he was at his best when there was a crowd around to keep him company. On the rooftop one night, playing DJ as ... read more