Learning Manners and Nearly Drowning in Uganda

Last week we were lucky enough to have two public holidays...even luckier when our good president, Thabo Mbeki, declared an additional third public holiday. It seems that the Day of Goodwill, March 21, fell on the same day as Good Friday this year and, as a result, hard working South Africans missed out on one of their holidays. And so people complained all the way up the food chain. Now, the Rand is struggling against the dollar, the economy is having a tough time because of the power outages (commodoties are holding South Africa together, check out the price of gold), crime is pretty high...so, what would make everyone feel better? Another day off work! Unlike the U.S., public holidays are not optional here...so our employers had no choice but to quickly add in another day of overhead for everyone. I can't exactly say we were unhappy about this development.

Jeremy and I took SAA flight 161 4 hours north to the equator and the shores of Lake Victoria...Uganda! It just so happened that Jeremy ended up with some work to do (inspecting a rice paddy) one day so we decided to make a holiday of it. Entebe Airport is right on the shore of Lake Victoria...and the runway actually crosses the equator. Being a geography buff, Jeremy was in heaven.

We stayed three nights in Kampala and even managed to get in 18 holes at the Uganda Golf Club. Much to Jeremy's dismay, playing at the equator did not correct his slice.

Kampala is a really neat town...just big enough so an expat can enjoy some creature comforts, but small enough to make moped taxis and efficient way to get from one end of the city to the other. It was also really nice to have the opportunity to walk around at night with out fear of crime...I forgot how much we missed that in Jo'burg. Maybe we should move there next...

On Tuesday morning we were scheduled to be picked up at a shopping mall and be transported from Kampala to Jinja, about an hour and a half east of Kampala along the shore of the lake. This is where the lesson in manners and just being a good person comes in. Being a plan-ahead sort of woman, I took the opportunity to find a toilet before embarking on the journey. Seeing a sign marked, "toilets," I marched off and, in doing so, walked straight passed the janitor, an older woman, who was sweeping the side walk. To my dismay, the door to the public toilets was locked and so I turned around and went back to the janitor to ask if she'd be so kind as to unlock the door for me. Before I could get my request out, she interupted, saying, "you just walked straight passed me and you didn't even greet me or say good morning. But now, now you need my help and only now are you paying attention to me." To say that her comment stopped me dead in my tracks is an understatement. As I pulled my jaw off the floor and tried to get my face to stop turning red, I did my best to apologize. I haven't felt so humbled ever, I don't think. Interestingly enough, she didn't hold a grudge. She said that, yes, the toilets were still closed but, "you cannot help nature so I will unlock them for you." She even walked in with me to make sure there was toilet paper. So a lesson in humilty and forgiveness, and all before 7:30 in the morning. Darned if God doesn't pick unlikely places and people to deliver some very important messages.

Meanwhile, we arrived in Jinja...the new extreme sports capital of Uganda. I didn't know they had an old one, but there you are. We stayed at the Nile River Explorer Backpackers...if nothing else to remind ourselves that, yes, we are softer than we used to be and we really are getting older. But, for $11/night, it's hard to argue. The backpacker's served a good breakfast, played the important English Premier league games, and had a cool bar complete with a picture of Idi Amin (someone's idea of a joke?).

We went mtn biking, as usual with our bike rides we were the tourist attraction. The kids in the villages we passed through made a game of trying to keep up with us, running surprisingly fast in bare feet. They were so cute and happy that you could almost ignore the swollen bellies, the telling sign of malnutrition.

The following day we played some more golf, undoubtedly the most painful 9 holes Jeremy has played in a while. Fortunately the evening G&T canoe/float trip through Lake Victoria and the source of the Nile provided an opportunity for him to forget about it. We did exactly 10 minutes of paddling and then our guide happily announced that the bar was open...pulling out on of those big orange Gator-Aid cooler things...filled with G&Ts. Our travelling companions were two Americans, one who works for the UN World Food Programme in the Sudan and another who works for a non-profit that aims to lend focus to the plight of women in war-torn countries. Suddenly Jeremy and I didn't feel so noble in our career choices. After a couple G&Ts, we did manage to convince Brian, the UN WFP worker, that he should come rafting with us the next day...he might still be bitter about that.

The Nile...it is 6700 km long (longest in the world) has an average monthly flow at our put-in site (just below Lake Vic) of 2.25 billion cubic meters per month. That's a lot of water. I've done a lot of rafting in Colorado and West Virginia....and never have I exited the raft involuntarily so many times. At the safety briefing at the outset our guide aquainted us with the "get down" command...where you stop paddling, squat in the raft, and hang on until your knuckles turn white. They don't have the get down command on the Arkansas River. Pictured are the Bujagali falls. Again, the tourists are the attraction...a bunch of school children were on a field trip to look at the falls and watch the rafters go swimming. The sign should have warned us away. I wonder who the Bujagali Falls Management is?

We hit 12 rapids, half of which were class 5. We portaged half of the last rapid...it was a class 6. We put in for the class 5 portion at the bottom. A "gentle" set of rapids called "The Bad Place." Just as an aside, when it comes to rapids (as opposed to ski slopes), their names really do have meaning...it's not just to scare tourists. As we entered The Bad Place, our guide gave us the "get down" command with a new twist. We were also to seriously THROW our paddles out of the boat. Reason being, so that when we were thrown out we'd be less likely to take a paddle to the face. Unfortunately I caught a paddle to the hip and have a bruise that looks like a Picasso painting. While I can't say that I truly feared for my life, I will say that running myself through the washing machine would have been more relaxing. The worst of it was the force of that much water ripping your shorts off! Clearly I wasn't drowning, because I did have the presence of mind to pull them back on. I am happy to report that I am recovering well from the whiplash and can't wait to go raft the Zambezi...