Adventures in the (Welshy) West

I woke earlier than expected on the Saturday morning of departure due to chickens (I’ll get them all one day) and the noise of a tv, but I quickly set to packing stuff for my trip away. After doing the usual of laying out everything on the bed, I started placing items in my bag. Several things were sacrificed to the shortage of space (including sun tan lotion, blunder) but I managed to finish without destroying the zips. After a quick breakfast, I set off for my adventure with 4 books, 3 t-shirts, 2 flip flops, 1 pair of swimming shorts, no passport and an undisclosed number of changes of underwear.

The first leg of the trip was cheating really. The Church of Christ were also travelling to Mbarrara over Saturday and Sunday (cue me missing Mbale bonfire night (I’d been hoping we'd have fireworks in Mbale, but you need police permission due to them sounding lie gunfire)) so I was sat in the back of a Land Cruiser that felt distinctly like a normal car. We pelted it to Jinja before stopping for samosas and milkshakes before continuing on to Kampala, reaching just before lunch. I had a slightly more interesting journey back to the guesthouse as I’d been told the wrong hotel to use as a landmark (unintentionally) but I made it there though I’m still not quite sure how. The rest of the day passed by nicely, I climbed a hill for ‘panoramic views’ of Kampala and had another nice meal with the Church of Christ people before heading to bed at 9:30, I know how to live on holiday!

On Sunday we went to a church in Kampala before setting back off on the road. After passing the equator (which I found suitably exciting), the terrain started changing. The rolling, grassy hills (even sometimes segregated by hedges) are very different to anything here in the East but quite akin to Wales (at least three people have said this separately to me!), only with thousands upon thousands of banana trees (for matoke) and the occasional zebra (!). In Mbarara, I was staying with Ralph and Val, two friend of the Dr who help run a school just outside town. They were wonderful hosts who kept feeding me great food and were great fun.

Equator!

Monday is the only day of my trip I regret; I regret large parts of it. After a brief trip into town, I set off for the local big hotel to get some swimming in. I walked up to the pool and noticed it was hugely clean but didn’t think too much of it and set to reading in the sun before a cool dip. Despite having been previously scorched by the sun, I still thought I’d be able to tell when it was time to stop being in the sun (like a crazy mzungu) but I spent the rest of the week realising this wasn’t so. After swimming through rotting leaves, unable to see the bottom of the deep end (I’ll admit to being slightly concerned about something lurking underneath, unseen) I headed home, with my skin already starting to develop a beautiful array of pinks. (Ralph later told me the filter and pump for the pool have been broken for over 3 months, tasty).

Being sunburnt (particularly on the back of the knees) made the journey up to Kabale less exciting than it should have been. Still, the view was brilliant as we headed up toward a range of volcanoes, past hundreds of the Ankole cattle and thousands more banana trees. I jumped off the matatu (limped being more accurate) and onto a boda that took me the rest of the journey to Lake Bunyonyi, over the top of the ridge (1962m above sea level) and down into the crater lake.

I only spent one night at Lake Bunyonyi, but it was absolutely stunning. It’s name means Lake of little birds and there are thousands of them on the shores of the lake and the islands in the middle. My burnt legs made the climb to the top of the lake slightly more tricky, but it was well worth it, with the sun low over the clusters of islands and with a distant volcano looming beyond the basin. After an amazing crayfish curry with chips, I read by torchlight before another pre-ten bedtime.

View from the top

In the morning, I was torn between swimming in the lake and hiring a dugout canoe; the indecision was resolved by realising I’d left any form of shorts behind in Mbarara so I set off for a morning paddling around the lake. Thankfully, Ralph and Val had lent me some lotion but it was only factor 15 so my serene trip around the islands was periodically interrupted for photos and reapplication of lotion (I think I reached 8 times). The definite highlight was stumbling (in a canoe) across some crested cranes strutting around a cabbage garden which was fantastic, but it was generally peaceful and beautiful. After returning to shore, I boda-ed (it’s a word) back into Kabale and set back off to Mbarrara, aiming to be back before dark. I made it in time and Ralph cooked up a great final meal before I left again the next morning for the mountains.

On Thursday, I thought I’d managed to pull off an early departure to Kasese, but hadn’t banked on waiting in the matatu park for another hour after first boarding. Anyway, again we set off on a stunning drive. First we went up higher into another range of hill before the road swooped down into the plain in front of the Ruwenzoris. I arrived in Kasese unsure about how to play the rest of the trip. I was being followed by a few drivers, keen to transport me somewhere expensive expensively, but decided I needed to eat first. I went to buy a chapatti (as one does when needing to make a decision), followed by three guys who sat outside patiently whilst I chewed thoughtfully. In the end, I picked another guy (not out of cruelty) to take me as far into the mountains as one can go for free. We started on a tarmac road but quickly turned off that onto a dirt road with hills and dark clouds dead ahead. The road continued to narrow and become more rough and the mountains became slowly clearer. Being European, I’d imagined we’d be tearing along those twisty roads, up the steep sides of the mountains, but no-one’s ever built a road through the mountains so we ended up stopping when the road had become one track thick, still the view was great. The driver (who’s name I can’t pronounce or spell) was a great guy, putting up with me both shifting around on the back of the bike to take photos and stopping him every other minute so I could take a still shot; we probably ended up spending about three hours driving to and fro the mountains before he put me on a matatu, destined for Fort Portal.

Near the end of the road...

I’d decided to go to Fort Portal for the night as it was closer Kampala, despite the accommodation apparently being more expensive. The place I ended up at cost 12,000 USh (£3)/night but did have a set charge for bed wetting which I never think bodes well as an indicator of quality. I woke earlyish, still undecided how to handle the day. I asked the receptionist what there was to do in Fort Portal and he pulled a face and said nothing. I thought this wasn’t a great start, but decided that there must be some things to do if there were so many guesthouses around. After establishing with several people that there definitely wasn’t an exciting Fort nearby (gutting, I know) I decided to wander through town.

A boda driver made the mistake of saying good morning, and I turned back and started asking him what there was to do nearby. Little did he know, he’d spend the next 3 hours with me, touring the local lakes and caves which were really pretty… chuckle. I got back and was delighted to be I time for the 10am coach to Kampala (which I’d been told that morning left sharp on the hour). I took my seat, ready for a very long journey home but unready for us not to leave until 11:25. All of my journeys have featured entertaining companions from school girls trying to convince me to buy them plastic, jewellery to an assistant pastor trying to get me to get him a visa (who was reading the newspaper in the album) but Friday definitely featured the most memorable. The coach was still mainly empty when my reading on the coach (still stuck in Fort Portal) was interrupted by a guy asking to sit next to me. I looked around at the empty seats and begrudgingly accepted. We didn’t chat too much, but this guy was memorable for (a) telling me I looked like Van Persie, making him the third person that week to say so and (b) telling me he wanted to marry 4 women of different sizes (one big, one small, one medium, one some other size) so that he wouldn’t have to fornicate anymore. I later realised this was quite a clever adaptation of Paul saying you should marry so don’t burn with lust.

Early morning trip to crater lakes

I got into Kampala, annoyed that I’d just missed the 4pm coach to Mbale and got off the Fort Portal coach into mayhem (a traffic jam and a pedestrian jam caused by puddles and cars), headed for the taxi park. On the way, I spotted the coach also stuck and delightedly headed to it, boarded it and sat back smiling that I’d be back in Mbale smoothly. We got to the ticket office and it turned out the conductor hadn’t checked there were enough seats for any of the people he’d let on as they passed the centre of town. Me and two of the others jilted by the company set off looking for a taxi. By 7ish, we’d left Kampala after rounding up a ragtag bunch (one of whom kept vomiting in a bag  at regular intervals on the journey). An accident in Mabira forest led to detours and delays meaning I reached Mbale at 12.

I got off the matatu and started walking home down the street work is off but realised that two guys I’d noticed behind me when I got off the taxi had also turned down the road which seemed strange. Knowing enough stories of unfortunate encounters that had befallen people walking home in the dark in Uganda and that theft is worse as Christmas approaches (they think it’s nearly Christmas here too, crazy kids) I upped the pace. A vehicle turned down the road too and I could see their shadows behind mine so I strode faster and then noticed that the shadows had disappeared. The vehicle stopped by me and I realised it was m taxi! They’d noticed the two guys following me and come to make sure I got home safely! As soon I realised, I cried out “You guys…” and looked very touched. They recommended I went faster, so I ended my holiday jogging up my street with my bag over one shoulder.

As far as coming home is concerned, it looks like I’ll come back around the 6^th Feb and then stay in the UK! I’m still looking at doing police things in London, Manchester or Oxford but am keen not to start thinking too much about the future or else the two and a bit months I’ve got left here will simply disappear! Anyway, congrats for making it to the end! Looking forward to seeing you sooner than expected (and sad about leaving you Ugandan readers earlier)…