Mural Mayhem: Part 3--aka Painting Fatigue

So, I’ve already reached that point: I’m really sick of painting. Problem is that there’s still so much more I want to accomplish at the school in the next three days or so. We’re making progress, but it really is so time consuming. Yesterday we painted the boys’ room in the orphanage, and today we started—and almost finished—the living room/kitchen (if you can call it that) and began to decorate the boys’ wall. By 6:30pm the three of us volunteers were exhausted, sweaty, and sick of each others’ “company,” but tomorrow morning we’ll be back at it again, this time with the outside walls at the Learning Center where we hope to put the Meeting Point and school emblems and have all the kids put colorful handprints on a dark blue painted background (the cause of my third trip for a paint donation this morning!).

In addition, we drafted the English end of term exam for the vocational students (which was basically an exact regurgitation of our last class) and we thought to be very fair. The Italian volunteer who doesn’t speak much English agreed it to be fair for these 15-17 year olds. But apparently that was not the case. While a couple students pulled through with just a few missed points out of 20, the majority scored in the 0-7.5%--seriously. And seriously depressing for a “teacher”! It even prompted my fellow volunteer to initially take her frustrations out on one of the grading papers before I encouraged a bit of restraint! But we are going to talk with them about the tests when we hand them back. It’s certainly weird to be on this side of the grading papers thing. I remember how nervous I was when I was younger and how I’d be devastated with anything less than an A—ah those were the days! ;) But really, I just want these kids to care and realize how an knowledge of English will most likely give them great advantages and really try to help their own futures. Reminder to give extra respect to all of my teacher friends I guess!

Painting/teaching fatigue comes on top of general fatigue. I’m still trying to kick this lingering cough from last weekend, while “preparing” for my Kampala MTN Half-Marathon this upcoming Sunday! Yesterday I went for an hour and a half training run up a huge hill of the Mbuya section of the city. It nearly killed me and we got lost in a farm of sorts, but it was definitely good for me to get at least one substantial training run in. The rest of the week I’m going to take it pretty easy and just try to stay healthy, knock on wood. Also have some last minute plans for my parent’s upcoming visit--they arrive in less than a week—yippee! So all good things, just busy busy, and nearing the homestretch now, of this leg of my travels abroad anyway!

Jinja Mayhem: Freestyle Kayak Festival 2007

On Thursday night, Amy and I headed down to Jinja for the weekend for the freestyle kayak festival that one of her friends was helping to organize. Basically all of the rafting guides are also most often phenomenal kayakers and also massive partiers, so this weekend was basically a fond reminder of college with some impressive water stunts thrown in.

On Friday, there was a kayak competition on the Nile Special, a huge rapid near the end of the two-day section that most rafting trips here take, and the only rapid I didn’t swim during my lovely tandem kayak experience of several weeks ago. From 9am (we didn’t get there until about noon) until 4pm heats of men and women, about 70 competitors in total, surfed the rapid in their single kayaks. Although I didn’t understand any of the moves that the announcers kept mentioning, it was hard not to be impressive that they could even balance on that wave, much less maneuver some ridiculous tricks—the pistol, the double helix, the Pan-Am, etc. There was a few hundred people perched on the rocks—muzungus and Ugandans alike—along with a DJ, and announcer booth, and BBQ and beer stand. It was so hot and we just sat there sweating all afternoon watching the competition, taking a break to dip in the Nile.

Then it was time to head down river—by wooden paddle boat, yikes—to an island known as The Hairy Lemon, a popular backpackers spot, and pitch our tents for a night of camping and toasting the kayakers. The island is absolutey beautiful with palm trees, flowers, and a main bar area where they laid out a huge dinner buffet and then the partying began complete with some guitar sing-alongs.

Next day, we dragged ourselves out of our tents, but not too far, just over for coffee and breakfast, some lounging and sunbathing, and another lunch buffet. Then it was time to head back to Jinja proper and recover for yet another evening of celebration at the Nile River Explorers--NRE bar. All of the kayakers had gotten out of bed (tent) at 7am to head to the competition for the day—the 40Kendurance race. I don’t know how these guys do it. They definitely have more endurance than I can imagine between their rafting, kayaking, and ability to party all night and then work all day.

But it was Sunday that was my absolute favorite day that seriously transported me back to the college days of my youth (I know, tear, tear)! It was the Boda race. At about 1pm, all of the kayakers took off on a serious ride down Bujagali Falls—an enormous rapid that will actually soon disappear thanks to a new dam project that is going up as of August. It’s quite a waterfall of sorts and I’m sure is far more terrifying then it looks (as I can tell you from firsthand experience) but these guys are fearless and raced down, many jokingly wearing buttondown shirts and ties over their rafting suits. Then, 3km farther down the river, then wade to shore, hope on a prearranged boda and hightail it back to the NRE campsite with their kayak in tow on their lap. But it doesn’t end there: then both kayaker and boda driver must conquer the inflatable raft course covered in soapy water (applied lovingly by the children of the rafting company owners) before crossing the finish line and drinking a funnel of beer. Ah, college!! It was a hilarious sight and absolute mayhem, everyone was just cracking up at the boda guys and kayakers flinging themselves over the rafts, getting stuck in them, careening into each other—it was truly a sight to be seen. After a dip in the river and nearby pool, we watched the crowning awards ceremony for the weekend, and to see numerous prizes awarded to the male and female winners, which consisted of a few dinners, a flight lesson, and mostly large crates of beer—Club and Nile Special, of course!

And that brings us Sunday night—an early night, thank goodness! I mean, I loved college, but geez, I don't think I can keep up with those guys. So this morning we were up bright and early to make the drive back to Kampala just in time for another week (my last one!) of painting mayhem!

Mural Mayhem: Part 2

So the past couple of days have seen more of me covered in paint, but we are getting the hang of it bit more--unlike the first day when we tried to paint the wall using no paint thinner. Don't try that at home. I picked up a second paint donation this morning--about 20 cans of paint--yippee!! I'll let the pictures tell the story. Next week we do the outside walls and start on the orphanage. For now I'm off to Jinja for the weekend for the Freestyle Kayakers Festival :)

Mural Mayhem: Part 1

So after months of planning to paint murals, those plans are finally being put into action, though it is somewhat slow going! I now spend my days covered in paint, and it really is quite a challenge: an American, a German, and an Italian all speaking various degrees of English (I'd like to consider myself the expert of the group, but even I have my moments!) painting huge concrete walls with a limited supply of rollers, brushes, paint trays, and paint, and one tiny bathroom sink with no towels, plus 230 children running around spraying water from the nearby water spicket and wreaking general havoc. Sounds a bit like the Tower of Babel goes to primary school, huh?

By the end of the week, we are determined (hoping) to finish the four concrete walls that look into the back "courtyard" of the school where the children pass by to get to the classrooms. And we've gone with a strictly "art" theme rather than trying to make the paintings lessons of any sort--rather just art for its own sake, a concept that really doesn't have much footing in Uganda aside from tribal crafts, etc. I hope we can start on the outerwalls by the end of the week and finish that and the living room of the foster house next week, which is exam week for the children. But I must say it is really tiring. I've come home exhausted both yesterday and today, and often the three of us volunteers just sit there in the office surrounded by our dirty brushes and paint cans and look around wearily. But it has also been so fun having the children paint in the outlines we have drawn or use star stencils to make a night sky. We are having each class help decorate one wall panel. P-1 did theirs yesterday and today, and tomorrow Nursery and P-3 will go, and hopefully -2 on Friday.

Tomorrow I have an early wake-up call to pick up another paint donation from Sadolin Paints, so it's time to pack it up for the night. I've been at Bubbles O'Leary watching an outdoor movie, Resevoir Dogs, and using their free internet in the lovely garden, so it's definitely not all work and no play--not that you were worried I know!

Beautiful Bunyonyi

Sorry, this is going to be a long one, but it was a long weekend! On Wednesday night, my housemate, some of her friends, and I made a Thanksgiving dinner of sorts—roast chicken, pumpkin, sweet potatoes and mashed potatoes and gravy, carrots and green beans, and deconstructed apple pie (i.e. apple pie without the crust—that was my contribution and I had to improvise my pie plans as we have only one tiny oven). So although I missed my mom’s home cooking, I had a little taste of the Thanksgiving spirit at least.

Then for the long CHOGM weekend I ended up taking a rather impromptu trip with 5 others down to the southwestern region of Uganda just about an hour from the Rwanda border and not far from the DRC border as well. Thursday and Friday had been declared public holidays in honor of CHOGM and the Queen’s arrival, and many muzungus were intent on fleeing town as the central roads were closed off to the public, and the building traffic mayhem gripped the city. The funny thing is that as of Wednesday evening I was still unsure of exactly where, with whom, and for how long I’d be fleeing. An American girl, Ari, I had back in October through Judy and Lew, and her roommate were planning on taking the four day weekend to trek down to Lake Bunyonyi, which entailed a 7 hour bus ride (once the bus actually started moving of course—half the battle!). I had mentioned during a jog with some girls I met at the Hash that I was thinking of going to the Lake, and somehow, it all came together. They brought along another of their roommates and so in the end there were 6 (4 Americans, 1 Canadian, 1 Aussie) of us who by last-minute texting and emailing managed to coordinate enough to meet up at 7 am at a gas station near the bus park, coming from different directions.

We walked to the bus park and were immediately mobbed by a pack of bus hawkers all trying to get us on their bus, whether they were going to our destination of Kabale or not! We found our Horizon bus company and climbed on to secure 6 seats next to each other. Then the 2 hour wait began—we pulled out of the parking lot just after 9, but luckily with little traffic with which to contend. The bus ride was fairly uneventful—just the standard shoving-kebad/drinks/fried crickets, etc. in your face through the bus window—aside from the part where I almost got left. That’s right, a few hours into the bus ride, we pulled over at a rest stop and the other girls got out to use the restroom. Being my newly aware (paranoid?) self following theft incidents, I decided to stick around behind and keep an eye on all of our bags. There were spillover passengers who had not secured seats lurking in the isles and I just had an uneasy feeling. By the time one of the girls fought her way back onto the bus, the bus driver was getting antsy, but I had had to pee since we left the bus park—it was now or never. I ran off the bus and to the bathrooms which were of the hole in the floor variety and tried to pee as fast as I could, and then I heard the bus starting to honk. I flew out of the bathroom along with Ari and ran for my life. We made it of course, but not without getting more than a few chuckles from all of the Ugandans on the bus as we passed back to our seats. Look at those muzungus run!!!

We arrived in Kabale close to 4, found Ari’s friend who is working in Kabale at the moment, and then arranged a special hire to take us the final 20km or so to the Lake. Six of us crammed in (like that would ever happen in the US!) and we wound our way up the steep green hills that divided Kabale from the lake. The vistas were spectacular as tiered farmland came into view. Then we caught our first glimpse of the lake scattered with small islands. The taxi wound down the red dirt roads to the lake below and to our accommodation, Bunyonyi Overland Resort. Cottages and furnished tents were tucked into the hill and looked out on a sweeping view over the lake, islands, and manicured grounds. After giddily exploring our surroundings, we headed out for a boat ride—all six of us in one dugout wooden canoe with four paddles. Despite the fact that more than half of us had rowed crew, we ended up spending most of our half hour on the water going in circles and couldn’t stop laughing. But we did manage to make it to shore, just in time to wait about one and a half hours for our food to arrive from the restaurant! Grrrr, African Time! Well, actually, they were cooking the pizzas that some had ordered one by one as they only had one oven (um?), but the food ended up being quite good. My crayfish (fresh from the lake below) masala was very good if not quite a Thanksgiving feast. After dinner we sat around the campfire with the other guests: some other American volunteers from Kampala, some Brits who had just winding down a three week trip through Uganda and Rwanda and were headed back to London on the Queen’s flight on Saturday (who knew she didn’t fly in her own private plane?), and an Israeli traveling on his own.

The next day, after a hilarious breakfast where I was called, get this, “Not a good person,” by the waiter (I had ordered French Toast which I think we can all agree is dipped in egg and sweet—not so this one, just break dipped in a whole lotta egg) when I asked if my toast break could be on the house since I was still paying for the more expense French Toast that I was less than impressed with. Let’s just say that the concept of customer service has yet to surface in this country for the most part. And from all my days as a waitress, I learned to please the customer. Yeah, they just don’t care. When they say “I’m sorry” for something, it actually just means, “I’m sorry that happened to you or that you’re not happy” not that I will take any responsibility or try to make it better. But it’s up there with African time, so you just have to grit your teeth and bare it!

While the others started on a hike, Jen, Jenny, Anna, and I went for a brisk swim in the cool lake and amused ourselves to no end with silly jumps of the diving board thoroughly documented by Jen. Apparently Lake Bunyonyi is the deepest lake in Uganda, and so it was very nice to swim without having to encounter the lake’s bottom. Then we took off on our hike up the steep dirt paths cutting through the lush green tiered farmland. We were winded (i.e. out of shape) from the 45 min hike, but found rewards at the top with a stunning view and a restaurant that served the best food in all of Uganda (seriously and it had a trampoline!) that had been recommended by some other guests we had run into on the way. We feasted, quite literally, BLTs, vegetable crepes, tomato and cheese salads, and then stuck by an impressive, powerful, and swift onset of a whiteout storm; we descended on the dessert menu. After the best couple hours ever, we slid down the hill (trying not to do so on our behinds mostly successfully and checked out of rooms. Then we waited for the motorboat that was coming to fetch us and take us to our Friday night accommodation, Boonya Amagara, a retreat on Ishabira Island in the middle of the lake. The clouds continued to roll in and dumped another massive treat of rain. We waited another hour, called, and the motor boat arrived and we began our very damp trip across the water to our lodge. When we arrived we were shown to our room—a dormitory with seven beds (Ari’s friend has joined us, lucky him with 6 girls) situated in the upper area of a little makeshift library. It was a great little setup and we checked out the bookshelves and got dry and settled before making our way up the slope for some warm tea and dinner.

The next morning we hiked around the island and took in more glorious views and many pictures before sitting down for the best/only brunch I’ve had since leaving NYC! I had an enormous rolex (omlette in chapatti) with guacamole and mashed potatoes and heaps of pineapple, banana, and passion fruit salad. Divine. Ahh, but sure enough, the clouds began to roll in. We had arranged a motorboat ride for 1pm so that we could get back to Kabale, have some warm showers (those had been lacking) and be prepared to catch an early bus to get back to Kampala on Sunday. After an issue with our motor, another boat was called, and pretty soon it was 2pm and we were all cowering in our boat, heading into the eye of a very black storm over the water, no life jackets required of course. (Thanks, Mom, for making me bring that monstrously huge poncho because I was one of the driest onboard! And everyone else took lots of embarrassing pictures to prove it.) Taxis met our boat in a remarkable turn of efficiency and we made it back to Kabale and a very cute hostel where Ari’s friend is staying long-term. We stocked up at the bakery and supermarket, took hot showers, bargained at the market for Congolese fabric, and dined at the Little Ritz Restaurant Kabale. But the night was young, just 10pm and it was time to hit Club Mix & Match just across the street from our hostel—I mean how could I pass up a big night out in Kabale? Despite our impending early wake-up call (4:45am) to enjoy some small-town nightlife.

Then three hours later we were up, well Jenny and I, that is, who had agreed to be scouts in the search for the bus that would leave the soonest. It literally found us—in the dark as we walked down the main road to the bus park—two huge buses pulled up in our path just as boda drivers do so assertively. We asked if the bus was leaving at 5am as scheduled, even though it was nearly empty, or if it was waiting to fill up. And this is where they lied to us, flat-out. “Yes we are leaving just now, at 5,” the ticket man said. Jenny and I explained we had 4 other friends who could be here in minutes as well, and they said we could go pick them up. Thus began the longest bus pickup experience of my life—and I have ridden many a sketchy bus (hello, Chinatown NY). After one earlier stop, we picked up the other girls, and then proceeded to drive up and down the length of the main street for two hours stopping to pick up random people and their sacks of potatoes, etc. As the sky lighted to dusky blue, it was well past six and I was getting angrier and angrier. I asked the ticket man when we were leaving just after a huge crowd of people boarded, reminding him that he had promised us a 5am departure. “We were just waiting for those people, now we are leaving,” he smiled blankly. We left at 7:15. That’s all I’ll say about that—I slept off most of my anger and woke to hawkers peddling bags of friend crickets and even live bright green cicadas, yum! It really was such an unexpectedly fun weekend with new friends, and all the hilarity that I’ve come to fear and expected in this curious country!

The Punishment Fits the Crime

So, I’ve certainly mentioned this a few times before, but I think it is time for a full post to be dedicated to all that is “African Time” because honestly it dictates how everything operates here, not the least CHOGM. One could argue that the Western world, especially the United States, and perhaps in particular my old home, New York, overload themselves a bit on the hectic scale. Time is of the essence most often, and I have a distinct memory of having one of those brief out-of-body moments one day in the New York subway station at 14th St. and 8th Ave. as I rushed to catch the A-Train to head to JFK to catch a flight for which I was inevitably late—everyone around me was rushing, almost running, to wherever they were going. They couldn’t all be going to catch a plane now could they?

Now picture 180 degrees opposite—that’s Uganda, and most of Africa, I’m told (I will be able to give first-hand knowledge of this in a few months time I suppose). In some ways, yes, it is very relaxing, but it other ways, it’s enough to make one’s head spin like the little girl in the Exorcist. Now, the fact that I have been late for most of my life is a true and sorry fact. I genuinely work on it, but because I was almost always the worst culprit, I rarely felt the pain that goes along with having to wait for late people. Well, my friends, that time has arrived in full force. I wait, and wait, and wait around here it would seem.

Yesterday, I was pacing in my house at 9 am wondering where my ride was. I called the other driver, got no answer, so I decided to hitch a ride with my housemate part way and ride a boda the rest. Well, when we backed out of the gate, who should be sitting there, but Patrick, one of the drivers! I leapt out of the car and ran over, asking if he had just arrived? “No,” he responded, “I’ll been here since 8:30…”

“Just sitting here,” I asked astonished. Yes was his reply. He had told our gardner that he was there and to let me know, but still you’d think 10 minutes later you would assume that I had not gotten the message. Nope! He just SAT there and WAITED. No one really minds if you’re late here—they’ll just WAIT. Are you kidding me?? I would have been ringing the doorbell insessently after five minutes. He wasn’t even upset!! I was simply in disbelief. He probably would have sat there all day.

Then this morning, the opposite: he just didn’t show. I called finally at 9am and he said, “Maybe you should find another way to get to school.” He has no airtime minutes so he couldn’t call to tell me he wasn’t coming. Those are the moments where the sheer disorganization just drives me crazy. But Ugandans are unfazed, simply explaining whatever it is can happen tomorrow, or next week—why all the rush?? Because sometimes you just want to get things done. So I hopped on a boda and came to school and did two art classes, and this afternoon we are beginning to paint murals around the school and orphanage.

At break, I went up to buy my daily cassava, a tough root similar to yucca that is cut into thick sticks and fried until crispy and sprinkled with course salt—highly addictive. The lady I usually by from did not have any cassava yesterday but said she would have some today. Wrong. I arrived and she said, sorry, none today. “Tomorrow?” I asked. “Maybe,” she said. “So next week?” I inferred. “Yes,” she smiled. At least I’m learning.

So here it is: late, late Laura is getting a seriously dose of her own medicine. This weekend will probably more of the same. There is so much amazing travelling to be done in this country and region that it can be quite overwhelming. I am heading down to the southwestern part of the country for the long weekend, so a loooong (and probably delayed) bus ride is to be expected, but so too some very worthy sights at the finish! I’ll let you know…

But I will be missing Thanksgiving definitely. I hope you all have a delicious and delightful holiday. Eat some turkey for me (you certainly can't get it in Uganda!) I will be sorry not to be with my family and friends, but I know that I have many things for which to be thankful!

A Weekend in Ugandan Paradise

So I just returned from a flat-out terrific weekend, one of those where I felt lucky to be at the right place at the right time. Amy’s friend owns a beautiful luxury lodge out in the western part of the country near Fort Portal (near where I had gone for chimp trekking) and he was hosting a party to celebrate the new pool he built there—especially as it has apparently been quite a trial getting it built properly. The Ndali Lodge is perched on a ridge that overlooks a stunning crater lake on one side and an endless view of the green hills of banana and tea farms and the peaks of the Rwenzori Mountains looming in the distance behind lowering clouds. The pool is an infinity pool of sorts (although it wasn’t quite full to the top yet) and overlooks a spectacular view over the mountains. The lodge has under a dozen thatched-roof cottages tucked into the hillside overlooking the sweeping mountain-view, and the main lodge and dining room has several porches suspended just over the edge of the steep sides of the lake.

We arrived just around sunset on Friday evening after a four hour drive from Kampala. The view driving in was breathtaking even if the road was narrow and predictably bumpy. We ordered a drink (the whole weekend was complimentary!) and lounged on some comfy couches near the pool and met some of the others who had just arrived. Then we moved our bags to our cottage—a beautiful high-ceiling thatched roof cottage canopy beds and a fabulous bathroom complete with bath and ceramic shower. We met up for dinner and because there’s no power and so dinner and evening entertainment is done in the soft light of candles which just made the whole place look quite romantic under the wood beam ceilings.

There were 20 of us at a long formal banquet table set underneath real candelabras. I felt like I was out of a Town & Country photo shoot J We had a four-course meal of cool avocado soup, followed by sautéed mushrooms, then fresh fish and chips, followed by a caramel crepe for dessert—delish! Then we retired to the drawing room for banage and booze. Banage (which basically like declaring “bollocks” or “no way” but in a less nice way) is a dice game loosely based on an older version that is kind of like poker with dice. It is highly addictively and I plan to bring it back with me to the States! After a lovely bubble bath, I hit the comfy bed!

I awoke early on Saturday with tea which was brought to my cottage at 8 am, and did some reading on the porch. Sipping tea, reading The Memory Keeper’s Daughter (very good by the way), and glancing up to a magnificent view was quite a way to start the day. Then we headed up to breakfast—full English available, or in my case, an omlette, bacon, and toast with Nutella—heaven. So far the weekend was progressing nicely. Then the rain came, and boy, was it pouring, and the clouds completely white-ed out the view on both sides, so that we were practically suspended in the clouds. We lounged in the drawing room, playing board-games and backgammon (all these games I’m only now learning!) and cross our fingers for a sunny afternoon which was when the party was due to commence. I thought there was no hope, but sure enough, around 1 pm the clouds began to lift and it turned into a beauty of a day with plenty of blue sky and sun. We spent the afternoon lounging by the pool, feasting on meat kebabs and spit-roasted pig, drinking hurricanes, etc. In the evening there was more Banage and boozing, rounding out an altogether highly relaxing day. After sleeping in this morning, we were treated to another delicious breakfast, plenty of coffee, walking around the lodge grounds and down near the lake, and reading on the porch. Then it was time to hope back in the car and head back for the big city, and five hours and some serious Kampala traffic to welcome us back, it’s back to reality, and school tomorrow.

Although this week is no ordinary week—no it’s not Thanksgiving I’m talking about (sniff, sniff, I’ll be missing my turkey, stuffing, and pie—what a great holiday!), it’s CHOGM. That’s right, Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, which is held in a different location every four years, is being held in Kampala this year, and English royalty are on their way. I can’t believe I’m only mentioning this now on my blog (perhaps it was escapism not to do so earlier) but it has been dictating much of the madness that has griped this city as of late. Construction is underway in full force—and that’s the problem: the meeting starting in a couple days and things are still being built. They are seriously behind. Funny, because the slogan on all the billboards all over town is “We’re ready for CHOGM” which is a phrase you hear a couple dozen times a day in mocking tones because almost everyone here fully accepts they are nowhere near ready for CHOGM. Or there are claims that all eyes all over the world will be on Uganda because of CHOGM, although it is funny because many people have never hear of it. Anyways, security is going to be crazy and all the roads are being closed in town and Thursday and Friday have been declared national holidays, so I need to figure out yet another escape from Kampala!