Back to Uganda

The school children of Uganda, around Lake Bunyonyi.
They look pretty friendly - so why hadn't I enjoyed Uganda the first time around?

Poo-ganda.  That’s what Bruno and I have been calling it since we left last December.  And that’s probably why both of us had a tiny knot vibrating in our stomachs as we prepared to cross back into Uganda.

Uganda left a sour taste in each of our mouths for different reasons.  For me, it was school-related – the stress, the workload, the sleepless nights. For Bruno, it was authority-related – the police officers stopping him whenever he drove to try to squander money out of him, the customs issues with the vehicle, the endless paperwork and trips into dusty, chaotic Kampala.  When I say neither of us thrived in Uganda, it’s a tad of an understatement.

Prepping my wall displays the day before school started last September.

Exhausted at the end of a single term teaching in Uganda.
Even the cat I was taking care of for a friend could sense my exhaustion!

But that’s exactly why I wanted to go back.  We’ve met a lot of travelers in the last seven months, and every single one of them has had great things to say about Uganda.  They unanimously love it, and so I wanted to know what I’d missed.  More than that, I desperately wanted my Poo-ganda nightmares to go away, replaced at last with positive memories of this small equatorial country.

Nonetheless, I was nervous as we crossed into the country.  My last Ugandan visa had been messed up by the school I was working for, resulting in me being illegal in the country for over a month.  I was worried I’d run into hassle with the notoriously power-tripping Ugandan officials.  Both Bruno and I were surprised, then, by our generally uneventful border crossing.  Ok, so we had to negotiate to get the vehicle into the country for more than two weeks, and we were forced to buy Ugandan shillings on the black market, but these experiences were not much worse than at any other border.  At least my visa was stamped with ease.

Our border crossing into Uganda embodied our entire time revisiting this country – a bit of hassle, a touch of familiarity, and a pleasant surprise or two.

We decided to begin our visit in Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, Uganda’s claim to gorilla fame.  At $600USD, we wouldn’t actually track gorillas, but we hoped to hike through this dense, steep mountain forest.

It didn’t really work out.  All the lodges that offered camping were far from the forest – at least a three hour walk.  The ambiance was more village than forest, and we’d had enough of villages in Burundi and Rwanda.  Hiking in the hills toward the forest wasn’t at all appealing, either, since the roads were made of a dust so powder-like that stepping your foot lightly in it created a dense cloud that went straight to your nostrils.  Enough cars and motorbikes drove along this road to make a walk more trouble than it would be worth.

Dust being kicked up on the dirt road around Bwindi Impenetrable Forest by a herd of goats.

The poor villagers of Southwest Uganda must have some serious lung problems walking along those dusty roads.

Onwards we went, to Lake Bunyonyi, the chill-out spot in all of Uganda.  It looked really touristy, and the only proper campsite was made for overland trucks and was thus chock-full of young tourists looking for the nearest party.  We worried we wouldn’t get a relaxing sleep, but actually managed to find a little corner in the grass, on the edge of the lake, that proved to be peaceful enough.

Good thing, too, because both Bruno and I were laid up for over a week with colds.  We didn’t get to properly visit Bunyonyi – no ride on a wooden pirogue, a single quick walk in the surrounding villages – but we watched village children riding to school on the school canoe-bus, and we did lots of bird-watching from our campsite.  “Bunyonyi” means “lake of many small birds,” and true to its name, this lake was a good place to convalesce.

Lake Bunyonyi and the Overland Camp where we are parked.
See our car at the end of the peninsula?

The Lake Bunyonyi school bus.

Sick as a dog.  This is really embarrassing, but do you see the tissue stuck in my nose?
I slept that way all night.  Bruno thought it was funny.

It was a return to Kampala that I’d been waiting for most of all.  Perhaps as much as giving Uganda another chance, I’d come to visit old school friends.  Bruno braved the crazy drivers, the boda-boda motorcycle taxis, the awful traffic and the pungent smells of Kampala so that I could have this reunion.  If that’s not a proof of love, I don’t know what is.

We hadn’t even arrived at our campsite – ironically about a five minute walk from school and our old home – before we ran into a school friend by chance.  Over the next few days, there were several serendipitous encounters with old acquaintances and colleagues.  And it was surprisingly good to see them all.  To laugh with them and hear about all the school-related drama, to hear the highs and lows of the year, and to share what we’d done with 2014 instead.  It was therapeutic in a way I hadn’t expected it to be.

I can only describe my visit to my old school as cathartic.  I hadn’t planned on going, but was feeling so positive about my [re]encounters that I thought why not?  Just like Kampala city, the school had changed in small, almost-imperceptible ways, but in many ways was much the same place as when I left.  It was me that was different.  A better, more relaxed, care-free, and happy version of myself.

Visiting my old school and some of my friends there.

Visiting one of the first people I met in Uganda last August!

Feeling renewed, I chowed down on cheap pizza from our campsite – the same pizza I’d eaten in between stressful weeks of work here.  It tasted much better this time.  I went again to the nearby village to buy papayas and oranges, to the local restaurant to eat matooke (mashed plantains) and beans, and to the rolex stand to eat greasy omelette wrapped into chapatti.  I went to the same supermarket I used to shop at, but this time I took a matatu (minibus) just because I had the time.  It felt good to know what destination to say to the driver and not to worry about getting off at the wrong place.  I guess it felt good that, after so many months of being a lost tourist, things were somewhat familiar.

And then the moment I’d been waiting for most of all happened – I got to see my closest school friends, Claire and Debra.  Admittedly, they were busy packing and running errands around town for their next-day departure, but it was great to see them again nonetheless.  It brought back the best moments of my time in Uganda – the school lunchtime chats, the Sundays at the country club, the weekend drinks and dinners.  These girls are the only reason I survived five months in Kampala – they spoiled me for my wedding, lent me their ear for my endless complaints, and made me feel loved when it was time to leave.  Kampala had never felt so good as on this reunion day.

Claire and Debra (Claire is changing schools so is unwrapping her goodbye gift).
I can't believe I forgot to take a photo of the three of us.  Too busy gossiping I guess!

I’m glad we came to Uganda again.  I don’t think we can say that we love this country, like all the other travelers we’ve encountered declare.  But this time the police officers left us alone, Kampala was more full of love than traffic, and we found a quiet lakeside haven for a bit of R&R.  I guess Bruno and I can change the name from Poo-ganda to Good-ganda.