Now That's What I Call Music?

I was very excited recently to receive that great barometer of UK radio airplay, Now That’s What I Call Music (73rd edn. to those who are counting). Obviously in Africa I don’t drive to work anymore to the sound of Chris Moyles et al. although I was beginning to get a bit bored of him in 2008 in any case. But for the past week I've been pretending by playing NOW 73 as I drive around Uganda.

Anyway, I’m forever waiting to get old and start writing off to the ground-breaking tunes of younger generations as ‘tosh’ but I’m afraid something even worse is happening. The problem is not that the songs aren’t adventurous enough or the lyrics particularly shocking but rather that it is all so old, tried, tested, recycled, regurgitated and, well, a bit dull really. Very samey.

There seem to be two styles. Rubbish, derivative girl-pop and insipid, toothless, commercial hip-hop. To be fair amongst the many virtually-cloned tracks there are a few that stand out. It’s hard to ignore Lily Allen amidst a sea of 20-something girls trying to copy her and Kasabian continue to be pretty creative.

Perhaps the biggest discovery is Florence and The Machine who seem to have succeeded in introducing a new generation of emo-teens to, well, Tori Amos music basically. A nice twist on the style though. Dizzie Rascal has sold out though and when it comes to Akon, nothing’s changed there: He still seems to epitomise pretty much everything that rubbish about the music industry.

Even if he did do a gig in Kampala.

Here endeth the lesson. Maybe I’m ready for Wogan on 2 after all?

Who wants to be a Millionaire?

My name is Joe. I am 28 years old. And I am, officially, a millionaire. How did I rise to these dizzying heights of prosperity? Actually, all I did was move to Uganda. Just to put my rash and boastful comment in context, a million Uganda shillings is approx £330 sterling, so don't stop that direct debit just yet!

I find myself in a paradoxical position. In one sense, I am probably poorer no than I have been for years. Even at university I had greater potential cashflow due to unscrupulous banks being willing to throw vast amounts of money at me to buy my loyalty for years to come (it didn't work - I switch to something more ethical the moment I left!)

On the other hand, there will probably never again be a time in my life when there is such a great disparity between my material wealth and that of the people around me. And this makes for a bit of soul searching.

If you looked at percentages of riches I am definitely in the top 1% in Uganda. I mean, I may not have mains electricity, a fridge or TV but, well, I can fly to the UK if I really had to. And that makes me a financial celebrity in my neighbourhood. Truly cosmopolitan!

Of course, this has a knock-on effect to my relationship with those around me. Like most 'muzungus' security is a genuine consideration. Because I have more, I have to protect myself from those who have less (damn the poor!). Then, of course I gripe about this. I have so much respect for a missionary friend of my family who basically says she'll only have what those around her have. I'm afraid I don't live up to that standard (pass me my anti-malarials!)

Like most 'rich' people I am in the process of reconciling myself to my relative affluence. There are comforts to be found in bible verse that can be harnessed to justify my position (if you're willing to be creative). Of course, no-one reading this will begrudge me my daily DVDs. You've got computer access after all!

Still, I do find myself wondering what Jesus thinks.

For Hairy

I'll match your 'velvetine bunny crop' and I'll raise you...

This is the BBC World Service

I love the BBC. I think I've blogged before about how the lifeline to a more familiar world is a real comfort when the 'Brit abroad' is feeling isolated and lonely. At any given time you can tune in and suddenly hear the tones of your favourite correspondent or the occasional football commentary from 5 Live.

'Auntie' obviously does her best to cover all corners of the world too with an admirable disregard for the banality of much of the British news. It's almost a novelty when there's a report from the UK at all.

However, wonderful as I feel this institution undoubtedly is, I have a gripe. There's been a jingle recently that comes on from time to time which is just the most patronising bit of tosh I think I've ever heard on the airwaves. Word for word, it runs like this...

"The world is big. Your radio is small. Only the BBC can put the world.... in your radio".

Me clever white man. You ignorant black man. Me explain to you how things work using the voice of a primary school teacher trying to make things clear to 5 year olds.

Ok, so I made the last bit up, but you get the gist. Come on Beeb. Surely you can do better?!

Human Roadblock

It's a tough life being a boda-boda driver. For those not familiar with the term it mean a motorbike rider who works as a freelance taxi driver. They probably represent 50% of traffic on the roads (in town) and 50% of hospital admissions. On the other hand they are a very cheap and convenient way of getting around, especially when traffic is heavy (I took 3 yesterday alone).

Periodically the police have a 'crack-down' on drivers not wearing helmets (that would be most of them) or any other perceived offense they can find. The normal method is to wait in large numbers at major junctions and then charge out when the lights go red and pull the unfortunate chaps off the saddle.

Today I saw, and became part of, a new tactic. The road is very wide so the police stopped a whole bunch of us to create a roadblock of vehicles and then closed in on the grid from every direction taking the keys of any bodas caught in the 'net'. A bit like fishing really.

I wouldn't mind so much if they were really doing it for the sake of the safety of the drivers (and passengers) or to save the health service money but there is no health service and I'm not sure there will be any benefits for the drivers other than to lighten their load (all those unnecessary coins can weigh you down and increase your full consumption).

As an accessory to bribery (the drivers just have to pay a nominal 'fine' and they're free to go) I do, at least, feel like I should be getting a cut for my part in the operation! Maybe I could use it to set up a trust fund for injured boda-boda drivers?

Caption Contest

Oh no no. Not just ANY old tat!

Brand names in Uganda are often a cause of mirth among the ex-pat community. However, there was something particularly special about the King Tat bar (brought to you by Elvan) that just made me buy it.

An accidental marketing phenomenon? Watch out Nestle!

Kuli Kayo Jimmy!

Some of the best news I’ve had for a long time came today with word that my brother-in-law has got his VISA to come to the UK (on the ridiculously liberal premise that he’s married to a British citizen!!!). It’s taken more months than it should have but we're there now and so I’d like to propose a special toast and wishes for God’s blessings to Mr and Mrs Mucheru!

Now, start buying some warm jumpers Jimmy!

☺

PS - I stole this passport photo off a blog that was suggesting immigration was the root of all the UK's problems. There's a nice irony in that I feel!

Kicking Back

As ever, dear reader (and I deliberately address you in the singular) my lack of blogging is due to a lack of time and will rather than a lack of things I would consider worth blogging about.

Time definitely makes you better at ‘doing Africa’. I’m currently lying on a wall at our favourite place to stay in Entebbe while looking back over some previous blog posts. Safe to say, we’ve got our relaxing weekends down to a tee now. It’s been three months since we had a weekend away together without guests and enormously ambitious travel plans so we were well ready for this one.

I looked at a guidebook left by our friends recently just to check that while we’re in Entebbe there’s nothing major that we should do that we’d later regret missing out on. I was rather relieved to discover there wasn’t. Gately, Gorettis, Boma, UWEC and the Botanical Gardens. That’s pretty much it when it comes to Entebbe unless you’re prepared to canoe 10km. And you know what, that’s actually a really nice feeling.

The problem with working in Africa is that the work can be very intense (6 days a week) but when you do get the chance to relax you have to a) get yourself off site, and b) make the most of the opportunities you have to explore this part of the world. And even when you do plan something simple and restful, being Uganda, there is no guarantee that simplicity and restfulness will follow.

However, that makes things all the more satisfying when they do work out as planned. Which for me is right now. Nothing to do. No agenda. Sleep, drink, eat and sleep a bit more. And as you can see, blog a little too. I’ve said it before: It’s more for my benefit than for yours.

I Predict A Riot

(image from the BBC)

It’s just after Saturday midnight on one of the more ‘African Adventure’ weeks than we’ve had for a while. Kampala is famed for it’s periodic riots (I remember reading about one example on our predecessors blog a few years ago) and they are generally considered fairly small fry affairs when seen in the broader context of East Africa violence (Kenya, Rwanda or Congo anyone?). Generally there are a couple of people killed but no mass slaughter or sense that public order is on the brink of breaking down.

The last couple of days have been a slightly different story, however, and things have got rather widespread and a little closer to home than is entirely comfortable. Over the past 48 hours we’ve got familiar with the sound of serious automatic gunfire (as in lots of guns) within a mile (and on one occasion in town, within 20 metres!) and the warnings of our staff that this is the worst violence in the area since the bad old days in the 1980s.

Having said that, the is a real sense that this is not a simmering tribal tension just waiting to blow up (a la Kenya 2008) but more a situation being exploited by a couple of powerful leaders who at any time have the authority to call the whole thing off and everything returns to normal. It’s really just using violence as a bargining chip. Or at least that’s the way it seems from here.

Having said that, we hadn’t appreciated quite how big this was going to be and when I first heard reports of rioting and tear gas yesterday I wasn’t immediately convinced I should give up my precious chance to visit the PO Box in town to pick up the latest copy of ‘The Week’ , after all we were sitting in a café virtually in the centre anyway, but in the end it seemed sensible to give it a miss and by the time we got home we realised that was not the first lucky escape we’d had that afternoon.

A few of our friends had a bit of a rough time getting out of town and we decided it would not be wise to go in today. Meanwhile, we’ll see how things pan out tomorrow, the supposed climax of all this fuss. If the President and the Kibaka can come to some sort of agreement it’ll be business as usual. If not, well, we’ve got a good stock of water, phone credit and, most importantly, bourbon biscuits. There are many worse places in the world to be stuck than at Tuda. Lake view, a full size football pitch and within a mile of a large military police base.

Remarkable Africa

After a bit of an enforced blog holiday I’m going to try to get going again. Over the last few months there have been countless times I’ve thought of things I’d like to blog only I didn’t have a computer or the internet or the time or whatever else.

Problem is, now I’ve got all of the above I’m stuck trying to remember all those things I thought would make worthwhile accounting of. Africa continues in all its surreal magnificence. World’s really do collide here. Well, not literally, obviously, but you know what I mean.

It’s possible to see so many remarkable (as in worth remarking on) things in one day that a quick blog post can’t start to capture it. For all those days you get in England where you find the days, weeks and months slipping by in an indistinguishable haze of ‘same old, same old’, you have Ugandan Days, each a unique, tailor-made 24 hours, some of which make Jack Bauer look positively lethargic and unable to find anything to occupy himself with.

Lots of days would be better explained with the help of photos but I’m afraid we don’t get around to taking very many. I’m awaiting the chance to steal off Mr Spikeholland after our recent trip together to the southwest of Uganda, which was stunning and incredible and where we saw far too much to take in and process for several days in a row.

Anyway, a list of things I could blog about and if any of them take your particular interest then leave a comment and I’ll try to elaborate a bit.

-The night we got two punctures and we ended up carrying wheels on the back of motorbikes across the Nile
-Watching England win the Ashes within sight of the Democratic Republic of Congo
-Unexpectedly coming across a bunch of lions
-Fish eagle versus Yellow-billed Stork
-The day I was given the task of spending £4000 in 24 hours
-The day a Chimpanzee tried to pee on me
-Slumming it in the Executive Suites
-The car breaking down 5 days in a row

Yep, and that’s all from the last 14 days. Boring, boring Africa.