Just a couple of minutes to write about this great quest we will be embarking upon. It's tempting to slip into the wonderful rhetoric of the speech Eisenhower distributed to all the troops before D-day but it shouldn't be quite as dramatic as that.
Still, 500 kilometres, a borrowed car, repairs, contingencies, international insurance, maps, a ten-hour drive and the infamous boarder. It's all going to be quite an adventure. And why go through all this? Well, my sister is getting married in Kenya, so failure really is not an option.
The procedures at the border sound quite complex (especially taking a vehicle across) but I think we've done as much to be ready for it as possible. Apparently the record is 29 minutes but other friends have had 90 minutes adventures running from hut to hut to first get out of Uganda, then crossing no-man's land and doing it all again to be let into Kenya. It all sounds a bit like trying to illicitly cross the Berlin Wall in the 1960s.
After the wedding we'll be taking the chance to see something of East Uganda and will be stopping for a couple of nights at the the world's largest volcano (as defined by surface areas) Mount Elgon. Seriously, it's huge. Go look it up on Google Earth. You can see it right there on the boarder.
Anyhew, our Landcruiser is ready, the iPod is charged, the maps are vague, the documents are prepared and the bribes are ready (that's a joke by the way, I hope).
And let us beseech the blessing of God on this great and noble enterprise.....
....you said it, Dwight.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Twitching
I sometimes use the frequency of my blogging to measure busy-ness and if this formula is to trusted then it’s been a very busy month. There’s probably an element of truth to that but there’s always the question of prioritisation. I’ve also wrote a couple of posts which I never uploaded for various reasons. I guess 9 months in and Africa begins to become a little less remarkable (in the most literal sense).
Anyway, I’m not sure I’ve mentioned it before but I should probably say something about the bird-life out here. I guess this post should probably be dedicated to little-flower (if she’s reading) as I’ll probably be crassly describing some things that others would appreciate more than I do.
The idea of being a bird watcher in the UK is something that people tend not to shout too loud about. Unless, that is, you are either so geeky that there’s no point in hiding it or else so cool you can get away with it (LF). When I was 9 I won a year’s membership to the Young Ornithologists Club. This was a fact I was very careful not to mention to anyone.
Anyway, out here it’s a different story. It’s basically impossible to live as a western ex-pat here for more than 6 months without getting sucked in. The sheer variety and outrageousness of some of these feathered flappers is just incredible. There are more parrots, turacos and storks than you can shake a stick at and even the ‘boring’ varieties are absurdly beautiful.
Take for instance the humble starling. None of your drab greys and browns here, dear reader. No these are Splendid Starlings (seriously, that’s their name), two a penny out here but brilliant, bright metallic blue and purple. It’s great fun picking up people from the airport and hearing them gasp ‘what are those beautiful birds’ and answering, with a smug smile, ‘Oh them, that’s just the starlings’. Same old, same old.
Tuda is incredible as it’s situated on the edge of marshlands. When my future brother-in-law came across from Kenya he told me he saw over 40 varieties in half an hour one morning. We’ve had huge purple herons wading through the garden, a good variety of hornbills (including the black and white casqued, a truly freaky-looking creature) and, my personal favourite, a family of 3 Uganda Crested Cranes, a bird so spectacular it’s the national emblem, visiting our front field every morning for the last month or so. When they fly over to land it’s like a flypast by several light aircraft.
I’m sorry not to have got any pictures but if you get the chance you can Google them and see what we get in our garden on a daily basis. Overall there are over 1000 species of bird in Uganda making it one of the best spots in the world for bird enthusiasts. Which I’m not. But on the other hand, when you’re here in any case then you’d be stupid not to take some time to find out more.
Oh, and a special mention has to go to the Maribou Stork, surely the ugliest of the birds of the air ever imagined up by a God with a sense of humour. They walk around scavenging for rubbish (about 140cm tall) or else perch on top of trees, traffic lights or street lamps. Of course it’s no laughing matter when they let loose. I’ve seen entire cars that were parked in the wrong place at the wrong time and had all windows truly plastered.
Anyway, I’m not sure I’ve mentioned it before but I should probably say something about the bird-life out here. I guess this post should probably be dedicated to little-flower (if she’s reading) as I’ll probably be crassly describing some things that others would appreciate more than I do.
The idea of being a bird watcher in the UK is something that people tend not to shout too loud about. Unless, that is, you are either so geeky that there’s no point in hiding it or else so cool you can get away with it (LF). When I was 9 I won a year’s membership to the Young Ornithologists Club. This was a fact I was very careful not to mention to anyone.
Anyway, out here it’s a different story. It’s basically impossible to live as a western ex-pat here for more than 6 months without getting sucked in. The sheer variety and outrageousness of some of these feathered flappers is just incredible. There are more parrots, turacos and storks than you can shake a stick at and even the ‘boring’ varieties are absurdly beautiful.
Take for instance the humble starling. None of your drab greys and browns here, dear reader. No these are Splendid Starlings (seriously, that’s their name), two a penny out here but brilliant, bright metallic blue and purple. It’s great fun picking up people from the airport and hearing them gasp ‘what are those beautiful birds’ and answering, with a smug smile, ‘Oh them, that’s just the starlings’. Same old, same old.
Tuda is incredible as it’s situated on the edge of marshlands. When my future brother-in-law came across from Kenya he told me he saw over 40 varieties in half an hour one morning. We’ve had huge purple herons wading through the garden, a good variety of hornbills (including the black and white casqued, a truly freaky-looking creature) and, my personal favourite, a family of 3 Uganda Crested Cranes, a bird so spectacular it’s the national emblem, visiting our front field every morning for the last month or so. When they fly over to land it’s like a flypast by several light aircraft.
I’m sorry not to have got any pictures but if you get the chance you can Google them and see what we get in our garden on a daily basis. Overall there are over 1000 species of bird in Uganda making it one of the best spots in the world for bird enthusiasts. Which I’m not. But on the other hand, when you’re here in any case then you’d be stupid not to take some time to find out more.
Oh, and a special mention has to go to the Maribou Stork, surely the ugliest of the birds of the air ever imagined up by a God with a sense of humour. They walk around scavenging for rubbish (about 140cm tall) or else perch on top of trees, traffic lights or street lamps. Of course it’s no laughing matter when they let loose. I’ve seen entire cars that were parked in the wrong place at the wrong time and had all windows truly plastered.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Signs of the Times
One of the joys of living in Uganda is seeing some of the fantastic signposts. I always mean to take photos but never manage to remember the camera. Anyway, some personal favourites include, The Blood of Jesus Takeaway, the Cut & Paste Garage and, perhaps most-mind-bogglingly, The New Life Medical Centre specialising in dental work and circumcision (does the latter result in the need for the former?).
When you see a sign marked Filed Pork does it in fact mean Fried, Fired, or indeed, filed? What happens in a culture where ‘r’ and ‘l’ is often used interchangeably and ‘presidential elections’ are the frequent topic of radio phone-ins? (You work it out).
The religious ones are the best. Forget ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ Think ‘Where Would Jesus Get His Hair Cut?’ (WWJGHHC?). Well, surely at The Jesus Salon. Where else? Of course, not across the road at the The Prophet Salon. What kind of fruit can one expect from the Blessed Assurance Fruit & Veg Shop? And what exactly is the merchandise sold at The Holy Mother Immaculate Video Store.
OK, so I made that last one up but it wouldn’t surprise me to find it exists somewhere in Kampala. I will try harder to provide some photographic evidence of some of these gems but in the meantime I’ll leave you with New Hope Clinic, treating to cure for HIV, AIDS, Cancer, Tuberculosis and Poor Performance at School.
Genius.
When you see a sign marked Filed Pork does it in fact mean Fried, Fired, or indeed, filed? What happens in a culture where ‘r’ and ‘l’ is often used interchangeably and ‘presidential elections’ are the frequent topic of radio phone-ins? (You work it out).
The religious ones are the best. Forget ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ Think ‘Where Would Jesus Get His Hair Cut?’ (WWJGHHC?). Well, surely at The Jesus Salon. Where else? Of course, not across the road at the The Prophet Salon. What kind of fruit can one expect from the Blessed Assurance Fruit & Veg Shop? And what exactly is the merchandise sold at The Holy Mother Immaculate Video Store.
OK, so I made that last one up but it wouldn’t surprise me to find it exists somewhere in Kampala. I will try harder to provide some photographic evidence of some of these gems but in the meantime I’ll leave you with New Hope Clinic, treating to cure for HIV, AIDS, Cancer, Tuberculosis and Poor Performance at School.
Genius.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Conundrum
We’ve been back for ten days now and are doing fairly well all things considered. “All things considered” includes our boss resigning (in our absence), two gunman turning up at our gates looking for us (in our absence), and a major covert operation involving a child on the run (in our absence). That’s the thing about Uganda: It’s eminently bloggable and you just have to be a bit selective about what you write about. Every day is an adventure and everything is a little chaotic and unpredictable.
An adventure, nevertheless that is made considerably easier by being more settled this time around. Mrs GKJ pointed out that we are so much better set up now than when we first arrived in September and I must admit the comparison is encouraging. Just things like knowing where to buy food, having the house in order, and friends to invite yourselves to dinner with make a huge difference.
Work is still work and ‘with greater familiarity comes greater responsibility’ (as my great-uncle told me on his deathbed). When we arrived before we didn’t know what we were doing and people accepted that and gave us a bit of time to catch up. The difference is now that we still don’t know what we’re doing half the time but everybody thinks we do. Take, for example, the following conundrum from Thursday…
You are heading into town in a 5-seat vehicle in which you must BOTH travel. Candidates for the other three seats include a boy with stage 4 AIDS and cancer who needs to go to hospital to check out an opportunity on a really good charity ward, his houseparent at Tuda (on whom he is wholly reliant and without whom he’d probably now be dead by now), another boy suffering from a stiff neck, headache, and bloody diarrhoea, and another who was bitten on the face by a safari ant (don’t ask) and who’s face and head have now swollen to the size of a football.
Now, of course, it is feasible to carry all of the above but not legally and you have to remember that following four horrific bus accidents in the space of the last week, the traffic police have been doubled and they just love an excuse to pull people (especially people like us) over. Now you see, a fourth year medical student might know what the heck the right thing to do in this situation would be. We, on the other hand, gave it our best stab, prayed and hoped that everybody would live to tell the tale. T.I.A. and all that, eh? (Thankfully they did all survive. For now, anyway)
These sorts of decisions can be a little stressful but you feel much more ready to make them when you remember that you brought Options hot chocolate back from the UK with you to help you unwind in the evening as you watch West Wing Season 4. A little bit of Britain goes a long way to helping survive in Uganda. You should have seen how quickly the giant Toblerone that we took to our ex-pat homegroup was demolished.
All in all it’s pretty good to be back though. (he writes, sitting pool-side, with a beer on a gloriously sunny day before meeting friends for a film night on his day off).
An adventure, nevertheless that is made considerably easier by being more settled this time around. Mrs GKJ pointed out that we are so much better set up now than when we first arrived in September and I must admit the comparison is encouraging. Just things like knowing where to buy food, having the house in order, and friends to invite yourselves to dinner with make a huge difference.
Work is still work and ‘with greater familiarity comes greater responsibility’ (as my great-uncle told me on his deathbed). When we arrived before we didn’t know what we were doing and people accepted that and gave us a bit of time to catch up. The difference is now that we still don’t know what we’re doing half the time but everybody thinks we do. Take, for example, the following conundrum from Thursday…
You are heading into town in a 5-seat vehicle in which you must BOTH travel. Candidates for the other three seats include a boy with stage 4 AIDS and cancer who needs to go to hospital to check out an opportunity on a really good charity ward, his houseparent at Tuda (on whom he is wholly reliant and without whom he’d probably now be dead by now), another boy suffering from a stiff neck, headache, and bloody diarrhoea, and another who was bitten on the face by a safari ant (don’t ask) and who’s face and head have now swollen to the size of a football.
Now, of course, it is feasible to carry all of the above but not legally and you have to remember that following four horrific bus accidents in the space of the last week, the traffic police have been doubled and they just love an excuse to pull people (especially people like us) over. Now you see, a fourth year medical student might know what the heck the right thing to do in this situation would be. We, on the other hand, gave it our best stab, prayed and hoped that everybody would live to tell the tale. T.I.A. and all that, eh? (Thankfully they did all survive. For now, anyway)
These sorts of decisions can be a little stressful but you feel much more ready to make them when you remember that you brought Options hot chocolate back from the UK with you to help you unwind in the evening as you watch West Wing Season 4. A little bit of Britain goes a long way to helping survive in Uganda. You should have seen how quickly the giant Toblerone that we took to our ex-pat homegroup was demolished.
All in all it’s pretty good to be back though. (he writes, sitting pool-side, with a beer on a gloriously sunny day before meeting friends for a film night on his day off).
Monday, May 18, 2009
Enemy Coast Ahead
I recently bought a favourite book from my childhood which is mostly the accounts of WWII bomber pilot Guy Gibson VC (most famous for leading the Dambusters Raid) flying missions at night, heading out with great trepidation over the English Coast. It reminded me that getting on a plane to Africa wasn’t so bad after all. For a start, it was warm and dry and the Boeing 767 is considerably more reliable than the Lancaster bomber (geek!). In addition there was very little chance of be shot down by flak or encountering any Messerschmitt 109s en route. Best of all, I’m pretty confident I’ll see England again and all the lovely people we’ve just left behind.
On the other hand, Gibson didn’t have to sit next to the child of 1000 detentions, who spent the entire night-flight kicking the seat of the elderly missionary in front (I would not have had the patience and forbearance she showed), throwing food, drink and the pack of cards the stewardess gave him all over the place, and generally ensuring that nobody in our section of the plane got a wink of sleep the whole night.
Suddenly swapping BA 0063 to Entebbe with the devil-child, for a Lancaster, with some flak and enemy fighter seemed an attractive trade. In case you were wondering, we arrived safe and very well back in Uganda thank you, although we were greeted in customs by a horde of masked medical personnel who required us to fill out forms declaring any places we have visited recently and to list any symptoms we have been suffering. I only just resisted informing them that previously mentioned sunbeam had just connected from Mexico and was sneezing a lot
Only just.
Am I a bad youth worker? At least I didn’t hit him.
Hard.
On the other hand, Gibson didn’t have to sit next to the child of 1000 detentions, who spent the entire night-flight kicking the seat of the elderly missionary in front (I would not have had the patience and forbearance she showed), throwing food, drink and the pack of cards the stewardess gave him all over the place, and generally ensuring that nobody in our section of the plane got a wink of sleep the whole night.
Suddenly swapping BA 0063 to Entebbe with the devil-child, for a Lancaster, with some flak and enemy fighter seemed an attractive trade. In case you were wondering, we arrived safe and very well back in Uganda thank you, although we were greeted in customs by a horde of masked medical personnel who required us to fill out forms declaring any places we have visited recently and to list any symptoms we have been suffering. I only just resisted informing them that previously mentioned sunbeam had just connected from Mexico and was sneezing a lot
Only just.
Am I a bad youth worker? At least I didn’t hit him.
Hard.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
St Brendan's Commitment (6th Century AD)
Shall I abandon, O King of mysteries, the soft comforts of home? Shall I turn my back on my native land, and turn my face towards the sea?
Shall I put myself wholly at your mercy, without silver, without a horse, without fame, without honour? Shall I throw myself wholly upon You, without sword and shield, without food and drink, without a bed to lie on? Shall I say farewell to my beautiful land, placing myself under Your yoke?
Shall I pour out my heart to You, confessing my manifold sins and begging forgiveness, tears streaming down my cheeks? Shall I leave the prints of my knees on the sandy beach, a record of my final prayer in my native land?
Shall I then suffer every kind of wound that the sea can inflict? Shall I take my tiny boat across the wide sparkling ocean? O King of the Glorious Heaven, shall I go of my own choice upon the sea?
O Christ, will You help me on the wild waves?
(OK, a little melodramatic I know but feel it hits the mark. This time tomorrow I'll be crossing the coast of Africa again.)
Monday, April 20, 2009
Reverse Culture Shock
I’m struggling to make head or tail of this one so far. I’ve been told that coming back to your country of origin can be more difficult than leaving it in the first place. I guess the fact that it’s only been 7 months since we left probably lessens the impact of this but it is still there.
My confusion centres around the seemingly arbitrary nature of what upsets me and what doesn’t. I’ve searched for a formula or an interrelationship which links some strongest moments of comfort and distress but haven’t come up with anything so far. The nearest comparison I can make is with grief.
When grieving, you experience all sorts of emotions in all sorts of contexts which seem to have little or no relation to the source of grief. This is why one of the best things we can do as grief counsellors is simply to validate the huge range of feelings that people are undergoing. For me, I can’t discern the logic between the grief and the feelings and the things that upset me and I think perhaps it’s the same with reverse culture shock.
I guess it is all about your whole framework of feelings being shaken up and thrown around leaving you a bit emotionally disorientated. Thus you can walk confidently around town all day and then suddenly struggle to keep it together when faced with the shirt section of Marks & Spencer. Or you can come close to tears when searching for scones in Asda. On the other hand you can feel immense joy at the simple sensation of carpet under your feet. And then a bit unnerved at how much something so insignificant can mean to you.
Perhaps this is a little early to be blogging about this and I should have waited to figure it all out a bit more. On the other hand, it’s all part of the experience so I’m post this for posterity. In any case blogging definitely comes under the category of comforting so I don’t think it can do any harm.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Introducing Gertrude
Meet Gertrude, our pet goat. We've had her for over a month now but only just uploaded photos. Here she is tethered in our garden where she sleeps under the solar panel.
Everyday we let her off her rope and she goes sprinting of all around the site eating everything she can morning to night.
When we come home in the afternoon it's a bit like playing 'Where's Wally' because she gets herself into the most incredible places. My personal favourites have included, standing resplendent atop the table-tennis table, in a wheelbarrow on the farm (eating its contents), and breaking the silence with a huge crash coming from within red cottage as Gertrude flies out of it at top speed.
Apparently goat racing is pretty big down at Monyonyo so might have to see about getting her registered. Think she'll do us proud if we give her a couple of 'go-faster' stripes.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Anatomy of a Flip
Finally got my rafting photos from November this week. Talking of ups and downs....
(That's me on the back on the right hand side if you're interested).
(That's me on the back on the right hand side if you're interested).
Ups and Downs
About a month into our time here I was asked The Question. The Question is a difficult one to fathom, especially when you’re still trying to figure north from south and morning from night. It is one of those tricky ones when you’re as worried about getting the answer ‘right’ as you are worried about telling the truth. And the question was this.
“So, are you enjoying it”.
It sounds simple, doesn’t it? But factor in yourself and your spouse and an audience of 43 financial supporters, over 200 recipients of our newsletter, a couple of churches, a hardcore ex-pat community and an NGO in the middle of a financial crisis (and God) and the temptation to lie and give that most Christian of responses is huge. (“Yes, I’m great and I’m have a great time. Sacrificial maybe but immensely rewarding and fulfilling, thanks, and how are you doing?”).
But when I stop and look back then what was there really to enjoy? Overnight (these things happen suddenly) you’re ripped away from everything familiar and comfortable and dumped in a house in rural Africa with no mains electricity, fridge, drinking water, phone, or mosquito nets on the windows in a tropical environment. One night Luton, the next night Ugandan-village. What’s to enjoy? And don’t tell me the amazing view (although we do have an amazing view). 2 weeks in and I’d rather be back in Luton, enjoying the view of my book made visible with the ELECTRIC light in my CARPETED house while I sup on a CHILLED beer and an evening meal that features MEAT, within an hours drive of most of my friends and relatives (as opposed to within an hours’ drive of the nearest supermarket – and think poorly-stocked Happy Shopper).
Why do I share all this now? Well, because, to be honest, 6 months and 16 days in, I think I’m actually really beginning to enjoy Africa. This I not the enjoyment you get from a week here, neither is it the joy of adventure and change. It the joy of a place, as it is and how it will be for another 18 months. It’s been coming a while, to be fair, but on Tuesday I decided I’m actually really enjoying this. I’m as happy as I’ve been anywhere for a lot of years, and in some respects happier. So yes, now, I’m enjoying it.
Having said this, by Wednesday, I hated it all and decided that Africa sucks. That’s just the nature of it. You go through more highs and lows in a day than is normal in the space of a week in the UK. Incredible beauty, adventure and peace followed by brutality, pain and heartache.
Enjoyment is a funny word. I’m not sure most people would want me to say I ‘enjoy’ brutality, pain and heartache. I’m not a masochist. But, then again, the beauty of Africa…….
Yeah, go on, right now at least, I’m enjoying it. Africa is pretty amazing.
“So, are you enjoying it”.
It sounds simple, doesn’t it? But factor in yourself and your spouse and an audience of 43 financial supporters, over 200 recipients of our newsletter, a couple of churches, a hardcore ex-pat community and an NGO in the middle of a financial crisis (and God) and the temptation to lie and give that most Christian of responses is huge. (“Yes, I’m great and I’m have a great time. Sacrificial maybe but immensely rewarding and fulfilling, thanks, and how are you doing?”).
But when I stop and look back then what was there really to enjoy? Overnight (these things happen suddenly) you’re ripped away from everything familiar and comfortable and dumped in a house in rural Africa with no mains electricity, fridge, drinking water, phone, or mosquito nets on the windows in a tropical environment. One night Luton, the next night Ugandan-village. What’s to enjoy? And don’t tell me the amazing view (although we do have an amazing view). 2 weeks in and I’d rather be back in Luton, enjoying the view of my book made visible with the ELECTRIC light in my CARPETED house while I sup on a CHILLED beer and an evening meal that features MEAT, within an hours drive of most of my friends and relatives (as opposed to within an hours’ drive of the nearest supermarket – and think poorly-stocked Happy Shopper).
Why do I share all this now? Well, because, to be honest, 6 months and 16 days in, I think I’m actually really beginning to enjoy Africa. This I not the enjoyment you get from a week here, neither is it the joy of adventure and change. It the joy of a place, as it is and how it will be for another 18 months. It’s been coming a while, to be fair, but on Tuesday I decided I’m actually really enjoying this. I’m as happy as I’ve been anywhere for a lot of years, and in some respects happier. So yes, now, I’m enjoying it.
Having said this, by Wednesday, I hated it all and decided that Africa sucks. That’s just the nature of it. You go through more highs and lows in a day than is normal in the space of a week in the UK. Incredible beauty, adventure and peace followed by brutality, pain and heartache.
Enjoyment is a funny word. I’m not sure most people would want me to say I ‘enjoy’ brutality, pain and heartache. I’m not a masochist. But, then again, the beauty of Africa…….
Yeah, go on, right now at least, I’m enjoying it. Africa is pretty amazing.
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