My original intention had been to visit Queen Elizabeth National Park and see a little of southwest Uganda before returning to England but this did not prove to be easily achievable in the time available. Instead, I settled for Murchison Falls National Park, which is situated in the northern part of the Albertine Rift Valley, and I was heartened by the positive reports of animal sightings from Chloe and Rosie, who had been there a couple of weeks earlier. 

Three pop-top minibuses left the Red Chilli Hideaway at 7.30am, each with a slightly different itinerary.  The road between Kampala and Masindi was very good, which meant that the two dozen eggs sitting on the front passenger seat next to Sam our driver, remained intact. I spotted my first field of sunflowers. After just two brief stops we arrived at the entrance to the National Park at 1pm.   We then drove for a further one and a half hours to reach our destination.  Firstly, the track went through tropical rainforest and we spotted a couple of families of olive baboons that quickly ran into the undergrowth as we approached. However, we then came across a solitary male who was more than happy to pose for a photo.  We then moved into savannah woodland where families of warthogs were also reticent to stay around.

Despite the distances travelled, I have never been far from either Lake Victoria or the Victoria Nile during my entire time in Uganda and Kenya.  Murchison National Park is bisected by the Nile and at the top of Murchison Falls, the Nile forces its way through about a seven metre wide gap in the rocks and tumbles some forty three metres before flowing westwards into Lake Albert. We began by walking down to the river so affording us a view of both Murchison Falls and Uhuru Falls. Sir Samuel Baker named the falls after Sir Roderick Murchison, President of the Royal Geographical Society. It was a much shorter and potentially less arduous trek than the main descent to Sipi Falls but the heat was stifling and quite a contrast to the wonderfully temperate climate that is afforded to most of Uganda due to the country’s location on the East African Plateau. This time our guide was at pains to discourage the less fit from attempting the walk.  However, we set off at a modest speed and took advantage of any spot of shade available to pause and cool down a little.  Everybody was grateful for the roofed resting place on the way back up. We then headed for the viewpoint at the waterfall’s head where you truly experience the amazing power, roar and spray of the falls.

The Red Chilli Rest Camp, an unfenced site at Paraa (meaning ‘home of the hippo’ in the local Luo language) close to the southern bank of the Nile, was our base for two nights.  I had been rather looking forward to my very first camping experience but Chloe was insistent that it really couldn’t be called camping. I take her point.  Each spacious tent was equipped with two single beds and a bedside table.  However, it was less luxurious than having a banda. We were instructed to hand in all food on arrival as warthogs regularly roam the site.  They have a very good sense of smell and can easily become uninvited guests in the tents. 

We eat our evening meal in an open-sided, thatched roof building looking out on a campfire.  We were all in agreement that never had a cold shower felt so good after the heat of the afternoon. There were the three groups that had set off from Kampala plus a few other people in simple tents and everybody was very sociable. All my seven travelling companions from five different countries were either working or volunteering in Uganda with the exception of Corien, a Dutch woman and the only person remotely near my age, who had been visiting a cousin’s orphanage.  I discovered that a young American in one of the other groups was living about five minutes walk away from us in Jinja. 

It was another early departure the following morning. The rest site looked very pretty in the half-light with the tents arranged in an arc, each with its own little paraffin lamp. We drove the short distance to the vehicle ferry, which would take us across the Nile to the northern side of the park.  Fortunately, we were relatively near the front of the queue and we made it onto the 7am ferry as planned, having watched a beautiful sunrise. 

We were introduced to Janet our ranger for the morning.  We became aware of an olive baboon sitting watching us as we started to re-board the bus.  I was first in as I was seated directly behind the driver’s seat.  Before we could blink, the baboon had jumped through the window onto the front passenger seat.  I’m not quite sure where he was heading although he obviously sensed an opportunity for food, but fortunately, Janet was on his case immediately and he shot straight out through the driver’s window!

The open savannah is very beautiful indeed with the undulating landscape dotted with occasional trees and shrubs.  It has been a long held ambition of mine to see elephants in the wild.  However, I’ve always felt that organising a safari from England would be something of an indulgence and not very justifiable on environmental grounds. However, it felt a different matter supporting a national park in the country in which I had been so happily living and I was truly excited. It was not long before we were privileged to have one of many sightings of Rothschild’s giraffes.  We were able to stand on the seats of the pop-top minibus and literally lean out of the top. I couldn’t believe how close we were able to get to them. We were also treated to buffalos, Jackson’s hartebeest, Uganda kob, waterbucks, patas monkeys and a jackal.

We arrived at the Nile's entrance into Lake Albert where it forms a delta a mile or more wide.  In the distance we could see the Blue Mountains of the Democratic Republic of Congo.  We were treated to a delightfully tranquil scene.  There were numerous hippos lying down together in the shallows using each other as pillows. Some were partially visible all of the time, others only when they lifted their heads to breathe. Gloria and her friends only leave the water at night to graze.

There are lions and leopards in the park but we had already been warned by Janet that the bright moonlight from the previous night was likely to have ensured that the cats had had a successful night’s hunting and would now be resting well away from the road. I was fine about that. However, we had had only the briefest glimpse of three elephants far away on the horizon and I must confess that I felt very disappointed. I just hoped that the afternoon trip would prove more successful.

After lunch back at the camp we embarked on a trip to the base of Murchison Falls using a double-decker boat.  There is something very lovely about being on water. Our guide was rather more impressive than Janet had been in the morning and he identified the various birds that we passed on route including the red-throated bee-eater and the Goliath heron.  We were treated to the sight of many more hippos and buffalos. Murchison Falls looked quite breathtaking from this vantage point. Having passed a sausage tree, the fruits of which are much prized by elephants, I hoped that I might at last get to see these magnificent animals but it was not to be.

We sat under the stars chatting and trying our best to keep awake after supper but by 9pm several of us were ready to retire for the night. Having been told that there was a strong likelihood of meeting a warthog or Gloria the hippo if we took a stroll to the toilet block during the small hours, many of us had exerted very good bladder control the previous night. However, this time the call of nature was too strong and I ventured out of the tent.  I was suddenly aware of a snuffling noise but was frankly rather disappointed to discover that it was only snoring coming from the next-door tent. I don’t believe that there were any sightings of Gloria during our stay although we were told that she is a frequent nighttime visitor to the camp.

After a more leisurely start we retraced our steps back to the entrance of the national park.  We must have seen over one hundred baboons. However, Sam raced along and showed no intention of pausing even to admire some youngsters and everybody else looked as though they had ‘been there and done that’, whilst I still felt excited every time another animal appeared. When we were parked up at the entrance, we observed an altercation between a solitary baboon and a pair. It appeared to be largely bravado rather than serious intent.

Just past Masindi, we developed a flat tyre.  Sam quickly changed the wheel with the help of Sean.  However, it soon became apparent that all was still not well and we were relieved when Sam stopped again as the sound coming from the back of the vehicle was truly horrendous.  It transpired that the spare tyre was not new.  We had visions of spending hours in the middle of nowhere in the baking sun but, thankfully, there was a phone signal and another wheel was delivered really quite speedily.  In the meantime, I chatted to a young man named Emma, tending his beautiful herd of Ankole cattle in a field beside the road. It transpired that he is at secondary school and hopes to study law at university.

When we arrived at Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary there was no time for lunch and we headed off again in the minibus.  Both black and white rhinos had disappeared completely from Uganda by the early 1980s. A successful breeding programme has been running at Ziwa since 2005 and a twenty-four hour watch is kept over them.  The first rhino born at the sanctuary resulted from a union between a Kenyan male and an American female and so was named Obama.  The intention is eventually to release rhinos back into the national parks. The rhinos chill out in the shade during the day and eat at night.  Their heads are so heavy that they keep them down and tend only to eat the low grass. White rhinos are not as aggressive as the black rhinos and so we were able to approach them on foot.  Our guide helpfully explained the telltale signs of an irritated rhino.  If a rhino raises its head and coils its tail then you know that you could be in trouble. It normally gives you a second chance by stepping back having advanced forward.  This is likely to be repeated.  If you do not heed this second warning then it will probably kill you.  We were told that the best strategy is to climb a tree.  However, we were not convinced that any of the trees would withstand being lent forcibly against by a rhino.  The second best strategy is to run into a wooded area as the rhino is unlikely to follow you there.  The sanctuary seemed more like an orchard with no wooded areas in sight. Fortunately, the rhinos that we saw were all relaxing in the shade.  Having had one fatality, they have had to reduce the horns of the young males to prevent serious harm from fighting. One youngster was trying to rouse his mother but she would have none of it. The females stay with their mother until they are about six years old and the males can be as much as ten or eleven.  They can live into their forties and have up to six calves.  We were able to get within a few feet of several rhinos, which was wonderful.

After a late lunch it was time to set off back to Kampala.  The traffic was very busy but it gave an opportunity to view this fascinating city and its suburbs sprawled over numerous hills.  Some of it is very reminiscent of Jinja, other parts more like a modern city.

  

Having spent very little time in Kampala itself, I decided to take the shuttle bus from the Red Chilli Hideaway to Nakumatt Oasis Shopping Mall on my last morning in Uganda just as I had done when I first arrived in the country.  What a difference fourteen weeks can make!  I confidently navigated my way to the National Museum of Uganda with three Dutch travellers in tow before taking a boda boda across the city to the hillside Namirembe Cathedral.  I had to ask about five different people before I was finally given permission to look round the cathedral and my request seemed to meet with a little surprise but, eventually, I was provided with a short guided tour. Previous thatched versions of this Anglican Cathedral were destroyed by wind, termites and lightning.  The current red brick building has managed to stand for almost one hundred years and holds about three thousand people, less than the four thousand capacity of the earlier wind-wrecked cathedral.  There is a piece of stone in one of the walls, which comes from the roof above the high altar of its namesake, St Paul’s Cathedral in London following the 1941 bombing.  There is also a Cross of Nails from Coventry Cathedral and an organ constructed by an English builder.

It has always been fun trying to predict the path of the bodas in Jinja as they wind their way around the bumps and potholes.  However, I could not begin to anticipate our route as we wove in and out of the crazy traffic towards Parliamentary Avenue.  Boda drivers will do anything to avoid putting down their feet and in Kampala this clearly necessitates resorting to riding on the pavement every now and then.  Somehow it seemed a fitting end to my time in Uganda. There was just long enough for a quick visit to the African craft market and then it was back onto the shuttle bus.

One of the most rewarding aspects of my time in Uganda has been meeting so many friendly, interesting people.  Even as I sat drying off beside the pool at Red Chilli, I found myself having the most engaging conversation with a retired nursery head teacher who had spent three years volunteering in Papua New Guinea.  However, finally it was time to leave and I set off in a special hire to Entebbe with Lauren one of the American students that I had travelled with on safari. My journey ended with the cheery helpfulness that I had experienced from Ugandans throughout my stay. Lauren went off to check in and our driver wheeled my suitcase to a waiting area telling me that it would be too early for me to proceed and he then offered to look after my luggage if I needed to visit the toilet.

I was not ready to leave Uganda.

Unfortunately, my time in Jinja has come to an end.

I have really enjoyed the contrasting experiences of Magwa, the pleasant suburb in Jinja where we’ve been living, the busy town centre and the tranquility of rural Kyabirwa.  I loved strolling down the lane to Moses’ for lunch. It was such a peaceful spot.  Normally all that could be heard was the sound of the cows, goats, chickens and weaver birds.

I wish that I could give you a real impression of the centre of Jinja but no description or photo can begin to do it justice.  It can be noisy, crowded, busy and polluted but I have loved it!  There are a few smart buildings but generally the place appears rather ramshackle. Individual shops, apart from the supermarkets, are normally very small.  They are often windowless and often have solid folding doors traversing the width of the shop, which can then be drawn right back during opening hours.   The facades of many shops and even some houses are used as large bill boards for advertising single products such as washing powder, chewing gum, Sadolin and airtime. Looking along a street, it can be difficult to ascertain what is being sold unless the merchandise is displayed outside.  However, the more I have explored, the more I have come to realise that just about everything can be bought in Jinja. It isn’t unusual to see items such as laptops perched precariously on tables, and sofas, clothes, even wrapped mattresses sitting on the dusty, uneven surface outside.  Walking past the shops can be something of an obstacle course due to the dilapidated state of the pavements combined with the very crowded forecourts.  In the evenings it becomes even busier as stalls spring up providing hot snacks such as samosas and chicken pieces.

The upstairs of the main market is something to behold.  This is the clothing section. I have never seen so many sewing machines in my entire life.  It looks as though a lot of the clothes are secondhand imports and people seem to be busy doing alterations as well as producing new garments.  I haven’t quite got used to the way in which many women wear beautiful traditional dresses whilst simply going about their normal daily business, even cleaning and cooking.  The dress is full length with pointy puff sleeves reaching nearly to the elbow and has a wide sash tied to the front.  The material may be patterned or plain.

I have definitely fallen victim to the cross-race effect whilst I’ve been here.  Sometimes I have had had difficulty in recognising people that I’ve already met or in distinguishing between particular people. Occasionally this has proved embarrassing although I do feel that it has become less of a problem over time.  There were two teachers at Kyabirwa who I just couldn’t tell apart and I was relieved that the German visitors had a similar problem.  Chloe has the theory that we normally initially focus on hair colour and style, which isn’t very helpful in Uganda particularly when it comes to men and school children as they all have very short hair.  However, I must just mention women’s hairstyles. Ugandan hair simply doesn’t lend itself to being grown long.  Not only do many women have weaves but a lot of them also wear wigs. Red/pink highlights seem to be in fashion at the moment.  This may aid identification but equally it is sometimes confusing as people like Susan only wears her wig intermittently and the two styles make her look utterly different.

I used to think that there were no road signs or street names in Jinja.  This isn’t actually true; there are quite a few around.  It is just that there is so much to tempt the eye and obscure the view.  We eventually managed to determine the address of our apartment.  Firstly, we discovered the address of the Universal Apostles’ Fellowship Church of Righteousness next door (or St Noah to the locals) and later we received some utility bills indicating out plot number.  However, there is no postal delivery here and everybody uses a P.O. box number.

Considerable effort is going into improving the main road into Jinja including added drainage.  It is a major undertaking. I really feel for the contractors as just when they seem to be making excellent progress, there is heavy rainfall and the vehicles damage the surface again.  They regularly close off quite large sections of the road but this isn’t actually possible at the end near our apartment and so they have to work on one side whilst traffic moving in both directions supposedly keeps to the other side. It makes rally driving seem positively tame. On Saturday, we observed a DHL lorry that had become completely stuck in the mud.  I am only sorry that I shall not be here to see the completion of the transformation that is slowly taking place.  They have also recently dug a large trench along the edge of our road and are now painstakingly lining it with irregular shaped paving stones. English local authorities should think themselves lucky that they only have to deal with comparatively trivial potholes.

When I was planning my trip to Uganda, it suddenly struck me that Sauda, who I sponsor through Plan UK lives ‘next door’ in Kenya.  The charity actively encourages arranged visits.  Kenya is a large country and I wasn’t sure how accessible Sauda’s village might prove to be. However, I was amazed to discover that she is also based close to Lake Victoria but on the eastern rather than the northern shore, near Homa Bay.   Plan UK requested a CRB check and then liaised with Plan Kenya to establish whether or not the family would be happy to receive me. Plan Kenya has offices in both Kisumu and Homa Bay and they very kindly agreed to collect me from Kisumu, which is on the main coach route from Jinja to Nairobi. 

I set off first thing on Sunday morning and was under the impression that it might prove quite an arduous journey. The coach starts out from Kampala and when I boarded, just 15 minutes after the advertised time, I found somebody already sitting in my reserved seat. However, Gibson readily moved when asked to do so and we chatted for most of the way to the border.  I was keen to know when I was actually crossing the equator, as I have never before been to the southern hemisphere. I know that it is clearly indicated on at least one road in Uganda but seemingly not in these parts.  Gibson did his best to track our progress on his phone but the signal was too weak.   He also kindly guided me through the various border checks when we arrived a couple of hours or so later.  I had been warned that this might take an age. On the Ugandan side, we had to complete a form, show our passport and have a photograph and fingerprints taken.  We then had a short walk through ‘no man’s land’ taking a ‘short stop’ (toilet break) on route. The whole process was then repeated on the Kenyan side with the added task of securing a visa. It was all achieved quite speedily and so we rejoined the coach in good time.

Initially, there seemed little to suggest that we were in a different country.  The land continued to be covered in maize, sugar cane and banana plants, and there were still the ubiquitous yellow cannisters for collecting water as well as plenty of orange dust.  However, closer inspection revealed subtle changes. Gibson pointed out that even the simplest houses in the Kenyan countryside tend to have some kind of proper boundary e.g. hedging or fence, something that seems to be reserved for the wealthy in Uganda. The taxis, or matatus as they are called in Kenya are slightly different but, more excitingly, I spotted a significant number of original boda-bodas or piki piki i.e. bicycle bodas.

As we approached Kisumu, the landscape started to change with the hills bearing large boulders and the colour of the soil becoming a little more muted.  The road quality was very good until we met roadworks coming into Kisumu.  However, the entire journey only took about five and quarter hours, which was much quicker than I had been led to believe.

It was very hot when we arrived at the coach station.  Initially I was told that it would be a 45-minute walk to my hotel but this was reduced to 30 minutes when I expressed surprise.  In reality it was more like 15 minutes.  I had expected Kisumu to be rather like Jinja.  However, it had the air of a city with a faster pace of life and a dual carriageway running through the centre. There was an indoor shopping mall by the coach station and a proper concrete car park with spaces clearly demarcated. It all looked rather ‘grey’ without the orange dust and mud to which I have become so accustomed. However, there was still an abundance of market stalls and street traders. I have been told that Kenya is more ‘sophisticated’ and less laid back than Uganda.  

I had booked one of the un-renovated, ensuite rooms at the Duke of Breeze Hotel, situated just off the main road.  The street immediately had a much calmer and quieter feel. I was amused to be asked by the receptionist from which tribe, rather than country, I had come. My room had something of a 1970s style about it with lino on the floor.  It was spacious and very well furnished with a wardrobe, dressing table and desk and made a perfect base.  On the first evening I dined at the roof top restaurant, which has open sides and views right across the city and serves international food.  I got chatting to a vet called Abu, who bought me a drink and flattered me a lot.  He offered to show me around Kisumu the following morning but he never appeared again!  The sports bar and restaurant served breakfast as well as a mixture of African and Indian food throughout the day and was kitted out with football shirts and the emblem of Real Kisumu. Both Kenyans and Ugandans seem to be very keen on football and follow English teams as avidly as their own.  Richard, our driver, says that he would like to visit England just for a day in order to watch Manchester United!

I wandered through the city for a short time during the morning but it was rather stifling and so, having enjoyed a lunch of rice and tilapia in spinach sauce at the Green Garden Restaurant, I decided to head for Hippo Point.  I declined all offers from motorbike bodas and found my first bicycle driver.  These men must be fit.  It was a relatively short journey but it was hot and quite hilly, and the well- maintained road soon became a bumpy track.  I explained to the driver about the rather less arduous cycling conditions in Cambridge.  As we parted company he gave me a cheery wave and told me that he liked me very much! From here I took a boat trip out onto the lake. Unfortunately, conditions were not ideal as a storm began to brew and the lake was very choppy.  In fact at times I though that the wooden boat was in as much in danger of capsizing as a white water raft.  Despite this, we were lucky enough to get several brief sightings of a female hippo and her baby in the water and a family of three otters.  We also enjoyed some bird watching and observed a family of zebras in a sanctuary backing onto the lake.

Samson arrived promptly at 8am the following morning to collect me.  I was greeted with a huge bear hug as though a long lost friend.  He’s a lively character!  His family is in Kisumu and he normally only stays in Homa Bay during the working week. We set off in a large 4by4 Toyota and I was surprised to find that it was a simple two-hour journey on an excellent road. Homa Bay was also bigger than I had expected.  The town had a colourful character and, in retrospect, I could easily have made my own way there and stayed overnight. I was very impressed to see that they have recently installed solar powered streetlights throughout the entire town.

We went straight to Plan’s spacious offices where after being briefed, I was introduced to fifteen or so staff by Fred, the manager. I was given a portion of kitheri, beans and sweetcorn, to eat. I set off again with Samson and three of the field staff, Carolyne, Dorcas and Matthew. We paused at a local supermarket to enable me to buy a good supply of basic foods and washing products for Sauda’s family, as suggested by the charity.  On route, we picked up three local community workers and so we were quite a party when we arrived at Sauda’s home about 12km away.

Sauda is an orphan and is normally cared for by her stepmother, Anne. She has several older siblings as well as younger half brothers and sister.  Plan had assumed that we would stop off to greet Anne and then go up to the local primary school to meet Sauda. However, Sauda is currently living with an aunt some distance away and has changed schools. She only comes home during the holidays. This is due to the difficulty of accommodating everybody in such a tiny place.  The house is situated on a hillside.  There was only one other building in the immediate vicinity and I suspect that this might be their kitchen area. We crowded into a tiny room completely filled with comfy chairs and a low table. There was just about room for all of the visiting party, Anne and the youngest four children including Sauda. There was nothing else in the room apart from one religious picture and I doubt that there is any electricity or running water. There was a second area divided off by a curtain, which cannot have been much bigger than the sitting room.

So Sauda had returned from school to greet me along with many other family members.  It was very emotional meeting her having exchanged letters for over six years.  She always looks terribly serious in photos and her correspondence has only more recently begun to give some insight into her personality.    She proved to be softly spoken, utterly sweet and charming and was clearly delighted to see me.  Children learn both Swahili and English in Kenyan schools and so we had no difficulty in understanding each other. 

There are eight year groups in Kenyan primary schools and Sauda hopes to move on to secondary school in January.  I am told that she is hard working and, interestingly, she would like to become a journalist. We chatted for a while and took lots of photos. Anne then served an amazing lunch: two different platefuls of ugali (from maize and sorghum), greens, chicken and mangoes.  Sauda went around with a jug of water and bowl so that every body could wash their hands and we all eat with our fingers.  It is a pity that we were such a large visiting party as it meant that I didn’t manage to identify all the other family members sitting outside.

There were ‘speeches’ from a community leader, Carolyne from Plan, Anne, Sauda, an uncle and me.  The uncle was very keen that I should send him a photo of us shaking hands.  There followed the presentation of gifts including the food.  Plan gives very clear guidance on presents and request that it is kept very simple. It is important not to alienate other members of the community although, in this case, this was not an issue.  I had bought balloons and a Frisbee as suggested by the charity, which could be shared with any number of children, and a special pen for Sauda along with notebooks.  A tea towel of London really seemed to impress Anne and the children.

Plan use the term sponsor child but this isn’t entirely accurate, as donations do not go directly to the individual’s family.  Instead they are used for wider community projects.  However, it is clear that the charity keeps a watchful eye on sponsor children and will respond in times of sickness, for example. There are various safeguards in place and it is not permissible to disclose a sponsor’s contact details.  Instead all communications must go through Plan.  Therefore, it was rather difficult when Sauda asked me for my phone number and I had to decline, but I left it to the charity to explain the procedures. It is unfortunate that correspondence regularly takes months to reach its destination.

After lunch, we went up to the local primary school to see the buildings that Plan have funded. Sauda came too and we sat together in the front of the Toyota.  We had a chance to chat to the head teacher, who was thrilled with the charity’s contribution.  From there it was time to return Sauda to her family and set off back to the office.

I then discovered that arrangements had been made for me to have some food at the local Twin Towers Hotel, as they didn’t expect Anne to be able to provide such a fine lunch. I wasn’t in the least bit hungry but the team seemed adamant that I should eat again.  I ended up with a whole tilapia in tomato sauce and a separate plate of chips but, fortunately, they suggested a doggy bag for the large number of chips that I just couldn’t manage to eat. I’m told that when I return some day, they will teach me to eat fish with my fingers.  There was also some mention of the value of eating the brain… It was then back to the office for a debrief with Fred before I was devein back to Kisumu. Samson seemed rather concerned that Sauda has to travel a significant distance to school and sometimes uses a boda boda.  Boda drivers seem to have a very bad reputation, which may or may not be justified.  However, I suspect that Sauda is sensible enough not to be led astray and I hope that nobody will try and take advantage of her.  Presumably, there will be different arrangements in place once she starts secondary school in January although I will need to find out how this is being funded and organised.

The following morning I visited Kisumu Museum, which was only about a ten-minute walk from the hotel.  The place is rather like Jinja in that the bustle of the town centre is very quickly left behind. There were some very interesting exhibits in the museum relating to the history of the three main tribes in Western Kenya. However, I was less comfortable seeing the cramped conditions of some crocodiles, snakes and fish.

The journey back to Jinja after lunch took longer than the outward journey. This was partly due to the fact that visas had literally doubled in price without warning since Sunday and quite a few people didn’t actually have the requisite number of dollars with them. Wednesday night has always been our evening out and I was determined not to miss this final opportunity. The late arrival of the coach meant that we were too late to see the film but we were not unduly concerned about that, as the recent choice of movie has challenged even our liberal tastes.  However, it felt very sad knowing that it was the last time that we would enjoy a meal together at the Moti Mahal.

There were emotional goodbyes the following lunchtime as I went into town to say farewell to Chloe and Kibibi as well as some of the Ugandan team at the charity.  It is has been lovely to watch Kibibi grow and develop.  She is proving to be quite a character and we both adore her. She became great friends with our neighbour’s cat, who would regularly come calling for her and it was sad when cat and owner moved out. Kibibi’s future is uncertain. We have learnt that the woman who was planning to take her to Kenya has recently acquired two male puppies although she still seems willing to have Kibibi, if necessary. We are conscious that Kibibi has very much become a mzungu’s pet whereas Africans normally only keep dogs for reasons of security.  The dogs live outside and may be neglected, or worse still, mistreated.   Chloe is looking into the possibility of bringing her to England.  This is very costly and regulations mean that she cannot travel until November. The dog minder is happy to look after Kibibi in the interim or will help in the search for a suitable new owner.

I was glad to have Richard’s company as he drove me to Kampala ready for my last few days in Uganda. It was very hard to leave Jinja.

My time in Jinja is coming to a close. At some point I shifted imperceptibly from feeling like a visitor to a resident, and I shall be very sad to leave.

Towards the end of last week, Chloe and Rosie went off on safari and so the weekend proved the perfect time for me to enjoy a spot of bird watching.  Moses had put me in contact with one of his neighbours, Bosco, who arranges various trips.  I walked to the end of the road to find a boda to take me to Bujagali. A driver immediately came across offering his services. It was fairly obvious that he did not understand where I wanted to go but he was undeterred.  I asked him to name his a price and he then set off following my directions. When he finally realised where we were heading, he laughed and renegotiated the price.

Bosco had arranged to bring along a colleague, David, who is more knowledgeable on birds.  There is also an abundance of beautiful butterflies in Uganda but I have yet to meet a local who claims to be able to name any of them. I had obtained a costed itinerary from Bosco a few days beforehand but I still wasn’t quite sure how things were going to proceed. I’ve learnt here just to go with the flow as something always happens even if it isn’t quite as expected. The three of us set off along the river at Bujagali on a motorised boat complete with driver.  It was billed as a sunset trip although it was about a quarter past three in the afternoon. Bosco took my camera, David had a notebook for recording the names of the observed birds and I just sat back with my binoculars!  It was very tranquil and beautiful. David complained that the bright sunshine would mean less bird activity due to the reduced availability of food but there was plenty to satisfy me.  One particular highlight was spotting a pair of African fish eagles sitting on a tree with one balancing a fish on the branch.  We also observed a woman bungee jumping from a tower.  White water rafting is one thing, but I cannot see the appeal of hanging upside down over the River Nile! Within a couple of hours, we were back on dry land. 

A second trip had been planned for early the following day.  Bosco had agreed to arrange overnight accommodation for me to avoid the difficulty of finding suitable transport at that time in the morning. The three of us then set off on two bodas and made the long, bumpy journey to Itanda.  It is amusing to look back and remember how apprehensive I was about taking my first short boda trip from Jinja town centre to home. Now I’ll happily travel for an hour across hilly, rugged terrain or go hands-free in town with Kabibe on my lap.   However, careful positioning on the seat is essential.  It isn’t appropriate to sit too close to the driver in such an unladylike fashion but it is advantageous to be bent slightly forward with one’s bottom’s well clear of the metal bar at the back.  It feels rather like being the Queen as children in the countryside constantly call out and wave although, of course, she would ride sidesaddle!

We arrived at a small, brick built, concrete clad house with glass windows hidden behind a high wall and padlocked door and I was led to a small room around the back.  The latrine was down the end of the garden and there was no sign of any running water. The owner was nowhere in sight but Bosco had a key.  We paused only to leave my rucksack and then we set off to have supper.  Itanda is a good-sized village.  Some of the houses are built from brick, others have the classis mud and cow dung walls with banana fibre and dried grass roofs. Even most of the simpler homes in Uganda have more than one room such that the kitchen is normally a separate building. On the way we passed an indoor cinema complete with flat screen and tiered wooden benches.  We arrived at what I guess should be described as a restaurant.  It consisted of a very spartan, tiny candlelit room with wooden benches and tables.  All the food preparation was being coordinated from a little open sided room to the front beside an open fire. Four men were sitting outside playing ludo on a very large board.  An amazing array of food appeared: boiled rice; sweet potato; small pieces of chapati; meat stew; beans in sauce and grated cabbage fried in a little oil.  I assumed that this was for the three of us to share.  However, two more sets of bowls appeared such that it was hardly possible to fit everything on the table. Ugandans tend to use just a fork.  The meat pieces were quite large and not particularly tender and, as I couldn’t cut them up, my jaw began to ache. Nevertheless, it was a fine meal. The guys polished off the whole lot but it was more than I could manage.

We walked back down the road to a little market where people sat on the ground in the candlelight selling produce such as tomatoes.  From there, Bosco and David escorted me back to my room by boda and then disappeared.  The owner had obviously returned, as there was a little light on in my room, which was powered by a large battery connected by crocodile clips.  The mosquito net was only tied at three corners and had several holes that needed plugging, but once that had been sorted, I settled down for the night.

There seemed to be some strange noises coming from the roof during the night, which I couldn’t identify.  However, I was up before sunrise as David was coming to collect me at 6.30am.  Out in the lane there were lots of people de-winging and collecting white ants (or enswa) in bowls ready to fry and eat.  We had a cup of warm milk at the restaurant and took our freshly cooked rolex to eat along the way. 

We wandered through the country side with Bosco taking photos again, David pointing out and sometimes remembering to record the birds and I just strolling along taking it all in with light cloud making conditions perfect. It was easy walking, firstly down a track with a hedgerow and then through a wooded area of eucalyptus followed by pines.  The only real hazard was pausing on unnoticed trails of ants, and each of us experienced being bitten by at least one ant that had managed to crawl inside our clothes.  For the first time I saw tomatoes, aubergines and tobaccos being grown along with the more familiar crops. 

We arrived at the River Nile just at the point where we had walked around Itanda Falls whilst rafting a few days earlier.  I understand that there are plans to build another hydroelectric dam in this area, which will have the effect of submerging various rapids rather like at Bujagali. There is much anger about this in the local community. It would obviously affect the tourist trade but perhaps even more frustratingly for the locals, the hydroelectric power currently produced appears to be exported to Kenya.  People in places like Itanda do not even have the option of buying electricity even if they can afford it, as there are no power lines. 

There was just one slightly scary section of the walk where we passed along a rather slippery, narrow path with a sheer drop beside it down to the Nile and we went ‘mpola, mpola’ (slowly, slowly).  At another one point we found ourselves ploughing our way through an area of densely planted maize.  Bosco had promised me two sets of entertainers.  Only one materialised and was described as ‘swimming dancers’.  It involved two men diving into the Nile at the ‘Bad Place’ and swimming through the rapids.  Apparently, they make their living in this way. I was just grateful that they had not been injured ‘entertaining’ me.  They returned triumphantly to dry land keen to have their photo taken with me.

Initially there had been talk of crossing over to one of the small islands.  However, after walking for about three and a half hours, Bosco decided that we should simply relax in the sunshine by Itanda Falls and follow the progress of a raft that would shortly be negotiating the ‘Bad Place’.  As we watched the raft being tossed in the rapids (and then capsizing), I marvelled that I had been doing much the same a few days earlier and felt quite emotional.  We then returned to Itanda for a meal that was almost identical to the previous evening’s supper. Having expressing my gratitude for a lovely trip, I returned to Jinja.

Back at home, Monica, one of our cleaners, said a surprisingly emotional goodbye to me. I then phoned Chloe’s ‘friend’, Peter, to ask if he would drive me over to the dog minder’s to collect Kabibe.  As I prepared to go downstairs I realized that, in the emotion of the moment, Monica had padlocked me inside the apartment!  So I phoned Peter to ask if he would come to my rescue.  He is a charming man and probably older than many of the other boda drivers and he patiently negotiated with the security guard to be allowed on site.  Initially, I thought that I would have to throw the keys over the back balcony.  However, we discovered that by standing on a chair, I could pass them through the grid above the front door and all was well again.

My last week at Kyabirwa proved particularly rewarding. Joy had mentioned to me a while ago that she would soon be rehearsing the school choir for a competition and I had expressed an interest in getting involved.  When I was first free to attend a rehearsal, I was utterly astonished to find them attempting to sing an arrangement of John Dowland’s Come again, sweet love doth now invite, originally written for solo voice and lute.  It had been arranged for two soprano and two alto parts and they were making a brave attempt at singing the top three parts. This is the compulsory English piece for the competition. It is rhythmically very challenging and the text is archaic and it would be incomprehensible to many English adults and children. Joy was desperate for any help that I could give.

The first problem for me was the fact that the score was written in solfa notation.   This meant that I was slow to read the pitch of the notes and I had no idea how to decipher the rhythms. After a little investigation on the Internet, I was able to transfer the piece to staff notation.  Joy was very keen that I should sing through the various parts with her and also assist her with the pronunciation of the words.  She had made a great start but there were a few errors in both pitch and rhythm and it proved difficult to reteach her or the children.  However, she and the second sopranos mastered the most complex bar of the piece to perfection. Joy has a naturally deep voice and was rehearsing the children in a much lower key than was required. Thankfully I have a tuning fork/pitch pipe on my iPhone. She later produced a recorder and I was able to show her how to sound the key note. The boys and girls were a delight to teach and they worked extremely hard with great enthusiasm. All our rehearsals took place outside unless it was raining and it began to take shape. Joy was also keen that I should show her how to conduct the piece.  We managed to start adding some of the indicated dynamics and focusing on the tone. Joy encouraged the sopranos to sing more like me as it could all sound quite raucous at times.

On my final day, Robina, the head teacher came to listen.  Joy asked me to conduct the piece first and she then took her turn.  Both performances went amazingly well and I loved it. The head was delighted and she explained to me later that Joy had felt quite defeated by the piece until we started working on it together.  Originally, Joy didn’t feel that she could cope with teaching another part and asked me if it would matter. Given that she is keen to do very well, I did suggest that this might not be possible with a missing alto line.  The competition is not until 24^th July and I think that she feels that there is now time to add in the final part. They are also performing some traditional African songs complete with drummers and dancers.  I’m only sorry that I cannot be there.

Last week I mentioned that the pupils do not naturally talk to the teachers. Somebody explained to me that this is a legacy from the days when corporal punishment was used so liberally.  I did begin to get a feeling that, had I stayed longer, this might have begun to change, particularly with the choir members.

I am sure that schools around the world have a lot in common but there are times here in Ugandan when I have certainly known that I am not in England.  Monday was a case in point.  The school uses identical registers to those found in England.  However, as Primary 4 sat quietly writing, I observed Ronah gradually working her way through her five registers and some 150 names!  After lunch, I was preparing to take Primary 3 when it became apparent that literally scores of the children were making their way across the playing fields and down the lane. (There is no perimeter fence or formal outside entrance to the school.) It transpired that they were off to collect a consignment of firewood.  After some time they returned in dribs and drabs bringing a collection of leafy branches and logs.  There was even the odd sizeable piece of tree trunk, which required four or five children to carry it.  I chatted with Mary, the class teacher whilst we were waiting and we got onto the subject of food.  She decided to describe to me how to make dodo and then announced that I should start teaching when the children returned, as she was off to pick me the greens!  The lesson finally got underway, and Mary sat neatly chopping my greens as I taught the class!  However, progress was further hampered as it began to rain and there was no hope of the children understanding anything that I said. After school, I set off walking with Robina. She slithered in her wellies and I slithered in my sandals as there was no question of any bodas making it down the lane.  I hope very much to keep in touch with some of the teachers.

My last week of travelling with Assam went very well.  Even when he was late, I no longer felt the need to phone him to ensure that he was on his way.  He was always so polite, addressing me as ‘Madame’ rather than mama and I think that he was very proud to be my driver.  I must admit that I developed rather a soft spot for him.  He was clearly upset when he realized that it was my last week at Kyabirwa. 

Chloe and I have never really managed to learn the Ugandan way with regard to tipping and gifts etc.  I thought that I would like to give Assam a little something but I couldn’t really think of an appropriate gift and so I decided to write him a card and add some money, hoping that this would be well received.  On the final morning, Assam presented me with a photo of his entire family.  I was very touched and handed him my envelope.  Later in the day, on the way home, Assam suddenly stopped at a building and reappeared bearing a large mango and a traditional rug/mat, the like of which we have seen in Jinja market, which he duly presented to me.  I was very moved.  He then rung to say farewell before I departed for Kenya.

I have no idea how I am going to get the rug into my suitcase, as it is too long when rolled, and I shall have to see if I can fold it as well as keep within the baggage allowance. However, gifts can be more challenging than that.  A group of German women recently arrived at the school, two of which stayed on to visit ex Kyabirwa pupils who they are sponsoring through secondary school.  One of the families decided that they wanted to give a live chicken as a present that should then be slaughtered and eaten.  Moses tried to explain that the women were about to fly back to Germany but the family was insistent. The German women hit upon the idea of accepting the gift but then leaving it for Moses and his family.  I didn’t much enjoy seeing it left on its side for hours in the staff room with its feet bound with sticky tape.

When I next blog, I shall have made my brief visit to Kenya.