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.

Jinja is marketed as the adventure capital of Uganda.  Although I like a challenge, I am fairly risk-averse and so I had no intention of partaking in any of the adrenalin-filled activities on offer.  However, Chloe’s sister, Rosie, came across from Abu Dhabi for a week and Chloe suggested that I might like to join them for some white water rafting. My immediate reaction was to decline the offer.  When I was taught to swim as an adult, my lessons were focused on mastering the basic strokes and I didn’t learn to jump/dive in, tread water or swim in clothes and so I was doubtful that I would be up to dealing with the mighty Nile. However, Chloe gently persisted telling me she thought that I would really enjoy it.  So I did a little research and discovered that even non-swimmers were reporting having survived and enjoyed the experience.  Heartened by this, I agreed to go. 

It was fortunate that I checked my travel insurance, as I discovered that not only was I uninsured for adventure activities, but also for safaris organised from outside the UK, about which you will hear more later.  Both Chloe and I could only obtain insurance for grade 3 whitewater rafting but we were both content to be tackling the less challenging rapids. 

We set out to walk the short distance to Nalubale Rafting, passing a family of vervet monkeys on the way, where we were first given a rolex for breakfast.  This is a classic, extremely popular Ugandan street food, which basically consists of an omelette rolled inside a chapati. It is very cheap and filling and often rather greasy although considerably less so on this occasion. We then had to sign a disclaimer basically absolving the company of responsibility for anything and we were kitted out with life jackets and helmets. There should have been eight of us going out in the raft that day but the other five had decided to reschedule. So the three of us boarded the back of a truck along with the some of the safety crew and with the raft in tow, we drove for about forty five minutes to a base on the other side of the Nile.

Once on the river we were taken through the basics such as how to hold the paddle, coordinate our strokes and follow commands from our leader, Neil.  Everybody sits on the edge of the raft with his or her bare feet on the floor of the raft.  However, when the command is given to ‘Get down’, it is essential to crouch down immediately inside the raft.  The paddle has to be placed across the knees with one hand firmly holding the top of the paddle and the other hand placed over the paddle whilst gripping the safety rope that is thread around the edge of the raft.  We were also strongly encouraged to lean back and use the whole body for paddling, which is probably why I scarcely ached the next day. Anyway, we laughed and learnt a lot and it was amusing to see the interaction between the sisters.

The level of safety and backup provided was second to none.  We had three guys each in a separate kayak plus a safety raft.  We were taught how to position ourselves so that if we found ourselves in the water we could be towed back to the raft from either the back or front of a kayak.  However, I was rather alarmed when we were forewarned that the raft was deliberately about to be capsized as part of the safety training although I now appreciate that it was an extremely wise thing to do.  Chloe and Rosie were thrown clear but to my horror I found myself under water beneath the capsized dingy.  Initially I panicked, partly because it took a few seconds for me to find the air space above the water but probably more due to the fact that I suffer from claustrophobia.  Anyway, Neil ensured that I calmed down and got to grips with the situation before helping me out.  We then righted the raft and Neil hauled us all back in. He had had a difficult time with a Chinese group the day before because they hadn’t been great at following commands, and I think he feared that we were going to be challenging in other ways.

I quickly recovered from the experience and we set off up the river with Chloe and Rosie in front and Neil and I behind. Neil essentially did all the steering and we simply paddled to order and gradually became better coordinated as time went on. It was thrilling as we approached the first rapids. We kept paddling hard against the buffeting waves until we were instructed to get down and then we were entirely at the mercy of the water.  We all loved it! We made it through without capsizing or losing anybody over board. Neil was clearly delighted that we had responded so well and it had been so successful.  However, we were a little perplexed when he told us that we had just completed our first Grade 5 rapid!

We had to travel along some quite lengthy stretches of open water and as there were only the three of us, a couple of times they decided to attach our raft to the safety raft.  A very muscular young Ugandan then literally towed us along the river so that the four of us could just sit back and enjoy the view! We had bottled water on the raft and I was pleased to see how carefully Neil ensured that even the plastic seals around the tops of the bottles were stowed away to avoid polluting the river.  There were eight or nine sets of rapids with delightful names such as Retrospect, Bubugo, Bad Place, Vengeance, Hair of the Dogs and Nile Special, most of which seemed to be grade 4! At one point Neil advised us that there was a particularly ferocious grade 5 at Itanda Falls and that we might prefer to avoid this by walking bare foot around it along the riverbank, which we did whilst the safety crew brought the raft!  Lunch was provided at the top of a hill affording a fabulous view of the river. 

The sun shone all morning to the point where even I was beginning to turn a little pink in places.  After lunch, the clouds began to look quite threatening and we could see lightning in the distance but to our surprise it didn’t rain.

I found myself eagerly anticipating each new rapid as the roar of the water grew louder and louder. There were three particularly noteworthy events that I feel should be briefly described. At one point, the raft began to stand up in the water.  I don’t think that Rosie was gripping the rope very hard and as a result she fell backwards and collided with me.  How we managed to stay afloat with Rosie still in the raft is nothing short of a miracle. More alarmingly, Neil was nearly forced out of the raft at one stage and we later discussed how we might have managed the rest of the rapid without him. Finally, a huge wave simply lifted Chloe off the edge of the raft at one point. Both her response and that of a safety kayak were magnificent. There were several occasions when we came so close to capsizing.  It was truly amazing. There is a tradition amongst rafting companies of offering to capsize the raft deliberately at the last set of rapids. However, we declined that added excitement. 

We were all very pleased that we had accepted the offer of taking a professional photographer with us on the trip. Although he wasn’t able to capture Chloe’s moment, he took some amazing shots. Neil was stunned and very apologetic when we pointed out how pleased we were to have done the more adventurous route through the rapids! Somehow he hadn’t realised that we had opted for grade three only.  My only injuries were a slightly bruised nose from the collision with Rosie, a huge bruise on my thigh from being hauled back into the raft and a sore thumb from gripping the paddle or rope. The truck and some beers were waiting for us at the finish although the very bumpy track during the first part of the journey back made drinking from the bottle quite risky.  The perfect end to an excellent day!

The rest of the week has been less exciting but no less enjoyable.  I absolutely love my work at Kyabirwa Primary School (pronounced Chbirwa) and I have now established a proper routine after the initial difficulties caused by the teachers’ strike.  My favourite lessons involve team teaching mathematics to Primary 6 and 7.  Moses was so pleased when I expressed an interest in teaching maths as apparently, the subject is not normally popular with volunteers. It seems to me that one of the biggest challenges for the children is understanding the very formal language used in word problems. The team teaching works extremely well but Moses has had no hesitation in leaving me to it when the odd emergency has occurred. However, I still find it very strange the way in which all the teachers simply exit the classroom to answer their mobile phones!

Understandably, most of the other teachers have asked me to help specifically with English. Moses says that ‘they like my kind of English’! I have been working on initial letter sounds with Primary 1 but by far my greatest challenge has been taking a daily reading lesson with Primary 4. One of the regular teachers is on maternity leave such that two classes have had to be combined.  There are about 150 children on role and I have routinely been teaching about 110 children crowded into one classroom.  The school does have a dusty little library but there are very few reading books and nothing suitable for a group of this size.  So I am doing a mixture of phonics and reading with everything having to be written on the blackboard.  It’s a long time since I have had to use chalk but I’ve been quite impressed with my writing given the quality of the boards.  The class can be quite noisy and inattentive but I feel that I have now really got them on side.  Yesterday we were looking at words containing ‘ew’ and Rona, the teacher, found the pronunciation of ‘ewe’ utterly hilarious. There is nothing that you can do if there is a heavy downpour during a lesson as the noise on the corrugated iron roof is immense and the shutters have to be closed to keep the rain out making it very dark.

It has been fascinating to work with Ruth, Mary and Primary 3 on both maths and science.  I’ve recently been asked to teach about rabbits using a specific text book! Mary explains some of the information in Lusoga to help the children understand. They are then required to copy the information from the blackboard and answer the comprehension questions that I am asked to devise.  I am not at all surprised that the children find this extremely challenging particularly when the subject matter can be as complex as rabbit diseases and their symptoms.  I really feel for them.  On one occasion, a little boy in the class delighted in keep saying ‘How do you do’ to me!   The children often bring in mangoes for the teachers and one day both Mary and I were given them.  She explained that the children had apparently allocated the mangoes between us in such a way that the colour of the skins best matched our differing complexions!

One morning I happened to hear the end of a lesson on the domestication of dogs. When the teacher asked me about how we use dogs in England I thought I should try to explain briefly the concept of pets. I also pointed out that we train dogs for a number of different purposes including guide dogs.  The teacher simply responded that if a blind person needs assistance in crossing the road in Uganda, another person helps them!  There is almost no evidence of creative lessons. However, I did notice some charming, really rather skilled models of animals that I was told Primary 3 had made out of ‘swamp mud’.  All of the teachers are clearly grateful for assistance with their monumental piles of marking.

The school appears to be happily oblivious to the concept of risk assessment and children are often left unsupervised and may regularly be observed climbing trees. Fulbourn Parish Council has spent a lot of time discussing dog excrement found on the recreation ground.  Goodness knows what they would make of the cowpats adorning the Kyabirwa playing fields!

As I mentioned in a previous post, communicating with the locals has not been as straightforward as I had envisaged and this is even true with some of the teachers at Kyabirwa.  When I first arrived in Jinja, I had to listen very intently to pick up what was being said to me although my ear has now become more attuned to Ugandan English in terms of both structure and accent.  Equally it is clear that I am not always readily understood. I suspect that my sentence structure is far too complex and wordy for those Ugandans not routinely speaking English although I am sure that they also struggle with my pronunciation.  Whereas I might say ‘Do you understand?’, they would say ‘You get it’?  When Assam waits for me to mount the bike he will then simply say ‘Finished?’ to check that I am ready to leave. If a boda driver is touting for business he will often call out ‘you go?’ Even some of the teachers working with the younger year groups do not always grasp what I am saying despite my best efforts to keep it simple.  The older pupils and their teachers seem to manage very well. Inevitably, in this environment I have had very little opportunity to pick up any Lusoga.

Complete strangers can be very outgoing, communicative and forthright in a way that would arouse my suspicion in England but not here in Uganda. One day when I was striding around town, a man shook me by the hand and asked if I was walking 20km.  When I explained that I had only come from Magwa he said that it was still very good for somebody of my age and I should keep it up!  It is distressing to realise that the life expectancy of a Ugandan born today is still probably only mid to late 50s and until the turn of this century was in the 40s, with HIV/Aids being a major contributory factor.  Estimates suggest that around 70% of Ugandans are under the age of 25 and only 2% over 65. The population is growing quite rapidly with the average number of children per woman standing at nearly 6.  It is perhaps unsurprising then that we see very few elderly Ugandans although there were a few in evidence at All Saints Church in Kivubuka.  Ugandans have no qualms about asking me my age and are always surprised by my response, and consider me very fit and healthy.   I did have one boda driver say to me ‘Mama, I go slow!’  I am surprised that the Ugandans are not more accommodating when it comes to moving about the place such that they rarely stand aside to let other people pass.

In other situations Ugandans can be extremely reserved.  Chloe and I found it excruciatingly difficult to engage Monica and Miria in conversation when we first met them although it is a little easier now that they have come to the apartment a few times to clean.  Perhaps this is normal in an employee/employer situation. Moses’ children are very relaxed with me but then they have been encouraged to talk to volunteers.  However, I have not been able to engage other pupils readily in general conversation although the younger ones always want to say ‘hello’.  It just doesn’t seem to be the way in Ugandan schools.

Communications with boda drivers remain a complete mystery to both Chloe and me.  It may be that we aren’t always understood or that they cannot readily cope with change. Perhaps they are simply a law unto themselves.  Assam has remained my boda drive as, although he has tried my patience at times, he has a number of redeeming qualities and is very charming and polite. Occasionally he wears a helmet but one day the dust was so severe he insisted on giving to to me. I in turn then felt that I had better use the one that we have in the apartment.  However, it is very ill fitting and so it tends to bang my head every time I go over a bump and I have to remember to keep my teeth well apart so that no further damage occurs to them. One day he was feeling ill but he came across with another driver, who then dropped Assam off and took me home.  Most boda drivers hire their vehicle but Moses tells me that Assam simply relies on borrowing this particular boda and so it may not always be available exactly when ne needs it.  Mornings usually go fairly well although it is more of a challenge when I have an 8 o’clock rather than an 8.30 start in school.  Once or twice I have finished at lunchtime. Assam rarely has his phone turned on during the day so it has proved impossible to rouse him and remind him to come early and so I have had to seek alternative arrangements. Last week I was offered a lift in a tuk tuk, which was fun but alarming as it constantly slithered across the road.  On Thursday we had heavy rain all afternoon and Moses quite rightly predicted that it would be impossible to travel home by boda. I was fortunate enough to be offered a lift in a substantial car but even that struggled at times.

Bird watching now beckons...

We haven’t had much opportunity to venture beyond Jinja at weekends as it takes quite a while to get anywhere unless travelling by car.  However, last weekend we decided to head for Sipi Falls, which is about 200Km from here.

We went to the taxi park in the centre of Jinja to start the first leg of our journey.  Rather confusingly, a Ugandan taxi is roughly equivalent to an English bus but actually only the size of a minibus whereas a taxi as we would know it is called a special hire.  The advantage of starting from the taxi park is that you are guaranteed a seat but it also means that you have to wait until the taxi has completely filled before it will leave.  On this occasion we were the first to board. The Jinja taxi park is not as vast as the one in Kampala but there was still plenty to entertain us as we sat waiting to depart.  There were numerous sellers all converging on the bus with a vast array of goods.  I bought a rather nice little watch for 12,000 Ugandan shillings (less than £3) as the battery needs replacing in my original one.  The other advantage of being early is that you can position yourself in the taxi so that you don’t have to keep moving to allow other people off. After about half an hour or so, we were finally ready to leave.

We made up various games to amuse ourselves on the journey.  The first involved guessing the ‘load’ on the next passing boda. So one of us might propose three people including the driver, the other just the driver and a load.  A point was awarded to the person whose boda was first sighted and the first to ten points was the winner.  The other games were variations on a theme featuring either animals or commodities being sold at roadside shops and stalls. In the case of the latter, mangoes and charcoal were the firm favourites.  The taxi travelled northeast through the pleasant plains of Eastern Uganda and we spotted our first rice fields. We were fortunate to be on an excellent quality road with very few stops along the way and so we reached Mbale within about two and a half hours.

Mbale is a ‘city’ very reminiscent of Jinja, although perhaps a little less ramshackle. It is pronounced Mmmbale rather than Murbale and both Chloe and I have had our pronunciation corrected.  As we approached the city we observed a dramatic change in the surrounding landscape with the Wanale Cliffs, a spur of Mount Elgon, dominating the eastern skyline. It was very hot and it took us a while to find somewhere to eat but it wasn’t too long before we were ready to seek out our next taxi.   This didn’t really prove necessary as we were more or less accosted by a conductor asking us if we wanted to go to Sipi and he then escorted us to his taxi.  Again we were the first to board.  This time it was rather more tedious as the taxi circled one roundabout about six time and meandered about the place whilst the conductor tried to persuade others to join us.  After what seemed an inordinate amount of time, we were on our way again. 

I was slightly perturbed when I heard a special hire driver call out that the bus wasn’t going to Sipi and a very friendly female passenger seemed dubious about it too.  However, the conductor assured us that we would get to Sipi for our Sh. 10,000.  Some time later we arrived at an unspecified location and were all told to leave the bus.  The conductor then directed Chloe and I to the back seat of an empty car.  It became obvious that further payment was required. Several other passengers squeezed in, who didn’t seem to be paying, and one of them assured us that we had already given sufficient money.  When we refused to pay it was proposed that we take bodas instead, although these also required payment.  At this point we had a rather heated discussion and our sit in began.  In the meantime the driver returned with a large load for the boot and we were dubious whether the car would even make it up the hill with the heavy goods, six passengers and a driver.  By now the conductor and taxi had disappeared but the cheerful driver jumped in the car and we set off without further mention of money.  We managed to wind our way up the foothills of Mount Elgon despite the weight and state of the car, stopping from time to time to unload or pick up goods and passengers.  On reflection, I do not think that taxis ever go as far as Sipi.  I can only assume that the conductors make arrangements with local drivers, the cost being incorporated into the initial taxi fare.

There are about four or five places to stay in Sipi and we thought it wise to leave the car as soon as we saw a sign for either of the two moderately priced ones. No more mention was made of money as we alighted at the sign for the Crow’s Nest, and the driver gave us a cheery wave as we thanked him and went on our way.  We were immediately greeted by Simon and led the short distance to the reception area.  

The Crow’s Nest is perched on the side of a hill at an altitude of about 1750m.  The very simple accommodation includes a series of terraced log cabins and our room was right at the top with a back door leading to a separate toilet and shower room just across the way.  However, its main attraction is the fabulous view that it affords of Sipi Falls.  For once we didn’t find ourselves dining alone as there were a number of other people in residence. However, the low energy bulbs in both the communal area and our room were so ineffectual, that we were tucked up in bed shortly after nine o’clock! 

Sipi Falls is actually a series of three waterfalls.  Guides are available for a range of different tours of the area, and they are fairly essential not just for navigation but also for paying the necessary access fees to local landowners. Simon is one of the official guides used by the Crow’s Nest and we had arranged for him to meet us at 8am.  He proved to be very punctual and arrived at the same time as our breakfast, which had been preordered for 7am to ensure that we would be ready for him!

The weather conditions proved perfect for walking with white cloud reducing the heat of the sun.  We crossed large areas of pleasant farmland containing a range of crops including maize, runner beans, onions, bananas and potatoes on our reasonably gentle ascent to the smallest waterfall. In addition, we saw the prized Arabica coffee beans.  We paused to chat to a couple of men constructing the roof of a house out of banana fibres, which can apparently last for a year or two. Our route back down took us to a beautiful spot that could almost be mistaken for Dartmoor.  The water was sufficiently deep for swimming but even Chloe restricted herself to paddling as it was so cold. It was then on to the second waterfall where we could stand right behind the base of the fall and hear its mighty roar.

The walk culminated in the descent to the foot of the main waterfall, which has a drop of nearly 100m.  At this point the terrain became much more challenging. Here the guides routinely employ young lads to lead the hikers by the hand and we were very ably and genially supported by Victor, David and Peter.  I was most grateful for their help whilst negotiating the slippery descent. At one point, we had to negotiate unaided a very long wooden ladder with a significant drop below one section of it and I rather liked the challenge. Having enjoyed the awe-inspiring waterfall and surrounding view we had to return by the same route.  Both Chloe and I needed to rest from time to time as we made our way back up the gruelling ascent. It was a great four-hour trip with Simon proving an excellent guide.

As we walked back through the village, a rather gorgeous dog joined us.  He refused to leave our side even when chased by a couple of other dogs whilst crossing their territory.  I had already been asking myself the question whether dogs might be able to differentiate between white people and the local population on the basis that they are more likely to receive a positive reception from the former.  Simon must have read my mind as he explained that this particular dog always seeks out white people to befriend and is actually owned by an American/Ugandan couple. 

Simon arranged a special hire to take us back to Mbale for a very reasonable rate so ensuring a smooth journey home. A Belgian man, who was also on his way to Jinja, joined us.  Once again we were the first to board the taxi.  However, we were very much entertained by people in the taxi park, who seemed very happy just to talk to us even though some had wares to sell.  In particular, we chatted to an old man and then an old lady, the former asking various questions about the United Kingdom but also displaying an amazing level of general knowledge.

You may wonder why there has been no mention of Kibibi. We wisely took the decision to leave her with an American dog minder who has many canines in her care.  Kibibi had already spent the odd day there when Chloe hadn’t been able to take her to work and she would generally come home exhausted after a lot of boisterous play.  It is fair to say that we both had puppy-withdrawal symptoms over the weekend.  Kibibi now walks very nicely on her lead and will sit and lie down on command if the mood takes her or if she thinks that she will get a treat.  She loves meeting new people and playing with the neighbour’s cat as well as one particular security guard. She will chew everything in sight and, unfortunately managed to bite her way right through my sandal strap. The large grass area surrounding our apartment is strewn with rubbish of all kinds, which she avidly eats, and she has earned herself the nickname Kibibi mango.  Our main concern lies in the fact that her tummy can become quite bloated and we are keeping a close eye on it.  There is nothing nicer than being enthusiastically greeted by a very excited, talkative puppy after a day’s work.