The weather has been a little disappointing over the past few days.  The wonderful overnight thunderstorms have more or less disappeared and there are now just very occasional showers or brief storms at any time of day or night.  The temperature continues to be very pleasant with no need for a jumper or coat. However, my complaint is that conditions are more akin to typical English weather in that there is some persistent cloud and even one instance of drizzly rain. Hopefully, it is a passing phase.  I have a suspicion that there are more frequent showers and greater cloud cover in Kyabirwa than in Jinja.

For weeks, Chloe and I have been talking about hiring bikes for a day.  There is a charity on Main Street promoting sustainable transport that charges a very reasonable daily rate.  We have seen a number of bicycles on the road, which have been ridden, almost without exception, by men or boys. I rather thought that we would have to abandon the idea with the arrival of Kibibi but this did not deter Chloe even though she admitted that she hadn’t ridden for a long time and wasn’t a particularly confident cyclist.  She had the idea that there would be at least one bike available with a basket on the front for Kibibi, but this did not prove to be the case. Having come thus far, we were both of the view that we should still try it out particularly as Kibibi is getting used to riding on a boda. We wheeled the bikes a short distance to find a quieter road with a better surface and gave them each a test run.  I was very pleased to discover that mine had reasonable brakes and gears.  So we secured Kibibi in Chloe’s rucksack as best as we could with her lead. Chloe attempted to put the rucksack on her front but the position of the handlebars meant that she was bent forward and we feared that Kibibi might fall out. I offered to take Kibibi but Chloe decided to try another arrangement.  Therefore the rucksack went on her back and I followed behind. All seemed to be going very well as Kibibi sat very sweetly with front paws resting on the top of the rucksack watching the world go by.  Suddenly, she tried to launch herself out of the rucksack such that she was suspended in midair. It was a scary moment. Kibibi normally wriggles when unsettled on a boda and so we had anticipated that we would have at least some warning of imminent danger.  However, no harm was done and we tried to settle Kibibi ready for another go with her even more firmly secured, but she was having none of it. We had only planned to take a short ride before lunch just to get Kibibi used to the bike and so we set off on foot to find somewhere to eat. After relaxing in a delightful garden setting at Gately on Nile, we decided to make one final attempt, but it was futile. Knowing how much I had been looking forward to cycling again, Chloe insisted that I continue on my own and the very kind gentleman from the charity came and collected Chloe’s bike. 

Our plan had to been to head to the Source of the Nile Gardens and Speke Memorial on the west bank of the Nile. Both Jinja and Kyabirwa are on the eastern side and the only times that we have crossed the river have been to go to Kampala, Entebbe and the Mabira Forest.   You may remember that we visited the Source of the Nile Memorial on the eastern bank shortly after our arrival in Jinja.  

It was a delight to be cycling again.  There is a route to the gardens that avoids the main road. However, even with lovely wide tyres, the terrain was sufficiently hilly, narrow and rough to necessitate walking at times.  All the boda drivers and cyclists seem to wheel their vehicles over the footbridge crossing the Nile. The guide book describes the gardens as low key, which is true. However, I rather liked their simplicity. Even though back in 1852, Speke would have had a slightly different view of the Nile from the gardens due to the presence of Ripon Falls and the absence of the effects of Owen Falls Dam, one can still imagine his wonder at realising that he had found the source of the river that eventually flows out into the Mediterranean.  These days the guide books like to point out that, in reality, it is only one source of the Nile but that does not detract from the historical significance of the discovery.  

I have since walked along the main Kampala-Jinja Highway to the point where it crosses the Nile at Owen Falls Dam.  It is not permissible to take photos and there is a certain level of security. At one point, I paused alongside a Ugandan couple to take a look at some birds and we were almost immediately told to move on by a security guard. Incidentally, I also got chatting to a couple of policeman on the bridge but I was a little taken aback when they requested money to buy food and water at the end of their shift.  It is not uncommon to be asked by adults and children for money in the street but I wouldn’t have expected it in this context.  Ugandans always remain very good humoured when their requests are politely declined and these policeman gave me a cheery wave when they saw me again later.

When I returned to school on Monday there must have been something like five or six hundred children attending assembly, although I have since been told that there are about a thousand children on the school roll.  I am now getting a better understanding of how things work. The normal school day runs from 8.30 am to 3.30 pm with the whole school assembly beginning slightly earlier at the start of the week.  Primary 1 and 2 finish school each day at lunchtime.  

Much greater demands are placed on Primary 7 and they even seem to have some lessons on a Saturday morning.  On Wednesday it was a national holiday in Uganda marking Martyrs’ Day.  The day commemorates a group of 23 Anglican and 22 Catholic converts to Christianity in the historical Kingdom of Buganda who were executed during the late nineteenth century on the orders of Mwanga II, the Kabaka (King) of Buganda. There is a shrine to the martyrs at Namugongo, near Kampala and people make the pilgrimage there by foot from as far afield as Kenya. Despite being a public holiday, there were scheduled morning lessons for Primary 7, which I attended. 

Kyabirwa has a school uniform, which most pupils adhere to. The younger girls wear blue dresses and the boys, blue shirts and longish black shorts. At the upper end of the school, the girls have white blouses and blue skirts and the boys have white shirts with the black shorts. There does not appear to be any regulations regarding shoes and sandals and many children come to school barefoot.  The clothes are often quite worn and it is impossible to keep them free of the dreaded orange dust.

The children seem to be responsible for cleaning the school and maintaining some of the grounds. One day a whole group each had a draw hoe and were clearing the grass area leading to the staff room so restoring the path.  The staff room floor seems to be washed quite regularly and I have occasionally seen the desks being carried out of a classroom so that the floor can be swept.  I had forgotten how messy chalk could be!  The children are sent off to fetch water for the staff room from the outside tap and to buy break time provisions for the teachers.

The children seem to become better behaved and more attentive as they get older although discipline is generally very good throughout the school. Even when unattended, the most I have ever seen is some horseplay amongst the children.  However, I have observed a few isolated incidents in lessons when one child has hit another quite violently, and this has not been challenged by the teacher.

Winnie, one of Moses’ children, who is in Primary 7, invited me to her confirmation at All Saints Church in the neighbouring village of Kivubuka.  There had been much excitement over the purchasing of her white dress.  It seemed to me that this would be an occasion when I needed to look presentable and so I asked Richard to drive me there rather than travelling my boda and arriving with filthy clothes.  Incidentally, from time to time I have seen a vehicle working its way along the main road into Jinja dispensing water to dampen down the dust, but this has only limited effect and couldn't possibly be replicated across the whole road network.

The church was situated off the main road down a track. I had no idea what it would look like.  In fact it proved to be of similar construction to Kyabirwa Primary School with its sloping corrugated roof and high walls, but with an angular east end as though the two corners had been sliced off.  The windows were arched shape with coloured glass at the top and clear glass below.  The bottom section could be opened to help keep the place cool. The church had a mixture of wooden pews and plastic chairs with some grander wooden chairs surrounding the simple altar.  The whole place had been decorated with bunting, balloons and foil Christmas paper chains.  I later discovered that this was the first confirmation service at the church for five years.

Winnie had been unsure as to when I should arrive. We settled on 10am although the bishop was not expected at the church until 11am.  Richard is a very unusual Ugandan in that he generally ensures that his customers arrive at their destination ahead of time and so I was standing outside the church by 9.45am.  The confirmation candidates, some fifty of them, had been together since the previous day and there were also a few members of the congregation already seated in the church.  I was very warmly greeted and led to a chair, which I think could reasonably be described as the ‘best seat in the house’ bar those designated for dignitaries.  Shortly afterwards, Florence, Winnie’s mother arrived with two of the children, Danny and little Chris and found seats in the second row.  As I moved across to join them, I had to reassure one of the church officials that I was still sitting in a most advantageous position. 

The church continued to fill but at 10.30am everybody started to leave and walk down the main village road. A little boy led me by the hand. We arrived at a smart house with a marquee in the front garden where the bishop and congregation were to be given breakfast.  However, after a few minutes, Florence decided that we should go back, perhaps because the queue was so long or she feared that she would lose her place in the church, and we resumed our seats.  Then began the long and arduous tasks of getting everybody seated.  At one point everybody on one side of the church was moved across to join the other side.  More chairs kept being brought in, a sound system was set up, dignitaries and confirmation candidates took their seats until the church was literally full to the rafters with adults and very young children inside, and the rest of the children standing around outside. 

The service finally got underway after midday.  There was some traditional, fairly muted hymn singing with almost recognisable melodies and one or two hymn books in evidence.  The bishop and his entourage were followed by a crowd of people with cameras and even a tablet or two when he moved to the back of the church for the Bible readings.  Then the actual confirmation took place immediately followed by traditional African dancing performed by four primary school girls.  At this point it almost seemed as though the service was over as a major photo call followed with the bishop standing together with local politicians, representative of the Mothers Union, Fathers’ Union etc. 

Florence then explained to me that Joy, one of the teachers at Kyabirwa and a regular member of the congregation, was taking Danny and I off to have some lunch.  I was a little perplexed as the service has seemed rather short and nobody else seemed to be moving.  However, I assumed that Florence was concerned that we hadn’t had any of the earlier breakfast. We found ourselves back at the smart house down the road complete with plastered ceilings and comfy chairs, eating an enormous plateful of food.  It was sometime before anybody else arrived back and even then it didn’t seem to include the rest of Win’s family.  It was then explained to me that this was a special family celebration due to continue until 5pm and that I should stay ands enjoy it all.  An absolutely enormous buffet was laid out and people’s plates were stacked high.  Naturally, I had no more room for food but Joy explained that people were concerned I wasn’t eating and so she escorted me to the queue! There then followed lots of dancing and speeches, which I couldn’t understand, interspersed with loud prerecorded music.  There was also a huge bouncy castle for the children, which kept deflating every time the power supply was replaced by the generator and vice versa.   There was nothing for it but to join in with the dancing, which seemed to delight everybody especially the elderly women. I asked Joy if I might have the opportunity to thank my hosts and found my self presented with the microphone and an interpreter!

I later discovered talking to Win that the service had actually continued for some time and that there had been a complete misunderstanding between Florence and Joy, with Florence intending that we have some of the church lunch!

There is so much more to say but too little time.  However, I should just mention that Assam remains my boda driver even though my patience is tested at times.....