Day 57

A brief description of my time in Kampala… We spent an inordinate amount of time trying to find a VISA atm upon arrival. I saw a few instances of women expressing aggression towards men which was startling but also refreshing. Boda drivers spent more time talking to me than driving on the correct side of the road… or on the road at all really. We got lost… a lot. I swear it was significantly hotter in Kampala than Kigali. We spent one of the best days ever roaming Entebbe. Then we got lost some more. I got a few fun souvenirs from a touristy craft village. I tried Nile beer, nom. We went to the Royal Palace, walked the Royal Mile to the Scottish Parliament and I promptly stopped functioning as a human. 

Some differences between Kampala and Kigali, the middle class is well established and visible through the greater amounts of shopping malls, credit card advertisements, and restaurants. As well as the markedly more expensive bodas. The traditional Bugandan Kingdom is also still intact and operating within Uganda unlike Rwanda where there is a disconnect from tradition and cultural heritage. Obviously, there are a few reasons that is, but it was interesting to learn more about the development of Uganda and see a different part of history. 

One disconcerting idea from the week is how Uganda appears to have embraced both colonial rule and the missionary movement. The general sentiment in the National Museum was, before we weren’t colonized, then we were and we learned all of these wonderful things, and then we all became Christian and now life is good. Stockholm Syndrome anyone?

I had spent an entire day saying it looked like it was going to storm. Because it did. We were finishing up our business in the city center and were about to get bodas back to the hostel when the wind started and the sky went completely dark. End of the world style. Crap… quickly please, Backpackers Hostel, negotiated a price, and off we went. I want to say my boda went about 100 yards before the down pour. The boda driver pulled over immediately but we were both soaked and sought refuge in a cell phone store. After approximately fifteen minutes of waiting for the storm to die down, it looked like there was no end in sight so we decided to go. Had we continued through the down pour in the first place, it would have been unpleasant, cold, and wet but it would have worked out. Instead, we waited just long enough for the roads to flood. At point, the boda stalled in a two foot stream of water rushing down the hill we were trying to go up. Cars were driving past blowing dirty city street water up covering the boda driver and me as bystanders laughed and pointed. I thought these things only happened in movies. About ten minutes after I got back to the hostel, the rain stopped. At least I had a good reason to have a cup of African tea. 

In summary, I enjoyed Kampala. It was nice to get out of Rwanda for a bit and even nicer to spend some time away from a big city. 

As I am writing this at my desk, waiting for a meeting that was supposed to take place yesterday afternoon, a man is hanging out of my fourth floor window trying to paint the outside of the building with an extended paint roller. I have suspected for some time now that I am actually working in an abandoned building. We lose power daily and often for extended periods of time, running water is a rarity, and the first two floors of the building are filled with what looks like piles of rubbish and discarded parts of furniture.

My squatter status was confirmed in my mind when I arrived at work yesterday morning and a demolition crew was tearing up the floor of the first and second floors. The dust is everywhere. I entered the building today and the stairs are now destroyed to the extent that I get to pretend to be a mountain climber for the first two stories. And now a man is hanging out of my window with a paint roller duct taped to a seven foot stick teetering back and forth as he attempts to paint the exterior of an office building. 

Times I wish I had a camera… and a safety net/trampoline for the man.