The day begins badly.
I miss the bus by five minutes.
What is unclear is whether this was the 6:00 am bus leaving 45 minutes
late, or the 7:30 bus leaving 45 minutes early.
That’s the way with public transportation in Uganda. Schedules only approximate reality. After being told that the next bus would
leave at 8:30 (meaning that it would actually leave between 9:30 and 11:00), I
decide to take a minibus taxi, or matatu.
Arriving at the taxi stop I feel relieved to see a taxi
almost full, signifying that it might leave within the half-hour. Ah, but bad news awaits me. The usual 10,000 shilling ($4) fare to Mbale
is increased to 15,000. Two reasons: 1)
it is beginning of term reporting day for students all over Uganda, so the
demand for transport to one’s boarding school is high. The bus and taxi companies take advantage of
this; 2) heavy rains have flooded the Mbale Road, so a detour will be
required. What does detour mean? It means an additional hour over dirt roads.
The matatu is crowded.
I sit in a jump seat at the end of a row of seats intended for three
people, now accommodating four (and most of their luggage). One hipbone is jammed into the metal door to
my left, the other into the hip of the young man to my right. Behind me is another passenger’s knee and an
unpadded metal bar in the seat back.
Like every other matatu, this one seems to have no shock absorbers. The detour is full of potholes, and every
bump exacerbates the pain on my hips and back. Plus, my window won’t open. At least it is morning, so the body odor
quotient is low.
Along the way there is a minor accident in the road ahead. Ugandans seem to enjoy nothing more than a
good traffic accident. Involved or not,
we must stop. Everyone must get out of
the taxi, add to the crowd milling around, and join in the argument between the
two drivers. Bright side – it presents
the opportunity for a “short call” in the bush.
On the down side, it represents another 20 minute delay.
From then on, it’s smoother sailing. I arrive in Mbale and almost immediately
locate a taxi that can drop me in Jinja. This taxi has tires with
tread. They offer me the “queen seat”
(as my friend Joanna calls the front passenger seat, where our organizations
usually seat the muzungu when we go out to do field work). This seat has an advantage. It is actually the size of about 1 ¾ seats,
and you never have to share it with more than one other person. Fortunately, my seatmate is a very thin
gentleman.
From Kangulamira, it’s just a quick jaunt to the boat
landing. At last, I embark over the Nile
to Wildwaters Lodge. The magic begins
when you step into the small boat and the boatmen begin rowing upstream. It’s a quick trip to the island, but you are
already a world apart from the stresses of Ugandan travel and the cares you
leave behind.
In my case, I’m leaving behind what has been unexpected
anxiety over my permanent return to the States (in only two weeks). I am longing for home, and have been for two
years, but I am also anxious. Anxious
about leaving my Ugandan home. Anxious
about the decisions ahead. What might
the next adventure be? I know that I
need to give making these decisions some time.
Time to revel in hot water on demand, reliable power, easy
transportation, variety in my diet – all of the simple things that no longer
seem so simple. I also know that I have
Marty to make these decisions with. And
Eli and the rest of my family to count on for support. Still, I have no doubt that there will be
readjustment.
Wildwaters Lodge surpasses your imagination. An island surrounded by white water and
Kalagala Falls. Only 10 canvas-walled
cottages. The Nile rushing by within yards
of your front deck, where you can soak in the claw-footed tub. The omnipresent
sound of the water, accompanied during the day by birds and at night by singing
insects and frogs. Great food. Decent wine. Spa services. (Photos on FB soon!) This is worth the splurge, and a great place
to relax and reflect on my two years in Uganda.
Somehow Uganda has changed me. What those changes are is hard to
describe. I may not know what is lasting
until I have been back in the States for some time. Less attachment to “stuff”, more patience, a
better appreciation for our life in America, a new view of the world, a
different pace to life – what will last and what will disappear after a few
weeks of astonishing comfort? Choices
and abundance may be overwhelming. Waste
will disgust me. Have I forgotten how to
shop? Have I indeed become a very bad
consumer and lost my addiction to Nordstroms?
There are some new things I can do, but I don’t think that
they will count for much. I can travel
for a week with only a large daypack. I
know how to bucket bathe, soak my vegetables, and treat my drinking water. I can negotiate public transportation in at
least three languages and bargain in the marketplace. I won’t panic if a see an elephant in the
road. I can ride a bicycle in a skirt,
nonchalantly sweep a bat out the door, and eat beans everyday for lunch.
There are also some old things that I fear I won’t be able
to do! For 26 months I have not been
behind the wheel. Further, I am now used
to traffic that drives on the left. My
instincts have changed, and they are all wrong.
More than once my friends and loved ones will be pulling be out of
oncoming traffic because I will be looking for it in the other direction. It took me a few months to get accustomed to
Ugandan traffic. I hope that it is not
months before I can deal with it in America.
It’s time to invent a new life. In the months between leaving my job and
traveling to Uganda I was busy selling a home, moving, and preparing for life
as a Peace Corps Volunteer. For two
years my life has been in Uganda – with daily routines, concerns, and
responsibilities very different than those I had before or will have upon my
return. Now it’s time for some
decisions. Work or retirement? If I work, part-time or full-time? Doing what? Settle in a new community or
travel? Choice is a wonderful thing and
I am lucky to have it. I don’t have to do anything. That is indeed a luxury, but a daunting one.
One thing is certain, I will choose those adventures with
Marty. The hardest thing about these two
years has been doing it alone. Has it
been worth it? Probably. Did I make a difference? Maybe.
I did teach 2,500 girls about their sexual health. I gave about 100 educators some new ideas
about leadership, team building, and planning.
Tried to teach the project officers at my organization how to develop
and manage a project plan and budget.
I also value what I hope will be life-long friendships, with
Ugandans and with other volunteers both American and European. I am so happy that I had the chance to travel
with Marty, and with Eli. I’ll never
forget climbing into the cab of a Kenyan semi with Carol and Susan. Nor will I soon forget the majesty of
elephants and giraffes so close that I could almost touch them, herds of kob in
the morning mist on the savannah, sunset on the Indian Ocean, the white sands
of Zanzibar, the peace of the village at Kapir, and the smaller delights of
everyday in Soroti. I am indeed a lucky
one. Lucky to have experienced all of
this, and to have slept by the wild waters.
