Trip to Kampala

This past weekend (Thursday Oct 7-Sunday Oct 11) I headed down county to the capital city of Uganda: Kampala. I was super excited to be in a big city, with the hopes of warm water, power, and a variety of foods that differed from the traditional Aruan food (basically, I was hoping for a burger, Indian food, etc. In short, I didn’t get a variety of foods, but I had a warm bathing experience (without heating the water myself), power all weekend, the sight of big buildings, self-pampering, and I witnessed one of the most beautiful weddings I have ever seen.


The pretty and not-so-pretty drive…







On the drive down to Kampala and back, the bus drove over the Nile River twice and through a National Park. I saw Karuma Falls, Nile fishermen, and elephants. I ate ground nuts, roasted cassava, and maize. On a more depressing note, we drove past about five Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) camps, where grass huts were clustered. As a result of the conflict up north between Joseph Kony (from the LRA- Lords Resistance Army) and the government many Ugandans were forced to find refuge. In some cases, the government built these camps to offer protection. However, the camps were not always 100% safe. Since 2007, the government has taken the decision to move people back home. This was to be done in two ways. First, the north is relatively peaceful so people can go back; the government and organizations give incentives to IDPs (iron sheets for housing, agricultural tools, seeds) so they can begin life again back home. The second attempt came because people did not want to leave the camps- they thought life here was better and more interesting. So now they are being forced out of camps to go to homes. The government is destroying the camps. Also, the government is banning food relief to the camps. This will force people to go back homes. The camps that I saw were along the road, and were those homes of people who were already living near the town centre, where development had taken place. This included elderly people who cannot make it back to their homes as well.






KrazyKampala
Kampala, as a bustling city, is much larger than Arua. The population is 1.2 million. It is home to Makare University, bus taxis, and crazy boda drivers. There are far less bicyclists here. When I first arrived, I got on a boda and held on for dear life. I was carrying my big travelers pack and 2 bags (I never pack light) and attempted to balance on the boda while the driver swerved around heavy traffic, mud puddles (it was down-pouring), and pedestrians. The boda driver here wear helmets (this is very rare in Arua), but they do not provide one for the passenger. They should. My friend said about her boda experiences, “sometimes its best to just close your eyes and pray.” Hmmmm. I think the department of transportation needs to do something about this, considering this is an affordable and common mode of transportation.

Friday was about self-pampering. Joy, her friend, and myself went for a pedicure (3000 Ush = about $2.50) and a manicure (3000 Ush). For that price and that care I would go once a week if I lived there. My nails have never looked so pretty! I have so many layers of nail products on, that I doubt any chipping will occur! I also got my hair cut. Its super short (too short for my taste), but after it has set it, I see the benefits of short hair here: showering is easier and the heat is less brutal on my neck. This evening, I took a hot sponge bath, shaved my legs, and dressed for a night out on the town. I went with a group of friends to dance. They say NYC is the city that never sleeps. However, this night I was almost sleepless in Kampala. The dancing continued into the early morning. I left the club at 4:30am. This is a big difference than my early nights of 8pm, but with the bumping (hehe, Uncle Spence!) music and the booty shaking (hehe), it was fairly easy for me to keep my eyes open and hips moving.







An African Wedding
My supervisor (John) invited me to an African wedding on Saturday evening. His youngest brother was getting married, and I was able to attend. As the only muzugu, I was treated like a celebrity- that was pretty funny. John brought me to meet his parents, his wife, and his whole extended family. I was able to sit by his family and watch the traditional entertainment- dancing and music. The wedding reception was held outside, with large white tents surrounding a green space, huge flower bouquets, the largest wedding cake I have ever seen, lights strung from tent to tent, and a fountain. One tent was for the groom’s family, one for the bride’s family, one for invited guests, and one for the bridal party. A white walkway was placed around the green space, so that when the bridal party entered, their grand march was more like a long processional with dancing, singing, speeches. The entertainment was phenomenal. The women wore something flashy around their waists, whether it was a wrap of feathers or animal hair, they wore them so they had “something to shake” as my neighbor pointed out. Food consisted of a buffet of beef, chicken, small potatoes, squash, rice, matoke (banana squashed up but not sweet), greens, beer, and soda. For the cake, small pieces were cut and brought to each person via a basket. Then the rest of the cake was divided and the bride and groom brought the cake to persons of their choice such as the grandparents, the parents, the aunt and uncle, etc). The bride and groom bring the now-wrapped portion of cake to the lucky, selected persons, while dancing the whole way. More hugging, more speeches, and more music take place. People line up and offer gifts to the newlyweds, who are now standing in the center of the green space. At some point the bride goes to change from her wedding dress to an evening gown. It was beautiful. Pictures speak louder than words, so please take a look.