Sunday, October 6, 2013
Going places in Uganda
Photos of some of the places I have been to in Uganda and people/activities.
Tororo Rock in my home town of Tororo is a very conspicuous feature in the heart of the town. It is a volcanic plug that stands about 100 meters high.
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| Cactus in Mt Elgon Park, Eastern Uganda. |
Below is an inselberg in Yiyir in Karamoja region of North Eastern Uganda.
Children in Amuria District in the Teso region of Eastern Uganda display their fish catch.
Below is Sangalo white sand beach on Lake Victoria in Busia, Eastern Uganda.
A crater lake in the Mt Elgon National Park in Eastern Uganda
Sunset at a beach on Lake Victoria in Entebbe, Central Uganda.
Road to Kapchorwa on the foothills of Mt Elgon in Easte
A beautiful sunset back home in Tororo District.
Palm trees in the Botanical Gardens in Entebbe
Taxi Tales - If I could choose my neighbor!
Some stories are are much easier to tell than others and this one that about to tell you has not been easy at all for me to to take pen and paper and jot something down as one would say, It has been weeks since the experience I am about to share with you happened to me on a journey home from Kampala to the Eastern Ugandan district of Tororo. There are indeed two stories; the second one being formed by return journey to Kamapala – again on a commuter taxi.
The first part of the story involves a grey haired elder and the second part a young lady, perhaps in her late teens and both these two characters had some kind of encounter with me in those two taxi headed in opposite directions.
The first part has been difficult for to tell because I really had difficult in telling the whole truth without being judged as disrespectful to elders and the second part was simply because I am the guilty party in waking up a sleeping dog.
When I stepped into the homebound taxi through the driver’s door, that was a foreboding that it was going to be quite a journey with passenger seated on my left who could not let me pass through the passenger door because she was already seated and she had trouble with her knee. Well, she had a walking stick between her legs and that initially bid me to obey when she said that I enter through the driver’s door. The tone of her voice, though, was far from anything polite.
Thirty minutes before the taxi pulled out of the park my lady neighbor had had at least four unpleasant verbal exchanges with hawkers at her window. She could neither quietly ignore them nor could she politely turn them away. Well, Kampala hawkers can be persistent and pushy but I expected a grey haired lady, probably in her sixties to have learned a better way handle such young people trying to eke for a living by hawking their wares to passengers at the Taxi Park.
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Usually after about 30km to the east of Kampala, the taxi pulls over the one of the two roadside markets for passengers to have a snack which usually roasted chicken or beef, bananas, water and soda before proceeding on to Tororo on the longer stretch of the 220km journey. When the taxi driver pulled over the first Jinja Road market in Mukono, the old lady once again shouted at the hawkers to move away from her windows to go sell their food outside regardless of their customers being taxi passengers who do not disembark at this point.
I was taken aback when she used the F word on one of the hawkers who could not take it lying down like most of them and she went on to call her an F slut. At this point I begun to wonder if my neighbor had any grand children or neighbors back home where she lived and how she lived with them. I wondered what kind of things she thought grand children if she had any. What if she was married to a polygamist, how well did she get on with the co-wives?
When the taxi proceeded on the journey my bag that I had tightly held to myself keeping my legs together like the born-again Christian friend of the lead character in the Tyler Perry movie “The Family that preys” on her visit to a Las Vegas night club slipped off my legs on to side of my neighbor’s lap. Oh how she raged at me but I politely reminded her that she could see that I had strenuously avoided any contact with her despite the little space between us and the driver who had to be free to shift gears.
When we got to Tororo the taxi made a stop before the taxi park for a passenger to disembark and the driver too moved out of the vehicle to open the boot for the passenger to get his luggage, At this point my neighbor turned to suddenly and asked, “Is this man going to leave us here? And I answered that I did not know, then I too stepped out of the taxi through the same way that I came in and sought for a boda-boda (motorbike taxi) to take me home.
For much of that afternoon and evening mind went back again and again to that taxi looking at my neighbor to the left and wondering just what had stolen her peace that caused her to be so resentful.
On my return journey to Kampala I travelled in a taxi which did not have a conductor and in the conductor’s seat sat the young lady that I earlier on introduced you to. Normally when passenger occupies the conductor’s seat he or she is expected to open and close the door as may be necessary along the journey. The young lady was not so enthusiastic about this courteous onus that had fallen into her hands as the last passenger to board the taxi. She had to be begged to open the door whenever a passenger disembarked and she did it quite reluctantly.
When the taxi got to the first taxi park in Kampala when a number of the passengers were to light off, the young lady just sat back listening to music on her mobile phone. At that point I foolishly remarked that the young lady at the seems to be rather dull and unwilling to help. Oh my! I had stepped on a snake’s tail and I got the bite right away.
“Who are you to bark at me when my own parents do not so. You must be very dense to say that I am dull,” said the young lady to me. I apologized despite my remark being far from barking but she could not stopped throwing at me all manner of ugly words that she could master until she finally disembarked.
I got to the taxi home in Entebbe from Kampala a very sad man and just wondered how this dense man could possibly have anything to teach or tell his children.
I hope and pray that in my next journey by taxi I will have nothing to write home about save probably that it was a sweet journey without incident.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Strange Reading Room
It is often said that silence is golden. I do not know though what the exact meaning of that expression is. However, I know the experience of serenity, tranquility and the refreshing of the mind that silence can bring when one takes a break from their engagements in the very noise environment that today's world has become.
When I return home from work or long journey, there is a place there is a place that I often retire to before getting engaged in any other thing. It is a quiet place that shuts out the rest out the world from you and only makes a splashing noise when you are leaving.
Seven years ago when I was working and living in Kampala I had a bathroom that sparkled white and it window, like that of the bedroom had a view of Lake Victoria. I was single then and lived with a young school boy who also had the habit of usually heading straight to the bathroom when he got home from school to do what a friend of ours called relaxing - obeying the call of nature or easing one's self if you like.
One time I came into the house without my nephew realizing that I gone to the bathroom and when a neighbor asked if I was home, his answer was no because he thought that I had gone out.
He was surprised when I emerged from the bedroom and when he asked where I had been, I told him that I was "relaxing." You can guess what his next question was; bathroom of course. From then on my nephew Shadrach and I referred to that act of nature in our house as relaxing, for we agreed with our friend Roger who first coined it, that it was indeed a relaxing experience after a long day away from home.
In that small but beautiful bathroom in our little flat did I have some of my best thoughts and reflections as I sat on the toilet pan oblivious of the world around me - only me, four white walls, ceiling and the sweet scent from the bath soap. My nephew too intimated to me that he had some of his best reflections and study ideas on that white pan behind that grey bathroom door.
When I left urban life in December of 2009 to live in my village where I had the option of using a pit latrine instead of a flash toilet and where sometimes there wasn't any toilet tissue save for old newspapers that served in their stead, the bathroom became more of a reading room than a relaxing one. You can guess why? First of all the squatting instead seating on a pan can hardly pass for relaxation, for it is more of a stretch than than the former.
The reason, though, the bathroom became more of a reading room to me is the presence of old newspapers whose article titles often grabbed my attention before I could use them for a different purpose other than what the publishers meant.
I found my self reading an article every morning that I visited the latrine in the two years that I spent in the village out of formal employment. Thus I gained insight into one or two things as I started my day. Of course the visit to the latrine often preceded my morning Bible Study that was the biggest inspiration of all.
That reading room did not only keep my reading habit alive but also thought me the use of discarded things such as old newspapers.
While I was employed back in Kampala, moreover, by a publishing company (The New Vision Printing and Publishing Company), I had the luxury of a free newspaper every day something that I realized in my unemployed state did not come easy. Naturally, my day too in the village started and ended in a different way from those that I spent in the city.
The morning visit to the bathroom in the city was brief and to the point - preparation for work and true relaxing was for the evening, and you would not dare have newspapers as toilet tissue unless you had money to dish to sewerage workers to open up your blocked toilet. Well, in the village, I was master and things tended to start more slowly and building up as the day progressed with the sun whose light dictated much of the day's activities. For instance, I could not read or relax in a dark latrine in the evening, even though, I usually concluded my day there.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Home Alone with My son Emmy
It is eight peaceful and happy days today the thirtieth day of August 2010 since I came over with Emmy from Entebbe to spend some time together in the village.
Our first three nights were free of bedwetting though punctuated with cries of milk and visits to the bathroom for short calls. As play increased sleep became less interrupted but the bedwetting started with more water intake and no night visits to the bathroom.
I have not been perturbed by the bedwetting, though, because it has meant to me longer and less interrupted sleep streams for me too. Waking up at certain intervals has become automatic for me, though, just to check that the young man is sleeping aright – well covered and lying in the right position with the mosquito net well tucked in.
Our first three days alone in the village were full of anxiety of how I was going to manage taking care of this little boy without the mother for two weeks, especially coming at a time I had just got some employment that required daily travel to town that meant leaving Emmy under another person’s care. As time wore on, though, the anxiety passed only to return momentarily yesterday.
Having managed the past one week so well, I kind of felt that Sunday was the perfect day to have the boy returned to his mother. I also began to feel that anything more than one week away from the mother was tantamount to doing injustice to the young man, for he had enough of my company even if he had hardly asked for mommy.
My fears were confirmed last evening when I put on our wedding video to watch together with Emmy shortly after a phone call from his mother. After a few minutes who curiously and attentive watching, Emmy suddenly said what he had never said before: “I want to enter the computer and be with my mommy in the car.”
Emmy has on several occasions watched photos and videos of me and Gertrude and has never gone beyond pointing excitedly “mommy” or “daddy”. Surely, this time round things were different as he seemed to express some kind of desperation to have some yearning met. For several moments he came to a point of tears but as the laptop kept on hanging and finally shutting down, he gave up his request to join his mother and father in the wedding ceremony in the computer. Emmy said, “Stupid computer” several times before he finally dosed off in my arms.
What a relief it was for me to have Emmy give up on his demand to be with his mother last night. It was a great relief because I saw myself getting in between a rock and a hard place if the demand carried on into the next day. I have a wedding to attend with Emmy on Saturday 4th September 2010 before traveling back to Entebbe the following day.
Traveling to Entebbe before Saturday to return Emmy to the mother would not only be expensive but also an inconvenience to my current employer. Thank God another night is here and Emmy is as happy and healthy as he has been the past eight days.
I was away today for nearly eight hours but Emmy was glad to spend the dusk and evening with me riding in our car and chatting together about the car, cows, gees, big Lorries and his friends back in Entebbe. When I say chatting, I mean serious talking business here with my man Emmy.
Emmy turned two on July 24th and it is amazing to me how much he has grown up intellectually. His vocabulary has widened, so has his memory sharpened. He can now make longer sentences, pronounce words better and recall names and places better.
When we approached home on Sunday Emmy started talking about opening the gate as we pulled down the road along our fence – meaning he recognized the place and recalled there is a gate to go through. And when we finally got out of the car, Emmy said, “Welcome home daddy.” I was so delighted that it was one of the first things I shared with his mother in a telephone conversation later that evening. There is a lot more that Emmy says or does that continues to both amaze and make me glad that has made our stay together such a wonderful time that I will live to cherish as long as life lasts.
Emmy now understands that the laptop, camera, car and a few other items at home are not toys for him to play with but important tools that serve the family. Emmy no longer dashes into any smartly dressed man’s arms as he used to but takes his time to get familiar with the person before let them touch him. He is a lot more conscious about his hygiene even if he still takes a lot to his mouth that he ought not. He can now brush his teeth rather eat the toothpaste as he used to. He demands for his ball to be washed when it gets dirty and Emmy asks for his potty when nature calls. We might have said bye to diapers save may be when he starts school in February 2011.
There has been a lot of life in the past short eight days. I am going to miss him a lot when he goes back to the mother.
Our first three nights were free of bedwetting though punctuated with cries of milk and visits to the bathroom for short calls. As play increased sleep became less interrupted but the bedwetting started with more water intake and no night visits to the bathroom.
I have not been perturbed by the bedwetting, though, because it has meant to me longer and less interrupted sleep streams for me too. Waking up at certain intervals has become automatic for me, though, just to check that the young man is sleeping aright – well covered and lying in the right position with the mosquito net well tucked in.
Our first three days alone in the village were full of anxiety of how I was going to manage taking care of this little boy without the mother for two weeks, especially coming at a time I had just got some employment that required daily travel to town that meant leaving Emmy under another person’s care. As time wore on, though, the anxiety passed only to return momentarily yesterday.
Having managed the past one week so well, I kind of felt that Sunday was the perfect day to have the boy returned to his mother. I also began to feel that anything more than one week away from the mother was tantamount to doing injustice to the young man, for he had enough of my company even if he had hardly asked for mommy.
My fears were confirmed last evening when I put on our wedding video to watch together with Emmy shortly after a phone call from his mother. After a few minutes who curiously and attentive watching, Emmy suddenly said what he had never said before: “I want to enter the computer and be with my mommy in the car.”
Emmy has on several occasions watched photos and videos of me and Gertrude and has never gone beyond pointing excitedly “mommy” or “daddy”. Surely, this time round things were different as he seemed to express some kind of desperation to have some yearning met. For several moments he came to a point of tears but as the laptop kept on hanging and finally shutting down, he gave up his request to join his mother and father in the wedding ceremony in the computer. Emmy said, “Stupid computer” several times before he finally dosed off in my arms.
What a relief it was for me to have Emmy give up on his demand to be with his mother last night. It was a great relief because I saw myself getting in between a rock and a hard place if the demand carried on into the next day. I have a wedding to attend with Emmy on Saturday 4th September 2010 before traveling back to Entebbe the following day.
Traveling to Entebbe before Saturday to return Emmy to the mother would not only be expensive but also an inconvenience to my current employer. Thank God another night is here and Emmy is as happy and healthy as he has been the past eight days.
I was away today for nearly eight hours but Emmy was glad to spend the dusk and evening with me riding in our car and chatting together about the car, cows, gees, big Lorries and his friends back in Entebbe. When I say chatting, I mean serious talking business here with my man Emmy.
Emmy turned two on July 24th and it is amazing to me how much he has grown up intellectually. His vocabulary has widened, so has his memory sharpened. He can now make longer sentences, pronounce words better and recall names and places better.
When we approached home on Sunday Emmy started talking about opening the gate as we pulled down the road along our fence – meaning he recognized the place and recalled there is a gate to go through. And when we finally got out of the car, Emmy said, “Welcome home daddy.” I was so delighted that it was one of the first things I shared with his mother in a telephone conversation later that evening. There is a lot more that Emmy says or does that continues to both amaze and make me glad that has made our stay together such a wonderful time that I will live to cherish as long as life lasts.
Emmy now understands that the laptop, camera, car and a few other items at home are not toys for him to play with but important tools that serve the family. Emmy no longer dashes into any smartly dressed man’s arms as he used to but takes his time to get familiar with the person before let them touch him. He is a lot more conscious about his hygiene even if he still takes a lot to his mouth that he ought not. He can now brush his teeth rather eat the toothpaste as he used to. He demands for his ball to be washed when it gets dirty and Emmy asks for his potty when nature calls. We might have said bye to diapers save may be when he starts school in February 2011.
There has been a lot of life in the past short eight days. I am going to miss him a lot when he goes back to the mother.
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