rips out of Gulu are always an adventure, but I am once again reminded of the sailing adage: If you add your most hideous days and your most exquisite and the average is zero, you’ve had a fabulous trip. Starting with the walk to the bus, this score came in at a resounding negative whose origins no doubt are in the pits of hell. A new school term began that week, so all transport is historically packed (translate bodies and mattresses bulging from the windows) at that time of year. A group had gone the day before and reported upon their arrival at 5:15 the bus was already crammed. So, smart Muzungos that we are, we got up at 4AM and were greeted by the worst downpour of the season – a real frog strangler. Now, if this had been the States or even Kampala, we would have called a private hire (or hopped in our OWN car) and gotten a mile ride in. But alas, it was not Kampala and I don’t have the name of a reliable private hire (one can wait an hour) and we certainly don’t have a CAR, so we donned our ponchos, repacked some bags to accommodate an extra pair of shoes and rain gear and headed out to navigate the mud and the rain through the pitch dark streets.
NO one except idiots and Muzungus (is that a redundancy?) venture out in the rain. But we slogged through raging muddy, ankle deep, sewer tainted waters and reached the bus 4:45-ish and it was all locked up. It’s raining – and NO ONE is going to open until it stops. We arrived totally drenched. We’d put our computers in plastic bags and thank goodness, because even though they were in backpacks under our parkas once we boarded the bus and commenced the trip, a shallow river of water deep to soak every piece of clothing I own and fry any electronic gear sloshed forward.
The PO guard finally opened up at about 5:45AM and we boarded a dark and empty bus. Peering out rainy windows, we waited… No one else arrived until 6:30 and we finally pulled out at 7:20, continuing to pick up people (Ugandans who know better than to walk through water and mud) and arrived at 1:30 or so and were deposited at a police station where there was no place to sit, find food or wait. We found a private hire and got a roller coaster tour of the innards of Uganda slums and finally arrived at a sandwich shop, ate and caught the PC shuttle to Masaka. By that time I was nursing a horrid upset stomach and 3.5 hours later we finally arrived. Fifteen hours of travel in all. As I have said, travel in Uganda is not for the weak of heart or frail of body. Oh – did I mention that we passed a bus that had turned over in the middle of the road not more that a few hours earlier? Not confidence inspiring…
Got commandeered to work on the Annual Report for PC and spent an intense couple of days doing work around software issues, etc. Ate too much. Slept too little courtesy of the night staff at the Annex who persist in cleaning the bathrooms and showers at 4Am turning on all the lights so they blaze like high-noon into the rooms and make enough racket to wake the dead – even through earplugs.
Back in Gulu – enjoying a quiet and empty house. Came home, got horizontal and fell into the sleep-of-the-dead for three hours at 4PM. Probably explains why my sleep pattern is out of whack – with my waking at 4AM this morning – this time to the sounds of a train whistle. And there re no trains up here! (Museveni destroyed the tracks for fear they would be used for hostile purposes. ) Housemate is in US for two weeks and the town is relatively quiet, though church music is in full tilt as of this writing. The new US Ambassador to Uganda is coming to town tonight and a number of us have been invited to the reception. So that’s tonight.
My successes of the week include finding a home for Dingo, a sweet dog left in Kampala by his former family. Rare to come across a dog in Uganda who has been a pet. For the most part Ugandan’s are “not nice” to dogs and most are so abused by the time you find them that they have to been seriously retrained. He looks like every other dog you see in Uganda (tan, the size of a small German shepherd – yes, just like Pinky) and now has a new home in Gulu with a new USAID worker 😉
Off to do hand-laundry. The only way…