Closing a Chapter (...and a bit of fundraising)
This morning I took a hot air balloon ride over the Verde Valley near Sedona, Arizona. It was beautiful - and as we watched for jack rabbits and mule deer and foxes below, I realized how similar the outing was to my safari in Murchison Falls - but how entirely different are the feelings when you are in your own country and with your family....and when you feel safe because wars are not going on around you, and you have 24 hour road side assistance, and you end the morning with mimosas. :)
It was a beautiful trip - we spent one night on the Southern Rim of the Grand Canyon and awoke to watch the sunrise, casting its glow on the canyon cliffs. Sedona was also beautiful - the jutting red rocks that are so exotic and amazing to climb. My architect brother took us to Arcosanti - an urban labratory of archology (merging architecture and ecology - a philosophy of miniturization of societies to live in more efficient, sustainable urban settings) and Frank Lloyd Wright's studio near Phoenix. Not a bad way to transition back. We had some delays relating to the hurricane - and since I was only in Houston so briefly before, I feel like this is my first night home.
I won't be writing any more on my blog now that I'm home again. While I hope that life in Cambridge will be as fulfilling in other ways - I doubt it will be as entertaining to read about. :) One last thing I did want to mention - if any of you (who are not indebted grad students) were touched by the stories you read about Mandela, Peter and Geroge - and would like to support their efforts financially, it would be the most worthy cause that I found in my time there. If you're interested (or if someone you know would be), I would love to share with you more about their organization's plans and the personal education fees that Peter is trying to raise... The 8 Sudanese guys that make up their group are among the most impressive individuals that I know, and I want to encourage support for their efforts - which are truly great - inspiring hope in a place where hope is much needed.
Love to all of you who followed along with my summer in East Africa. I enjoyed writing the blog each day and I will miss it! My life is blessed in so many ways - and in this case, to know I have friends and family who care and to be able to write to you and share the experience with you, well - it enhanced my experience in ways both unexpected and beautiful. Thank you for your love.
Purpose and Passion
This summer my heart has come alive again. After what (in retrospect) feels to have been a two-year flood of career decisions, responsibility, and plans. A swiftly moving current, so often I was up to my neck in its waters. Most of the time, I was just trying to keep up. And somehow within the pressure and plans - without realizing it - I had begun to adjust my expectations of life. I began to think that life would always leave me slightly exhausted from its pull. That my life would be one without passion to fill it... and the best I could do would be to find purpose to guide it, and beauty to decorate the passing days.
But a life without passion? It seemed at the time such a practical "adult" adjustment of my eyes. The disappointments of life were lessons, teaching me that life is not a fairytale or a screenplay - it is not always happy endings and it is not easy. I was feeling that my weariness and my rationalizations were signs that I was maturing - that I was seeing life from a worn perspective of one who has become more accepting and able to ride the waves of life.
I honestly didn't know if it was possible to see life with the same vigor and love as I had felt at fifteen... I even thought that perhaps a life that was passionate was self-indulgent; a daydream I had to let go of ... seeking passion was a distraction from life – a frivolous effort when there are so many responsibilities and ways in which we can live a full life by trying our best. I somehow convinced myself that life without passion was more real than that life with passion I'd had and loved years before. I rationalized because I was worn out, I was trying to keep up, and I wasn't sure if I would ever feel passionate again.
I didn't want to admit it to myself - so I decided to think it was a positive change. That I could see life for its struggle, and no longer be that naive girl who lives in a protected bubble of dreams. I thought I could live a beautiful life by trying to fill each day with small moments of joy, to handle the challenges well … Basically to create a beautiful life by improving how I take life, and to improve how I spend the moments of my life. It was a nice idea, but my own expectations of what was possible were the boundaries of my experience.
Coming to Africa was a blank - some inner stirring was guiding me here - but I didn't know why. I was looking for my purpose...that was as far as my thoughts could carry me. What I didn't know was that more than purpose, it would bring passion. Something that was beyond what I thought possible.
And I don't know how it happened... I don't know if it was the soothing views of Kampala's hills, red and green against a blue sky, or the stars in Sudan, brilliant - that made me feel so small beneath them. It might have been Mandela's dream, his contagious courage ...or perhaps it was Josephine, who has inspired me to be strong. I don't know if it was finding my way home on broken down vehicles or finding my way blessed by a million tiny miracles... feeling fear from touching war, or hearing the voices of Agnes and the children singing in the rainstorm. Perhaps I just got out of my tunnel and looked around.
Whatever it was - however it happened, I'm leaving Africa in three days and somehow my heart is as alive again. And I am filled with this sneaking suspicion that my coming here was not just about Africa, and it was not just about research. It was not just about exposure to another existence or even for the experience of my own enjoyment and growth. Something tells me that, in addition to all of these things – or perhaps through them, that God has leaned down and whispered in my ear …so quietly that I didn't even realize it. It’s as if he was saying - Remember? Here it is. Feel it. Life's beauty is experienced not by sight, but by feeling - it is not our strength but our passion that drives us - life is not to be seen for its purpose alone - it is also to be felt for its passion.
I was living life through the passing view of constant effort - life for me was my impact in the world... and maintaining some equilibrium within me simultaneously ... a connection with God that was just enough to stay on track and to be open to anything he might bring my way. But as much as I grew during this time, my life was still lacking. It was lacking in passion, in full experience of my own existence. I was afraid, I was worn down - I was a normal person trying to make the best of it. I doubted that adult life can be truly passionate because I didn’t feel passion – and not only that, but I felt that the demands and dictates of the world around me might not be met if I allowed myself to make changes to keep the experience a passionate life alive. I saw flickers of it rise within me, spaced between months, but it was not integral to my life. It was pressed down beneath all of the demands and even my own thoughts of what life should be.
And then some blessing brought me to Africa... and through this amazing journey, I have come out realizing how much my life lacks without it. Maybe it took seeing passion in lives that were so different than mine, and feeling the beauty that God can bring even in the darkest places. Something in this experience made me realize passion transcends the constraints of our daily lives - every culture has daily life and demands - but not everyone lives it with passion. It should not be our world that gives us passion, that passion for life depends on our atmosphere and ambience - instead it should be a part of us - from inside. A way of living, not a charmed momentary experience.
I believe somehow God wove a beautiful maze for me to follow - one that would lead me, at least in part, to this understanding that the desire in my heart for more is there because it is possible. That passion does not have to be lost in our modern, rational world. It is here lying and waiting for the space to breathe into our souls.
An Enjoyable Murchison Mishap
Our trip to Murchison Falls is going to be some memory. It began in the ARC office on Friday morning – or maybe it was Thursday when Sanja and I spent too many hours waiting in the hospital for all of my test results to come back. I was mentioning that the one thing I really wished I done before leaving Uganda was to take a weekend trip to Murchison Falls.
Murchison Falls is the strongest rush of water anywhere in the world. More exciting for me is that it’s the Nile River, which I have wanted to see since I was a little girl. And it is known for the wildlife throughout the park - the elephants, giraffes, lions, hippos, crocodiles, and all of the animals that somehow are an essential part of the Africa we dream about. Somehow the combination of the Nile, the falls and the animals made it sound like such a special place… and as it’s much less tourist-filled than most safari destinations, in my mind it was the perfect place for me to experience this part of Africa.
So Friday – right in the middle of a chaotic day of work – we made the now or never decision. Throwing end of the summer budget fears out of the window, I started calling companies to see if we could get a four wheel drive vehicle and if any of the lodges in the park had accommodations. I called the tour guides that had been so helpful in getting me to Bwindi, and they again came through and put me in touch with the right people. They even offered to take us in one of their vehicles – but we the price was too high. Looking back, were I to do this trip again I would realize that with vehicles in Africa – it is worth the extra money.
That said, I didn’t have the extra money – so I called our ARC driver Steven and asked him to find us one of his drivers, who are great for us in Kampala,. Sure enough he got back to me with a perfect price – the exact amount for 3 of us to go (per person) as it would have been for 6 of us to go with African Pearl Safaris. Sanja, Manjit (her neighbor here in Kampala), and I booked a banda at a lodge for Saturday night and planned to return to Kampala on Sunday night – just enough time for a morning game drive in the park on Saturday and an afternoon boat ride down the Nile.
We set off for the park around 1 on Saturday, with our driver Peter in some crazy looking van from the early 90s. But, we had plenty of space and in our excitement, we all looked at each other as if we had inherited a kingdom. If only we’d known. ;) I’m actually glad we didn’t. At the time we settled in happily for the five hour drive. The scenery out the car window never gets tiresome for me in Uganda – it’s as if I’m seeing it with new eyes each time.
The sun was shining in the front window most of the way, and so I just baked in the sun and watched the towns go by. Have I mentioned that Ugandans love to be near the main roads. It is prestigious to live right next to a highway, and entire villages are constructed literally right next to the road. To live out in the bush indicates less prosperity – to live near the road is prestigious and preferred. So the road is the center of activity on cross-country drives, and it’s so funny to me because we are always trying to get away from the busy roads and out into the beautiful countryside at home. Here it is just the opposite.
When we arrived at the park entrance gate, we were all pretty tired … it was a long drive, half of which was on bumpy dirt roads – not by Sudan standards, but still – somehow you get out of the car and just wonder how you are so exhausted when all you did was sit for five hours. We checked in with the rangers and they directed us to our lodge…another hour and a half drive through the park ahead. We were all relieved to have made it. Entering the park it felt like we were finally entering our vacation. Immediately the vegetation changes and you see the contrast in what human cultivation does to a landscape. We were greeted by dozens of baboons crossing the roads. They would run from the vehicle – sort of half heartedly – and immediately return to fill the road once we passed. I love watching the baboons, the way they move is so smooth and their faces are so strange, with those piercing eyes.
A wart hog ran out into the road, his little curved horns like a twirled moustache, and his tail raised – the only dainty thing on its entire ugly little body. I was so excited – my dad has some crazy fascination with the idea of going on a wild boar hunt. (We are not a hunting family – and this has never gone over well in dinner conversations) Anyway, I couldn’t believe after hearing about those crazy creatures for so many years that I was seeing one right next to my window. Hurrah! I drifted in and out of mind musings … when suddenly I was jolted out of my thoughts by a horrible noise – followed by more horrible noises, indicating something was going wrong with the vehicle…very wrong. We had to convince our driver to pull over.
It was a flat tire. In the middle of the park, not another vehicle in sight, and it’s getting dark. So – I asked Peter if he had a spare tire and if he’d ever changed a flat tire before. He said yes to both, and so we all got out of the van and started the process. Unfortunately, the spare was not in much better shape than our completely flat tire, and the jack in the car was not strong enough for the size of the vehicle. I am not sure if we would have gotten the tire changed, had we not been blocking the only road to the park’s main gate. As it was, after a few minutes we had a bus on one side of us and a family of 6 on the other side.
The entire contents of both vehicles emptied out at dusk onto the road, and surrounded our vehicle – there must have been twenty men suddenly strategizing. They in fact ended up lifting the van themselves, forget the jack… and the bus driver saved the day by getting our spare successfully on the vehicle. The bus was full of district officials from one of the Northern districts, and we got the travel and tourist pitch while we waited. The family on the other side of the vehicle was also great and heading for the same lodge as we. We knew we’d have to drive slowly all the rest of the way, so we let him pass us, and the bus as well – and then we set out again for the Sambiya River Lodge.
Unfortunately not more than fifteen minutes later we began to smell the burning rubber of our spare tire, which was not cut out for these rocky dirt roads. We proceeded at a snails pace, as it was now well past dark and we had to make it to the lodge one way or another. I think all of us were secretly cringing – but there wasn’t much of an option. National Parks here have no cell phone coverage, no emergency phones, no patrolling rangers, little traffic, strict curfews – so we didn’t pass another vehicle for the rest of the way.
An owl was sitting by the side of the road, and it looked at us with glowing eyes. I was exhausted, but adrenaline kicks in a little when you start to realize that your driver is scared and totally inexperienced, and that it’s up to you to make the decisions.
When we finally pulled into the Lodge, it was well past nine – so what should have been a five hour trip has stretched to over an eight hour trip. We were so tired and hungry, and to make matters worse – we were starting to realize that without the vehicle, we wouldn’t be able to go on a game drive at all – or even to get someone to drive us the 24 kilometers further to the Nile ferry to join the boat ride. So, basically – there was a definite possibility that our entire trip might end up being an 8 hour ride, a day waiting at a lodge for the vehicle to be repaired, and a direct trip back - with none of the reasons we came an option any longer.
We were all trying to console ourselves at dinner – realizing that the important thing is just to be safe, and that there was nothing we could do but wait and see what the mechanics were able to do. I was surprised that all of the staff at the lodge immediately started sending for a mechanic, apparently people will work at any hour here… but in the end it was decided that the tire was beyond repair and a new one needed to be purchased in Masindi (at least 2 hours away). They even tried borrowing the spare from another vehicle, but it was the wrong size. The van looked like a pathetic hunk of metal now – not like the kingdom we’d climbed into earlier that day.
In my ever-strategizing mind (that my family loves to remind me about), I started to think of how I could still see the wildlife despite all obstacles…. refusing to admit defeat so easily. I remembered that I’d read somewhere in the guide book that one of the fancier lodges had vehicles to rent – and I asked the manager, Beatrice, if she had their number. She claimed she didn’t, despite there being a list of contacts taped to the table next to the satellite phone. Anyway, I became annoyed and decided instead that I’d call Francis in Kampala, the man who I’d booked the lodge reservation with earlier that day. Francis had been dressed in a full suit with and hat, very smooth and helpful, and he was Beatrice’s boss – so I thought that would at least make her realize I was serious. We called Francis, and sure enough he had a possible solution for me.
It seemed that there was an Afritours (his company) vehicle at the lodge, which had been rented as part of a full 8-day safari package purchased by a British woman and her daughter – and there happened to be three empty seats in the vehicle. We were welcome to join them, but only if they said it was alright… as they had booked for a private tour so it would be entirely up to them. I thanked him, and at his word, Beatrice gave me the names of the guests who had already gone to sleep for the evening. We would have to wait until morning to ask if we could join them. So – not knowing the state of our vehicle, or whether or not we’d be able to see any wildlife or waterfalls, we trudged back to our banda and settled in for the evening – but not before stripping down Sanja’s bed that had a blanket full of fire ants. Lovely.
We woke up at 5 am the next morning and began to get ready for the day. I met a nice British woman at the sink, but I didn’t want to startle her at 5 am by asking if she was the Christine Shaw. Instead I made small talk, and I was feeling hopeful. If she was the mother, then surely we’d be able to join them – she was very nice. On the way back to the banda I met her daughter, or so I suspected – also nice. I reported to the girls that I thought our chances were very good. So we threw our stuff together and hurried to breakfast.
Sure enough they were the ones, and they were sitting on the other end of the dining room – after making sure that they’d had their tea, it was another now or never moment. So the girls voted that I should go because I “have a nice smile.” Hahaa – which I think means that I know how to plea. But anyway, I agreed and went to introduce myself and to explain our sad vehicle-less state. The mother Gertrude, and her daughter Christine, were absolutely great and said that of course we could join them, and that we’d be leaving any minute. I thanked them profusely and then rushed back triumphant to the table and we scrambled around trying to get our bags to the van, our driver sorted out and our banda key returned. The ferry left at 7, and it was still a drive to reach the river.
We watched the sun rise on the way to the ferry. It was beautiful, a glowing red ball rising over the savannah. Looking out of my window was the first glimpse of the Africa that I’d always pictured in my mind. When we arrived at the ferry, I could believe I was looking at the Nile. It was huge – lined on both shores with lush green plants, and between them water as smooth as a mirror. Every so often foam would drift down, residue from the falls upstream. We took the ferry across, and shrieked in delight when our driver showed us that the top of the van lifted up to make a covered sunroof, so that we could stand on the seats and look out from the roof – same feeling as seeing a city from a limo’s sunroof - just think safari instead.
Suddenly we were thinking that this flat tire had been the best thing that ever happened to us – our driver would have been terrible at game driving, our windows were tinted and we would have not enjoyed it nearly as much. Having a real safari vehicle was fantastic. With the wind blowing in our hair, we set out on our game drive through the park – which is huge (4,000 square kilometers). Our destination was to go to the delta where the Albert Nile joins Lake Albert briefly and continues flowing north.
Here is where pictures will be so much better than words – we took almost two hundred – (and I promise I won’t post all of them) … but it was just amazing. We saw everything we wanted to see and more… and so many! Rothschild giraffes.. maybe twenty or thirty throughout the day – they may have been my favorites… they are such beautiful animals. We saw Ugandan Kobs, which are a type of antelope I suppose – or at least that idea, and along those lines we saw Hartebeestes and sweet Oribis that are almost like fawns. A patas monkey looked down on us from a tree, and warthog families ran along side us rolled in the mud in the distance.
We saw Uganda’s national bird the Crowned Crane in flight, and the very rare Shoebill stork that looks prehistoric (I am told only 10 exist in the entire park). This is the first time in my life to enjoy bird watching – basically because in this park they are as colorful as butterflies in front of the natural landscape of the savannah. Red bishops, Bee-eaters, Bin-tailed Whydah, Helmeted Guineafowl, Denham’s Bustards, and the Ground Hornbill. We saw a Brown snake Eagle – or two of them, perched so handsomely, and we saw Hadada Ibis and White Cattle Egrets. We saw elephants from a distance, and up close munching on grass with their trunks in constant motion and their ears flapping. We saw water buffalo, looking as mean as ever – and the chubby, sweet looking hippos that are actually the cause of more human deaths than any other animal in Africa apparently.
The highlight of the trip was as we were pulling back into the start of the drive, our driver got a call on the radio that there had been a lion spotting by one of the other drivers that was out. So we turned around and at break-neck speed when racing back to the river delta. Hurrah! Suddenly we are getting a bonus drive – all the way through the park. Only this time instead of peering out for the sight of any new animal, we could just enjoy the ride. Sanja and I were sitting on the roof of the van with our feet dangling inside. We could not stop smiling – it was so perfect. The day was gorgeous – sunny with bright blue sky and cotton ball clouds. Just hours before we’d thought we wouldn’t even get to go – now were in the middle of one of our childhood dreams.
As we approached the delta, we gasped – there were two male lions just hanging out on the banks of the Nile. We honestly never thought we’d see lions – and they were incredible. These were brothers – both about four years old and their faces were so masculine and beautiful – I can’t describe it. Anyway – we just watched them sunning themselves, and they pranced around a bit and stared back at us. It was unbelievable that they were so close. Had we not been on a safari – I’d have been scared. As it was, I was just thinking of Lion Food and how one of these guys took a bite out of his leg! Yikes. But they are beautiful.
After the game drive – which can I say again, I just loved – I mean, I don’t need to go on long safaris, I am not an animal-chasing thrill getter,… but just to experience it was fantastic. We agreed that even if we couldn’t do another thing, that the trip was worth it just for that experience. And it was fun being there with Sanja – she’s just moved back for a year long contract with ARC… her life in Africa is just beginning, and I got to be a part of it with her. We stopped for lunch and baboons hopped around on trees and tables nearby – and we took pictures of the hippos that kept barely lifting their eyes out of the water to look at us.
There was supposed to be a boat ride down the Nile to Murchison Falls at 2 – but we weren’t sure if we’d be able to get on the boat.. we were told it was booked, but again the girls sent me to plea. Sure enough, hurrah! They made room for us. We met some great people on the boat and all watched as we passed elephants, giraffes, and every other animal on the shores – not to mention the crocodiles and hippos swimming together. The trip to the falls took two hours against the current… as we approached the falls there was foam floating in clusters all over the surface of the water, and we could hear the crashing in the distance above the motor of the boat. When the falls came into view at first all I could see was mist … but through the mist you could make out the two breaks and see the incredible force of the water. It was beautiful and powerful, and we pulled the boat up to an island to stop and enjoy the view. This tiny bird was guarding her nest, perched right in front of what must have seemed a massive beast to her, but she didn’t even flinch. Sanja was fascinated by the bird, and had all of the staff checking it out with her.
The trip back was only an hour with the current, and we were tired from the sun that has now brought new kinds of redness into my life – and we just sat back and smiled at each other – both still in disbelief that we’d gotten to do everything we’d hoped – and it had been better than we imagined. Really, it was a beautiful day. We pulled into the port and sat waiting for our driver – and we met Manjit who had decided to walk to the top of the falls instead hoping it would have been faster so she could continue on to meet friends in a nearby town. As it was, our driver hadn’t repaired the vehicle and returned to the ferry until after three, so she’d just returned from the top of the falls.
The bad news was that somehow our driver hadn’t thought to get gasoline for the car – hello? We had over a two hour drive at least just to get out of the park, and the closest town was Masindi – not even funny. So he had to take the ferry back across the river with a can to bring gasoline to our van. This process took him over an hour …. And it was approaching 6:30 in the evening when we finally set out for Kampala. We were wondering at this point whether or not our driver was too tired to drive in the dark, and whether or not we should risk it…
As we passed the lodge where we’d stayed the night before, Peter mentioned that he should stop and check something with the vehicle. Sanja and I both tensed – what was wrong now? It was overheating. So we pulled into the Saimby River Lodge, and Peter found that there was no water in the vehicle. We loved this, as we’d paid $200 in advance so that the car could be serviced. Either no one had looked to see if water was in the vehicle, or there was a crack in the radiator and it was leaking. Peter claimed there was no leak and he just had forgotten to check – “Trust me!” he says… ooh yes, so trust worthy. So we were debating what to do. It was now after 7, you can’t drive in the park after that time – the vehicle has one problem after another and everyone was tired. We decided it wasn’t worth the risk, and we told Peter we’d have to stay the night again and set out early in the morning.
We met our friends Christine and Gertrude again and they invited us to join them for dinner – the two were full of stories of past safaris and life in Mozambique and snorkeling with whale sharks. It was great distraction, and we felt so grateful that they’d included us in their tour for the day. After a while we were all yawning at the table, and said goodnight with best wishes for our vehicle to get us safely home the next day. Another grad student from Berkeley we’d met gave us her phone numbers in case we broke down the next day because they’d be following in our direction in the afternoon. We told them we might actually need it, and thanked everyone for being so good to us.
This morning we woke up again at five, and we set out for Kampala. The van got us as far as the park gate.. it was raining and one of the windshield wipers stopped working… fortunately it wasn’t the driver’s side! At the gate we were told we would have to pay the entrance fee again because we’d stayed an extra day. It think that was the last straw for Sanja –who let that Balkan temper flare in full force. It worked somehow, and Peter paid some reduced amount to get us out and back on the road. As we approached Masindi I reminded Peter that we needed to get gas… he said he knew, and I checked the temp gauge just to see how it was… it seemed normal. About ten minutes later Sanja checked, and it was at max heat again. We pulled into a gas station, and as Peter poured water into the car, it poured right out of leaks in the bottom. Perfect. There was a leak.
So now we had to drive to a nearby town to get it repaired. Keep in mind we were trying to get back to work today – I’d of course called to let them know what was happening – but I have Mandela trying to get in touch with me, and no cell phone access all weekend – and Sanja had a UNHCR meeting about a grant proposal today. It was a mess – I was trying to talk to Mandela before his ride back to Sudan at 10:30, and yet Sanja is worrying we’ll run out of cell phone batteries and be stranded. So – it was getting a little hectic. On the way to the next town (40 km away) we had to stop every 10 minutes or so to refill with water – and the entire van would smoke like crazy. It was crazy. Sanja was flipping out, so with my moderating personality, I became ultra calm and decided this was my African misadventure story – everyone needs one, right?
So we arrived at the town, but there was no mechanic and no network for our cell phones. Great. Peter was becoming desperate and asked me to get in a car with perfect strangers and ride back to Kampala with them. I refused, saying I’d either wait for Steven to send a car from Kampala or that we’d get a ride with that grad student and her boyfriend later that afternoon if we could get in touch with them. We agreed that the van couldn’t go any further – so Peter agreed to ride with us with the strangers – who wanted to earn money by driving us to Kamapala - to the next town where they were already taking three other ladies. So the car is packed – I’d say 9 people in a 5 seater, plus luggage. Oh, and some poor chickens that were destined for someone’s dinner were squawking in the back.
We finally reached cell phone access, just at a corner where these guys were selling kebabs and holding them in the windows and yelling Muzungu, Muzungu! As Sanja was trying to reach our friends. They hadn’t gotten out of the park yet – their phones were out of reach, and so we called Steven to send a car as he’d promised. He hadn’t even left Kampala yet, and we were irritated. Finally we decided that the best thing to do would be to take the offer of these guys to drive us – but I refused to do it unless Peter came with us to make sure we were safe. So, we agreed – he would escort us back to Kampala and then find his way back to deal with the van that we’d left behind. Hurrah! Did I mention I stayed calm – so calm that Peter kept coming to me to avoid Sanja’s anger … begging me to help him. I stayed firm though, and insisted on him accompanying us. I’m nice, but I’m not crazy… we’d had enough go wrong for one day.
So, we weren’t stuck in rural Uganda – no need to convert to the bush dweller lifestyle over this… which in our frustration was beginning to seem the most likely outcome… and we arrived back to Kampala finally around 2 to an office full of “Welcome Back!”s and the like… they were laughing at us, laughing with us – that is the reaction you get sometimes when you travel in Africa. Partly, that it can’t be helped – things so frequently go wrong here – but partly that you were being extravagant to go in the first place, so it serves you right. Anyway, I don’t mind – I would do it again in a minute.
It was nice to pull into the office and be done with Peter .. and thankfully they’d moved the UNHCR meeting and all was well. On days when you are so tired and the Africa learning curve rears its ugly head, you just dream about the most luxurious details of life at home and remind yourself that you won’t always be this hot, tired, red and dirty. While you’re in it though, it certainly doesn’t hurt to just enjoy it. I’ll also always remember trying not to laugh most of the way home, as everything went wrong … one thing after another … and I was enjoying it way too much for poor Sanja’s temper to handle.
Aww… but we made it home, and I think she’ll forgive me one day for enjoying it while she fumed. Some crazy part of me wanted to have a haphazard ride in my first summer in Africa … it would have been too tame otherwise. : ) And for that day in Murchison Falls, it was entirely worth it. I will always remember how good it felt to see savannah as far as I could see, sitting next to Sanja on the top of that safari van, feeling something in the likeness of splendid.
Irrashional
Bri and Marijane, if it weren't for you in my life, I would never have gotten this far in overcoming my extreme aversion to puns ; )
So the rash persists - oh yes, in all its red and bumpy loveliness. Fortunately I have medicine that keeps it from actually appearing - but the second I go off the meds, it's back...
Now the doctors are getting outrageous - no one knows what it is... they've given me Hep B tests, HIV tests, tests for parasites, you name it... It is out of control, I'm walking around with a magic marker circle on my arm for a TB test and I'm not even coughing. They found no evidence of worms, but decided to "de-worm" me anyway - yikes! Don't worry - it's just two pills. Apparently Africans de-worm every 3 months. (Jess, I'm so much less squeamish now ...I won't be nearly as entertaining) :)
So - the situation is that I am completely healthy - minus the crazy rash that indicates otherwise. So, I am just allergic to Uganda - and hopefully it will disappear when I step onto Texas soil. This is the official diagnosis. If not - hopefully the US doctors in all their glory can figure this out. I'd prefer to avoid an eternal state of redness (as much as possible anyway - given I already blush every five minutes)
In the meantime, major steps towards my paper - I interviewed my Serbian co-worker for 4 hours yesterday about the wars in the Balkans - refugee returns to Bosnia and Croatia and IDP returns to Kosovo... I am totally re-energized about this paper - and I got a contact with someone at the UN in NY that is the former-head of operations for UNHCR in Pristina. Hurrah! and a big thank you to my MIT prof. from last semester for setting that up. Melina, I think my world is just merging with yours...
I contacted Mandela and his crew about getting me a budget ASAP for this concept paper for his film - the guys stayed up for 2 nights in a row without sleep getting it to me - and they did a great job. I am so excited for them, I am going to send off the concept paper to USAID (hopefully) today. I pulled an all-nighter myself, so I told them it's mutual. :) Anyway - I am so happy to help them get funding for their project. It is so fulfilling.
On a lighter note - The Kenyan who wants me as his second wife is in the office for a few days... :)
I tell you, be him African, Expat, Short, Tall, Young, Old, Attractive, or horribly ugly ... There is not a single man in this place (among those I've met) that I would trust with any part of me. Call me old fashioned, call me conservative, call me a sheltered American girl with fairytale ideals - call me whatever you want. But, I would happily stay single before I would spend my life with a man who felt free to cheat on me whenever he wants. Romance here is not even an option... for me, it's not even romantic!
