June 21, 2010

“When you leave make sure you lock the tent because there are monkeys and they will come in.” This was what I was told when I arrived here today in Amboseli, Kenya. I flew out of Kampala at 5 this morning and was scooped up at the airport (by a tour guide waiting at baggage claim holding my name… I love that, it makes me feel important…) and driven southeast of Nairobi about 3 hours, again in a safari van that felt every bump on the sometimes paved/most of the time not/corrugated gravel roads. Nairobi is much more developed than Kampala was and there were some stretches of the road that were actually like US-standard roads - the first I’ve seen in East Africa.

My last days in Kampala went too quickly. As the end grew nearer the guys in the house started asking when I’d be back. Besides Justin there are 2 men - Anthon and Michael - who work as staff and guard the home, clean and make dinner. And then Brian was there a lot too. I felt really sad leaving them. They started to feel like family to me. Brian with his crazy outbursts of energy and dancing, Anthon with his respectful and shy presence always checking on me, Michael with his huge smile and cute laugh, and Justin, my fellow former San Franciscan, changing the world and hunting for a good woman. They kept me entertained and safe. I grew to love them.

Michael came to Kampala with Justin 2 years ago. Prior to that he was his security at his home in Mbale. He is going to vocational school for auto-mechanics and studies harder than ever saw any American. He is born and raised in Uganda - in Mbale I think. He shared a lot of stories with me, and there’s one that is now imprinted in my memory.

To understand this I must mention that crime in Uganda is very low, and this is mostly because even petty crime is not tolerated. For example, if you steal anything - a bottle of soda, a pack of gum even - they can kill you for it. And they will!

Michael told me about a guy in Mbale who stole a bora bora (taxi motorbike). They chased him down and beat him up. Then they tied his arms behind him and forced him to drink gasoline. When they were done they poured the rest over him and set him on fire. He said this laughing. He’s seen this with his own eyes, more than once. That still disturbs me so much, this image. It’s no surprise crime remains low.

There are a lot of things, besides the boys, that I will miss about Uganda . Here are some, in no particular order:
... Power outages. We had them a few times a week and would light all the candles in the house and proceed as if nothing changed. I adore living by candlelight and seriously think I could live that way forever as long as I could have 1 outlet to charge my ipod and laptop.
... Bare feet. I personally like flip-flops but there is something about people walking on the roads barefoot that feels so primitive and natural.
... Sleeping under a mosquito net. You have to put the net down every night to refuse the mosquitoes (aka ’Mozzies,’ my personal favorite nickname) their favorite amusement, buzzing in your ears while you sleep. It also protects you from Malaria. I quite like being in my little netted cocoon. It reminds me of being little and making forts with couch cushions and blankets.
... Roosters. There were 2 of these fuckers living on each side of my bed, it seemed. Every morning they’d rooster back and forth as soon as the sun started coming up. Despite my ‘no killing animals’ rule I seriously thought about killing those fuckers. Funny enough, by my last week there, I grew to like the sound and be able to sleep despite them.
... BAAAAAAA. There was a sheep right outside our gate that sounded literally like one of my friends playing a joke on me and very poorly imitating a sheer and yelling BAAAAAA.. I think I laughed every time I heard it, which was maybe up to 50 times a day.
... Walking through the shower to get to the toilet. So was the setup in my house. You’d open the bathroom door and to your right would be a showerhead and knobs, directly in front was a shower curtain, and behind the curtain a toilet.
... In-home full-body massage: $10 (no happy ending, thankyouverymuch), includes story about how massage therapist's dad was a successful businessman and had 32 wives.
... Peeing in a hole. Public bathrooms outside of the nice restaurants and bars have just a hole in the floor. It turns out I am a master shooter.
... Potholes. I will miss the absurdity and continuous bumps that were part of every car ride.
... Waiving, smiling kids. Although at times I felt a “Miss America Complex,” one of my favorite things was running in my neighborhood past the many, many little kids who would see me and run towards the road, smiling big and waving, yelling “Mozungu!!!!” During my 30 minute runs I think I’d smile and wave to a group of children at least 50 times. I’d wonder who the hell I think I am running through their neighborhood, smiling and waving like I was my own little parade. Hence, Miss America. But their smiles were so big and genuine that I didn’t care if I looked like I should be in a prom gown in the back of a convertible. I smiled big and waved and carried on, each little group of kid making me even more content.
... Cows and goats. I really like living in harmony with the free-range farm animals that sit in the middle of the road and just stare at you when you want to get by.

And so tonight I am out of Uganda, out of the city, and laying a bed in candlelight, under my mozzie net, surrounded my a canvas tent and beyond that a symphony of crickets listening to some jackals cackles that sound very close, in Kenya. It feels great to be out in the wilderness again and breathing such fresh air.