A Visa Saga

Sagas are long, right? So the title “A Visa Saga” is appropriate to this next blog installment.

At the airport I was issued a one month visa for $50, and told to extend it at an immigration office. Pointless, I thought, but ok, I’ll go with it. I told Dominic this, and he said it was fine, volunteers normally went to the Tanzanian border at Mutukulu (closer than the nearest city, and much closer than Kampala) and extended it there, no problem. So off we went one morning, and reached the border after visiting his school, picking up some people, doing some errands, etc. etc. The border was basically a town with a couple of road blocks and an immigration office, no imposing fences, few guns (there were more outside the bank we stopped at before than I saw in Mutukulu), and no scary warning signs. At the immigration office, the officer told me it would be $50 to enter Tanzania and another $50 to re-enter Uganda, so I’d be better off going to the immigration office in Masaka where it would be far cheaper. Not so “no problem” after all then. But I did achieve something: I got a bus and boda (motorbike) back to the village on my own without being kidnapped, getting lost or eaten by a lion. However, traveling by boda, or even by 4x4 with an open window, without a hair tie is very dusty and it took me a good 10 minutes to get rid of the knots (see picture)!

After a day of travelling by 4x4 with windows open, a bus and by boda boda

After a day of resting/teaching, I got a boda and then share car to Masaka for the second attempt with Teacher Enock. The car was meant for 6 people, but we had 10 I think, quite a squash. We went straight to the immigration office, which was locked. We wandered about for a bit, did a bit of shopping, and then went back, only to be told the only person who worked at the office had gone to Kampala that day. Humph. To console myself I took Enock for his first ever western meal at a Danish run charity café. It was a really nice atmosphere, and I enjoyed my pizza (it had CHEESE!) and Enock certainly enjoyed his burger and chips (he took forever to decide, and I had to explain every single dish on the menu to him as he’d only heard of chips before!). We went back to KAASO by matutu, small minibuses used as taxis. Again, this was very overcrowded – it had 14 seats but there were 21 of us I think (it was so squished I couldn’t see much).

Time before the visa expired was getting pretty tight, so I caught the 5.30am bus to Kampala the next day. This was a much more comfortable ride, as you get your own seat on ‘coasters’. The night before there had been much discussion between Dominic, Rose and myself about what to do when I arrived in Kampala. Very kindly they organized for an ex pupil to meet me and take me to the immigration office, as apparently some boda-boda drivers aren’t to be trusted when they know that you, a muzungu (white person), doesn’t know Kampala. Kenneth took me by boda, and waited with me at the office. There, the officer told me I needed a special pass, so I needed letters from my host and a copy of my return ticket. AAAAAAAH!!! So again I failed, and was pretty nervous as my visa expired the next day. Luckily, there was a big football match on Saturday, and Dominic was driving up the day before (Friday) to see it, so he could bring the letters then. Kenneth took me by boda to a hotel (which turned out to be the place that we ate lunch the day I arrived, and picked up some children to take to the school) so I had somewhere to base myself. I had a bit of a rest, and then went off in search of internet to print my return ticket and had some lunch. Gemma, a friend from home, had given me the number of a uni friend who lives in Kampala, so I got in contact with Martin, we met up after he finished work and he showed me some Kampala nightlife! We had a nice meal and then went to a few bars he likes, my favourite one on a roof with a brilliant jazz band. I met lots of his friends, all well educated and friendly, and had a really fun evening. So a big thank you to Martin and Gemma for turning a horrible day into a good one!

In the morning, Dominic met me at the hotel and we got a boda to the immigration office. You might expect that the story is coming to a close now, but oh no. I queued at one window, was sent to the other window. Queued there, sent back to the original window. After a bit more queuing, I handed over my documents only to be told that the letters must be typed. So back to an internet café, where Dominic left me to type and print while he went to do another errand. We met back at the immigration office, which, of course, was closed for lunch. I waited, and waited, chatted to a nun, waited some more and then it reopened. Handed over my freshly printed and signed letters, and she said ok, come back on Wednesday with $100 to check. The same amount it would have cost at the Tanzanian border. AAAAAAH!

By this point, I was kind of immune to everything, so didn’t burst into tears which I was actually quite proud of, and instead I consoled myself with western food again! I bought some of the things I’d been craving from a big supermarket – cheese, savoury bread, chocolate, custard powder, a donut, apple juice, crackers, herby bread. The place was full of ex-pats as you might expect, and it felt good being able to blend in with the crowd.

Afterwards I went by boda (I’m getting better at picking them and haggling over a price now) to the taxi park. When I arrived in Kampala the day before, the taxi park was so crowded and the area around it so congested that I got off before we arrived at the taxi park, so I hadn’t actually seen it. This time I did though, and it was TOTAL gridlock. I have never seen so much chaos in my life. There were all the matutus beeping at each other, trying to move forward to get out first, the drivers and conductors yelling the destination of each vehicle and haggling with customers, people selling fruit, clothing, torches, bread, drinks and more, and to top it all, it was really muddy. So you had to pick your way between people, vehicles and large puddles. And because it was so potholed, the vehicles occasionally struggled to move and I watched someone get sprayed with mud from the wheelspin. It was quite a site! I wish I could have taken a photo, but there is no way you could capture it well enough to give the chaos justice. I eventually found the right coaster and got on. We waited for aaaaageees for it to fill up before even attempting to leave. I had a window seat, which meant that alongside my ‘muzungu’ status, I was constantly accosted by people selling things, including plenty of counterfeit goods (Cashio calculators etc. etc). I was happy eating my bread, cheese and juice, so didn’t really mind the wait too much. When it started, the journey was thankfully uneventful. I arrived back in the dark, feeling tired and stiff from the journey (5 hours is a long time to sit on the same uncomfortable seat).

I taught my normal computer/library class on Saturday, which went fine. Most children have now written at least one sentence on a computer, some two or three sentences. In the afternoon was the football – Uganda vs Kenya. Rose and Dominic’s TV was moved outside for the children to watch if they wanted, but the picture and sound quality was so poor I didn’t watch much. It was a draw and everyone was downhearted – no African Cup for Uganda.





Watching the football



On Sunday I held the first Guide meeting. I wasn’t really planning on doing it, but realized that if I was going back to Kampala on Wednesday I should take advantage of the apparently much faster post service there. We gathered in the library and I told them briefly what Guides are, what they do, and that they were not like “soldiers” as they thought! I got them to make name cards, and then gave out the letters from my Brownies in Bristol. They were so happy and excited! I showed them some photos of the Brownies on our last pack holiday, and they were thrilled. They wrote letters, and then it was time for evening prayers so they left. A successful first meeting. I’m also supposed to be starting Scouts (the boys have been told), but I don’t know anything about them at all, so I’ll just put it off for a while longer…

Monday and Tuesday were normal, uneventful days, with some teaching, some marking and some packing. On Wednesday I caught the 4.30 am bus (yes, it was painful) to Kampala, expecting to arrive about 8 am. Due to a whole lot of faffing in the next village (we appeared to retrace our steps down a side track for absolutely no reason three times) and poor traffic, we arrived at the taxi park at 9 am instead – African time! Martin had a case in Jinja (80 km east of Kampala), so collected me and we drove straight there with the intention of doing a bit of sightseeing afterwards. The area between Kampala and Jinja is much more varied than my journey from the village to Kampala, still rolling hills but much more intensive agriculture (sugar cane, tea), a forest, the name of which I forget but is subject to a lot of discussion at the moment as there is a possibility of turning it into a sugar cane plantation, and some industry. Martin’s case got postponed, so after visiting Jinja (a very neatly laid out, low-rise town/city with lots of buildings from the early part of the 20^th century, the parts I saw seemed quite affluent) briefly, we went on to the ‘source of the Nile’. You wonder why the quotes? Well, although it declares itself the source, it quite obviously isn’t. Speke, a British explorer ‘discovered’ the source here, but it is more likely elsewhere. The picture you have in your mind of the ‘source’ is probably something similar to what Speke saw, but not what I saw – it isn’t a piddley little stream, but actually a very large river because of the construction of various dams to both regulate the flow of water and to provide much needed electricity for Uganda. We ate lunch overlooking the river and then rushed back to Kampala to try to sort out the visa situation.

Martin and I at the 'source' of the Nile



After more phone calls, visiting offices and talking to people, I was told to come back the next day, and it definitely would be done. Martin had invited me to stay the night at his flat so we drove out into the quiet and leafy suburbs, within site of Lake Victoria and I got to watch Sky and BBC news! With full sound and perfect picture! In the evening, we went to a party to celebrate the 10^th birthday of a company owned by a friend of Martin’s. It was on the roof of the Serena Hotel, one of the largest and poshest in Kampala. I was totally underdressed, not expecting to be in that kind of situation by any stretch of the imagination! There were waiters and waitresses passing round wine and nibbles (including smoked salmon), and the view of Kampala was beautiful. There were all sorts of highly successful people there – businessmen, MPs, ambassadors and government employees, and I was even introduced to the Minister of Economic Monitoring. I couldn’t stop thinking how surreal the whole situation was, and still can’t! Afterwards we went to a couple of bars, and saw some more live music. Not as good as the jazz band the week before, but still good.

In the morning, I enjoyed watching some TV and international news whilst Martin was at work and... making more phone calls for me. To cut what would be a long and dull description of more waiting and visiting offices and more phone calls short, I got my special pass. What a relief! I am now entitled to stay in Uganda until the 6^th of January (I’m back on the 15^th of December though). The physical results of all this to-ing and fro-ing is a thin piece of A5 paper and a stamp with some illegible scrawl in my passport. I feel short changed!

So a HUGE thanks goes to Martin for all his help, time and the kindness he has shown to me. I’d probably be going back and forth from Kampala for the rest of my stay here if it weren’t for him!

I’ve been to two weddings since I arrived here now, and they are quite a site. The first one was the bigger of the two in the next village, and the second was in Kabira, just across the road from the school, and for the same couple that held the auction. We stayed later at the more local one, so I saw more of what happens. There was the same dancing/parading thing as before, to music where every track sounds the same to my ears! The music played at both weddings and by the bar across the road every night is Ugandan or African pop music, with a very strong, bassy beat which is often although not always reggae style, with the strong beats on beats two and four. The distinctive thing about it is that the tempo NEVER changes, making it easy to dance to, but very dull to listen to! In addition, many of the rhythms and riffs are similar or the same so they all blend together. The music I’ve heard in Kampala has been much more varied, with some American, British and other western pop and R’n’B mixed in with other African tracks which appear to differ much more from each other. Perhaps there is only one set of CDs that have been passed around the local area, making it all the same? Anyway, back to the wedding – after the parading had finished, music was just played for people to dance to. The people dancing were almost entirely young men, probably aged about 16 to 20, and were most likely from the uninvited section of guests as they were wearing normal clothes rather than smart suits. When I say normal clothes, there were a few exceptions – there was a guy wearing a very feminine straw hat, a few pairs of girls’ jeans (not an unusual site, I suppose the feeling is that jeans are for men, therefore girls’ jeans don’t exist), a scarf worn like a hood and someone who was definitely wearing safety glasses. Kept me entertained whilst trapped next to a very very drunk man who spent most of his time staring at me (luckily only my face as far as I was aware), and occasionally asking if I’d get him a drink, for my number, for a photo etc. Throughout all this, the bride looked very tired and like she wasn’t particularly enjoying it! I guess it must have been a pretty exhausting day for her. We left at 1.30 am, but the music went on for long after that.

Disturbances to my sleep have become more frequent, and I’m not sure whether it is because I’m just not sleeping as heavily as I do at home, or if noises are more frequent. I normally go to bed about 10, straight after supper, but the bar with annoying music often carries on until midnight. The girls staying in my house get up very noisily at 5.30 am or earlier, and sometimes I fall back to sleep, but sometimes I don’t. In the intervening time, Teacher Sarah’s new baby (it was a difficult birth, then both caught malaria, so they’ve only just returned to their home in the other side of the house) often screams in the night and wakes me. I  need quite a lot of sleep, so all this makes me pretty tired in the evenings and I spend a lot of time wishing I’d brought ear plugs!

I’ve just taught a lesson that I am absolutely amazed was successful as I was expecting chaos. I want the kids to learn how to use non-fiction books, because at the moment they pick a book at random and look at the pictures, which does little to help them. So, I chose a selection of books with multiple copies and wrote exercises for each to make them actually do a bit of reading, and use the glossary, index, contents etc. They actually did it! I was so happy.

Well it has certainly been a busy and tiring few weeks, but despite the frustrations and annoyances I’m feeling so much more settled and sure of myself. I think getting out of the village and being more independent has made me confident that despite being here on my own, I can get out and about to see things. Let’s hope that the next two months go well.

Here are a few photos that don't particularly fit into this post but you may be interested to see anyway.



My room



Weaver birds

Boys playing football on the school field