Thursday morning, Jane and I went to the fruit market in Kampala, and then she ran errands prior to heading out to meet Sarah and Kieran in Mukono, picking up Melissa, a friend of hers along the way. Those words don't describe the lateness, the waiting, and the unfolding drama of Sarah and Kieran waiting and the taxi driver waiting, and the cell phone calls back and forth, and the getting later and later. Melissa is studying nursing at John's Hopkins and completing an extra clinical rotation in Uganda. (More about her later). She would be a bridesmaid along with Sarah. We were 2 hours late meeting them, operating on African time. As many brides do, Jane had committed to too much in too little time. We left Mukono at 3 in the afternoon, on a 2 lane sometimes 3 lane, sometimes one lane road that was sometimes under construction, sometimes had an accident, and sometimes ran through a village. Instead of stop lights, there are speed bumps, which may or may not be signed and painted with white stripes. Quite a shock at any speed.
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| The fruit market |
We arrived at Tororo at dark, in a downpour that caused local flooding, obscured potholes large enough to hide a truck tire and caused a power outage. When we turned off the highway, we were still 20km from Jane's house, but diverted to Mororo village, an aunt's house where dinner waited. We chatted with relatives by candle and flashlights while they finished preparing our meal--another hour--noodles, rice, chicken, port, beer (for myself and Kieran-hooray!), all very good. BUT, it became known that there was more food waiting, so tried to eat lightly, and moved on to Jane's village at Nagongera. It turned out that Sarah and Kieran had reserved a hotel in Tororo Village, and I prevailed upon them to check if there was a room for me. I just had a bad feeling...a wedding, many relatives, a remote village, small houses, bathroom facilities for many people, etc. etc. I was right and lucky to be able to connect with a hotel and have transport back and forth.
The back of the Toyota was absolutely full, luggage, fruit, various wedding supplies, etc., so we headed down the dirt road, dark now, but at least not raining to the village. No lights anywhere, and in the town of Tororo, people everywhere, trucks, cars parked on the street (I use the term street loosely), with dogs, chickens, and cows running free. Many motorbikes, with 2 or 3 people on each. It was a warm night, as always in Africa, and eerie, so many people appearing and disappearing, and no lights. There was just occasional candlelight in a house or shop.
Sarah and Kieran and I unloaded the van with help, declined to stay for dinner but met everyone, including Jane's mom, and departed to the hotel (20 km back the way we'd come). We returned Friday at 1000 to help with preparations. I watched the cooking and they served me lunch after bringing me handwahsing water and soap, whens it was done. I would have stopped them and gotten it myself if I'd known what was coming. Ugandans are big eaters because they work so hard at everything, and they serve everyone that way. I ate maybe 1/3 of what I got...posho (a soft pan bread sort of pudding made of boiling water, millet, and sorghum), chicken, rice, Irish (white potatoes as opposed to sweet), and a cabbage salad (like our cole slaw) all seriously mounded on two very full plates. I had brought her mother a gift of scarves, and so I was hopeful that would absolve me of my offense of not eating....they just didn't understand how I could stop before the plates were empty. I managed to get it consolidated to one plate so it didn't look so bad.
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| Cooking Posho |
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| The Cooks |
We returned at 1000 for the big day. I'll blog about that later, but suffice it to say that the wedding started about 1430, which was 2 1/2 hours late, and the ceremony concluded at 1900, which was just past sunset. Kieran and Sarah are physicians at Bwindi Community Hospital and had committed to be at work Monday morning. Everyone knew we'd have to leave as soon as the ceremony was over, and we'd expected to hit the road at 1630 at the latest. So we sneaked to the car (much pressure and angst would be caused by our departure if they knew) and hit the road. Darkness was setting in as we turned onto A109 for the return to Kampala where we would spend the night.
We all agree that none of us have ever spent a more terrified 4 1/2 hours, 217 km. First, it was dark, no street lights, no moon, no starlight, no house lights, and very little reflective signs, if any. The road is the main route between Kampala and Kenya, so is a constant stream of trucks, buses, cars, motorbikes, pedestrians, bicycles, and some animals (usually dead). When I say it was dark, it was very, very dark. Weak headlights, non-existent tail lights, no lights. Oncoming vehicles either had no lights or high beams that blinded. Sarah and Kieran took turns driving, I held on. Passing a 5mph truck on a hill was an exercise in supreme concentration, taking into account oncoming traffic, side traffic, and passing traffic, who gave one small beep of warning. The universal sign for "move over, coming through" was a truck half in your lane, with his left blinker on...it meant that he couldn't yet move back into his own lane and for whatever reason needed half of ours. Usually it was on a downhill stretch for him. There were bicyclists on the breakdown strip--no lights or reflectors. There were also motorbikes over there, too slow for the traffic, but weaving in and out of the pedestrians and bikes. There of course, were very faint lane markings.
As we traveled through a village, the only sign were the speed bumps and trucks parked on both sides of the road. Again, people, people everywhere, faint light from some charcoal braziers from the street vendors and shops, loud music. Otherwise dark, dark, dark.
We arrived in Kampala safely, to all of our surprise, and spent the night at St. Augustine's retreat center, where a room cost 26,000 UGX ($10.00), was clean, comfortable, austere, but quiet. It took 12 hours of hard driving to reach Bwindi late Sunday evening over bedrock roads that shook the vehicle and us to our limits of tolerance. Tomorrow the wedding.
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| Crossing the equator along the way |
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