First Day...Easing In...

Today my intention was to ease into things here in Uganda.  

We woke to the sounds of singing birds, the warmth of the sun, and the sight of lush flowering trees at the airport guest house in Entebbe.  We were picked up by a driver and Morris (ATIN AFRIKA) and I set out to look for vehicles at car bond lots in Kampala.  We are getting a vehicle for him to use for his work with street kids in Lira.  We’re looking at Isuzu’s, land cruisers, 4x4’s that could withstand the roads out to the villages in northern Uganda.  Morris had done a lot of the ground work so things began to click along more or less without incident.  

We looked at about half a dozen lots with a handful of vehicles in each lot that fit our criteria.  You can’t test drive these vehicles because they are sandwiched in front to back and it would take a day of reorganization just to get one vehicle out of the lot.  Most of the cars had the odometer tampered with, either that or it was amazingly coincidental how many had reached nice round and low numbers like 70K, 150K, especially given that all the vehicles were 94-98 models, so we went on the sound of the engine.  I’m not sure I’m really the guy to be relied upon to listen to an engine but the ones that squealed like pigs or vibrated so violently that the car shook struck me as bad deals and we moved on fairly quickly from those ones.  At times, I felt the need to play the part of the important muzungu and look like I might know what I’m doing.  I’d crouch down to check out the ball bearings or exhaust manifold or peer intently into the bowels of the engine as if looking for its vital signs.  I left the technical questions to Morris and just repeated what he said if there was a need for my opinion. 

 

I discovered that used car salesmen share many of the same traits the world over when it comes to their relationship with the truth.  At a certain point the handshakes were getting a little too slippery and we collectively bolted for Jinja knowing that a good prospect awaited us there in a private sale that Morris had already test drove. 

En route to Jinja conversation meandered along a variety of topics, as happens on road trips, and as is sometimes the case when men are conversing we began discussing the nature of a woman’s beauty.  Several opinions were put forward when the driver let it be known that his preference was for a ‘medium sized woman because if she is too fat and she falls ill you cannot lift her’.  His concern was that if she fell ill and needed to be transported to the hospital he would not be able to lift her into the car without calling for assistance.  Thus, a medium sized woman was his choice.

I unloaded at the guest house in Jinja.  Lay down for a few minutes.  I then visited Damali and the babies at Sonrise Baby Home.  I held new baby ‘Angel’ who arrived 4 days ago.  She is a month old.  Her mom died in childbirth and her dad is not around.  She is very malnourished and was smaller than a football.  I had, what felt like a sacred moment, the chance to feed her some milk which she willingly chugged.  Damali and I caught up while she showed me around their properties and programs – with baby Angel along for the walk.  The clinic we built last year looks well used but the rafters are being rotted by some sort of insects.  One of my tasks while I’m here will be to have the frames replaced which will require taking off the tin roofing.  This time the wood will need to be coated with some sort of protectant.  At least that is my professional opinion. 

At this point it was late afternoon and I was heading back to my room at the Nile Guest House to meet up with Ben (GIVE staff) who will take me to get Morris in town and go to see the vehicle.  En route I encountered a fellow that I had some dealings with last year that wanted money from me for some paintings he had done for a friend of mine back home during his last visit to Uganda.  I knew about these paintings and was going to pay this fellow at some point during my stay, collect the paintings, and everyone would be happy.  The urgency with which this fellow required payment, and his ability to track me down having just stepped foot in Jinja was remarkable.  It began to feel a little offside as did his recollection of the agreed upon price in contrast with the figure I had been given by my friend back home.  Due to a variety of competing forces including a very somber and dejected artist who had clearly been eagerly awaiting my arrival I elected to give him his price despite that fact that I would be creating some complications for myself.  The thought occurred to me to make sure there was a witness present when I forked over a good chunk of what I had for cash given that my receipt book was back in my room.  The shade of the impressive mango tree that loomed over us was eclipsed in that moment by the shadiness of this jet lagged, white guilted, caught in the middle, episode of confusion.  The encounter helped to open the memory vault from my last trip when I became familiar with these sorts of transactional entanglements.   

This considered, the day was going well and got better when we went to check out the vehicle and we liked what we saw.  The test drive went well.  The current owner seems like an honourable man who has taken great care of his car.  We established how we would go about doing the deal and the transfer of ownership (which I don’t claim to understand despite asking him to repeat it to me in several different ways).  We left his house feeling hopeful and headed to Leoz for some Indian food in town.  

It was now dark.  The setting of the sun was a good reminder that the power had been out all afternoon yet despite there being no street lighting of any kind Jinja’s traffic did not slow down to accommodate a startling lack of visibility on the roads.  Morris and I each climbed onto the back of a boda which began an onslaught of ‘near misses’.  Streaking down the main drag weaving in and out within inches of cross traffic and unbelievably confusing intersections Morris is laughing, his dreads bouncing in the wind, with arms outstretched as someone might do if they were enjoying the Great Canadian Mindbuster at Canda’s Wonderland.  I on the other hand had fused myself to the backside of my young giggling driver who when I told him that I wasn’t ready to die stated, ‘Even me..I am not ready.  I have no children.  I don’t even yet have a wife’ speeding up as he spoke.  

After dinner at Leoz we walked to a bank machine to get some schillings.  The power was still out everywhere that didn’t have generators.  Luckily things were lit up for us by the lightning that was striking down all around us.  Rain started pouring and we began to make a run for it down the pitch black road with potholes scattered like land mines and with each step I felt the vulnerability of my ankles.  Like the cell phone I got earlier in the day the bank machine wouldn’t work and we managed to startle the guard at the bank which frightened me a little because of the way he jerked his rifle.  

Running back toward town looking for Ben to get help with my cell phone we got wetter but had the good fortune of running into my friend, the artist, who’d taken me for most of my cash earlier in the day.  He proceeded to disclose to me some of his misfortunes having gotten into some financial and employment trouble after taking money from an organization he worked for to buy land from a guy who had already sold it to someone else.  I extracted myself as quickly as I could from this encounter having all I needed to know to steer clear.  The day was getting away from me.  The ease with which I imagined events unfolding today had taken all sorts of disturbing turns and I just wanted to reach the comfort of my room and utilize the free wi-fi. 

We found a driver for hire who set out to take us across the bridge to my room.  The first bump he hit knocked out both his head lights and again we were driving with no visibility.  Morris was having trouble containing himself as Uganda was now tossing me around like a rag doll.  Then the driver stopped for petro but didn’t turn off the engine while the fuel was being pumped.  As it was happening I used the time to process my basic understanding of combustion.  At this point in the day it seemed like a minor point.

We reached my room and I settled in to find the internet was not working so I addressed it with the receptionist at the front desk who was generally confused by the question.  I then asked the manager, ‘Innocent’, who until I arrived I had pictured as a woman, and he told me that the internet was not working in the whole region.  He went on to explain to me something about cables being severed beneath the ocean caused by big boats.  Walking back to my room the thought sharpened in my mind that on this first day back Uganda has made short work of my western expectations , controlling instincts, and overall softness.  So here’s what going to happen- I will regroup and tomorrow I will take another kick at the can.  Tomorrow, I will ‘ease’ into African life.  I will.