Strange Encounters in Uganda

Part 1

8 March 2005

After about half of our four or five mile trek, we rested for a time overlooking the majestic valley and lake below. Our hosts were socializing with some of their friends. One of the girls and I each had to relieve ourselves, so we asked where to find the nearest latrine.

Most Ugandans use latrines as their toilets, even in the cities, unless they are rich. Latrines are of kindred spirits to our outhouses—only they are permanent, and generally made of mud with a tin roof. They rarely have a seat. Moreover, we always had to carry toilet paper with us because few latrines ever had any. It is a different and generally smelly way to go—but then again, they never have to unclog their toilets, repair their pipes, or empty their sewers or septic tanks!

Anyway, Cassie went to the latrine first. When she returned, she told me I was going to have fun in there! When I found it, I was dumbfounded to see a four-foot high latrine. I not only could not stand up inside, I could not pee in any upright position whatever—I had to squat like a girl!

Most men in that neighborhood, I suppose, simply used the outdoors for number one. This would be no problem at home on my family ranch or hiking in the mountains. But here, it was not really an option. Plus, to cap off the event, ten or twelve youngsters were lined up nearby as I came out, shyly watching my every move. Ah, Uganda!

Part 2

27 February 2005

Most of the Ugandans I have met are fabulous folks. But there was this one guy…

My good friend Cassie and I were talking late one evening, sitting in the middle of the university basketball courts on the edge of campus. We had not been there long when a random, seemingly drunk man approached us out of nowhere.

He began telling us about how impoverished and run-down Uganda was. He told us to tell others in our home country about these problems. We already had witnessed a great deal of deprivation all over Uganda. Also, we had been planning to share with people back home about the plight of many Ugandans. This man was simply ordering us to do this for him.

He pointed randomly to the patched asphalt basketball courts as evidence for his case. This was a legitimate example, for Uganda Christian University was one of the finest in the country, and yet for its three thousand students it could only maintain one outdoor basketball court, complete with cracked asphalt and cement.

The man almost acted as if he had planned the entire show, as if he knew that two white students would be right there at 11:30 pm! He spoke loud, and sat close. But he was not mad or bellicose, and he stayed where he was. He was creepy, but probably harmless. I was on my guard the entire time, mostly for Cassie’s sake. She was, too, she told me afterward.

But nothing happened. Eventually, he got up still gesticulating wildly and talking with increased nonsense. Finally, he wandered off into the darkness and disappeared as quickly as he had come. You just never know who you might meet in Uganda near midnight on a basketball court!

Sleeping in Kampala

26 March 2005

One day I wandered all over the capital of Uganda for ten hours, starting around 11 am. I already had spent several afternoons in Kampala. But this was my first all-day and overnight excursion.

I was by myself, and my goal was just to see—and learn my way around—as much of the city as I could. My second goal was to try many different restaurants from many different cuisines. But I quit after getting sick at my fourth restaurant, fourth country, and third continent!

Late in the evening, still rather sick, I trudged around trying to locate my hostel. I considered just going back to my dorm an hour outside of town. But I was on an adventure, and I was staying on it!

A nice man helped me find my lodging by going almost an hour out of his way to ensure my safe arrival. I felt exhausted after hours of walking under the African sun and eating too much diverse food. But this was precisely where God graced me with humor to get through the night, although the events seemed so typical of Uganda.

I entered the gates of the hostel and met three guards lounging there—as in lounging! They were eating, talking, and leaning back in what vaguely looked like lawn chairs. One easily could have grabbed one of their guns before any of them could do anything. I also wondered why three were there, all apparently doing the same thing: nothing!

I greeted them and announced that I had reservations for the night. Three blank stares. I repeated with a patient, annoyed sigh, “I have experienced this before in this country!”

They dryly asked, “You want to stay here tonight?” I thought, “Shall I repeat myself again, or do random white people often show up with backpacks at the entrance to the ‘Backpacker’s Hostel,’ alone, tired, in the dark, at 9:30 at night?!” But I answered, “Yes.”

Again, silence. “So…can I go in?” “Yes.” “Um…where do I go?” It was not like a big, or small, “Office” sign stood right in front of me, or anywhere in sight for a hundred feet in any direction. One guard pointed toward my left, but silence reigned. So I sighed and went in, barely stumbling onto the correct path to the distant, unmarked office building.

To perfect the evening, I went in and gave my name, having made reservations that morning. But whoever I had talked with in the morning did not record my reservation! Yet after insisting that I would not leave at this hour or in my weakened condition, they provided me a better room at the same price.

I went in, lay down on my bed, and just thought, “Ah, Africa!”

Hikes, Cows, and Tunes near Mount Elgon

Part 1

9 April 2005

These three tales are from the same weekend excursion in Uganda. We were fifteen students from a university just outside the national capital, where I spent my final semester of college.

We visited eastern Uganda, which boasts some of the prettiest waterfalls and foothills I have ever observed. We hiked along one side of a massive mountain, Elgon, whose 14,200-foot summit we neither approached, nor even saw.

Part of the hike was in a national forest, and official guides had to accompany us. Our group size posed a problem for our two guides. They said we had to divide into two clans—one group three to five minutes behind the other. They added that every person in both groups had to walk single file behind our guides on the path. Disgruntled, and curious as to their reasoning, we asked for an explanation.

They politely informed us that their methodology sought to protect the environment. But this was despite two obvious factors. First, all of us would be walking along the exact same route whether we were in two separate groups or one large group. And second, the path was already well worn. There was nothing that walking single file or in separate groups could do to the environment that one group walking two abreast would not also have done.

But they insisted!

Part 2

9 April 2005

Later that day, after we left the national park and could trek with more liberty, we were treading through villages and on paths through local farms and fields. A few of the people on this hillside kept a small number of cows—an uncommon, valuable commodity in East Africa. For myself, I grew up on a cattle ranch in Montana. So I like cows, and like conversing with them sometimes.

I was lagging behind my group. And since I had not seen many cows in Uganda, I said “moo” to one lone cow eating separately from the herd. She immediately looked up. Pleased, I said “moo” again, and she looked ever so intently at me. A third “moo” and she started pacing toward me.

She was distant enough that I could not discern her mood. But I was very curious, since a “moo” back home never arouses more than a lazy glance. I half guessed that if eastern Ugandans called their cows this way, perhaps she thought I had food. My speculation soon changed!

I called once more and to my great humor and surprise, she began to charge! I took off, but I was already a good distance from her, so she eventually stopped. I tried one final time and she picked up the chase again! It is quite an experience to run for your life while laughing at the same time!

Eventually she halted, and I pressed on and left the poor beast alone. She watched me closely for another five minutes. I have been charged before, but never for offering an innocent “moo!”

Part 3

9 April 2005

Back in our weekend lodging, we met a small band of British students. They were celebrating the 21^st birthday of one of their members, and spent the evening drinking themselves silly. We talked with them around a campfire awhile, and in time a few of them started singing.

If you have spent much time overseas with Brits as an American, you probably have traded jokes about colonial disobedience, royal tyranny, and the like. Our new friends were singing distinctly American songs, including patriotic songs like Yankee Doodle Dandy or even the Star-Spangled Banner.

Then in strong British—and fairly drunk—accents, one or two began teasing us and calling on us to “Sing us a tune, sing us a tune!” We smiled. Almost like cat calls, they pressed again, “Sing us a tune, sing us an American tune!” We kept chatting by the campfire. One or two of them looked embarrassed and tried to distract them or make them stop.

Finally, the annoyance was bathed in humor as they cried, “Sing us an American tune! Sing us—sing us an anti-British tune!” We still pretended to ignore them, until somebody in our group said quietly, “We don’t have any anti-British tunes...we won the war!”

African Bus Rides

Part 1

15 June 2005

Ethiopia is a phenomenally aged country and society, like that of Egypt. In seventeen days there, God led me to engage the people and culture as much as I could. I experienced some of the most challenging, horrifying, yet also fantastic and fulfilling episodes of my life. Comic relief filled in the gaps.

Halfway through my stay, I took one of my many rough, crammed, and sometimes scary African bus rides. I highly recommend the adventure at least once!

I was in the back row. In America, it would have comfortably fit four people, and tightly fit five. But in most of my travels in Ethiopia and Uganda, “comfortable” meant six, “full” meant seven, and “tight” meant eight! This particular bus ride, counting one or two kids, was “tight.”

Toward the end of the five-hour journey, I discovered that at least some (maybe most) Ethiopian children do not use diapers. I was squeezed in next to a father and his infant son, maybe one year old. I looked down on the floor and saw a small but growing pool of liquid. I thought there was a hole somewhere and water was leaking into the bus—I had seen such holes before.

But then the father reached down and grabbed a small basin about the size of a large cereal bowl. He pulled down the pants of his child right there—who was still urinating—and plopped his little bare butt down into the basin for a couple of minutes!

Afterwards, he apologized to me in his minimal English. Most humored, I assured him it was all right. After all, it was just another of my crazy African bus rides!

Part 2

14 March 2005

I had bus escapades in Uganda, too. My Ugandan friend Jeremiah was driving through Kampala. We were just finishing a tiring day on the road on our return from a ten-day trip to southwestern Uganda. With me on the bus were eleven fellow college students, all studying abroad for a term, as well as our program leaders.

Most of us were likely asleep or snoozing when all of a sudden Jeremiah slammed on the brakes. He just missed hitting a random—but not altogether uncommon—goat sprinting across the road. Wide awake, we all turned and looked to make sure we did in fact miss it.

Well, we missed it. But a cyclist going the same direction we were was not so fortunate!

With a big bus beside him, he could not discern what was coming across our path until it was out of our path, and therefore in his path. The silly goat ploughed right into the bicycle rider, and we looked just in time to see the bicycle wreck and its rider go flying and screaming through the air! I doubt his untimely flight without parachute or wings offered him a graceful or painless landing.

Nothing was stopping that creature from getting to the other side of the road. In fact, it kept right on going after the collision. The poor cyclist, meanwhile, probably had to be taken to a hospital!