Pack it up, pack it in! Load up the Shogun, ’cause we’re off to get our lunch on at Ndali Lodge. But nor before travelling through the incredible Crater Lake region.

This is a volcanic area (hence the creation of all these craters, peaks and valleys), and the diversity is amazing. Some craters are heavily forested, others are savanna, and still others are filled with water. Regardless, it’s hard to get over how steep the drops are, and how immense the craters are, not to mention the landscape as a whole.

Ta-da! That was quick. Elephants roam the Crater Lake region. Lots of elephants.

This is the first, small, group we came across.

This becomes a pretty common sight during the trip through the craters. Don’t know if they can see us, but they sure can smell us.

See if you can spot elephants in this pic. It’s like Where’s Waldo?, only entertaining.

Another group off in the distance.

Time to stop the Shogun and explore a bit!

[nextpage title=”Crater Lakes Part 2″]

Part 20 – Crater Lakes Part 2

What time is it in the States? Correct answer would be… who cares?

Demanda spots some more efelents.

See the big tusker on the left?

Pachyderm convoy.

Two more big tuskers.

They faced off and gave each other a bit of a nudge, but I don’t think it was serious.

Funny, and unnerving. Every time you spot a small group of them, and you begin to scan more closely, you realize that there’s actually a very large group of them. More than once it seemed like we were in the middle of the groups, as we could see elephants all around us.

[nextpage title=”Crater Lakes Part 3″]

Part 21 – Crater Lakes Part 3

Stopping off at another crater.

And another big tusker says Hi.

Matt surveys the scene.

Big. Big. Those dark spots down there. Those are shadows. From clouds.

How many times have I used the word amazing thus far? Not nearly enough.

Whups! Keep yer wits about ya! There’s still pachyderms afoot.

I wonder if, to him, we smell like pork?

We definitely smell like something…

[nextpage title=”Crater Lakes Part 4″]

Part 22 – Crater Lakes Part 4

Demanda surveys the criggety craters. Time for a few examples, methinks:

Heavily wooded crater, left.

Heavily wooded crater, right. Wonder what could be found down there?

Crater lake, left.

Crater lake, middle.

Crater lake, right. Awesome.

On the fringes of the region things flatten out. Abruptly.

[nextpage title=”Out of QE – NotSoWetlands”]

Part 23 – Out of Q.E. – NotSoWetlands

It’s time to take a powder from the mighty Queen Elizabeth Park and head to Kibale, by way of Ndali Lodge.

Checkpoint ahead! Are those yerts?

Hitch Hike Mike says “C-Ya” to Q.E. while the guards at the gate look on behind us. Amused? Cornfused? Hey, they’ve got automatic weapons… you ask ’em. I’ll wait here.

We took off overland, headed to some wetlands Matt had visited previously. To his dismay the area that had once been a veritable lake, teeming with birdlife, had been reduced to a mere puddle with a few hangers-on. This, I guess, is what happens when you arrive at the very beginning of the wet season. It’s been dry, buddy.

While we didn’t see a Crested Crane (Uganda’s official feathered friend), we did eyeball some Spoonbill Storks getting their eat on. The pics ain’t great, but as we got closer they rose up and left us.

Storks. Right!

After a bit of excitement that involved trying to find our way we’re back on the road.

Jus’ perusing a bit o the local scenery.

Did I say ‘road’?

Ahhh, The Lake. The Evil Lake. The Lake that Matt and some cronies swam across last year. The Lake that left them riddled with bilharzia. Bilharzia of a particularly virulent strain, leaving some of them ill for in excess of 10 months. A strain that had, prior to this incident, never been recorded in Uganda before.
Look on the bright side; how many people can say they’ve been written up in medical journals?
Bad Lake.

[nextpage title=”Ndali Lodge, The First Time”]

Part 24 – Ndali Lodge, The First Time

Time to stop for some grub at Ndali Lodge; the Ugandan lodge so posh it was featured in Vogue (no shit!). The first things you notice when you arrive at Ndali are that it’s incredibly beautiful, there are two turkeys, male and female, anxiously waiting for you to park so they can walk and defecate all over your vehicle, and that the place is overrun with dogs. Really. There’s gotta be between 17 and 20 dogs calling this place home, and they’ve got the run of it. By default, I guess, as everything is open air. Walkways between the main buildings of the lodge are covered with the same thatch roofing that cover all the structures, but they have no walls. When the temp never gets below the 70’s, you don’t need ’em.

Ndali is absolutely overrun with fantabulous leezards. Blue Headed Agamas are all over the place.

And they’re stunning. So I’m a reptile person… what of it?

The doors leading into the bar area of the lodge, with one of the dogs chillin’. All the dogs look damn near exactly like this one, give or take a tick or two. Actually, that’s how I came to identify many of them. “TickEar”… “TickButt”… the rare and elusive “ApparentlyTickless”. There was one dog with a collar. He had been given to a local Ugandan living near the lodge. “SportingCollar” knew where his bread was buttered though, and hung out at the lodge with all his peeps nonetheless.
And calling this place the “bar” doesn’t do it justice. There’s a fridge in there, powered by a generator (no other power, other than meager solar, going on here), but it’s chock full of comfy couches and stacked to the rafters with reading materials. More books and magazines than you could ever hope to make it through. Not that I wouldn’t be up for the challenge were someone to fund my stay.

An unfortunately blurry picture of a pretty golden skink.

More agamas! Man… this place gets better and better. So what if everyone else thinks I’m bizarre for running around taking pictures of lizards.

Why o why must these be blurry? Uganda is a bird watchers (or “twitcher”) paradise. It’s impossible to get tired of watching what comes and goes in the skies.

Another one! Another one!

Sorry, but I can’t get enough of these boys.

The view from the other side of the bar. I’d call this prime real estate.

Someone found this little guy lumpin’ it across the road down from the lodge. From what I understand they’re pretty common, but the trick is in spotting them. Once in the trees, these chameleons disappear. We were lucky this one opted to go overland for a bit.

[nextpage title=”From Ndali to Kibale”]

Part 25 – From Ndali to Kibale

So after a delicious lunch and some well earned chill time at Ndali Lodge, it’s off to Kibale. We’ve got no reservations there, so here’s to hoping that they’ll have accommodations open for us. We’ve brought tents with us, but so far our luck has been good and we haven’t had to break ’em out.

Back to the track and down, down down towards Kibale.

Sometimes you forget to blink while driving here. Other times you just don’t want to blink. You might miss something.

Whup! Get outta da road, giggedy goats!

Slope or no slope, they’ll cultivate.

Cruisin’ in to a little village.

And the locals are gettin’ their herd on. Check the horns on that big boy.

[nextpage title=”Kibale Arrival”]

Part 26 – Kibale Arrival

We arrive at Kibale in early evening. Not only do they have accommodations open, they have the mack daddy digs. We’ve got a choice between the elevated banda or the treehouse. The treehouse sounds intriguing, so we check it out. It’s a mighty hike to get there. Indeed it is a treehouse. The pros:

• Well, it’s a treehouse. That’s damn cool. Me Tarzan. You ugly.
• We’re told that oftentimes, in the early morning, forest elephants congregate beneath it to graze.

The cons:

• It’s tiny, and fully open air. Mosquitoes and tsetse flies will be a problem, not to mention the three of us having to lay foot to head on the floor to sleep.
• The ‘steps’ going up to it are little more than a crude ladder made from logs. Have fun with that, especially since we can’t drive the Shogun up to it to offload in the first place.
• The Pottie is downstairs and outside. Not bad, until you give thought to needing to drop the kids off at the pool while surrounded by forest elephants. We’ve already been warned that they’re very aggressive, and best to be avoided at all costs.

Right. To the elevated banda it is!

But first a quick break to check out another Weaver Bird tenement.

Bird. Weaving. Weaver Bird.

This pretty fellow nearly fell on Demanda’s head while she was truckin’ to the bathroom. She scooped him up on a leaf and brought him back to show us. Vibrant. The locals told us that these ‘burn’ you when walking on you. Actually, the hairs on these guys raise blistery welts on contact. Very Painful. Nice. Good thing his aim was off.

Ahhh the elevated banda. Elevated simply means ‘two story’. This is the view from the second story balcony.

And here’s a nifty plaque on the outside. Ooooo… muy importante!

Inside the first floor of the banda. Wow. Furniture and everything. We’re high rollers.

The somewhat scary and most definitely not OSHA approved stairs leading to level two. See those giant suitcases there? No damn way I’m humpin’ those up to and into the treehouse.

The Shogun, the banda, Demanda.
Looks nice, right? Lemme tell you. There was a ‘bathroom’ in this puppy; the only private bathroom in all of Kibale. Unfortunately it was a not-so-long drop, however. For the uninitiated, a long drop is a hole. A fancy long drop is a hole with a porcelain goddess placed over it, set to fool your butt into thinking that it’s not dangling precariously over a community poop-drop. In reality your butt is plugging up a community poop-drop, but you’re not supposed to think about that.
This was a fancy long drop. Cept that drop… it weren’t to far to fall. So, the whole damn banda smelled like Rosanne’s colon after a plate of pork chops. We shut the bathroom door. It didn’t help. We poured water down the loo. It didn’t help. We opened all available windows and doors. Well… at least our eyes stopped watering.
I also like how the balcony looks a bit, well, off in this pic. Those support poles holding the balcony up? They’re not affixed to anything. Some of ’em have shrunk, and you can grab ahold of them and move ’em around at will.
We didn’t try that with one person down on the ground moving it and another up surfing the balcony. Next time, baby.
They were also proud to tell us that they’d finished the kitchen in this banda. The only banda in Kibale with a kitchen. Their idea of a kitchen? A closet, albeit with a window, sporting a rickety sink, sure to fall if filled to any extent, and a hastily nailed in countertop.
Franks n Beans, anyone?

Oh yea. Hitch Hike Mike welcomes you to Kibale, home of the elevated banda of eye watering funk.

[nextpage title=”Kibale Day 2 PAart 1″]

Part 27 – Kibale Day 2 Part 1

Up early the next morning for the chimp tracking expedition. What fun! We ran around the forest for 4 hours, chasing the sights and sounds of chimps. And are they loud. It’s startling, and somewhat frightening, how loud and violent they sound. A few hours in we spotted the rump of a mother holding a little one ahead of us, but she boogied off into the trees lickety split, and lost us. Some time later we came across a lone old silvery male, just hanging out on a fallen tree. He sat for us for some time, just surveying the scene and checkin’ us out. Unfortunately the light was low, and the foliage was dense. Our dijickal kamera just ain’t cut out for such conditions.

And this is literally the very best pic I got. We just got Demanda’s pics back from the developer and, thankfully, she got some great shots of this experience. Check ’em out here.
I’ll wait for the pic to explain but, really, I’m not making that up. It’s called the shit tree.

Maybe that’s what our banda is made from. It would explain a lot.
Anyway, our trekking ended with us chasing a male full tilt across the forest. He crossed the road leading to Kibale and dropped down the drainage ditch on the far side. Matt and our guide were in the head of the pack, and made it to the road first. Just as they were midway across the road (and I was atop the drainage ditch on the far side preparing to jump to the road) the chimp leaped up from behind the ditch, teeth bared, mock charged the two of them, and bellowed to shake the trees in a mile radius.
He then turned tail and rocked it into the forest, leaving Matt and the guide, both of whom had taken a big step back, shaken in the roadway. The guide, he chuckled nervously. Matt, he wondered how quickly he could get a change of shorts.
Oh what I’d give to have that entire 5 second scene on video.

That officially ended our chimp tracking, and we utilized the road to return. Kibale is overrun with butterflies. They’re everywhere, all around you. Red ones, brilliant blue ones, yellow and orange ones, powder green ones. It’s beautiful. It’s also frustrating, because they don’t often light anywhere for any length of time, so photographing them is near impossible.

These ones, which are drab by comparison to most flying about, were congregating on the roadside for some reason.

Back at the Kibale headquarters we saw reason to appreciate dookie-banda. Baboons were making themselves at home in the camping area.

They’re fascinating to watch, but a bit menacing. They’re known for being troublesome, and are considered pests.

Big, toothy pests prone to violence.

“Who you callin’ a pest, hairless boy?”

A girl who had gone chimp tracking with us ventured to follow this crew into the forest but a bit of a tree shaking and screaming sent her back to us pretty quickly. You’re definitely encouraged to leave the baboons alone.

Butterfly butterfly, freakin’ hold still!

[nextpage title=”Kibale Day 2 Part 2″]

Part 28 – Kibale Day 2 Part 2

More monkey business in Kibale. This is an equatorial rainforest primate reserve, and it’s claimed to hold the highest concentration of primates in the world.

I think this is the elusive S&M Nipple Clamp Monkey.Jus’ kidding. It’s the Gumdrop Smuggling Howler.I’ll quit. Promise.

Straight up now… this looks a lot like a Red Colobus.
Is it cold out here?

And this one looks like it may be a Vervet Monkey.

“The Thinker”

[nextpage title=”Return to Ndali”]

Part 29 – Return to Ndali

So after a night in the dookie-banda I thought to myself “Sod this! It’s the last night before returning to Kampala. I’m a-gwan out in stylie!”
So I made the offer to put everyone, everyone being me, Demanda and Matt, up at the extraplush Ndali Lodge for the night. Such offers are easy when you’ve run slap out of Ugandan shillings, and need the local boy to front with a cheque til you can get back to that one lone cash machine in the heart of Kampala. Thanks for being a sport about it, Matt. It was a pretty ballsy thing for Demanda and I to suggest. But then, after umpteen uninterrupted hours with Americans, you were just rollin’ with the punches, weren’t you?

Ahhhhhhhhh… the view of our back porch at our digs in Ndali.

Better yet, the view from our back porch at our digs in Ndali. This is livin’. No power, but who needs it? Big, clean beds, a relatively modern, clean and private bathroom, excellent food, beer and service. Aaawwyea. Nothin’ like delivering cold beers to matt through the bathroom window as he takes a bubble bath. Yea, I don’t think he minded being waylaid at the lodge too much.

That contraption there is where our hot (hothothot!) water came from. Essentially a barrel filled with water and a wood fire lit beneath it. That’ll do, pig.

Once more, ladies and gentleman; The Lake of Evil.

We decided that it’d be fun to trek around the lake. I’d hoped to find more lizards, or snakes, or something moderately reptilian, but no dice. Still, it was wonderful. As you can see, TickButt accompanied us on our journey.

Matt hears The Children of The Maize.

Our path took us a bit away from the lake, and we wandered into a little village area. These plants aren’t banana, but motoke.

TickButt ponders; “Whither dost thou Mzungu wander?”

Demanda and TickButt make a friend and, by photographing him, I promptly lose one.
Seems like the only bicycles here are these ultra rugged single speed jobbies. There are actually billboard ads for them
in some areas. You should see folks pedalling along on these over any and all terrain, often with a giant load of somethingorother in tow. Makes mountain bikers look like a bunch of nancies if you ask me.

[nextpage title=”Ndali to Home Base”]

Part 30 – From Ndali to Home Base

Well well. It’s Sunday, and Matt’s gotta be back in Kampala for work Monday morning. Time to bid adieu to Ndali Lodge and make our way east, back to the big city.

But first, one more shot of a village we walked the border of near the Lake of Evil.

And, yes, another butterfly.

Cripes. I love this place! This dude came to visit while we were sitting out at Ndali, getting our breakfast on.

Right! On our way. Petrol stop, and there’s a truck slap fulla bovine. That guy on top best have good balance. Watch them horns!

Don’t quite look like the cows in the States, do they? They’re feistier too. You don’t wanna piss ’em off.

[nextpage title=”Kampala Bound”]

Part 31 – Kampala Bound

Back to ‘civilization’.

Must be closing in on the city… things are starting to get busy.

We stopped at a roadside stand and scored some friggety-froot. Lookie! I got a big ole’ goiter!
Naw. It’sa watermelon.

Definitely close.

Yipes! City traffic again. Look out for the matatu, Matt! They’re definitely not looking out for us.

Actually, I’ve kinda gotten used to the way of driving here. Commuting in the States is going to be boring by comparison. And Matt driving in London should be downright hazardous.

Would you like to buy a hat?

Not all the roads in the city are paved. As far as roads go, this one here’s pretty good. Hell, the road to Matt’s joint is little more than a track. Nothing like having to switch to four wheel to get home.

[nextpage title=”Ah The Homestead”]

Part 32 – Ah, The Homestead

Finally! We’ve made it to Matt and Claire’s humble abode.

Welcome to the driveway.

That’s Matts buddy Alex’s mighty Land Rover.

Let’s see. The garage, and the office, which is wholly separate from the main home.

And there’s the gate and guardhouse, complete with guard (who cannot be seen at the moment).

How do they handle living in such squalor? The back of the house.

A tiny little bungalo, isn’t it?
Riiight.

Cripes. Stuff the States. I’m movin’ in.

Part of the back yard, with garden. They gots a gardner, donchaknow.

And the pond, with tilapia. Thems good eatin’.

It’s like L.A. All the ritzy joints are up on the hill. I believe that’s Lake Victoria off in the distance there.

I took some flower pics in the garden (of course). If you wanna scope ’em you can find ’em at the end of this everlasting story.

[nextpage title=”More On Roughin It”]

Part 33 – More On Roughin’ It

You know, I don’t think anyone else has distributed pics of Matt and Claire’s crib. They are in big trouble when these ones get around. I bet they were looking forward to a few months without visitors… after this, no dice. Relatives they didn’t even know they had are gonna come calling now.
Oh wait. I think that’d be us.

Nice little walkway in the garden to Foi Poi’s crib. Calm down… you’ll meet the pillowstealer eventually.

Guinea Fowl. Coupla these running around, as well as a mess o chickens. They get the run of the joint in the A.M., and the elusive Foi Poi gets the remainder of the day.

Yes, it is The One-Who-Made-Me-Reconsider-Vegetarianism. This damn fool crowed every morning at around 5 A.M.
Right outside our window.
Every.
Damn.
Morning.

Yeah, I think I’d like to have chicken for dinner tonight. Very specific chicken.

Inside the hizzy. Hey Demanda, make yourself at home. Just leave your sandals wherever.

That’s the TV room over there. Dig the tile; the whole joint’s done in it.

Our room. Sorry about the pic; I musta had the shakes from caffeine withdrawl by this time. Canna gitta Sobe pleaze?

Feelin’ African yet?

Yeah. This place is nice.

[nextpage title=”To Jinja and The Mighty Nile”]

Part 34 – To Jinja, and The Mighty Nile

Are you tired yet? I sure am. So our first set of adventures went off without a hitch. Matt boogied off to work on Monday, and Mander and I explored Kampala a little bit, got more money from the kludgy ATM, I ate vegetable cutlets at the Sheraton in town (the most expensive meal thus far, of course. Tourists. Eating at the Sheraton. Wimps), and we booked our Nile River Rafting trip. We also hung out at Matt and Claire’s hovel, just chillin with Foi Poi (you’ll meet him later); maxin’ and relaxin’.
The next morning meant an early rise and a boda boda trip into town to the Sheraton to pick up our ride to Jinja for our Nile trip. Nothing’s simple in our world though. We walked to the main road from Matt’s house and grabbed two boda boda drivers who, when presented with the word “Sheraton”, nodded their heads vigorously. Indicating to me, of course, that they knew our destination. They quoted us a price, and off we went.
Halfway there things got a little shaky. A matatu popped of nowhere, intent on killing me and my boda boda driver, so we had to shwiggedy-schwerve off the road and come to a stop. Unfortunately this was on a hill and, without a good head of steam and a tailwind, most boda boda’s would lose an uphill race to a sloth. A dead sloth.
Demanda and her boda boda had that oomph we didn’t, and thus they’d left us in their wake. Chug chug chug… sloooowly up the hill. I felt like I should drop my feet and start in on some Fred Flintstone action. Putt putt putt. Any slower and we won’t be able to remain upright. Maybe if I lean forward… cut down on the windshear. Dammit.
Finally. Hang a left, and then it happens. My driver whips his head from side to side, obviously looking for his compatriot (who’s long since gone, with my wife in tow), then leans back to me and says “Where?”
Goooood.”Sheraton.”

  “Sheraton?”
“Yeah, Sheraton.”

  “Sheraton.”
“Correct. YES. You said you knew where it was.”

  “Where?”

Head that way, you damn fool. Lucky for me The Sheraton is damn near the tallest building in Kampala, and emblazoned with a giant “S” on it’s tippety-top. I spot it, point, and say “Head for the S!” We do, and get to one of the streets that borders the right hand side of the hotel, which is fully surrounded by a bigass wall. The driver promptly turns right, as the building seems slightly that way. What he doesn’t seem to get is that, despite the actual building location, the entrance is actually the other way. I know this, however, and holler at him to turn around. Obviously he didn’t trust his fare, as it takes several quick and desparate interactions to explain to him that, yes, we are going the wrong bloody way.
Right! Well that means we need to turn around right in the middle of the damn street, now don’t it! Unfortunately, his highly tuned machine can’t make it over the median whilst encumbered by riders, so we hop off. I grab the back, he grabs the front, and we carry it over the median to the other side of the street. Hop back on! Watch out, there’s traffic! Holy shit, I made it through the rugged wilderness only to suffer a heinous death on the back of a freakin’ scooter!
Well, we finally made it, and I had him drop me off at the entrance gate rather than drive me in. I’ve had enough of him, and I suspect at this point he’d had enough of me. Well, not so much so as to not try and get me to pay him extra for the lovely tour of upper Kampala he opted to take me on against my will. He may not have understood “You told me you knew the way; it’s your fault”, but it was pretty obvious he did understand “You know what? Hell No.”
Not surprisingly, Mander was a bit frantic. She had visions of my broken body tightly wedged into the grill of a matatu. We rushed into the Sheraton because, hey! Guess what! Now we’re late. Thankfully, however, others turned out to be running even later.

The Adrift overland truck, here to take us to Jinja.

The Nile River. A little tiny slice of it, anyway.

Truth is, we couldn’t take our cameras on the actual rafting trip, ’cause they woulda been quickly lost. Most of these pics were taken at the end of our rafting trip, and from Bujagali Falls, where we stayed the night (more on that shortly). We do have some video of our rafting adventure, and as soon as I can cull screen grabs from it I’ll get some posted. It was amazing, frightening, tiring, and 150% fun.

But wait! Better’n screen grabs, we’ve got genyoowine mpeg video! A fast connection is recommended, as these snippets clock in at about 5 meg apiece. Hell, if ya got a slow
connection but still wanna see ’em, click on the links and then go make a sandwich. And mow the lawn. And vacuum. And, then, call your local high speed inkernest provider. Once you’re done with all that, you aughta be able to check it out.
But I’m not making promises here.
links open in new browser windows
Nile River Rafting Video 1
Nile River Rafting Video 2

Yeah, we went down it. We flipped, and Demanda got trapped beneath the overturned raft, but we did it.

What’s he doing? Laundry again?

Demanda meets an aspiring male model. Calm down ladies!

This place is kayaker heaven, with tons of class 4 and 5 rapids to play in.

And the sheer volume of water is amazing.

There are only two rivers like this in the whole world; The Nile and The Colorado. Our raft guide, Claire (aka Super-Hardcore Aussie Maniac Woman) has been all over the world rafting and kayaking, and has The Colorado on her to-do list for next year.

Nudism is alive in The Nile River.

[nextpage title=”Bujagali Falls and Speke Camp”]

Part 35 – Bujagali Falls & Speke Camp

The rafting is over, the Adrift folks have headed back to Kampala, and we’ve trekked our way to Speke Camp to spend the night. It’s getting late and we’re tired and hungry. Din-din starts after 7, so it’s time to swill the brews and watch the sun go down on the river.

They’ve had some rain recently (or so our guides told us), so the water is really moving.

In fact, we had to take the raft around one set of falls that they usually run, ’cause the water was so high that they feared we’d get stuck in a hole and never be able to get out.

Aaaahhh… The beer is good, the weather is perfect, and I’ve got my feet up.

If you look up ‘paradise’ in the dictionary, it aught to say “See Bujagali Falls”.

What a shot. And there’s a lone kayaker, getting in that last run before nightfall.

Have I worn out the word amazing yet?

I wanna go back…

[nextpage title=”Bujagali Falls and Speke Camp Part 2″]

Part 36 – Bujagali Falls & Speke Camp, Day 2

It’s morning on Bujagali Falls! It rained like crazy during the night, so the water’s even higher today. Time to get some grub, get our stuff together, and hitch a ride into Jinja. All in a leisurely fashion, of course.

The view from the banda we slept in. Our raft guide, Claire, recommended we go for banda #6. Thankfully it was vacant. Big Up to Claire for the advice; this has got to be the best banda view in the camp!

The birds are out for breakfast as well. This is a Spectacled Weaver.

And this is the Lesser Masked Weaver. The Greater Masked Weaver weighs in at, like, 167 pounds. Thats nearly 12 stone. It often mistakes the bald pates of mzungu males for eggses.
Perhaps I need some sleep.

Here’s our lovely temporary abode. It was too dark (and I was too assed out) to take pics of all this the night before.

All the comforts of home. The rain on that tin roof all night… lets just say it wasn’t the soundest sleep I’ve ever had.

See? We even get a nightstand, and candles.

And a giant bed that seemed to slope to the left just enough to cause Demanda to roll over onto me periodically throughout the night. Just like home!

Ok, yea. There might be a few other tenants we shared this with. You don’t sleep with your mouth open, do you? Sod it, lets go get some grub. I dreamt of eating M&M’s all night; I’m hongry!

It’s a dogs life.

[nextpage title=”Bujagali Falls and Speke Camp Day 2 Part 2″]

Part 37 – Bujagali Falls & Speke Camp, Day 2 Part 2

Looks like some locals are getting a late start. Wonder if they have a tin roof as well?

Many of the campers have already taken a powder. Won’t the folks in that tent be surprised to find they’ve been left!
But if ya gotta get left somewhere, here is definitely the place.

A bit o info on the falls, the camp and the area. I’m most interested in that last bit about the Bujagali Bar and Resturant right now.

Welcome to the bar/resturant. This is where we planted our asses last night, supping Bell Lager and watching the sun set.

This place really is a trip; crawling with crazy kayakers from all over the globe. It’s kinda funny to sit in Africa at an open air bar listening to corporate alterna-rawk the likes of Oasis and Dave Matthews all night long. It’s like a little slice of California dropped into Uganda.

I told you it’s a dogs life, didn’t I?

Wait. I haven’t explained the word “Mzungu” yet, have I? Mzungu is Lugandan for White Person. Or Honkey. Or maybe Money. I’m not altogether sure. I think all three may well apply. Still, as you drive along (or walk along) in Uganda the locals, especially the kids, will wave and say “Hello Mzungu! Howareyou?” To which the standard response should be “I am fine; howareyou?” (Do your best to make that last bit all one word. Howareyou?)
Sometimes, if you beat them to the punch and say hello to them first, they’ll respond with “Fine”.
“Hello!”
  “Fine!”
But that’s OK. It’s not like I can speak a lick of Luganda.
We met one lady on our trip around the lake at Ndali who responded to Matt’s query of “Howareyou?” with “Somehow OK”. Now that’s choice; “Somehow OK”. I think I’m going to adopt that as my own standard response from here forwards. It speaks volumes, doncha think?
Anyway, I’m getting offtrack (again). My point was this; I figured since white folk is Mzungu, and this dog is white, it aughta be Mzungu Dog. I have no idea what its actual name is.
Also, we saw Mzungu written as both “Mzungu” and “Mizungu”. I don’t know which spelling is correct. Maybe both. Maybe not. Mzungu may be wrong, but it’s the one I’ve chosen, and I’m damn well stickin’ to it.
You don’t know no better anyway.
By the way, if you’re looking at the hand Demanda’s got tucked between her legs, and thought to yourself “The color in this picture must be off”, you’d be wrong. She got fairly well done on the Nile the day before. We were blessed with sunshine for the entirety of the rafting, which lasted all day.

Right. Remind me; why are we leaving to go to Jinja again?

[nextpage title=”To Jinja!”]

Part 38 – To Jinja!

No more lollygagging… it’s time to get to Jinja! Things to see, stuff to do. Besides alla that, Jinja is where Matt kindly agreed to pick us up. I think he just likes driving in Uganda.

Demanda rocks it on a boda boda. They like it when Mzungu Wimmens hold ’em reeeel tight-like. Hey look; you can see my finger and the camera in the rear view mirror of my boda boda.

Welcome to the source of the Nile.

Actually, there’s a number of countries in Africa that claim to have “A” (or, rather “The”) source of the Nile. Lotsa places feed the Nile. Right here, however, is where it starts its journey from Lake Victoria to the Mediterranean Sea.

And this commemorates the scattering of some of Gandhi’s ashes. From what I understand Gandhi never set foot in Uganda.

So why scatter some of his ashes here? Dunno.

Gandhi ran the rapids first.

This’d be the African Open-billed Stork.

He got somethin’.

Ran into some schoolkids obviously out on a field trip to the Source.

Smile! Doncha love how this spot is endorsed by Bell Lager? Ugandans love their beer. I love their beer too.

[nextpage title=”Jinja Part 2″]

Part 39 – Jinja Part 2

Here. Read. I told you it goes to the Mediterranean.
And you didn’t believe me.

Hmmm. Last one across is a Gumdrop Smuggling Howler!

This tree is obviously an extremely popular hangout with birds of ill repute. Is that one on the far left smoking?
Gen yoo wine Ugandan, baby.

Dirty backpacker panhandling for loose change.

Someone let the locals know that where there’s snails, there’s bilharzia. And the shores of this inlet are covered in snails.

Can ya see the obelisk referred to on the billboard over there in the upper right?
Um. The obelisk is over there on the upper right… not the billboard.

I’m gonna do it.
Can’t help it.
Amazing.

A Little Egret. No, not an egret that’s little. It’s actually called the little egret. Like Little Steven. Or Lil Abner. Or Little Kim.
‘Cept Little Egret has better flow than Little Kim. Hell, Lil Abner has better flow than Little Kim.
All the kiddies in the house say “Ho! Ho!”
All the seniors in the house say “What the hell is he babbling about this time?!”

Little Egret and Solemn Duck, holdin’ it down in the Hizzo. Big up to Jinja!

Hey. This river’s got crabs!

[nextpage title=”Jinja Part 3″]

Part 40 – Jinja Part 3

The last bit of Jinja pics. I promise.

We really got lucky with the weather. So much for this being the beginning of the rainy season.

Yes, it is dangerous beyond this point. That doesn’t mean you can’t go beyond this point; it just means if you do it’s at your own peril. Uganda obviously hasn’t experienced the awesome power of the American Lawsuit recently.

More of the birds selling pills to children. Bad birds.

I tell you this; Coke is everywhere. You can go to the tiniest little backwoods village in Uganda and be guaranteed to find two things; Coke and beer.
Well, three things. Coke, beer, and people aplenty, all staring at the mzungu.

There were a bunch of these creepy crawlies in the thatch roofing of the bandas and huts. A local working at the kiosk shook this one out for us, and thought us mad for requesting to photograph it, and also for requesting he not kill it. Mzungu are weird, and we’re among the weirdest of the lot.

Here’s the obelisk marking the spot where Speke ‘discovered’ the source of the Nile. Discovered. Ain’t that clever. Africans knew about it all along, but it took a whitey to ‘discover’ it.
“Well lookie here. It’s the source of the Nile!”
  “No shit, casper.”

Found this big boy trundling along the roadway up from the source.

Once again it’s the weird mzungu, taking pictures of bugs.

Comin’ atcha!

[nextpage title=”Back in Kampala”]

Part 41 – Back in Kampala

Ok, I gotta be honest with you here. We shoulda hung out in Speke Camp for a bit longer than we did. Other than the source of the Nile, there really isn’t a lot to do in Jinja. We spent most of the rest of the day trekking around the city and, truth be told, I got real tired of being stared at.
Everyone stares at you in Uganda. Everyone. It’s not like it’s malicious, but it gets unnerving all the same. I mean, if you acknowledge them and say “Howdy!” they’ll respond in kind, but you’ll soon be hoarse if you opt to greet every person you find staring at you. In fact, you may wind up making the acquaintance of the entire population.
Well, maybe not “Howdy”. I didn’t try “Howdy”. I should have. Probably woulda thrown ’em for a loop. “Howdy, pardner!”
Anyway, all the staring gets old. We met a fellow mzungu at a cafe in Jinja who has lived in Uganda for something like 7 years now. The whole staring thing was one of the topics of conversation, and she told us that the Ugandans think we’re pretty amusing looking. They find it funny that we ‘change colors’. You know, pale when frightened, green when nauseus, red when embarrased, crispy when out in the sun too long.
The cafe we hung out in was also an internet cafe and, judging by the staff, the postings on the walls, and the dead giveaway of a church located immediately behind it (as in, walk through the back door and through the church to get to the toilets), it’s run by missionaries. Now you may not agree, but as far as I’m concerned them is some scary mzungu. We had a couple on the plane ride over. They’re pretty easy to spot, being shoe-in’s for Dana Carvey’s Church Lady and all.One of my favorite postings on the wall of the cafe said “Pornography is bad for your soul.” Kinda reminds me of a handwritten message I spotted on the back of an old pickup truck rattling down highway 85 in Atlanta; “God loves his children and God don’t like ugly.” Wisdom for the ages.
Now, I’m not going to go off on a rant about the bible being one of the tools used in the legitimacy of slavery back in the day, or the fact that white folks are incapable of leaving well enough alone, or the thinly veiled lack of respect for others and their differing beliefs thats just as apparent in the States as it is in Uganda. No no. That’s just not like me.
I will say this, though. The missionaries have done some good things here. They’ve really upped the ante on AIDS awareness; there’s information on AIDS to be had nearly everywhere in Uganda, and that has played no small part in the dramatic reduction of AIDS and HIV cases in this country. And they’ve introduced education in a lot of areas which, on the surface, seems a good thing. But I don’t know that it really is.
To be sure, this country needs to be made more aware of cleanliness, sanitation and overall hygiene (to that end, many of the petrol stations give away free soap with petrol purchases. It ain’t the best soap, but hey, it’s soap), but what it doesn’t need is an influx of western thought processes. This isn’t the States, or England. It’s Africa. Things are different here. But just because they’re different doesn’t mean they’re bad, or wrong, or in need of fixing.
When you first get here (or, at least, when I first got here) you’re overwhelmed by the perception of poverty. Over time, however, that perception changes. Wants and needs… they’re different here. What you first see as poverty is actually more akin to simplicity. Life here, especially outside of the few cities, is far too different from what we’re associated with to make any comparisons.
The vast majority of people you meet here, they’re not dissatisfied with their lives. They’re not malnurished. They’re not ignorant. And they don’t really want for the things westerners do. They don’t really need a dvd player seeing as how they don’t have electricity, which they don’t really feel a need for either. They don’t really want to go to the big city and get a job working for The Man; they do just fine taking care of themselves, and are able to do it in their own time, at their own pace, in their own fashion. And why not? Life is precious here; with the average lifespan being 44 years of age, there’s little point in saving for retirement. Life’s too short to while vast amounts of it away doing ultimately unfulfilling things.

And you don’t see anyone here (outside of the cities, anyway) rushing around all frantic like. Life on Ugandan time is different. As far as they’re concerned, it’ll get done. Whatever it is, it’ll get done. Just calm down.
The people here… they seem more content than most of the people I know in the States.

So to introduce they ways of western thought here seems to me to be a crime. These people don’t need it. In the long run, they won’t benefit from it. And, because this is Africa, and a third world country, it’s often not applicable anyway.
In fact, a perceptive person might be able to walk away from Uganda with a better understanding of where we’ve gone wrong.

And lastly, consider this; most of the screwings these people have taken, aside from that problem with Mr. Amin, have come at the hands of us Westerners. Go ask Starbucks how much they’re paying these people to grow their coffee. That $3.50 mocha-cafa-thingy you’ve got in your hands, that cost you more than the typical Ugandan working the coffee plantations earns in a day.

Ohshit. I’m ranting, aren’t I?

Sorry for the unpleasantries. Please take a moment, though, and visit this site.

OKokokok. On with the fun stuff. Reality sucks.

So we headed back to Matt and Claire’s crib. This trip has almost come to a close, and that sucks.

“Mirror in the bathroom…”

We had to go to the offices of the rafting company to pick up our video of the trip. It rained on us a good bit. We shouldn’t complain; the weather treated us well up til now.

The giant dugong dog at the rafting company offices. I swear, this dog had to be pushing 200 pounds. It looked like a furry, land crawling sea cow.
He was mighty sweet tho; more than willing to slobber on ya.

Back at Matt and Claire’s, and I’m just exploring the joint. We saw one of these snails, a larger one, on our Kibale chimp trip, but the pics of it didn’t come out.

This one’s pretty big too. The other one we saw was easily 2 inches bigger though.

Finally! The mighty power of Foi Poi! Half boxer, half rottweiler, all slobberhound!

Foi Poi’s the bomb. This is one kickass dawg.

It’s a blurry shot, but conveys the point. Many of the walls surrounding homes and buildings in Kampala are lined with broken glass to discourage folks from scaling them. Yup. That’ll do it.

What Matt’s smile really means is “Holy crap, it’s almost over. Soon I can pawn these idiots off on my unsuspecting family members and be free of them forever!”

[nextpage title=”We Are Outta Here”]

Part 42 – We’re Outta Here

It’s over. Hard to believe, given all we’ve done. There wasn’t nearly enough time to do all we wanted to. Still, time’s up, and we gotta go.dammit.

Hazard! Log inna road! Just takin’ pics on the trip to the airport.

Hmmm. Guns. Police. Tire shredders. Fun.

The airport sits right on the edge of Lake Victoria.

Up, up and away.

Goodbye Uganda. We’ll miss you.

Desert, and lots of it. Sudan? Chad? Libya? Dunno.

It’s vast, that’s fer sure.

And, just like that, our Africa adventure comes to a close.
sigh.

[nextpage title=”But I Dont Wanna Go”]

Part 43 – But I don’t wanna go!

Right. Landed safely, sat in London rush hour traffic (thanks, Chris! more patience than I gots), and finally back to the crib in Crowborough.

Back at Chris and Yvonne’s. Lets go left to right, shall we?
Ollie, Demanda, Yvonne, Gemma, Roy. Roy’s quite the photogenic one, ain’t he?

Not to be outdone, Matt proves that he, too, can be quite the photogenic little flower.
(no matt, I won’t take it off the site. well, I’ll consider it if’n you send me some coffee from bancafe. howz that for blackmail?)

Unca Chris, Gemma, a lil bit o Roy, and beerzez and winezez. Lawtza beerzez and winzez.

Right! Top row:
Jason (flexing his Bruce Boxleitner infatuation with his outfit straight outta TRON), Demanda, Ollie, Ollie’s shoulder perching pet Beerzy, Matt, Claire.
Bottom row:
Some fellow with a rare and disgusting chin growth, Gemma.

The curly maned doublemint twins Ollie and Demanda.

[nextpage title=”London Eye”]

Part 44 – London Eye

We decided to posse up a crew and head to the London Eye, which is a big ferris wheel thingy overlooking the Thames. It cranks around slowly, giving you a pretty cool view of London. In order to continue our trapped-in-small-spaces theme we were blessed with a bawling larval human for the trip. At least we can count on consistency. No small irony that the Eye is a British Airways contraption, methinks.
Interesting aside; on the way to the Eye, Mander, Gemma and I watched bona-fide road rage in action, occurring at an intersection we’d walked across moments before. It was mad. This dude in a little hatchbacky car was for some reason super-ultra pissed at a guy in a minivan thingy in front of him, and started ramming the shit out of him. Pushed the van up over a curb onto the sidewalk, into a light pole, and was just backing up and wham! slamming into him. Then, zoooom; the car took the hell off, and the van took off after him.
Fate’s a strange thing. There’d been a demonstration going on in town at the time, and it seemed that somehow these two loonies had chosen the one intersection in all of London that wasn’t crawling with Bobbies. Lucky, I guess, as it was also one of the only intersections not overrun with pedestrians. Speaking of overrun, someone coulda got hurt. Very surreal. My American mentality had my brain screaming “Run! Run!”. Cause shit, in America them two woulda been pullin’ out gats and blastin’ away. In London they don’t need guns; they got vehicles.

Arty shot of the eye, looking an awful lot like a bicycle wheel.

Hitchhike Mike say “Check my Biggety Benzo akshun, yawl!”

Fellow pod people. Hm. This thing is the perfect setting for a b-grade terrorist flick. I wonder if we could team Brian Bosworth back up with Lance Henrikson. They made quite a pair in Stone Cold, didn’tcha think?

More arty Eye pics.

These people live trapped in these pods, dreaming an alternate reality, just waiting for Keanu to come free them.
“whoa”

Big Ben n stuff. See the protesters on the bridge? There was some sort of Million Redneck March going on about the banning of fox hunting. Yes Timmy, Europe has necks too.

Anna lot of ’em. People wuz everywhere.

Oooo! Oooo! Double deckers! Neat-o keen!

[nextpage title=”More Of Da Eye”]

Part 45 – More of da Eye

This is a pretty good pic, say I.

Pod people pod people.

There’s them ole protesters agin. Whats the deal with the ‘Merican flag?

Oooo! Trampolines.

Matt, Gemma and Mander deny the fact that they’re being enslaved by machines.

A melty Dali persistence of whachamacalit statchoo.

“Sod this!” says Mike. He’s ready to get his pub on.

Watch them pint and peanuts, Mikey. Yer gonna overdo it.

I told you so, you lush.

[nextpage title=”Biggety Brighton”]

Part 46 – Biggety Brighton

So after the joyous Eye experience, and peeling a perfectly pickled Hitchhike Mike off the pub floor, Mander, Yvonne, Gemma and I headed off to Brighton… ’cause we’re scenesters, and Fatboy Slim wanted us to cold chill at his crib.
not really.

The boardwalk of Brighton Beach.

And the, uh, ocean of Brighton Beach.

Thassa rickety ass old amusement park type thing out there on that pier. The tilt-o-whirl launches you headlong into the icy brine! Mwah hahahah!
And I’da gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddlin’ kids.

Mander, Yvonne and Gem hike their way down the beach which, in case you ain’t noticed, is all rocks.

Popular joint.

Action shot! Kerplunk.

Crazy stuff growin’ on the walls beneath the boardwalk.

Sad attempt at an arty boardwalk shot.

[nextpage title=”Back To London”]

Part 47 – Back to London

Ok. I know that Brighton stuff was almost too exciting to bear. Sorry to get you all hopped up like that. Won’t happen again. Promise

To da toob.

Mander and her relatives got into an argument. She won.
Actually, this is at the London Dungeon, a cheezefest if there ever was one. If you’re in London make it a special point to definitely not bother going.

[nextpage title=”2015 Redux”]

And strangely, that’s where I ended it back in 2002, dear reader. I guess I just burnt out. Going back through this stuff now, in August of 2015, 13 long years later, has been fascinating. Our excitement. Our sense of carefree adventure. Our naivety. My ridiculous writing style. Some things I’m glad are gone. Others I dearly wish I could have back.

It also bears mentioning that not everyone featured in this story are still with us. We miss you immensely, Patsy.

josefek

[nextpage title=”Aside – Flowers”]

Aside – Flowers

Some of the flowers in Matt and Claire’s garden.

Buzz buzz!