Uganda

On the road, Ugandan-style

jdewyze3 Comments

I’m writing this as we jounce along over badly gouged dirt roads on our way from Kibale to Queen Elizabeth NP. It’s the third morning we’ve awakened in Uganda, and I found myself wondering: why are we here? And: why aren’t more Americans?

I think the answer to the second question is that all that most Americans know about this place, if they know anything (if they saw The Last King of Scotland or are old enough to have lived at the time of the history it recounted) is that the country endured a long spell of lunatic violence under Idi Amin, and later, devastating civil war. Also, “We have no writers!” as our driver/guide Robert pointed out yesterday over lunch. Meaning, I took it, no white foreign Afropromoters like Isaak DInesen or Beryl Markham or Ernest Hemingway to propel Uganda into the consciousness of farflung tourists.

Why Steve and I are here nonetheless is a mixed bag of reasons. We flew here using frequent flier miles, and American’s partner, British Airways, serves Entebbe. We know people who’ve been to Rwanda in recent years, and their reports made me want to go there. Uganda borders it, and as I began reading about the region, the enthusiasm expressed by recent travelers here impressed me. Now that we’ve begun to explore it, I understand why Uganda had been called the pearl of Africa. This place is a hidden gem, a lustrous surpprise, something you feel thrilled and grateful to discover.

It’s physically breathtaking, maybe the most beautiful landscape I’ve seen anywhere: rolling hills and muscular mountains, crater lakes and deep valleys, and everything so green, a hundred shades of it. Unlike the Omo Valley in Ethiopia, this land is gaudily, opulently fertile, In the last two days, we’ve passed plantations growing a half dozen varieties of bananas, but also tea and coffee, as well as farmers growing pineapple, avocados, papaya, sorghum, watermelon, corn, mangos, beans, tobacco, tomatoes, cucumbers, vanilla, melons, and more, Robert says all the beef, chicken, fish, pork, rice, flour, oil (sunflower and corn), and virtually everything else we’ve been eating or will eat during our stay here was grown in this country the size of Oregon. Mixed in with the agricultural abundance, as if the land was so potently fecund it simply couldn’t control itself, are brilliant tropical flowers that attract jewel-like butterflies and more than a thousand (!) species of tropical birds.

We drank in all these sites on the long drive Wednesday from Entebbe to the Chimpanzee Forest Guesthouse, along with the endlessly diverting pageantry of life along African roads: farmers carrying produce to tiny village markets, pilgrims converging on a religious festival, mini-buses bursting with passengers and dodging the motorscooters that serve as the taxis for urban areas. (We assumed their name — “boda-bodas” — came from the sound they make, but Robert says it sprang from their origin in Kenya, where they travel from border-to-border.) We didn’t notice any traditional billboards, but Robert pointed out that Ugandans use a cheaper alternative. Various companies pay home- and shop-owners to paint their residences with brilliant colors and announcements about their products. “Airtel,” they shriek, or “Sadolin,” and it doesn’t mean you can buy Airtel minutes or Sadolin paint there. They’re just adspace, rented for a certain period of time (and then covered over with a fresh, noncommercial coating as part of the arrangement.)

Kibble

By mid-afternoon, we were deep into the country, in a more heavily forested region. At one point, Robert slowed the Land Cruiser, and it took me a beat or two to realize that the dark forms next to the side of the road were a troupe of wild olive baboons. They barely blinked as we photographed them, just a few feet away.

About the Chimpanzee Forest Guesthouse, where we stayed for two nights, let me only say that it was wonderful, with excellent food, attentive service (we were the only guests the second night), lovely gardens, and beautiful views in every direction. About that chimpanzee forest… well, that deserves a post of its own.

An auspicious beginning

jdewyzeLeave a comment

Of our five trips to Africa, none has begun as well as this one.

The flight was on time, and during the final descent, I devoured the sight of the landscape as it emerged in the growing light of dawn. Green, very green, with low hills but few visible roads. This was my first look at equatorial Africa, and it excited me as much as John Wesley Powell must have been felt at his maiden encounter with the Colorado river.

A slight glitch in our pick-up from the airport was recitified quickly, and within minutes we were riding to our guesthouse. I had braced myself to inhale the stew of jungle funk and burning garbage I’ve grown to associate with the developing world. But instead, the morning smelled fresh. In the course of the short ride, I was struck repeatedly by what was missing: garbage, graffiti, any obvious signs of poverty. The town looks rural. Few streets are paved, and even those that are sealed are dusted with the brick-red earth. Scattered pedestrians and an occasional cow strolled down wide byways lined with huge trees and bushes bending with the weight of their flowers. From time to time, we glimpsed verdant, gentle hills and expanses of Lake Victoria, the largest body of fresh water in Africa.

I fell instantly in love with the guesthouse, a large compound composed of cottages and service facilities built around a beautiful central garden. Because it was so early, our room wasn’t quite ready, but we consumed delicious papaya, pineapple, and tiny bananas, then watched the giant resident Rottweiler (Simba) romping with his German master.

Before long, though, we had settled into our spotless cottage and set off to explore the town on foot. The neighborhood ATM spat out 500,000 Ugandan shillings (less than $200) and a jaunty guy in a mobile phone stall put both our cell phones in service and stocked them with 60 minutes for about $17. In the hours that followed, I felt surges of gratitude that we hadn’t raced off to Kampala, Uganda’s reportedly charmless nearby capital, noted for its noisy, often traffic-gridlocked streets. Our map was pathetic, so we got lost, but found our way to an outdoor cafe where we drank passionflower smoothies and ate a bacon and avocado salad, a cheese/tomato sandwich, and good fries. We walked and didn’t glimpse a single other white person. The byways weren’t exactly thronged with Ugandans either, but everyone we chatted with was gracious and welcoming (and spoke English! — long ago the place used to be a British “protectorate.”)

Eventually we found our way to the 5 star (almost deserted) Imperial Hotel overlooking the almost-mystical lake (source of the Nile?), and we wandered through Entebbe’s more-thn-100-year-old botanical garden, a splendid primeval preserve. After rambling for more than six hours, we were too beat to tackle the local wildlife center; the end of the afternoon evaporated in a cloud of showers, email, and cocktails.

 

Dinner was served at 6:30 on tables out in the garden, and it was wonderful: pumpkin soup and more flavorful avocados, grilled beef and fish fresh from the lake, tasty rice and chapattis and delicate green beans, capped off with fruit crumble still warm from the oven. At another long table, a group of student and teacher midwives from British Columbia celebrated in advance of setting off the next day for six weeks of work and study. We’d chatted briefly earlier in the day with their leader, a decisive looking woman who was here in Uganda for her tenth visit. “This is the best guesthouse in the country!” she’d declared, more than once. That’s easy to believe. Tomorrow Steve and I will depart for Kibale National Park to track chimpanzees and hike in a swamp. But having at least sampled Entebbe, I wish everyone’s first taste of Africa started out as well.