#17 - June 21st 2007 – Southwestern Uganda Trip – Bwera

And the exhaustion sets in…

Here I am struggling. I don’t speak the language. I am not here long enough to make a connection with anyone. Many of the kids (and oh there are an overwhelming number) have learned to ask for money from white people. Our hosts, Nelson Tangatanga and his family, are extremely gracious and hospitable, feeding us more food than any human should consume in a day, but I miss my Kampala family. I feel a loneliness here I haven’t felt since I arrived in Uganda. I met the African heart boys almost immediately and cultivated friendships that allowed me to feel completely at home in Kampala. These last couple of days I’ve felt disconnected. The boys have called, which only makes me yearn for Kampala more. I called Junior yesterday and he mentioned that the day after I left, all the boys came home from school and felt sad; then they realized it was because I wasn’t there! That really touched me. I cannot wait for Monday when I see them again!

I am so thankful for the opportunity to see the rest of Uganda, and although I am at times feeling lonely, the beauty of my surroundings makes up for it. Thus far we have traveled across the entire southwest of Uganda, over the equator twice, and are now three kms from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, at the foothills of the Rwenzori Mountains. When we woke up this morning, after a huge breakfast of coffee, eggs, bread, freshly picked avocado and pineapple, noodles, and potato wedges, we set out on an adventure up and across the mountain foothills. If only I had known what I was getting myself, and my body, into. We practically hiked across an entire mountain range. It was incredible. It began with a trek up a steep sparkle-encrusted dirt road. The light red soil contains shiny white stones that shine like diamonds in the sun. Soon we were winding through tiny man-made trails along the mountain, up one side, down another and back up again. The sweat started beading after the first hill and as the first hour ticked by I was completely drenched. As the view got more and more spectacular the hills got steeper and more craggy, the jungle thicker. A combination of dizzying heights, heat, and pure exhaustion culminated in some sort of asthma-attack/hyperventilation around hour three. I survived and carried on, with concerned Ugandans bringing me walking sticks, passion-fruit, and words of encouragement. I felt silly and embarrassed and tried my best to suck it up for the remainder of the hike. We reached the final peak after five long, sweaty hours. I’m not entirely sure how I survived. At the highest peak we stood with a 360 degree view of all the surrounding mountains and valleys, awash in a light green hue that burst from every crevasse. To the west, the DRC loomed, to the east, had it not been hazy, we could have seen all of Kasese. I sat in awe, caught my breath, and devoured a day-old banana pancake I discovered at the bottom of my bag. No one thought to bring lunch.

On the return trek we visited two nursery schools for children too young for primary, both atop the mountain. Over 200 children attend these schools, all of whom hike across mountain ranges to attend. The teachers themselves walk two hours to get there, without the promise of a reliable paycheck to motivate them. On a good month they receive 40000 shillings ($25). The children and parents sang for us, speeches were made, and we handed out clothes, teddies and money for school supplies. Lunch was served with the teachers in a nearby hut, and although we were all quite hungry by then the amount of food presented could have fed a whole village. In Bwera it is typical to receive a bowl of food piled half a foot high with rice, beans, noodles, potatoes, beef, pork, and avocado. Then you are expected to grab a chunk of tapioca (think big blob of sticky dough) with your right hand, and dig into your mound of food. Someone will likely say, “in Uganda, the food does not conquer you, you conquer the food!” and thus you feel obliged to clean your plate. My sister, a vegetarian at the best of times, will be pleased to know that halfway through my meal I glanced at the hunk of pork on my plate and noticed singed hairs sprouting from the thick layer of skin atop the meat. I quietly handed my plate through the window to the children outside and decided that I too could have become a dedicated vegan had I bit into that meat.

After a good hand-scrubbing and many thank-yous we continued our journey down the mountain all the while accompanied by numerous mountain residents. Back at home we enjoyed a ‘splash’ in the shower bucket, two more full meals (enough already!) and some laughs over the various scratches, bruises, and bites from the hike. To cap off my night, the boys phoned, anxious to hear about my day, tell me about theirs, and express their excitement about my return. My grin stretched from ear to ear as I said good-night.

~Nicole