Uganda is everything I expected and more.
I expected red dirt roads, and saw and rode on many. I did
not expect the growning pavement expanding from Kampala outwards.
Nor did I expect that the roads—dirt or tarmac—that
represent the grid of Kampala to be lined with improvised shops that sell
everything. I did not expect to see
people carting giant bunches of bananas on bicycles (or, also on bicycles,
jerry cans full of water, drywall and plywood, and in one case, another bicycle)
I expected nature to be more in evidence, and in some places
it was overwhelming I did not expect the
degree to which it is tamed in the city, and often relegated to cowering in
abandoned or unfinished spaces.
I expected to see wild animals, and I was fortunate enough
to see elephants, hippos, giraffes and many others. I did not expect to walk amongst them—at
Zziwa, I stood 25 yards from a large family of rhinoceros. Once at Murchison, three warthogs snuffled past three feet from where we were having lunch, preceded by a troop of Olive
Baboons.
I was also surprised how quickly I became used to them. I took a picture of the first baboon I saw,
but after seeing hundreds of them, I didn’t even pick up the camera.
I expected to see desperately poor people. I did see some, especially in the
orphanages. I was totally unprepared for
the unbridled capitalistic energy that crackles everywhere, as busy people rush
around selling everything they can, and living what look to me like meager but happy lives.
I expected foreign food, and I got to eat matoke and posho
and beef curry and chapati. I did not
expect that some of it would be French, or Italian, or American.
I expected bugs. In
this case I was disappointed—I met very few.
I expected a different climate from what I am used to. Uganda was much cooler that Connecticut, and
posed less risk of sunburn.
I expected to feel like an outsider. I did—though Ugandans are wonderfully
friendly and welcoming. It’s hard to
know how to put this in a way that won’t offend anyone, but I really expected
to feel out of place because I am tall and white. But I am left with the surprising feeling
that my skin color has little to do with it—it’s more that I was a foreigner—I
felt no more out of place than I did in Italy or England.
I guess I expected a place that was backwards in many ways. If dirt roads, sporadic electricity, unsafe water and needing a wall, steel gate, padlocks, iron bars on the windows, and an armed guard 24 hours a day is backwards, then so be it. But at the same time, I met sophisticated Ugandans, dedicated professionals, Ugandan and foreigners, .
I expected that I would be ready to come home. And I am.
But a part of me will deeply miss Uganda, and yearn to come back
sometime, if only for a little while.
