I've come to Uganda with UCC and Concern to attend a workshop on 'Access to Markets' followed by a short research project on Value Chain Analysis.
It's a gentle introduction. There's a TV in my bedroom, with fairly reliable electricity, plenty of water in the taps and toilet, and while opening my laptop with this update, I've discovered that the wifi signal reaches my bedroom! My phone is too lazy to pick it up. I haven't even seen a cockroach yet, but that, unfortunately will happen all too soon. For now, the only wildlife I've met in my room are the busy, tiny ants, which march bravely across my laptop screen and keyboard as I type, and everywhere else. But it's also a slow introduction. While my college mates are being feted for their going away parties (Jenny says they're threatening to slaughter a goat for her this evening), I lie in the exile of my white mosquito net, becalmed by exhaustion from the over night flight, the heat and simply not knowing what else there is to do. I'm a new arrival with no guide book and little social supports. My supervisor is here but he's finishing up a last minute report while his colleagues trickle in from flights around Africa and the World. I suppose local staff attending the conference will just come to Jinja by bus tomorrow, as will we. If I was at a backpackers hostel, I could bother other travellers for stories, recommendations, loans of a guide book and join them on excursions. Here, there are very serious looking development workers from Europe and Africa. In reality, I'm very glad of the chance to rest. I'll be writing my interview and reading 'markets' notes for the rest of the week.
So, the exotic began before we even left the airport in Dublin. Small groups of girls and then men spread out prayer mats at the departure lounge and faced Mecca. For some reason I was quite excited by this - it reawakened a sense of diversity in this world that has faded in me. Many young women were travelling with small children. Previously, while I journeyed over land through Muslim Africa, female travellers were quite rare. It was also surprising how even the young girls were veilied, like their mothers, with only hands and eyes showing. Only toddlers sported t-shirts and trousers. It is interesting that when women cover themselves up like this, their eyes quickly become an intreaguing part of their bodies. Wrinkles become age lines, eye make-up must be an important form of personal expression.
I would have loved to have escaped the vast airport at Istanbul for a day, but it isn't to be. I had to make do with sampling the many delicious turkish delights piled up on plates in the shops. The white ones dipped in coconut are definitely my favourites. While waiting to board the flight to Entebbe, two women from Dar Es Salaam told me of their week long visit here. They filled their 40 Kg luggage allowance with clothes which they will sell back in Dar, and they have sent more by cargo. One of these women showed me photos of her two year old son and explained that she is currently working in finance and also studying part time for an MBA. I thought to myself "you must be from a very rich family", not allowing my mind to believe that ordinary african women could go through college and get such a good job with international firms.
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| Turkish Delights at Istanbul Airport |
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| Dawn over Sudan |
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| Entebbe Airport |
The flights were grand. I love airplane food. The minced beef sausages and salads reminded me of Egyptian meals. The view from the plane as I flew over Europe of trains, airports, roads, large fields, dense populations and industry, were very different from the views as we descended at dawn in Uganda. Red earth roads and small villages were visible throught the mist before we touched down on the shores of Lake Victoria.
Beside the runway at Entebbe Airport, a pair of UN planes stood majestically but a little further on, a very large UN compound with supplies and disused aircraft looks more run down. I was expecting someone to meet me at the airport but my name wasn't on any of those signs. I didn't even know where my supervisor was staying. Luckily, I had a number for a Concern woman in Kampala who was able to tell me where to go. To my relief, I was able to withdraw shillings from an ATM, bought an MTN SIM card and was set to go. Taxi drivers saw my uncertainty, reassuringly saying "Let's go there by taxi" as if they were offering a friend a lift, not proposing an extortionate business transaction.
The hotel is on the shores of Lake Victoria. I'm told that there is a risk of Bilharzia, but I suspect I'll be in there before I leave. Egrets, storks and other birds fish along the shores. I returned for lunch. Teens swam in shorts and t'shirts. The dark glistening bodies of some bare chested young men remind me that I'm meant to be exercising more.
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| Lake Victoria |
I took a 5 minute walk up to Entebbe town, ignoring the hotel staff and boda drivers who tell me it's 'far'. The traffic is sparse, but weaves dangerously through pedestrians and cyclists. It's Saturday and I catch the tail end of the weekly market. Reluctantly at first, I pull out my camera. There's a small covered market but the real hive of activity is the sprawling Saturday warren of food and clothes stalls. There are little pyramids of tomatoes, avocadoes, onions, garlic, cabbages, papaya, pineapple and citrus. Motorbikes whisk away full bunches of green bananas, as bulky as their drivers. Among the many new and second hand cloth stalls I spot a tri-colour over "Tiocfidh ár Lá". Men shout out "I have your size" and "Come here first". I reply just as cheekily saying "I have my size too" and "Before I go where", and then we chat for a few minutes and I let them down by leaving empty handed. I found some flour and bean stalls which reminds me why I'm here. I'm meant to be researching the value chain of groundnuts (peanuts), or gnuts. A woman explains where her gnuts are from, but I don't recognise the district. I take note of the price. 3000 shillings per Kg (a little over a euro).
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| A Trader at the Covered Market, Entebbe |
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| Entebbe Saturday Market |
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| Entebbe Saturday Market |
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| Clothes Trader, Entebbe |
To my amazement, I managed to withdraw cash at an ATM at a Total petrol station. Five years ago getting a cash advance on a credit card seemed virtually impossible outside of Kampala. I picked up a bottle of Rwenzori water, which reminded that my great great grand uncle, Tom Parke, was one of the first Europeans to set eyes on these Mountains of the Moon. The idea of exploring excites me, but to say that any European discovered a place bothers me, when indigenous peoples knew of their existence for a long long time.
Back at the hotel, the electricity was off but I was assured that "it would come back on anytime from now". I adore this vague, positive honesty.
