Back in the US...

Paved roads, running water and electricity, driving on the right side of the road, stop lights, pasty skin, everyone is speaking English….what is this? I am spotting countless mzungus, and it reminds me of driving around with Francis on “mzungu capture” in Kampala. However, now there are mzungus everywhere. I packed up my things and felt on the edge of tears; it is amazing what sunglasses can hide. I just wanted to bundle up in fetal position and escape – change my flight again and stay just a bit longer. I was just starting to pick up some work for guiding – with Nile River Explorers and Adrift – and then my day came to leave. Anna extended her stay again and is now working for Kayak the Nile. As I sat in the car driving to Entebbe, I watched the sun rise to the east and wondered if I would make it back. It will be refreshing to be somewhere else, and back into the multi-day river trips. The whitewater is not nearly as exciting as the White Nile, but guiding 4-day Rogue trips is far more fulfilling and rewarding. It is hard to believe that 6 months ago I was packing up and off on my way to Uganda. I had few expectations; the door was wide open and ready for whatever was to come. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday, but also ages ago. As I said before, I was definitely settled in Uganda, probably far more than I have felt in a long time.

Now I am back here in the States, unsure of the future plans. I am finishing up with school things and trying to put together a presentation to represent the work and experience I had in Uganda; however, no words can ever tell the true tale. It is one of the hardest things about traveling and trying to share these experiences. So what did bring me back? I was asked a few times to extend my ticket and guide for the busy summer season, but I suppose finishing up with Evergreen would be a good thing to do, along with a private MF Salmon trip in July, and a Grand Canyon trip in August. Now after that, maybe go back for some work on the White Nile before it is long gone, or meet up with some long lost friends on a trip to Nepal this September. Only time will tell.

My Last Goodbye

I remember when I first got here and told myself I probably would not want to raft guide here; the responsibility of paying customers was intimidating with the big water and excess carnage. However, it has been a lot of fun to get back on the sticks again and pick up some work here on the White Nile; I also needed to keep myself busy for my last few days and I am reminded of how much fun guiding can be. And I am getting paid for this? Now I might actually be able to make it back to the States, although it is tempting to stay longer and keep working for the busy summer months. The group of Inner City Kids from Upward Bound in New York arrived here on Sunday evening. They have come for their weeklong spring break to volunteer with Soft Power Health and a day of rafting on the Nile as well. Unfortunately, I fly out during the middle of their trip, but luckily, I was able to see Rosanna again, one of the chaperones I have worked with over the years, and a few returning kids from years before. Again, it is short and sweet, but such an eye opening experience for these kids, most of whom have never left the city of New York. Coming to rural Uganda, or even the wild and scenic Rogue River in years past, is definitely a change of scenery.

I rallied some of the boys to come along for my last Silverback run before flying out tomorrow morning. The idea of leaving still seems surreal. As I carried my boat up the hill, with my back to the depressing construction site of the dam, I could not help but wonder if I will ever see this section of the river again. I hopped on the back of the boda-boda with Ronald driving me home; I am still not ready to leave. This is the most settled I have felt in years. After spending so much time here, it would be hard to never come back and see all the friends and connections I have made over the last 6 months. I have tried to say my goodbyes to everyone I know, especially my dear friends and co-workers at Soft Power Health; they have all been so generous and willing to take me under their wings at the clinic.

I am never very good at goodbyes. I guess I do have some things to sort out back “home” in the States. At least I might have my foot in the door now, either with Nile River Explorers, Adift, or Kayak the Nile. Plus, I am leaving my kayak here, so it might be my excuse to myself to come back sometime down the road.

Damn Dams

As the clock keeps ticking, I have been spending my last few days on the water – a little teaching and plenty of playing. I went back down to the Hairy Lemon for a few relaxing days surfing on the Nile Special and the Club Wave, and now back to Bujagali. With the big plans of doing a Silverback run this afternoon, we arrived back at NRE and were delighted to read the sign: “Blasting on 18/4/08. Stay clear all afternoon.” I cannot help but wonder the long-term effects of the Bujagali Dam; after completion, it will likely wash out all the whitewater down to Silverback. This will definitely affect the local community, most likely more bad than good. It will probably lead to a decline in rafting and kayaking tourists, and therefore show a decrease in clientele at NRE; most of Kyabirwa village is employed because of this heavy traffic in Bujagali: raft guides, safety kayakers, shuttle drivers, staff at NRE campsite, bar, local restaurants, boda drivers, chapatti stand, etc. After flooding out the river, I would not be surprised to see an increase in malaria and bilharzia because the lake will serve as a perfect breeding site. Of course, there are arguments that the dam will benefit the local community with more electricity; however, my guess is that the electricity will likely be sold to neighboring Kenya and the private dam companies will benefit rather than local communities. Few people in these rural villages actually have electricity anyway. The power of money is disturbing, especially when the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer, yet again. It is funny how we have started to remove dams back in the States because of the lack of sustainability; however, back here in Uganda, they keep on building new ones. Someday we will learn.

Another Day of Public Transport

I sit crammed in the back corner of a matatu on a hot Monday afternoon. I can feel the sweat rolling down my back as I sit shoulder to shoulder and count the 23 passengers jam-packed into one matatu. There is nothing unusual about the busy days of public transport; I always laugh when I read the sign painted on all matatus: “licensed to carry maximum of 14 passengers.” I look around the matatu a little closer: a few crying babies, bundles of matoke piled on top of the roof, the smell of fish grilling on the front of the car, young, nursing mothers in the back, or maybe the 3 live chickens squealing and running underneath my feet. There is never a dull moment here. Everything is a bit slower, whether it is from transportation or the healing of a small, infected cut on my foot. Yesterday was pouring down rain and life was on hold here; the roads become muddy and unbearable, bodas are dangerous and impossible to drive, the markets are dead silent as everyone huddles under the trees and just waits until the sun comes out and shines again. I believe laughter has brought me a long way in life; I have learned to enjoy the most of it and a good sense of humor has saved me countless times. I peak through the tiny crack in the window as I try to gasp every bit of fresh air to cool off. I look off into the mountains of green, lush jungles; it almost looks like the Grand Canyon except covered in rain forests instead of the dry deserts of Arizona. It is a beautiful countryside filled with mountains, rivers, farms, and Ugandans who have lived a much harder life than I have. I still have a hard time believing I have been here nearly 6 months; it was not until the other day that I felt ready to leave. The transition phase is a tricky place to be: I had more or less stopped working with Soft Power Health, returned from traveling to Rwanda, and became sick and unproductive for a few days that I finally felt ready to move on (maybe another round of bilharzia for all I know). Maybe it is good that I will be leaving relatively soon; it might be my time to go and find a change of pace and change of scenery.

After living here, I will never forget to just sit back and relax; I have spent too much of my life in a hurry, running from one thing to the next. However, here I am now, sitting in a matatu that stops every 100 meters to add more passengers when I never thought it would be possible to fit anyone else. I laugh at the situation; sometimes the Ugandan logic makes no sense at all, but instead of going mad with frustration I am enjoying every moment while I can.

Land of a Thousand Hills

After a beautiful drive through the endless hills of Rwanda, I understand why this tiny country in East Africa is known as the “Land of a Thousand Hills.” I had plenty of time during the 10-hour bus ride from Kampala to Kigali to enjoy the scenery. Along with the travel was the madness of being in a new country again: new language I do not understand, different currency, which of course, I found myself converting into shillings rather than dollars as a reference, driving on the right side of the road, all boda-boda drivers wearing helmets and even having helmets for their passengers, paved roads, rubbish bins throughout the city, pedestrians with the right-of-way for crossing the street, the list goes on! I believe people can even get a ticket for jaywalking. It was relieving in some ways, but I was ready to come back home to Uganda where I know how much a certain boda ride should cost, the normal price for food, and I am not expected to understand French. This trip to Rwanda made me realize, again, that I have been here in Uganda for quite some time and it does feel like home. Today, the 6th of April, marks the 14th anniversary of the beginning of the Rwandan genocide. It is still hard to believe that such a massacre occurred, killing 800,000 people during this 3-month period in 1994. And it all started as an ethnic cleansing of all Tutsis, or anyone married to, employing, or befriending a Tutsi. I walked through the dark halls of the Kigali Memorial Museum, looking at the photos, video, interviews of the survivors, and the remains of the murdered: leftover clothing, skulls, bones, and chains. The hardest part was seeing photos of murdered children with their names, age, favorite sport and food, best friend, last words before death, and the way each child was killed. The most common cause of death was “hacked by machete,” along with “shot in the head,” or “smashed into wall until stopped screaming.” I wonder where some of these kids would be today – maybe finishing up secondary school or being 22 and working at a rural health center. I always thought I had some hard times in 1994, but now I am reinforced of the insignificance of my own memories; I was not gang raped and butchered by a machete, or watching my family slaughtered in front of my own eyes. Sometimes it is hard to believe that every Rwandan over 14 years old has his or her own version of the story to tell.

It is scary that human beings have the ability to perform such violence and hatred toward each other. While looking back on all the genocides, it comes down to ethnic cleansing, religious segregation, poverty, or civil war: the Holocaust, Bosnia, Armenia, Cambodia, Namibia, Rwanda, and now in Darfur. It is funny how organized religion seems to have caused more war than peace. And now, outside the Kigali Memorial Museum, numerous massive graves bury the corpses of thousands of unidentified bodies from 14 years earlier.