Baby Mazungu

Uganda welcomed me in true style – the power went out in the airport. As I was chatting with staff about my baggage left in Nairobi, the power flickered on and off. The women behind the computers, which must have been on a separate system, didn’t even bat an eye. I knew from talking with Erica prior to my departure that power outages were common in Kampala. I was still taken aback. Fortunately for me, that was the last power outage I had to endure.

I was excited about my trip to Uganda. But my knowledge of Uganda was (is) lacking. I knew very little about where I was going, other than the fact that Isaac and Erica were there. That was the sole purpose of my trip – to visit them. Given the busy schedule I had leading up to the trip, I honestly did no research whatsoever about my destination beyond reading Erica’s blog, paying attention to her and Isaac’s Facebook posts, and the occasional planning Skype conversation.

Needless to say, I learned a great deal on my trip. Here are a few of the more mundane observations from my Ugandan adventure.

The Smell

Remember this scene from the Matrix: Agent Smith & Morpheus? I thought about it frequently in Kampala, and would smile. It seemed appropriate, although it wasn’t simply because I felt that I had to get out of there (although, I did frequently have that thought as well). It truly was a smelly place. One thing pictures and videos cannot capture is the acrid air, a potent mixture of pollution, exhaust fumes, burning garbage and charcoal, and garbage. Even when we were at one of Uganda’s most prestigious resorts, the air hung heavy with the smells of the city. Erica had observed in one of our early planning conversations that no amount of wealth could shield an individual from the realities of living in the third world, referring to the poor infrastructure, the noise, the lack of immediate access to good, among other things. I wonder if she had, at that point, simply gotten used to the smell.

Goats everywhere ate from garbage piles. I'd like to think they are sometimes cooked over the same piles of burning garbage from which they once feasted.

Fitting In

I’m neither small nor huge. I’m above average in Canada. In Uganda, I felt like a giant. This was reinforced in a few ways. First, there was my experience riding in a matatu (taxi). Isaac and Erica insisted on taking this picture.

Riding in a matatu.

There were a number of taller individuals, but they typically lacked a dimension that I seem to have in abundance: girth. Thus, the nickname attributed to me by one of the boda drivers (motorcycle taxi) was especially funny: baby mazungu. Mazungu is the term used for all foreigners. Whether walking down the street, driving in a matatu or a boda, or sitting at a coffee shop, you constantly hear the phrase mazungu. There is no hostility intended. It is simply a way to differentiate foreigners from locals. I was deemed a baby mazungu by my boda driver when Isaac asked him to drive safely, as I had just arrived a few days previous and had limited boda experience. “Baby” clearly referred to my experience, and not my size, as the same boda driver joked that he should charge me double, contending that I was the size of two people.

I was also reminded of my size when trying to replace my missing clothes. En route to the safari headquarters, we stopped at a Nakumatt, one of a few department stores in Kampala. As we had a privately hired taxi waiting for us in the parking lot, I hurriedly tried on a bathing suit and shorts. I simply grabbed a box of XL boxers. I couldn’t try them on anyhow, the store clerk was quick to point out. I should have at least opened the box. That night, at the safari dorm, following a refreshing swim, I was excited to have doubled my supply of boxers. Imagine my surprise.

I'm going to say medium, at best!

Isaac and Erica got a good laugh. XL is clearly a relative term.

Mango Flies

I remember once being on a winter camping trip in Banff, Alberta. After a day of cross-country skiing, my friend Eric and I took our clothes to a local laundry mat. Rather than suffer with damp clothing, we warmed all of our gear in industrial dryers. Piping hot socks, especially for Eric, whose toes were still numb from the previous night’s cold sleep, were welcomed.

I probably would have paid far too much to access a laundry mat while in Kampala. With only two pairs of boxers, initially one pair of shorts, and a few t-shirts, I was washing a lot of clothes by hand. This is not such a big deal. I’ve hand washed items before, especially on longer camping trips. What got me was the drying part. Sure, things dry fast in the hot sun. But you have to deal with mango flies. These little buggers lay eggs in damp clothes. When the larvae hatch, they burrow into your skin and incubate for a few weeks, then dig their way out again. You can kill the eggs by ironing your clothes.

I have no pictures of mango flies, but this was one giant snail that joined us for dinner one at The Bay on my last night - The Bay, if you're ever in Kampala, has a fantastic burger!

I ironed, but every itch or bite anywhere on my body had me searching for the telltale signs of the mango fly larvae’s hole. One way to remove them, provided they are sufficiently large enough, is to cover the hole they leave for breathing with vasoline. When the larva pushes through the vasoline to get some air, you tweeze them out.

Needless to say, I was happy when my clean clothes finally arrived!

The Importance of Silver Linings

When one is surrounded by poverty, harsh conditions, odd smells, and terrifying bugs, you really appreciate the small comforts. Isaac and Erica, fortunately, are very close to a what I consider to be a critical comfort: a coffee shop. I'm a big fan of coffee shops, as many of you know, and have made very many good friendships with those that provide me quick and delicious access to my drug of choice. On my first day, I was treated by Isaac and Erica to lunch at the lovely coffee shop only a few minutes walk from their home, and I was happy to have my last lunch in Uganda there as well. Although a minor detail in their grand adventure, I'm happy to know that Isaac and Erica are close to such a lovely little establishment. 

Erica outside the coffee shop.

Enjoying "African coffee" on day one in Uganda.