Lakes again

Our journey across East Africa together is nearly at an end. There is time for one more post then Wainwright and I are off again - to the Lake District for 3 days to take advantage of the mild weather and do some walking. No camping this time though. I am playing safe and putting a Youth Hostel Association roof over our heads.

When we return we will take you on the last leg of our African adventure - 10,000 feet up the steep sides of a volcano to spend a wonderful hour in the company of the brilliant mountain gorillas.

Until then........Live long and prosper.

The Children of Africa

Lake Bunyoni

Mauled by the Tigers -Wainwright makes new friends

Some of the 67 children of the orphanage

Our 10 hour trek south finally brought us to our final destination in Uganda at Lake Bunyoni. The camp site was set on the edge of the lake and surrounded by a verdant landscape of trees and fields. It was a blessed relief after our stay on the outskirts of Kampala where the campsite had been in an urban area, had basic amenities and was guarded by government troops due to the unrest in the city.

The 2 nights at Lake Bunyoni were very relaxing as it was an excellent campsite with a bar and dining area. My tent opened out onto the Lake itself. A great way to start any day.

On the morning after our arrival the group was given the opportunity to visit the nearby orphanage. This involved an arduous trek up the steep slopes of the hillside to the nearest village. Our local guide introduced us to some of the villagers, including a very frail old lady who claimed to be 110 years old. She lived in one room in the care of her family.

Many of the homes had one or two cattle corralled in their yard. There was no electricity but there was some water thanks to a project by a foreign aid worker, supported by our tour company, Exodus Travel. Large storage tanks gathered rain water for local use.

The orphanage provided for 67 children, who were all cared for by the villagers in return for a subsidy.

The health of the children varied. Some appeared well nourished and strong, whilst others were sickly and had the swollen stomachs indicative of worm infestation. All of them were of pre-school age.

We spent at least 45 minutes in the company of these brilliant kids - playing in the open with them, dancing with them and joining them in the basic classrooms where they went about their lessons.

Wainwright was a huge hit with the children and nearly earned me a detention for disrupting the lesson.

Many of the group, including me, were emotionally affected by what we saw. I don't know why these children were orphaned or how they came to be at the orphanage. I'm not sure I wanted to know.

One boy in particular broke my heart. He was clearly older than the rest. He was poorly dressed and appeared to have learning difficulties. He went barefoot, a sign that, unlike many of the other children, he has no sponsor.

Many of the children were clearly thriving and I could sense some sort of future for them. But for this boy I could not see a future. Big and clumsy at times, he clearly craved attention. I do not think that in all my life I have seen a child so much in need of love and yet so deprived of it. Not for the first time in Africa I felt so helpless and desperate to do something that will make a difference.

I had bought packs of colouring pencils in the supermarket at home and handed them to the head teacher. Others had brought gifts too. As always with children it was he simplest of toys that made them happy as they chased around after some balloons that Jess and Josh had brought.

We all made a donation towards the running of this excellent orphanage. I hope our group made a small difference to the lives of these children.

This feeling of helplessness was clearly still troubling me when we left Lake Bunyoni and continued south into Rwanda.

We stopped for lunch at a viewpoint and as Leo prepared another great meal of meats, salad, breads, guacamole, fruit and cheese a small group of urchins gathered nearby and watched in silence.

There must have been about 8 children, and although they would be lucky to get one decent meal that day none of them asked for food. They just watched as we feasted.

When the meal was over Leo scraped the left-overs into the big yellow bin we always carried. The children said nothing.

Deeply troubled by this I took a short walk away from the truck and came across two young girls.

Being a former Belgian colony, French is the dominant language in Rwanda. Through my school boy grasp of the language I established that the girls were sisters named Marie and Desiree.

I told the girls to wait away from the truck and I strode back purposefully to Isobel and recovered the last remaining gift I had to give - a cheap 'magic' colouring book and 2 pens. Kneeling beside the sisters I divided the book between them and gave them a pen each, showing the girls how it worked.

I had deliberately done this away from the group as I knew the 'rules' by now - don't give money to children as it only encourages them to beg and to stay out of school. But the same rule being applied to wasted food was wrong to me and I was pleased to do something to right this wrong, albeit in a small way.

Was I being genuinely altruistic or did I act merely to assuage my own guilt? I can't honestly say. But I do know that as we drove away from the viewpoint we passed the sisters on the road and they waved at me enthusiastically still clutching the small gifts I had given them.


Footnote: The orphanage at Lake Bunyoni has its own blog that can be followed at http://mindfulmarket.blogspot.com/

Experiment on the Equator

Crossing the Equator

Northern Hemisphere experiment


On the Equator experiment

Our 10 hour journey south from Kampala took us over the equator. We must have crossed it heading north but it wasn't marked in any way. This was not the case on the road between Kampala and Mbarara.

Here the equator was clearly marked as an angled line across the road. Each end was marked by a concrete hoop that showed the north -south divide and proudly marked the equator. Perfect for a photo as you can see.

It was also perfect for a little local enterprise in the form of a science project.

It is well known that the Earth's rotation causes water to disappear down the plug-hole in a clockwise direction in the northern hemisphere and anti-clockwise in the southern. What does it do on the equator?

A young man was on hand to demonstrate the plug hole phenomenon and kindly gave us a 10 minute show for a fee of about £10.

We began in the southern hemisphere. A metal bowl with a hole in the bottom was filled from a bucket of water. Flowers were placed in the water to show the flow and hey presto! The water was clearly rotating anti-clockwise.

We then moved to similar set up, about 20 yards away in the northern hemisphere. Bingo! The water rotated in a clockwise direction.

Finally, we stood at a bowl on the equator. To much ooo ahhing the water disappeared straight down the plug hole. Science at it's best. Magnus Pike eat your heart out.

But just pause for a moment to consider what we saw. Is it possible? I know the equator is an imaginary line around the Earth that divides north and south, but surely it's more than a few feet wide? How can the effect be so marked in containers only about 20 yards apart?

Easy. It was all a con.

When the show was over a closer inspection of the apparatus used revealed imperfections in the surface of the containers that would cause water to act according to the script.

Sorry to ruin the illusion. I can also show you how David Blaine levitates if you want your day completely spoiling.

I can't leave it there though. In the interests of finding the truth I went to the nearest toilet. After peeing not quite on the equator, but very close to it, I filled the sink with water and pulled the plug. I didn't have any flowers handy but to me it was clear what happened - the water disappeared vertically down the plug hole. No magic involved.

It pays to advertise

Typical shop-fronts in Uganda

Wherever went in East Africa I made an effort to learn something of the local langauge. In Kenya the greeting was always 'Jambo!' and in Uganda the equivalent was 'Agandi!' But it was always interesting to see that English was still a dominant language in these former British colonies. Signs and directions were always written in my native tongue.

What delighted me most were the signs on shops and advertising slogans.

Every town we passed through had brightly painted shop fronts that were themselves adverts for a product. For example, mobile phone shops would be painted in the corporate colours of Orange and to a set design that never varied.

It wasn't just the bright colours but the language used that fascinated me. There was always a fantastic simplicity about it and a sense that it was not quite correct.

In England hairdressers seem to compete to find the most original and witty title for their business. Here's a few plucked from the local Yellow Pages: Cut Above; His 'n' Hairs; Intrim; and The Head Gardener.

In Africa it is far simpler and yet more romantic. In Kenya there was a hairdressers called 'The Beautiful Ladies Hair Salon'. Brilliant! It has the simplistic yet descriptive ring of 'The Number One Ladies Detective Agency' about it. It does what it says on the sign.

Here are a few other adverts and shop signs that I noted down:

Sandolin: Colour your world fashionably silky (Sandolin shops were in every town. Always brightly painted. Good use of the colon).

Blessed - shoe shiner and repair

Uganda Telecom - it's all about you (unlike British Telecom - It's never about you, so sod off)

Obama Restaurant and Cleaning Services (it pays to diversify, even when you're the president of the USA)

Blessed Man Garment Centre (a tailor's shop)

OMO - dirt is good

When you have a choice
SLEEPING BABY
Is the right choice

(the picture that accompanied this slogan was of a young girl with her thumb up. I still have no idea what it was advertising - drugging your kids so you can go out on the town perhaps?)

I choose Manwango Tea
I take things personally

(are those statements connected?)

And finally my favourite - a solicitor's office in Kampala:

Davis & Shirtlift

Live long and prosper.

Chimp Island

Still claiming for that second tree house then Jacqui?

Monitor lizard (maybe)

Yellow billed kite (definately)

Police and rioters clashed for a second day in the Ugandan capital Kampala in a dispute involving a tribal king.

Three people are reported to have died in the latest clashes, bringing the death toll to at least 10.

Violence erupted when the government banned the king of Buganda from travelling to Kayunga, an area which says it has seceded from his kingdom.

A spokesman for the king said on Friday he had postponed Saturday's planned visit, Reuters reported.

Pasted from <http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/8251907.stm>

This is how the BBC reported on the violence in Kampala. Subsequent reports claim that the death toll rose to 20 and that the Army were deployed on the streets of Kampala with heavy weapons and tanks.

When we drove through Kampala on Monday 14th September signs of the violence that had claimed so many lives the previous days were still in evidence. The Army were still on the streets and apart from the usual machine guns I saw one soldier carrying a rocket propelled grenade (RPG) launcher.

An officer, busy on his cell phone, stood close to the gathered wrecks of at least a dozen burnt out vehicles. Driving through these scenes everyone in the group kept their cameras packed away, as the sight of them would have brought unwelcome attention from the troops.

Amazingly, people were going about their normal business, just like any other Monday morning.

As the report suggests, what sparked the violence was a ban by the Ugandan President on the visit of a tribal king to his Kingdom. I don't pretend to understand the politics behind the President's decision but it serves to underline the complex tensions and divisions that are ever present throughout Africa due to age old tribal allegiances.

The previous day we had skirted Kampala on our way to the Ngamba Island chimpanzee reserve (http://www.ngambaisland.org/) on Lake Victoria. Compared to the adrenalin rush of rafting the Nile this was a very sedate day.

The boat ride out to the island took 90 minutes. Regular readers will be pleased to know that I took plenty of sea sickness pills and managed not to feed the local fish and birdlife.

Lake Victoria is the largest lake in Africa and the third biggest freshwater lake in the World. We set out from its northern rim, not far from Entebbe. Looking south all I could see was the flat horizon of the lake. If we had carried on in that direction we would have travelled for over 200 miles before reaching land.

Ngamba island is the home to 44 chimpanzees who have been rescued from misery all over the world. The island afforded ample opportunity to rest and catch up on the lives of Jeeves and Wooster. But it was also alive with wildlife that proved more alluring. Yellow billed kite circled lazily over the island and a variety of waders fed at the waters edge. Black and white kingfishers posed on branches and plunged headlong into the water. Amazing dragonflies danced over the hot, sandy earth. A pair of lizards, about 6 feet long moved slowly through the bushes. I still haven't identified them, although I suspect they may have been monitor lizards.

Access to the chimps was strictly limited. The island was reminiscent of Jurassic Park in that there was huge fence that divided the humans from the chimps. They could be heard squabbling among the dense trees but it was only at feeding time that they actually emerged and came into full view.

From our viewing platform we spent about 40 minutes watching the chimps until the last piece of fruit had been thrown by the staff and one by one they disappeared back into the trees.

It's an often quoted fact that chimpanzees share 98% of our DNA. Observing their behaviour brought home just how much like us they are, especially when they stand up on two legs. Most of all though, it is their social interaction that make them seem so human. During our brief stay I witnessed greed, bullying, attention seeking, abuse of power, jealousy and exhibitionism. In fact they reminded me of a peculiar sub-species of human - politicians. It wouldn't surprise me if some of these chimps are still claiming expenses for their former homes. And when I come to think of it, the Alpha male, Mikka, looked an awful lot like Jacqui Smith. Although obviously much fitter and not quite as hairy.

Rafting the Nile

In the washing machine

Flippin' heck! That's me in the pink helmet.

The safety boat

By breakfast time on the Saturday news was beginning to filter through of trouble in nearby Kampala. The picture was very unclear, but the rumours suggested that there had been widespread violence in the street and 10 people had been killed. JJ was very grave about the situation and said he would find out more during the day. Obviously, the safety of the group was paramount and decisions had to be made about the progress of our trip.

Concerning though all of this was it did not dampen my enthusiasm for what I intended to do with our free day.

The previous evening a young American called Bob had called by over dinner to tell the group about white water rafting. It sounded wicked and since most of the falls to be faced were Grade 5, much tougher than the Grade 3 rafting we had in Turkey it presented a new and exciting challenge. But when Bob asked who was interested only one hand shot in the air - mine.

Overnight though two of the younger members of the group, Helen and Susie, decided that they would take up the challenge too. The three of us made our way to the bar area where we were to meet with Bob and sign up for a full day of rafting the Nile.

The Company that organises the rafting is called Adrift and they operate out of a little shack next to the bar. As we each paid our money there was a cry of 'Snake!' and the people in the shack soon left it.

A burly guy with a scaffolding pole then stepped in and took control of the situation. From where I was I saw this chap conduct a mighty battle with what I took to be a monstrous serpent that was hidden from my view behind the counter. I heard the word 'cobra' mentioned. After several minutes of jabbing with the pole and putting his life on the line our hero emerged, complete with snake.

The snake was green in colour and no more than 10 inches long. It appeared to be what is referred to as a house snake. Despite this poor thing being no more dangerous than the corn snakes I keep at home this guy decapitated it with grim satisfaction. It seems he had a thing about snakes.

Not the best start to the day and it didn't improve much when our new friend Bob seemed to have an attitude problem that soon earned him the epithet 'Bob the Knob'. Maybe he was just hung over or maybe he was disappointed at the number and quality of his clients. Apart from Helen, Susie and me there were just two others - a pair of very nice Indian ladies who were touring Africa together. One of them couldn't swim. It seemed that the trouble in Kampala had reduced the client base.

Kitted out with life vests, helmets and paddles the five of us made our way down to the river with Bob, who went through the rudiments of rafting and various drills. His mood did not lighten and it became obvious that he didn't want the Indian ladies on board. He made this obvious through his constant suggestions that they'd be better of in the safety boat where no paddling is required and which hardly ever flips over.

But the ladies in question stuck to their guns, they'd paid for adventure and they were going to have it . But when Bob the Knob explained how he was going to flip our boat over on purpose by way of a practice for getting it upright again and climbing back on board their resolve finally failed and they opted to move to the safety boat. Helen also went as she was concerned about a severe injury to her elbow that had occurred only a few months previously. And then there were three - Susie, Bob the Knob and me.

What followed was a fantastic adventure that epitomised everything this trip was about for me. Over the course of the day we navigated more than 20 miles of the River Nile, negotiating five Grade 5 rapids and other lesser falls. Grade 5 is the highest level that can be attempted commercially.

All the rapids had names, such as Easy Rider, Point Break and Overtime. Often there were long stretches of slack water between them when we could drift with the current and simply enjoy being on this awe inspiring river. Our route was dotted with Fish Eagles and other wild life. Nile perch broke the surface here and there. On both banks there were people going about their daily business and using the river as a wash room and launderette.

The presence of these people added another safety feature into our journey as they kill any Nile Crocodiles that appear in order to protect their children. Good news for us but bad news for the crocodiles.

When we rafted in Turkey there were stretches of river where we could get out of the raft and float alongside. When Susie and I suggested this to Bob he quickly quashed the idea. Perhaps he wasn't confident that all the crocs had been taken care of.

As it was we had plenty of opportunities to swim. A giant wave flipped Susie and I out of the raft on one occasion and despite our best efforts the boat completely flipped over three times. By the last time I was finally getting the hang of it and managed to hang on to the boat with one hand and my paddle with the other even though it felt like I was in a washing machine.

The scariest part when being suddenly catapulted into the water is the few seconds of being pounded by the water when you can't tell up from down and wonder where the next breath is coming from. But despite its ferocity, the Nile is relatively safe to raft down as it is very deep so there is little chance of hitting a rock or getting wedged under one.

This wasn't the case for a previous visitor from Holland. He decided to save a few dollars by avoiding the organised rafting and set out on his own in one of those small inflatable rafts you see at the seaside. He actually made it an incredibly long way before choosing the wrong side of the river and heading into a Grade 6 rapid. Bob showed us the rapid in question which is now known as The Dead Dutchman.

It was a day I will never forget and as it wore on Bob became more and more affable. He was very good at his job and was clearly very happy to live a nomadic lifestyle picking up rafting jobs and working as a ski instructor, according to season. At one point he even joined me in singing a very rude song my children introduced me to that was perfect for the occasion - 'I'm on a boat' by Incredibad.

As a souvenir Helen, Susie and I all bought CDs containing pictures of our journey. Looking at those pictures I still find it incredible that an average, middle aged bloke from Yorkshire should find himself plunging down one of the world's legendary rivers in a mix of awe and adrenalin. I came to Africa looking for adventure and found it in abundance on the Nile.

Uganda

A hot shave! The camp site at Eldoret

Leaving Lake Nakuru it was time to head towards Uganda where some very unpleasant bother, an encounter with chimpanzees and white water rafting were waiting for us.

To break up the long journey we overnighted at a camp site near the town of Eldoret, just south of the Cherangani Hills. The contrast with the privations of our Lake Nakuru camp site could not have been greater.

For the first time since my arrival I was able to shave with hot water and the showers were superb. There was even a pool, although we arrived too late to make use of it.

Leo was given the evening off and we all enjoyed a variety of curried dishes with various nan beads and chapattis as well as rice and chips, served on a real table that we could all sit around. Afterwards we retired to the cosy bar area and sat near the log fire whilst JJ briefed us on the next day's journey.

For me, the highlight of the camp site was the fact that the owner had numerous dogs of various sizes and breeds who came into the bar and in some cases even slept on it. I love dogs and to be surrounded by these guys was just brilliant.

Rejuvenated, we continued our journey the next day and crossed the border to Uganda, which was a novel experience.

On the Kenyan side of the border we were besieged by young boys between the ages of 10 and 14, all trying to sell us something - cold drinks mostly. Much to the amusement of the rest of the group and me the boys kindly referred to me as 'grandfather'. Despite this apparent insult I did build up a rapport with them and handed out a few of the gel pens I had brought with me.

Wherever you go in East Africa there is a universal language - football. When in doubt just shout 'Wayne Rooney!' and it is sure to bring a cheery smile and a wave. On this morning I was wearing my Hull City shirt so, like a good grandfather, I decided to teach the boys a song.

If you ever have the pleasure of crossing the border between Kenya and Uganda and are accosted by a group of young boys singing 'Mauled by the Tigers, you've been mauled by the Tigers', whilst pretending to err, maul like a tiger, then I apologise profusely.

On the Ugandan side of the border it was a different story. Here there were men in yellow coats vying for our attention.

There is no bureau de change as such at the border, so these guys will change money for you. The key is to get the best rate. Therefore we simply handed our money to Leo and he then bartered on our behalf. It was like a feeding frenzy. The higher the denomination of the bank note the wilder these guys got. It was frantic. I wish it was a bit more like that in the post office. Perhaps I'll write and suggest it.

As we journeyed into Uganda there was a subtle change of mood in the world outside Isobel and it wasn't for the better. Wherever we went in Kenya we encountered nice people. The children especially captured my heart. Sometimes, for no obvious reason they would explode with joy at the sight of us going past. Sometimes jumping up and down and waving and sometimes running alongside the truck for as long as they could. At times their exuberance would end in the inevitable cry of 'Give me money!' But mostly they just seemed happy to see us and I never tired of waving back to them.

In Uganda the reaction was often the same, but less frequent and occasionally the men reacted in a way that made it clear that we weren't welcome at all. It was obvious that even shouting 'Wayne Rooney' or 'David Beckham' was not going have a disarming effect.

Our long journey ended at a camp site near Jinja. The plan was to stay here for two nights and the next day, Saturday, would be a free day for us when we could undertake optional activities or just chill out.

The camp site , whilst not as well appointed as Eldoret, was still excellent and I once more I won out in the tent lottery. I had a huge, walk in tent to myself. So big that it housed a double bed and I got to sleep off the floor for once.

Better still, right next to my tent there was a flimsy fence which guarded me from the drop into this huge river. It was enormous and although the nearby waterfall was not big it still gave off that reassuring rumbling sound of power and might.

I had not been expecting to camp next to a river and certainly not one as mighty as this. I was highly impressed.

Having settled into my humungus tent I made my way to the bar for the first beer of the day. Sadly, there was no Tusker. In Uganda there was a different beer and it was only when I looked at the label that it finally dawned on me what the name of the river was. The beer was called Nile Gold.

Not only were we on the River Nile, we were also very close to what is regarded as the source of the river, about 10 miles away at Lake Victoria. This was the White Nile and as its waters rushed past the cliff top bar it was hard to imagine that it would eventually join up with the lesser Blue Nile and emerge into the Mediterranean Sea, 4,000 miles away in Egypt. That would be one heck of a game of Pooh sticks.

Exodus, the company I travelled with, produce very extensive trip notes that can be downloaded and printed. I had read the notes for this trip but clearly not even noticed any references to the Nile. When I told JJ about my delight at finding we were next to this iconic river he seemed very pleased. In his view, travellers like me are much easier than the ones that want to hold him to account for everything that is written in the notes and complain about any deviations. It is not always possible for things to go to plan.

As JJ told me this he had no way of knowing that even as he spoke something was happening just 50 miles away that could seriously affect our journey and maybe even curtail it. In Kampala, to the south west of us, there was serious street violence. Shots were fired and people died.

Kampala was our next port of call.