Sunday, January 24, 2010

First Day

Hmm... Where should I begin?

My first day in Uganda was spent in the capital of Kampala on Saturday. We arrived late on Friday night and Erin was eager to show me the city in the daytime. We took a Matatu (taxi bus) to the city from Luzira where we are staying. Kampala is ... bustling. There are people everywhere, shops everywhere, traffic is very hectic and at times scary, the people are friendly. I love it.


Erin and I visited the National Theatre. I recognized the building from the documentary "War Dance" (which I recommend that you watch).

However, I must tell you that before we took an impromptu tour of the National Theater, I had a little shoe incident …

It all started when I was rushing behind Erin and my sandal fell off. I quickly put it back on to hear Erin say, “I’m really worried about some of the sandals you brought,” in which I replied, “Ah I’ll be fine” … 10 seconds later my sandal broke and I was forced to walk barefooted, sandals in hand, to the small market place around the back of the theater. I was never more embarrassed as Ugandans chuckled and laughed at the girl whose shoes could not handle the streets of Kampala. I quickly bought a new more sturdy and decorated pair of sandals. The Ugandan woman that I purchased them from said I could leave my old ones there at the shop. So I did. I like to think that I left a piece of me there and took away something new. Maybe it's a sign of things to come?

Later, after much walking around, Erin took me to purchase a phone at the Sheraton Hotel. We rested a bit after that and were pleasantly surprised that we were not jet-lagged. With Erin’s great directional skills we found a nice internet café-

Going through emails, messages and setting up blogs I found myself getting restless the hour we spent at the café. I was ready to leave so we could return to the streets of Kampala . . . My first day was going very well. We had lunch at Nando’s and were soon (later) joined by Vincent (Vinny). Vinny is a friend of The Jazz for Justice Project and an art school teacher and freelance painter and artist. We talked for a bit and decided to explore the city a little more before the National Theatre opened up for a contemporary dance performance that night.

We checked out Oasis, Garden City and The Movie Theaters. Much of it was to pass by the time until the dance performance. It seemed like we were holding up, but as the day carried on jet-lag started to set in and we were not ready for our body’s response to it! We enjoyed the show, but we were a little too elated for it to be over because of the jet-lag . . . HOWEVER,

I would soon be awakened by one word: BODA! We took a Matatu back to Luzira, but since the stretch of road to our place of residence was very lengthy and DARK we decided (rather Erin insisted) that we take Bodas up the hill . . . Having heard my share of Boda stories I was not too eager to hop on the back of a speeding motorcycle where your seat belt was whatever you could hold on to. After a few (many) bumps and ditches we arrived back to the house. After getting off I felt a little wired. I had survived! And it was … enjoyable. But, I don’t think I could ever get as good as to ride with no hands as some people do here … but hey only time will tell!

Until the next post-

Now She Is Rising...

Hello Everyone. Greetings from Uganda!

"Now She Is Rising" is a line from Maya Angelou's poem entitled "Africa" ... I believe it is a befitting title that describes Uganda as well as myself. I'd heard my share of stories about Uganda before arriving- The people, the food, the culture, the history and so on. When Erin and I arrived she would say, "That wasn't there before" and, " When did they build that?" I realized that the "pearl of Africa" is reclaiming her title ... she is rising. And I hope to get to know her better in the weeks ahead.

As for myself, I am on a new journey. I'm traveling, learning, growing ... I am too rising. To where? I have no idea at this point, but I invite you to join me as I discover. These are my reflections- These are my stories . . .