One weekend in the fall of 2004, Laura and I decided
to go camping over a three-day weekend. For some unknown reason, we were in a Civil War history type of mood, so prior to securing camping provisions at Whole Foods (of course one can't go into the wilderness without first hitting the olive bar), we
visited the Alexandria National Cemetery in Alexandria, Virginia. One of our nation's first national cemeteries, it is the final resting place of several of the
soldiers who chased down John Wilkes Booth after he assassinated President Lincoln. After our little jaunt and once we had our fancy, organic,
fair-trade camping provisions in hand, we returned our old Toyota truck to discover it was leaking gasoline.
Hmmm. Camping seemed out of
the question, let alone driving back to D.C. or even starting the engine. We called the insurance company about towing it, who told us to immediately
call the fire department. A firetruck came, which was pretty awesome, then a tow truck, and then the rest is a bit of a blur. Sadly, the weekend did
not involve camping; instead we were saddled with a hefty mechanic's bill. Thus began our sordid history of ill-fated road trips. Here are but a few of the misadventures:
- 2005: 16 hour drive to Des Moines with a full-sized 60 lb. Hurricane (our late dog) on the bench seat between us;
- 2007: the extremely sketchy hotel in northern Indiana with the heart-shaped bathtub on the drive back from our wedding;
- 2010: Driving through North Carolina and trying to find the Greensboro Airport (late for our flight), only to have AppleMaps send us to the runway instead of the terminal;
- 2013: the unexpected snowstorms between DC and Cincinnati at Thanksgiving, both before and after;
Fast forward to June 2016. We had a good plan. Drive to a
nice lodge in Western Uganda for our 9th anniversary on Day One. Have a nice short safari-ish
adventure by trekking chimpanzees (or as they call it in Lugandan - folow'ingjeff'reyfein'tech) in the Kibale Forest on Day Two, and then drive home on Day Three in time to
celebrate Father's Day with the kids over pizza. We should have known things were once again going to go south when the
night before our departure, S threw T's toothbrush in the
toilet, laughed about it, and then five minutes later smacked her mother resulting in a lovely
facial wound. Laura censored the photo, but let it be known that no woman is ever happy on her anniversary if she has a big
bloody streak across her face.
There were actually some earlier indications the trip was
doomed, starting with the permitting adventure at the Uganda Wildlife Authority
(UWA). Trekking chimps and
mountain gorillas is one of Uganda's most famous and unique attractions - the
others being whitewater rafting on the Nile River and climbing mountains
on either side of the Great Rift Valley (Mt. Elgon in the east, the glacier-capped Rwenzoris in the west). As such, the UWA rightly endeavours to restrict access to the
endangered animals, and requires all would-be trekkers to pay a hefty permit
fee. Fair enough. The money supports the growing tourism
industry in Uganda and helps protect the country's most vulnerable national resource; we were happy to pay the fee.
What the UWA website does not prepare one for, however, is the
developing world pace-of-business that hits you like a runaway freight train when attempting
to buy the passes. Laura walked
into the reservations office and was confronted with about 25 people in
various states of inaction. Four
booking agents were chatting with tour company agents, only one of whom was
actively typing on a computer. For
upwards of ten minutes, she attempted to lock eyes with the booking agents each
time they shifted their gaze to her, pressuring them into shooing away the tour
company agents. Eventually she
managed to get a hearing and bought one permit, but made only a reservation
for the other permit as she didn't have both our IDs with her. The next day we sent our intrepid
driver over to attempt to buy my permit, but the computers were down, so it was
"not possible." We were
given instructions to pay at the UWA offices once we got to the Forest.
Great! All
set! Gas up the car and check the
tires on Thursday. Off we go,
Friday morning. We make good time,
get to Fort Portal by 1PM, despite the torrential downpour that starts just as
we get to the edge of the Kibale Forest. The
heavy rain should have been another indicator of things to come.
We make it to the beautiful Papaya Lake Lodge by
about 3, settle in for a relaxing evening and early dinner to get ready for an
early rise the next day as the hike starts at 8 AM. Papaya Lake Lodge is one of a number of lodges in this
region situated on the rim of a crater lake. It's the second time we visited, and we are always impressed
with the design, hospitality, and food.
And the towels - Laura couldn't get over the towels.
We woke the next morning to drizzles. Sebastian and Magda,
the proprietors of Papaya Lake Lodge noted it had been clear and sunny for the
past three weeks, so of course the weekend we arrive it is overcast and
misty. Saturday morning, it was
more than misty and actual rain had turned the roads into jello. Jello on top of butter. As we head towards the UWA Kibale
Conservation Area main gate where I'm supposed to pay for my permit, our
vehicle fishtails for a good mile.
The mud is so slick, we slide back and forth across the road like we're
a hockey puck. We've both driven
in some hairy situations in Uganda, but this drive made us both extremely
nervous.
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| A view of the Rwenzori Mountains over Lake Lyantonde, taken from the porch of Papaya Lake Lodge's main building. No matter how technologically advanced the camera is, pictures don't do the view justice. |
After paying at the park's UWA office, the ranger sends
us off, giving directions and telling us we have to get there quickly, as the
hike sets off in 40 minutes. We're
supposed to drive 10 kilometers, then turn left at the giant chimp statue. Then go another 10 kilometers through the park. Simple directions, and we're now on
gravel. 20 kilometers in 40 minutes should be easy peezy. Then the gravel turns into dirt, then
the dirt turns into mud again.
It's not quite as slick as the last patch, but now there is a 100 meter
drop off on the left side, so sliding off the side of the road is not an
option. After about 3 kilometres, we come over the crest of the hill and we can see an accident. A sedan and matatu (if you recall, one of the van-buses) slid into each
other. The sedan seems immobile and everyone is on the side of the road trying
to figure out what to do. It was probably one of those slow-motion slides like you'd get on snow and ice where there's no chance of anyone getting hurt because of the lack of speed and momentum, but there is absolutely nothing you can do other than hold on.
As we debated whether to continue and try and pass the pileup and continue on, a pickup approached from below the accident and attempted to go around everything, fishtailed, and then began sliding back down the hill. That is when I said the chimps ain't worth it. The only silver lining, as we carefully u-turned our way back down the hill, we did see a few primates -- these baboons were enjoying the auto hockey action:
As we debated whether to continue and try and pass the pileup and continue on, a pickup approached from below the accident and attempted to go around everything, fishtailed, and then began sliding back down the hill. That is when I said the chimps ain't worth it. The only silver lining, as we carefully u-turned our way back down the hill, we did see a few primates -- these baboons were enjoying the auto hockey action:
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| One is watching the accident, the other is anticipating the next one. I think we could hear them giggling... |
Defeated, we head towards Fort Portal, in search of a
particular famine hygiene product (FHP) that rhymes with this device used in mountain climbing:
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| Defined as a metal plate with spikes fixed to a boot for walking on ice or rock climbing. |
This particular FHP is not very popular in Uganda, and hard
to find even in Kampala. We struck
out five times. The first pharmacy we tried was along the scandal-ridden Fort
Portal-Kamwenge road, the same road where we had just given up our dream of chimp
trekking; a road which the Uganda National Road Authority (UNRA) tweeted
was 64% complete on June 8, 2016:
Here's a view of that road, albeit a slightly different location, on June 19, after two days of rain:
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| Somewhat dry on the left, mud soup on the right. |
The reason this particular road construction project is so scandalous is
not only because it's basically all mud for well over a year and a great inconvenience to all who live along the road. It is also scandalous because in the
course of the construction, the road workers conducted numerous acts of sexual
exploitation and abuse (SEA) upon the communities along the road. This was uncovered during an audit of
the project by the World Bank, which had funded the project up until October
2015 once the SEA was exposed; the World Bank formally suspended the project in December 2015. The government
contractor for the project, the China Railway Seventh Group Corporation Ltd. (CRSG), was accused of
not implementing various controls and management programs for their employees,
which created an environment where the crimes were tolerated. Numerous accounts of young girls being
targeted on their way to school, and subsequently dropping out of school due to
unplanned pregnancies have popped up in the Uganda media. They've obviously turned a corner,
because there were two helpful posters in the pharmacy stating "CRSG Says
No to School Droppout" and "CRSG Says No to Early
Pregnancy." That should solve
the problem. According to Captain Obvious, another way of solving the problem would be to send rapists to jail...
Meanwhile, the quest for the FHP took us all the way into Fort Portal and
four more pharmacies and grocery stores; and one stop at a pay toilet - my first time having to pay to go #1.
Access to FHPs is another major issue for girls in Uganda. Girls who cannot afford FHP are at
greater risk of dropping out of school, so during Laura's informal survey, it
was disappointing to see that all FHPs were located behind the counter. In half
of the encounters she had to interact with men to ask for the product, and in
one case 8 pads cost 35000 UGX (a little more than $10), or over $1 per pad. No wonder this is such a large barrier
for young women's education in Uganda.
A few enterprising NGOs are trying to work on this problem, including
AfriPads, for those of you interested in learning more.
Another silver lining to this side trip, the bag that the
FHP was placed in, once Laura made a successful purchase, was made out of
recycled paper, as is common in Uganda.
Here's what we found printed inside the bag:
Apparently someone in Fort Portal expected a lot of election-related
arrests, but over-estimated.
We headed back to the lodge and enjoyed two delicious meals and relaxed and read by a fireplace, no less, as the rain continued to come down. The food at Papaya Lake Lodge is some of the best in Uganda. Using local ingredients, we dined on amazing interpretations of Thai-fusion coconut soup and pizza:
We tucked off to bed to the sound of some sort of frogs lulling us to sleep, but woke to the screams of a hornbill violently trying to get into our room. It all happened so fast we couldn't get a photo, but suffice it to say, this was a rather large bird about the size of a Canadian Goose, cawing and hammering at the bedroom's glass patio door - I ran at the door trying to scare him off, which basically left him unfazed. Here's a photo of a hornbill:
And not to be outdone, after the hornbill incident we'd roused, dressed, and packed, we hiked up the hill to the lodge for our final (delicious) breakfast and found this:
Happy freakin' Father's Day to me. I got to change a flat tire. Thankfully, we had a full spare and were able to travel at normal breakneck speeds back to Kampala and our girls.
Regardless of our difficulties, we've already had a couple more road adventures here in Uganda - these with the kids - which will be reported soon. Yes, we might be gluttons for punishment. And yes, we do always travel with a ton of roadside emergency and medical equipment when we leave the city, so we can change your tire, dig you out of the mud, or even perform open-heart surgery if we see you stranded on the side of the road.
We tucked off to bed to the sound of some sort of frogs lulling us to sleep, but woke to the screams of a hornbill violently trying to get into our room. It all happened so fast we couldn't get a photo, but suffice it to say, this was a rather large bird about the size of a Canadian Goose, cawing and hammering at the bedroom's glass patio door - I ran at the door trying to scare him off, which basically left him unfazed. Here's a photo of a hornbill:
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| Imagine having this as your alarm clock |
And not to be outdone, after the hornbill incident we'd roused, dressed, and packed, we hiked up the hill to the lodge for our final (delicious) breakfast and found this:
 |
Regardless of our difficulties, we've already had a couple more road adventures here in Uganda - these with the kids - which will be reported soon. Yes, we might be gluttons for punishment. And yes, we do always travel with a ton of roadside emergency and medical equipment when we leave the city, so we can change your tire, dig you out of the mud, or even perform open-heart surgery if we see you stranded on the side of the road.
