Here are the collected emails from my last trip, raw and unedited. Additionally I have posted the
photos from the same trip, if anyone is interested.
All,
Yeah...24 hour layover..wow...anyway, I am incredibly tired at the moment, will write something more cohherent soon. I am off to Dubai shortly, then finally to Africa. I did get to see Trafalgar Square, Westminster Abbey, and Parliment (again). More later...
~Joel
All
Well, I made it. I am in Kigali, arrived yesterday from Kampala. I had originally thought I would explore Uganda first, but I decided that it would be easier to shoot down to Rwanda and then head back up, since my flight leaves from Kampala. At any rate, both countries are beautiful, particularly Rwanda, with its lush landscape and magnificently terraced hills. There were times on the bus ride during which I could very well have been in Nepal, so similar are the landscapes. I have decided that if I am to do much traveling in Africa, I must learn French, much as I would rather learn Portuguese. Though English is understood widely enough to get around, I think fluent French would enable one to arrive at a more meaningful level of intimacy.
The people are amazing, supremely friendly and polite. Rwanda is quite a charming country, and it is difficult, judging by the smiling faces and genuine beauty of its inhabitants, to imagine the extent of the atrocities committed here a mere twelve years ago.
I did finally break down and make out an itinerary last night, though much of it depends upon when and where I can schedule a gorilla trek. I had hoped to do so in Rwanda at Parc National Des Volcanes (where Diane Fossey did her research and was subsequently murdered for it). It is set against seven volcanoes. The other choice is Uganda at Parc Bwindi. There is a third choice in DR of the Congo, though with the current tenuous state of the elections this is probably not an option...leetle dangerous for my taste... (the plus side to this trip would be the ability to see active volcanoes). The only problems are that there are a set number of permits available each day in each country.
Tomorrow, I will take a bus down to Butare to see a memorial of the genocide, and to watch a traditional dance troupe. From there probably will go up to either lake Kivu or to Parc National des Volcans for a trek or two (hopefully the gorilla trek. Then it is on to Kibale on Lake Bunyoni in Uganda, and then to Bwindi Impenetrable National Park (if I am unable to see the gorillas in Rwanda). From here it is on to either Murchison Falls or Gulu (maybe both depending on time limit). Finally to Jinja to whitewater raft the source of the Nile on Lake Victoria (one of the three disputed sources). There are other possibilities here and there, it all really depends on the gorilla trekking. Anyway, take care, more later.
~Joel
All,
Just had a harrowing experience coming back from a place called Butare...my Lonely Planet East Africa guidebook slipped out of my pocket on the bus and I almost lost it. Fortunately, it was still there when I returned to bus. Anyway, my day consisted of traveling to this town for the express purpose of visiting a genocide memorial in a nearby town. The actual memorial is one of the most gruesome, tragic things I have seen in all my travels, a very powerful, very vivid reminder to future generations in all nations.
Returning from the site, the guide walked with me the 2 km back into the small township of Gikongoro (the site is at a former University). Along the way we met up with some middle school girls who also accompanied us. Unfortunately, they all of them spoke mostly French, so the conversation was limited, but we had a nice rapport despite this. At the bus station the young children were absolutely fascinated by this Mzungu (white man), particularly by my hirsute arms which they insisted on touching. Mzungu might as well be my name here, so often do I hear it. It is not a term of derision, more of a name marker, and sometimes even used affectionately. Anyway, I found this delightful, and took a picture of them, then showed them the result. They were entranced.
Yesterday, I visited another genocide site here in Kigali. I am not sure how to describe it, it is all so sad, consisting of descriptions of Rwandan history, German and Belgian colonization, and progressing gradually through the events leading up to the genocide and then the actual genocide itself. This is interspersed with videos of the actual violence and testimonies of members of the victims' families, culminating in a room filled with photos of the victims and a very powerful video of people who had lost whole families, as one man recalled his last meal with his mother, or husband how he had met his wife (slain) in middle school, etc. It all catches up with you here. There is another room, upstairs, containing pictures of children killed in horrific ways, and listing their favorite food, favorite toy, nickname, etc. This was too much, I felt suffocated by the senselessness of it all.
Upon leaving, I followed a trail back down to the main road. Along the way were children and women on their way to collect water (people somehow manage to balance all manner of things on their heads, as though it were second nature, I have even seen women carrying backpacks this way). On the way down, a man hugged me for no apparent reason, and then the children with their "Bonjours." The heavy spell of desolation was lifted, though the terrible images remain and the single, unanswerable question: "Why?"
I did manage to purchase the gorilla checking permit and I leave tomorrow for a town called Ruhengeri which lies on the edge of Parc National des Volcanes. If all goes well, the trek should commence on the morning of the 13th. I have just supped on traditional Rwandan fare: matoke (mashed plantains- looks like banana, tastes like potato) and meat stew, and now will search for a hotel.
~Joel
All,
Ok, I am back in Uganda now, living it up on a quiet lake called Bunyoni near the town of Kabale. I am traveling with some of the people I met on the gorilla trek, American couple from Austin- Martin and Sarah, both electrical engineers, and Mike, a teacher from Maryland who has been volunteering in Tanzania. Anyway, not much going on just now, mostly relaxing and reading...and currently listening to insipid, maudlin evangelical protestant music because I don't have the heart to ask them to turn it down (as I did yesterday), if I had some food on my stomach it would be easier to take, it is making me nauseous. But that is not terribly interesting.
I think I am going to head up to Murchison Falls in the Northwest on Sunday. These are the most powerful falls in the world, and there are also chimpanzee tracking possibilities in the surrounding National Park, as well as the chance to observe elephants, lions, etc. Much of the wildlife was wiped out by Idi Amin's retreating army, but it is making a comeback. An alternate route might be to head up to Kampala and arrange an all-inclusive trip there through one of two guesthouses. While I am loathe to sign up for such package tours, I think it may prove rather difficult to arrange it otherwise, particularly for a lone traveler. I am still deciding- once I move farther away from this "music" and get some food I will be able to think more clearly.
More soon...
~Joel
All,
I am in Kampala again, having just returned from a place called Murchison Falls in Uganda, way up in the Northwest corner. Sarah, Martin and I joined an older French couple and two British girls in a three day package deal. The first day consisted of a game drive during which we observed all manner of deer, antelope, buffalo and a wide variety of exotic birds. We also observed giraffes (at a distance), quite a few elephants, and a large male lion (he was quite a ways off, and walking away). This was followed by a river trip up the Nile to the foot of the falls (the most powerful in the world). There were technical difficulties with the boat and so we divided ourselves up into two multi-national groups (among the many participants were a group from Israel, and some people from the Netherlands). Our boat looked rather like the boat in Apocalypse Now and its passengers included Sarah, Martin, me, three of the Israelis and two Germans: Daniel and Marlena. Along the way to the falls we observed dozens of hippos, quite a few crocs, buffalo and many types of birds. Pretty amazing. All in all, a very nice trip.
The night prior was an interesting one for me. We had been warned that hippos (a rather dangerous animal) were apt to wander through the camp at night, and that we should give them a wide birth. My tent was near to the bathroom, and I awoke ("Funky Town" is playing in the background now...what a song!...Lipps Inc... anyway...) in the middle of the night with a sudden urge to visit the W.C. Unfortunately, one of the many things I forgot is a torch. So, as I get to the pitch black bathroom doorway, still groggy and half dreaming- vaguely concerned about stepping on a hippo, I hear noises inside, sounds of someone (or something) moving about in one of the stalls. I assumed it was a person, then there is the sound of hooves on cement, as something runs toward me with a grunt and runs into me on its way out the door. I did the only logical thing a fully grown Air Force man can do at this point...I screamed like a little girl and turned and ran away...into a thorn bush. Glancing back, I saw the vague shape of what was either a very large wart hog (very common in the camp), or a very small hippo. My first, hazy thoughts had been that it was a baby hippo, and that the mother would now destroy me (I am almost 100% certain now that it was a wart hog). Upon extracting myself from said bush, I calmly walked back to my tent, the urge to urinate having been forgotten (no, I did not do what you think), and went back to sleep, nursing my many wounds and hoping that no one had observed my actions. In retrospect, this incident had no small amount of comic elements. I tried to consol myself by remembering that adage that the animal is much more afraid of you then you are of it. All I can say to this is that I ran into possibly the most terrified wart hog in the history of the species.
The day after the drive and trip to the falls, we drove to the top of the falls, which was amazing. The entire Nile runs through this narrow crevice and the result is a waterfall of incredible power. From here we proceeded onward to Kampala. I had considered remaining an extra day, as the Danish girls were coming that day, but decided against it. We did see them as we stopped for lunch at a small restaurant, their number doubled, M'tta's beauty undiminished...*sigh*....*double sigh....*
Today's plan is to go to some islands on Lake Victoria with Marlena, the German girl (actually originally Polish), a wonderful person, and quite lovely as well. We are to meet at 11 to see if it is possible to go today. I have responded to as many emails as possible, and will respond to the rest soon, this computer is very slow.
~Joel
All,
I am safely arrived (natch) back to...umm...beautiful Augusta. All in all, I would have to place this trip up there with my initial journey to Asia back in 1996, where it would come in a not too distant second. There was adventure, excitement, romance, danger (ok, maybe not so much by way of danger), intrigue (yeah...yeah, no intrigue either). If pressed (when has that ever been necessary?) I would say that this trip chanced to fall amidst a great serendipitous confluence of cosmic forces, transforming a mere three week jaunt into a expedition of epic perfection.
Though the tail of my journey was rather lacking in the way of wild adventures or exotic flora and fauna, it was the ideal culmination to the perfect trip. Marlena and I spent a wonderful few days on the largest of the Ssesse Islands, in a banda (a small hut) at the rustic Shoebill Resort near the village of Kalangala. Actually, rustic might be a stretch. The Shoebill took primitive to a new level, though the experience was more than pleasing. The entire venture is run by an older Dutch expatriate named Luke, you know the type: crusty, been-there-done-that mentality He spoke with what sounded like a Russian accent and was exceptionally funny (think of a bald Jubal Harshaw with a matted beard, a slow, carefully pronounced Russian accent and a wry humor, and you are halfway there). He had worked in Africa in various NGOs for 15 years or so, and had developed a rather lighthearted cynicism about it all. I thought he was great.
As it turns out, the banda was infested with rats, many of which had made their nests between the paper-thin walls and took great delight in depositing small black gifts on our beds and pillows during the day. I must admit that sleeping among so much twittering and squeaking, rustling and scraping, was somewhat unnerving that first night. To her credit, Marlena marshaled through like a champ, though I could tell that it got to her. I suggested we could possibly sleep in the boat moored in the lake (Victoria), but she would have none of it. The next night it was much easier to sleep, having conquered our initial unease.
Dinner at the Shoebill was quite the experience, very warm and intimate. The owner and his Ugandan girlfriend (or wife…not sure) ate with us, as well as a couple other guests. All the dishes were placed in the middle of the table just as they would be were we all family. The food was possibly the best I had during all my time in Uganda and Rwanda. On the second night we were joined by an older (late 40's/early 50’s) couple from Belgium (not married, more like life partners) who were also working for an NGO- the man, Bery, as a sexual health consultant for the island. It was apparent that the couple and Luke were fast friends. Add to this another Ugandan couple and a young Dutch couple (also volunteers) and you have a wonderful evening filled with interesting political banter along with Luke’s wild stories and humorous quips.
At one point during our stay we observed a local baptism (Ugandans only), which was spiced up by Bery and his girlfriends irreligious comments. Talking to no small number of Europeans during this trip, I have come to the conclusion that at least 90% of Europe is secular (as much as I would like to pretend that this is an inevitable worldwide trend, I feel that the belieif is likely merely a result of my unshakable optimism for a better tomorrow). I have also come to the conclusion, and not only for this reason, that I want to one day live in Europe. None of us gathered to watch the baptism were religious, all ranging from agnostic to atheist (Marlena believes in something, but is by no means x-tian). Bery and his girlfriend had me laughing out loud with their comments. All told, it is perhaps the most sublimely ironic thing I have seen in all my travels. Luke feels that the Europeans are converting the Africans in order to keep them down so they can rape the continent of all its valuables, and I cannot but agree (though my experience is certainly not the match of his). Not sure what a soul goes for these days, but I am pretty sure it is nowhere near what it would have fetched at the turn of the century, supply being what it is. I do know that preaching abstinence over condom use in a country in which AIDs is so wide spread is unrealistic, irresponsible, and evil. Kids will, after all, be kids, and condoms are cheap. I will say it again; the future lies in education, education, education....
The rest of our time was filled with swimming, eating, taking boat rides and sipping wine by campfire light. Also, the first night we watched a local drum circle around a large bonfire accompanied by traditional dance. A fantastic experience. Marlena is nothing short of stunning; 24, German of Polish decent, with long golden hair and piercing blue eyes- she could easily be a model. She is also gifted with a remarkable, introspective personality, a fierce passion and independence, as well as a kind heart.
After taking the ferry back to the mainland, we returned to Kampala, and settled on staying at the Red Chilli Guesthouse (my third time at the place) which has a very nice, relaxed atmosphere. As I was nearing the end of my trip, and had spent very little, I decided to splurge on a cottage for a few nights (still very cheap). This is possibly the nicest room(s) I have stayed in my travels, with the exception of a hotel in Paris, and Marlena‘s company made it more wonderful still. I soon met her friends, all volunteers at the project she was working at: Peter and Gloria (both Ugandan) and Vanessa, a twenty eight year old lawyer from Spain. Peter was fun and highly energetic, especially after a few beers. Out of curiosity, I asked Marlena if he was religious (i.e. x-tian), as some 99% of Ugandan population seems to be. “No,” she replied with perfect, matter-of-fact innocence, “He’s educated.”
The first evening back we attended an outdoor concert at the national theater- Peter, Gloria, Marlena, Vanessa, myself and Dudu (hey, I didn’t name him), an Israeli engineer we had just met at the guesthouse (great fun, though Marlena was not feeling particularly well), followed by dancing at a local club. As it turns out Kampala is quite the city for night life in East Africa. The next day was dedicated to shopping, though I left this part up to the girls, and merely served as an observer. On my last day, Marlena and I went had a leisurely breakfast and she helped me do a bit of whirlwind, last minute shopping, after which we went together to Entebbe and said our goodbyes at the airport (I thought I was ok, but as I approached the customs table I must have had something in my eyes, as I had to perform some extensive blinking exercises- the air pollution is really bad in Kampala…yeah…).
The plane ride was nice, aboard Emirate Air out of Dubai, an airline far superior to anything America has (but then, what foreign airline isn’t?). We stopped over for an hour in Addis Ababa, Ethopia to take on more passengers. I must admit that this was the most culturally diverse air journey I have ever been on: Arabs, Ethiopians, Japanese, Europeans, Various other African nationalities, plus the various members of the crew. A small group of young Ethiopian women boarded. Clad in dresses and head scarves, they presented a rather haunting picture of quiet, graceful, doe-eyed innocence. One of their number was assigned to the seat next to me, and this was clearly her first airline journey. She spoke maybe a handful of English words, and I spent much of the trip teaching her how to use the various gadgets so familiar to frequent airline travelers (including the seatbelt, the food tray, and the plastic wrapper around the napkin). In turn, she helped me clear my tray and dispose of my trash, we adopted one another. It was apparent that the women were from a rather distant, unsophisticated village, and I could but hazard a guess as to what they were doing going to Dubai (hopefully to meet their husbands already working there). Unaccustomed as she was to air travel, she handled it all very well (all of them were remarkably quiet and unexcitable, taking it all in), only growing a little nervous when the landing gear were deployed, and again as we landed. I think my smile reassured her somewhat.
We landed in Dubai airport, a massive, incredibly modern structure, filled with travelers from all over the world. Then on to London, where I uncharacteristically did some shopping, before boarding yet another plane. For most of this journey I spoke with an older woman from Cali named Jan who had just come from a trip to Greece. She was somewhat mystical and had a wonderful outlook. She actually helped me sort some things out. This whole trip has been wonderful for my mental process, and I have done more soul-searching than I have in years. I think all the pieces are finally coming together, I am learning to let go, to embrace that “unbearable lightness of being“- if you will pardon my heavy-handed plagiarizing of the phrase. I think I know what I want to do now.
The rest of the trip consisted of a rather mundane series of planes rides, buses, and aimless wandering around the Atlanta airport and bus station...I won’t bore you further with all the myriad details. I am now in a dizzy state of elated fatigue.
~Joel
