Goodbye, Fort Portal, I'll miss you

a glimpse of my last week and a half

Can you believe it?

Fort Portal has a small, tight expat group. We met them all within the first week. It’s important to find people experiencing life in a way similar to you and to “speak fast English” with. (Uganda has certainly taught me the importance of annunciation.) That’s why it’s was great to visit the part of our study abroad group still stationed in Kampala last weekend.

Halfway between Kampala and Fort Portal, the bus pauses while approximately 87 hawkers attempt to sell chipati, gonja, water, or meat on a stick through the windows. In more rural stretches, peddlers instead sell produce and live chickens.

We got into the city on the day that taxi and boda drivers were on strike and without public transportation Kampala is a different place. I’ve never seen so many Ugandans walking. It is probably safe to say that Emily’s 21^st birthday in Uganda is not what it would have been in the US, but a dozen of us spent a fun but casual night sharing practicum stories.

Saturday turned out to be one of my favorite days of the semester. The biggest ordeal of the morning was walking down the mud road from the girls’ house. The Uganda-red muck caked on the bottom of our shoes and crept up the gentle curve of my black flats until there was danger of it overtaking the tops of my feet as well and I lost all hope of looking smart. A few of us had brunch in town just down the block from Christ the King Church where my host sister, Barbara, was getting married in the early afternoon. I was early (and of course they were late) but eventually I sat with the boys from my homestay: my brother Derrick, Ibram, and my neighbor Charles. The wedding was a long mass in Luganda for two couples, each with their own side of the church. The priest’s vernacular homily was occasionally interrupted by key Ugandan English phrases such as “can you believe it?” or “by the way…” Though the wedding party was outfitted in white dresses and suits, the colorful traditional garb that filled the pews ensured that the day felt truly Ugandan. The family was less central to the day’s events than I expected: the parents of the bride didn’t have an air of importance, Barbara’s sister Jackie acted as wedding coordinator rather than bridesmaid, and her brother Derrick was sitting halfway to the back of the church. The service was beautiful and it was wonderful to see everyone again after a break and with such a cause for celebration. After saying hello and goodbye to those I knew, I walked through Kampala and caught up with Katie before returning to Emily’s for a quiet night of cooking and watching DVDs.

Barbara, her husband Daniel, and the wedding party on the steps of the church. Can you spot the apple?

On Sunday Kimberly and I got in the same taxi as Yvonne and Eve, the sisters we’d met the previous weekend, and I knew F/P was a small town. For the last 90 minutes of the 4hr trip, we were 5 across in the front row of the taxi. Did I ever think 19 adults and 2 small children could go that far in one van? Nope, but we did. The walk home felt great. Now the countdown has begun: less than a month left.

African sun at noon: wear sunscreen. Reapply.

Denim jackets, sleeveless hoodies, plaid, layers, Mr. Feeny: Boy Meets World is so wonderfully American. I let Eddie, my Rwandan neighbor at the hostel, borrow the first season and told him that that’s how we grew up. My life could use a laugh track sometimes. It was great to watch a few episodes last weekend with 3 other SIT students visiting Kimberly and I from Kampala.

We were up early Saturday morning and the Kabarole Tours van picked us up from the hostel and drove about an hour to a trail head. The hike was a little over two hours in the Rwenzori mountains to the “warm springs” which turned out to be sufficiently hot. As Kimberly put it: ‘in the US they make paths wind back and forth. In Uganda they just cut the trail straight up.’ There was a lot of walking up and down and around (as is to be expected) and the last thing I wanted when we got there was to get into hot water. So we chilled quite literally in the river and then attempted to get into the springs. There were three pools: the nicer and more removed pool for the men, one for the women and children, and a third deserted pool that our guide said “stopped working.” Our central location made us quite the show for the 50 or so male onlookers who finally disappeared toward lunchtime. It was once again amusing to be the tourist rather the one leading the tour and I watched our guides to see what “novelties” they pointed out to us. The chameleon changing color on my yellow shirt won me over on the hike back. We drove home, showered for twice as long as usual, and spent the next 24 hours being really mzungu.

Mountains of the Moon hotel is just .5km from the hostel but was worlds away from our bagged lunch of rolex (an omelet rolled into a chipati) on the rocks by the stream. It was nice to treat ourselves to a good meal and unwind. On Sunday morning we all woke up with sunburned backs and put the girls on a taxi back to Kampala. We met up with 2 other SIT students and Brother Leon who took us to lunch (and, as has become the norm for encounters with Holy Cross, drinks). 2 hotels with swimming pools in 2 days: did I accidentally leave Uganda?

Now that a good weekend of tourism is done, it’s time to get back to life in F/P.

Eddie returned the DVD set within 3 days. Since I sadly don’t have more, he’s back to watching Family Guy at night.