I promised to write more about my time in Uganda, having ended my last post upon reaching Kampala. I arrived at Kampala during a slightly rainy midday that Saturday without really a plan or even a place to stay. Naturally, I did the most sensible thing upon arriving, which was to find a place to eat lunch, find my bearings, and flip through my guidebook to find somewhere to stay. The cheapest option was a tourist backpacking hostel, so I decided to opt for that and anonymity for the day. After all, if you want to be anonymous, go where all the other young, slightly dirty mzungus will be, and you can be pretty sure that you can relax, read your book and be left alone... even by the other dirty mzungus.
Then, I decided to go and get a good lesson in Ugandan history, visiting the Kasubi Tombs of the last four Buganda kings, or kabakas as they are called. The Buganda kingdom is the oldest in Uganda, dating back to the thirteenth century, and to this day they have a king, but his role is more ceremonial than political. The first president of Uganda was also a Buganda king, and apparently that was not a great combination.
These four kings, however, dated back to the beginning of colonial contact with Europe, and I could see in the summaries of their lives that my guide gave me, the struggles that that contact posed. The first kabaka invited European missionaries, but under the mistaken assumption that they would come and teach the Buganda how to make guns. Of course, even if they may have agreed to such a thing, the Europeans were not in the habit of giving out guns... They did give one ceremonial cannon, and in the drum house there was a wood cannon... Apparently, the kabaka would shoot off the little one, and then tell his guests that he would not shoot this other one because it was too terrifying. A clever strategy.
Anyway, after this first kabaka's experience, his son was not so willing to embrace the westerners, and even massacred some missionaries outside of town. It really is unfortunate that Christianity had to come to Africa so closely bound to colonialism... in many ways you see the church here still trying to work out that relationship, not that the church in the West doesn't have its own copious amounts of baggage to work out. Because of his antagonism though, this king was exiled to the Seychille islands(I remember when I was in Ghana learning about how the British exiled the Ashante and Fante royalty as well... anyone who sought to oppose, so also rebel leaders here in Kenya...), and his infant son suceeded him, somebody who could be handled more closely by the colonialists.
This third king then had quite a different experience than his father, having a more western education, serving for the British in the First World War, and becoming a Christian, having only one wife while his father or grandfather had had, if I recall correctly, somewhere like 800...
His son also was much more westernized, serving for the British during the Second World War, and then going on to lead Uganda to independence and become the first president. This experience of independence leaders and movements in Africa was not uncommon. During the World Wars, the colonial powers would have their colonial subjects come fight on foreign fronts, often for such notions as freedom, but this freedom was never meant to extend to them... Thus, the soldiers would come home, horrified by the slaughter they had seen, disillusioned yet also empowered. In the 1950s and 60s, the world and Africa were ripe for independence.
I did not really have any knowledge of Uganda's history, so found my lesson quite interesting. These Kabaka's had ruled out of Kampala, and even around the compound of the tombs, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, descendents of the Kabaka's wives still live. Unfortunately, I could not see the tombs themselves as they had been burned down by an arsonist a year ago... They are in the proccess of rebuilding the traditional house to enclose the tombs. Thankfully, the kabakas were buried far enough down that during the fire, they were undamaged.
Kampala is a beautiful city. Originally it was built centered around seven hilltops(the kabakas would build their palaces on the hills for securities sake) and while it has grown from that original number, it is still very much a city of many hills, which also means a city of spectacular views. It is smaller than Nairobi, the city center has less modern skyscrapers and while a thriving business district, not quite the level one finds in Nairobi. However, as one of the primary modes of transportation is motorcycles instead of only mtatus, the traffic seemed better than Nairobi, if terrifying with all the motorbikes darting in and out around the cars. I thoroughly enjoyed my time though, and once I had my bearings(easy enough to get with all the hills and landmark buildings on them) I enjoyed walking all over.
Sunday I went to church at the Narimembe Cathedral, a big Anglican church on top of one of the major hills(incredible view!). It was nice, and one can always count on the Anglicans and Catholics to only last an hour in service... then from there I went to the Uganda Museum which I had been warned was rather underwhelming. It really was although it had some nice display cases with musical instruments... It had ethnographic exhibits about how the different tribes used to live, hunt, farm, play, etc, with a brief mention of the British and Germans striking a deal after the Berlin Conference allowing the British to take Uganda(they wanted Uganda because the Nile river runs through it and Egypt was at the time a strategic interest of the British). From the museum though you would not barely know Uganda was colonized, or how colonialism was in Uganda, or about the independence movement or subsequent almost fifty years of independence with its share of coups, awful leaders(think Idi Amin...) and current political strongman who just won another term last month...
That afternoon I just walked around downtown, making my route by the Parliament building, past the high end hotels and then back down into the CBD. Monday morning I headed my journey homewards to Kenya, catching a taxi mini-bus to the border.
Taxis as they are called in Uganda or mtatus as we call them here in Kenya are an experience in themselves, as are taxi yards. Nairobi has stages that are less congested, and so not the full taxi yard experience. Being in Kampala reminded me of my time in Ghana though. In Kampala, the city on hills, the taxi parks are down, and as you descend into them you feel like you will drown in the crowd of people. They are really just a big yard with hundreds of minibuses, and you have to find the sign with your destination, or ask directions and be pointed in the very rough right direction... as it had been raining, in Kampala they were very muddy, and as a quite muddy mzungu I raised a few eyebrows. I caught a few people quite openly laughing at the amount of mud I had collected around my sandals. Then truly, you find one, and before you know it there are twenty people on this little bus... you think small thoughts... as you wait for the taxi to fill, vendors ply you with an array of wares, mostly water, soda and biscuits, but sometimes and odd assortment of junk(plastic cars? sunglasses? calenders...)... then when it fills, the taxi somehow manages to get out of the park despite the fact that there seems to be no proper roads and the minibuses seem pressed bumper to bumper even parked... still, you think small thoughts and settle back to enjoy the ride...
I do enjoy the rides as it is a great way to see the countryside, the beautiful hills of Uganda, the sugar cane fields, and then crossing the border on foot(this time at the Busia crossing) fitting twenty more into a mtatu now, and then the beautiful hills of Western Kenya coming down into Kisumu and Lake Victoria. I had wanted to see more of Kisumu and even had an acquaintance from the states who was studying there, so Monday night I met up with her, and then Tuesday I walked around town and down to the lake, which looked like a field. Lake Victoria is the biggest lake in Africa and divided between Tanzania, Kenya and Uganda, although Kenya, with only 6%, probably has the smallest part. Currently, all the lake weed has blown into shore though and it really looked like you were looking out over a great, green field, with a passing fishing boat where a canal had opened up reminding you it was in fact the lake. I really liked Kisumu, but by Tuesday afternoon, was ready to head back to Nairobi.
This time, I took a direct shuttle, which means I even had a seat to myself, and got to see more stunning crountyside; the tea fields of Kericho, the sloping hills with farms that seemed to want to roll off, the Rift Valley with its lakes... it was a good six hour drive...
Then a few days in Nairobi, my MCC team meeting which is always lovely to see the other MCC'ers, and Saturday back to Hope.
It was a lovely break, I had some good adventures, got to see a lot of friends, but now I am so glad to be back here. I missed the children, teaching, the crazy life that I live here... I'm not convinced the school did break while I was away, but apparently they had some American visitors for a week, and I am quite happy to have been away because groups make me feel awkward in my own home(and the child who told me about them seemed underwhelmed himself)... Now we are preparing for exams which start Thursday, and with the rains came the common cold(the poor children are so miserably sick!) so I am hoping they are feeling a little better before the exams. In other news, we got three more little infants last Friday, so the family keeps on growing...
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