It's the day before the Gandas leave for England. Gandalady is running errands all over town. Her list of duties includes collecting Emma's new passport, having only realised the old one had expired two days previously. In the car on the way to the British High Commission, her phone rings. She comes to a junction on a quiet road, indicates, feebly pulls over and answers the call. Behind her is a pick-up crammed with police. One of them jumps out and taps on the window.
Policeman: Madam! Stop there! (points to parking space over the road, waving arms around excitedly)
Gandalady: Umm... Oh? me? My phone? How silly of me. Sir, I am so sorry, very sorry. Please, I won't do it again. Please let me go, I have a thousand things to do. (She pulls over as instructed. The pick-up pulls in front, blocking her in. All the policeman, about a dozen of them, stare at her. Some of them are armed. The first policeman comes back to the driver's side of Gandalady's car.)
Policeman: (righteously indignant) You were driving like an unprofessional! If I take you to court now for being dangerous, am I wrong?
Gandalady: No. Not at all. You would not be wrong. I was not thinking. Sorry. I will not do it again. Forgive me. Pause. Can I go?
Policeman: (enjoying G's discomfort) No, it is not OK! Give me your papers.
Gandalady hands over her driving licence. Policeman pulls out Cath Kidston style flowery note book and starts writing down details. Other police watch intently.
Policeman, uninvited, gets into Gandalady's car on the passenger side.
Policeman: (lowers voice). You see madam, it is like this, today I am out with the big man. Three stars! So I must do my duty. I must confiscate your phone. 400,000 shillings fine. And then you must come to court, where they serve 6 months to 1 year for dangerous driving. What do you say?
Gandalady: Please, sir. I cannot let you have my phone. I need my phone, I am travelling tomorrow. What is the fine? Let me pay the fine. Gandalady reaches for her purse.
Policeman: (hisses aggressively) You put that money away! We go there first (points to spot a few metres away from the pick-up. Gandalady obliges.)
Gandalady: What is the fine? Let me pay it.
Policeman: We go to police station first. Then the court must decide, if it is prison or what.
Gandalady: I can't...
Policeman: Just give me 100, 000.
Gandalady hands over the money. I will give you a million shillings just to get out of my car and go away.
Policeman: (shoving notes in his pockets) Go now, if you make trouble for me I will take away your vehicle and get you in prison.
Sunday, 19 July 2009
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
A small problem
We have moved.
I am sitting in my living room on the house on the hill, looking out over Lake Victoria. Four days in and we have just about unpacked. I say 'we': actually Gandaman did all the leg work. I sat around, staring catatonically at the boxes as he unpacked, mumbling about "exhaustion."
I am a very reluctant packer, and an even more reluctant un-packer. G-man likes his house a home, with books on shelves and photos and nice lighting. I am at heart, still a student: give me a saucepan and some teabags and I am pretty happy. Everything else we need will creep out as I need it, or so I reason.
I was surprised at some of the items that had managed to make it to the new place - a plastic doll's severed leg, various tupperware boxes with no lids, some broken plastic wallets, unplaceable foreign coins. And yet, I had managed to leave behind some very vital personal property: no less than my entire underwear drawer!
Imagine my consternation on Friday morning when I discovered the absence of my precious smalls. Followed by the despair as I handwashed my remaining pair in Johnson's Baby Wash, the washing powder having similarly disappeared. Then the acute embarressment of calling the new tenant at our old house and the new boss at Medair to try and locate their whereabouts. "Hi! How are you? Yes, sorry to bother you, but..have you seen?.."
To add insult to injury, these were not any ragged old things: they were almost new, specially ordered from England. Decent bras and pants are about the only thing you can not get here. Balsamic vinegar? Check. Brand new DVD player? Yup. Marmite? Technically yes, though the arabic script is a little unnerving and it doesn't taste the same as back home. But undies? Only if you like polyester blends from China in pastel shades.
Then we got the call yesterday: the contract cleaners had picked them up (the contract cleaners!) and discreetly put them in a plastic bag, which was subsequently taken to the Medair office. I sneaked in earlier today and removed them, carefully not making eye contact with any of the staff.
It's great to be reunited with my er, 'items', but I am also saddened that I no longer have an excuse to run amok on my yearly pilgrimage to Marks and Spencers.* Though actually, I think I will anyway.
* we fly to the UK on Friday for 6 weeks - yay!!
I am sitting in my living room on the house on the hill, looking out over Lake Victoria. Four days in and we have just about unpacked. I say 'we': actually Gandaman did all the leg work. I sat around, staring catatonically at the boxes as he unpacked, mumbling about "exhaustion."
I am a very reluctant packer, and an even more reluctant un-packer. G-man likes his house a home, with books on shelves and photos and nice lighting. I am at heart, still a student: give me a saucepan and some teabags and I am pretty happy. Everything else we need will creep out as I need it, or so I reason.
I was surprised at some of the items that had managed to make it to the new place - a plastic doll's severed leg, various tupperware boxes with no lids, some broken plastic wallets, unplaceable foreign coins. And yet, I had managed to leave behind some very vital personal property: no less than my entire underwear drawer!
Imagine my consternation on Friday morning when I discovered the absence of my precious smalls. Followed by the despair as I handwashed my remaining pair in Johnson's Baby Wash, the washing powder having similarly disappeared. Then the acute embarressment of calling the new tenant at our old house and the new boss at Medair to try and locate their whereabouts. "Hi! How are you? Yes, sorry to bother you, but..have you seen?.."
To add insult to injury, these were not any ragged old things: they were almost new, specially ordered from England. Decent bras and pants are about the only thing you can not get here. Balsamic vinegar? Check. Brand new DVD player? Yup. Marmite? Technically yes, though the arabic script is a little unnerving and it doesn't taste the same as back home. But undies? Only if you like polyester blends from China in pastel shades.
Then we got the call yesterday: the contract cleaners had picked them up (the contract cleaners!) and discreetly put them in a plastic bag, which was subsequently taken to the Medair office. I sneaked in earlier today and removed them, carefully not making eye contact with any of the staff.
It's great to be reunited with my er, 'items', but I am also saddened that I no longer have an excuse to run amok on my yearly pilgrimage to Marks and Spencers.* Though actually, I think I will anyway.
* we fly to the UK on Friday for 6 weeks - yay!!
Thursday, 2 July 2009
News! News!
We have a house and I have a job and we are staying in Uganda!
After much to-ing and fro-ing, we are moving into the house on the hill: the one with the spectacular view and beautiful creepers and guest house and veggie patch. And I took the job at Banana Boat! At last, Gandaman gets to realise his dream of being a househusband, although he is also sniffing around for a part-time job in case the dream becomes a nightmare.
It's all go round here: we are signing contracts and transferring money, doing inventories, thinking about work permits, booking flights. From time to time we remember we have children to attend to. We have to move in before we go to the UK on 17th July.
Worm update: Emma took it to school today for her show-n-tell. A powerful health promotion message there!
And here is a photo of our girls, because even though we've barely had five minutes with each other of late, they are still dreamy. As in all photos, I am looking a little rough:
After much to-ing and fro-ing, we are moving into the house on the hill: the one with the spectacular view and beautiful creepers and guest house and veggie patch. And I took the job at Banana Boat! At last, Gandaman gets to realise his dream of being a househusband, although he is also sniffing around for a part-time job in case the dream becomes a nightmare.
It's all go round here: we are signing contracts and transferring money, doing inventories, thinking about work permits, booking flights. From time to time we remember we have children to attend to. We have to move in before we go to the UK on 17th July.
Worm update: Emma took it to school today for her show-n-tell. A powerful health promotion message there!
And here is a photo of our girls, because even though we've barely had five minutes with each other of late, they are still dreamy. As in all photos, I am looking a little rough:
Thursday, 25 June 2009
No news
No news, no news. Nothing on the house, nothing on the job. We are still in limbo. There is nothing we can do about either, so I'm distracting myself with useful things, like looking up evacuation policies and deciding which pink looks best in the cushions Eva is making. I am remembering my deep breathing exercises, and only occasionally run screaming into the bushes. As soon as we hear anything, you'll be the first to know.
And FYI, I was not exaggerating about the worm:
And FYI, I was not exaggerating about the worm:
Friday, 19 June 2009
All over the place
Oh dear, usual apologies about being a terrible blogger and leaving long gaps between posts. I actually have an impressive list of excuses and preoccupations which have kept me offline.
1. My parents were here. We went to Jinja, where our driver was arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but we had a nice time anyway (and no-one was hurt.) We went back to Mihingo Lodge, just as beautiful as last time and my mother cantered through the savannah on a horse -again, no-one was hurt, though she looked very wobbly at one point.
2. Baby K had a roundworm. It was 10.5cm long. We pickled it in some waragi (local brew, made from bananas, undrinkable) and took it to the doctor's. There are loads more details I could add, but won't, as it is stomach-churning enough as it is. We have all now been de-wormed.
3. We have been to lots of parties. We had three of them last weekend. Not sure when we got so popular, but we went with it anyway. I am looking porkier as a result of gorging myself on canapes.
4. We have spent hours discussing our future. R's job is coming to an end soon, but I have been offered a job here! We might stay. Then again, R has applied for a job in Burma/Myanmar and we might go there instead.
5. In case we stay, we have been doing some househunting. Lots of over-priced new builds, with floor-to-ceiling tiles (why do Ugandans love so many tiles? It makes the whole house feel like a giant bathroom.)
6. But we did look round our dream home: on top of a beautiful hill, with views over the whole city on one side and the lake on the other. R could paint in the guest annexe while I win the bread. Lovely creepers and burgeoning vegetable patch.
7. We would be subletting off some Americans who aren't sure yet if they're coming back to Uganda, so the whole thing may be a non-starter. If, that is, we end up staying, which we don't know yet.
8. If R gets through this next round of interviews, he will go to Seattle for the final showdown.
9. Apparently the schools aren't great in Burma, so lots of people home school. I am not sure I am cut out for home-schooling.
10. Oh yes: my job. It would be with Banana Boat, designing and commissioning new Ugandan products with local suppliers as well as lots of other interesting things. I would also have time to really develop Sweetshop, which would be fantastic. If we stay.
If I think about this any more, I am worried my head might explode.
Decisions, decisions.
1. My parents were here. We went to Jinja, where our driver was arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but we had a nice time anyway (and no-one was hurt.) We went back to Mihingo Lodge, just as beautiful as last time and my mother cantered through the savannah on a horse -again, no-one was hurt, though she looked very wobbly at one point.
2. Baby K had a roundworm. It was 10.5cm long. We pickled it in some waragi (local brew, made from bananas, undrinkable) and took it to the doctor's. There are loads more details I could add, but won't, as it is stomach-churning enough as it is. We have all now been de-wormed.
3. We have been to lots of parties. We had three of them last weekend. Not sure when we got so popular, but we went with it anyway. I am looking porkier as a result of gorging myself on canapes.
4. We have spent hours discussing our future. R's job is coming to an end soon, but I have been offered a job here! We might stay. Then again, R has applied for a job in Burma/Myanmar and we might go there instead.
5. In case we stay, we have been doing some househunting. Lots of over-priced new builds, with floor-to-ceiling tiles (why do Ugandans love so many tiles? It makes the whole house feel like a giant bathroom.)
6. But we did look round our dream home: on top of a beautiful hill, with views over the whole city on one side and the lake on the other. R could paint in the guest annexe while I win the bread. Lovely creepers and burgeoning vegetable patch.
7. We would be subletting off some Americans who aren't sure yet if they're coming back to Uganda, so the whole thing may be a non-starter. If, that is, we end up staying, which we don't know yet.
8. If R gets through this next round of interviews, he will go to Seattle for the final showdown.
9. Apparently the schools aren't great in Burma, so lots of people home school. I am not sure I am cut out for home-schooling.
10. Oh yes: my job. It would be with Banana Boat, designing and commissioning new Ugandan products with local suppliers as well as lots of other interesting things. I would also have time to really develop Sweetshop, which would be fantastic. If we stay.
If I think about this any more, I am worried my head might explode.
Decisions, decisions.
Saturday, 16 May 2009
Sowe island
On Wednesday I got to put my nurse's hat on again as I went with the Hope Clinic team to Sowe island, to vaccinate school children. It has confirmed that I am not really an aid worker type. Call me a wuss, but I am rather attached to my clean, running water and electricity.
I was really looking forward to our trip because I have never seen anything of proper, rural Uganda. It was quite a shock. Sowe island is 45 minutes away from the mainland by boat, and about 1 and a half hours away from Kampala itself. Though hardly convenient to get to, it's not exactly remote - I was back in plenty of time to watch Angelina Ballerina with the girls before dinner at 6.30.
But Sowe is a world away from our cossested, urban life. The village we visited had no running water, no sanitation, no power, just lots of kids running around with distended bellies, alot of them caked in mud and with horrible skin diseases. They drink, wash and defecate into the lake. (It was like sailing on foul green soup, featureless except for the odd plastic bag.) There is a 'health post' - run by an enterprising individual with zero medical training, who picks up 'medicines' from Kampala to sell. There is a school, a 10 minute boat ride away - only the boat is broken. And the school has no teachers, books or other resources. The school is a recent feature, so let's hope the rest will follow. These people deserve better.
Injecting the kids was a nightmare. We were doing the standard infant vaccinations - DTP, polio and measles, which unsurprisingly, none of them had had at birth. It is one thing injecting babies, quite another a school age child who can and will hit you back because, despite careful explanation, the only thing they really register is 'strange white face about to stab me'. One girl was so scared, she peed all over me. (I added 'change of trousers' to my mental list of things I wish I'd brought. Already on it were: sensible shoes, key to the toilet, functioning tin opener. It was the inaccessible lunch, not the pee, that tipped me over the edge.)
The shiney, new school was a reasonable location, but the church hall less so, as every surface was thick with bat droppings. ('Cloth for removing bat droppings' - didn't have that either.) On the way back, our propeller got caught in a discarded fishing net ('pen knife'. Tsk! I would have been a rubbish boy scout), so we had to row into shore. I got home, had a shower, made myself a cup of tea, watched Angelina...and felt a lot better.
PS. By "pregnancy-addled", I was referring to my last three pregnancies. I am not preg, sorry..though I have chuckled hard at the fevered speculation!
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Where to start?
Thanks, everyone for your lovely comments. It makes a girl feel loved when she's miles away from home! You are a kind bunch.
I am racking my brains for things to write about but they are not coming...except in a kind of panicy, jumbled mess. I said in my last post that I wasn't quite in the departure lounge - perhaps I am now. Hence the panic.
Topping the list of anxieties: where will Emma go to school? My pal Jo gave me the names of some good ones, so I parked that worry for a bit, thinking "I'll just go and visit each of them when we get back." (I couldn't imagine signing her up for a place that I've never seen. ) Then of course, I realised it'll be the school holidays. Great for assessing whether you think the children and staff are happy.
Another anxiety: how exactly do I go back to work? My nursing registration lapsed a while back, so I would need to do a Return to Nursing course. It's only three months, so not a big deal, but here's the rub - to get on the course, you need a job. How do I get a job without being registered? I'm sure there's a solution here, but my poor pregnancy-addled brain can't see it.
And here's another thing. R has applied for another job overseas. If he gets it, then all the above will be irrelevant. There are several more hoops to jump through, so this is by no means a done deal.
Maybe a cream cake will give me some clarity?
I am racking my brains for things to write about but they are not coming...except in a kind of panicy, jumbled mess. I said in my last post that I wasn't quite in the departure lounge - perhaps I am now. Hence the panic.
Topping the list of anxieties: where will Emma go to school? My pal Jo gave me the names of some good ones, so I parked that worry for a bit, thinking "I'll just go and visit each of them when we get back." (I couldn't imagine signing her up for a place that I've never seen. ) Then of course, I realised it'll be the school holidays. Great for assessing whether you think the children and staff are happy.
Another anxiety: how exactly do I go back to work? My nursing registration lapsed a while back, so I would need to do a Return to Nursing course. It's only three months, so not a big deal, but here's the rub - to get on the course, you need a job. How do I get a job without being registered? I'm sure there's a solution here, but my poor pregnancy-addled brain can't see it.
And here's another thing. R has applied for another job overseas. If he gets it, then all the above will be irrelevant. There are several more hoops to jump through, so this is by no means a done deal.
Maybe a cream cake will give me some clarity?
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