For all of you who have been wondering what has become of me and/or my writing, wonder no longer. My writing is back, but I am gone again. This time not back to Africa. I have quit my job at the boat company and will not return to Africa for that job. I will miss so many people, but for some reason, it is time to quit and move on to the next step.
So I have quit. I am not actively job hunting presently. That would be silly since I will be traveling on a train for the next 6 weeks or so. I plan to make a circuit around America seeing friends and learning to love my country again (hopefully).
So I am not going to write on my ferry blog anymore, because my new adventures do not have the same backdrop. However, if you would like to keep reading my writing, please go to my new blog at http://throughlighttograce.blogspot.com/. Thank you all.
If you prefer to read the progress on the ferry, please read the official Earthwise ferry blog at http://ewventures.wordpress.com/. I send many blessings to all the guys working on the ferry.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
My plan or culture rant
the following is the reworking of a rant i wrote a few weeks ago. at the time, it left the reader very confused, more so than it does now. since then, i have rewritten it, trying to convey the feeling without causing added confusion. i hope it is now somewhat understandable. i would say enjoy, ...but thats not the point of this post.
I know that I have never “fit in” exactly, but its about to get worse, or better depending on how you look at it. I don’t want to fit in at all any more.
I am dealing with major culture shock now. Still. Whatever. I never had a problem with consumerism before, but as I drive down the road I see the little boxes(stores) with things for people to buy(merchandise) with lights screaming for attention(signs). This is the country I have defended? What is wrong with my country? My culture? I see people trying to “survive”, but I find that they define the term different here than somewhere else. Here surviving is living comfortably and conveniently, keeping up with technology, etc. Forgive me, but I thought surviving meant “not dying”. That’s what in means in much of Uganda. There people want to make enough for everyone in the family to have the basic needs met and preferably to send the kids to school. Here people don’t think they are surviving unless they have the latest cell phone or whatever little gadget they consider to be essential. And a car, preferably a SUV which will survive the apocalypse should it come. And a living space tastefully decorated with an artistic kitchen for the feeding of the all-judging stomach.
Most people here have a definitive plan for their life, even if they don’t acknowledge it. And, for the most part, it looks like this; go to school and get as many degrees as possible, get a career, get a nice box/house, have a family, drive in a nice little box/car back and forth between all the buildings which comprise life. Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky… (if this doesn’t make sense, go watch the theme song for Weeds).
Yes, I realize I am overdoing it a bit. I do that to make a point. My country is ridiculous. Having those things isn’t ridiculous, it’s the “necessity” of such things which I call into question. Its not wrong to have or want such things. I ask only that you consider your dependence on whatever you have and at the very least come to a new gratitude for what you have.
That being said, I then considered the Christians living in this culture. What I find worse than watching how my culture lives is to see the Christians living the same way. I cant see much difference in their actions or anything else most of the time. And that makes me sad, no, it makes me weep. Those are my people. The ones set apart. Living in the world but not of it. …Really? Or has that line gotten blurred so much as to become invisible to the unpracticed eye. (my eyes are out of practice in this sort of distinguishing – that’s what happens when you leave a culture for a while). If you have to have an intellectual map to distinguish Christians from non, then there is a problem. A major problem.
There is something very wrong – it hurts to watch. People who acknowledge the problem rarely see a solution – that hurts even more. Those people, seeing no solution, deaden themselves to the problem – that hurts worst of all.
Because of how I see my culture now, I see also that I cannot fit it to this culture anymore, not that I ever really did. I guess what I am trying to say is this; God forbid that I ever fit into this culture. It would be just as bad to fit into the counter culture. So what then? I ask that God give me something radically different, so different that I can never fit in any of the categories. God forbid that I live life by a plan directed toward comfort and convenience. Putting me in such a box would shut down my heart, spirit, mod, whatever your term for it is. My heart is awake – but it hurts to look around America.
My goal is not to make money – even though making money is useful and makes life much easier. I wont turn down money on principle. I neither seek it nor reject it because money is not my focus. Same with fame, knowledge, power, human love. I will neither seek nor reject them. Come what may, I do not need that which God does not give me. Nor is my goal to seek out those who are like me, or think like me, or believe like me. We are spread out for a reason. (still figuring out the reason). I would love to meet others like me, but that’s not the point of my life.
I want something different. Something radically different. So different that I cant fit in. that there are no worldly terms to describe it anymore. I want a life where my plan is to trust God – that He will lead me thru life one step at a time. What job to have, where to live, who to talk to, how to live. I want my one goal and priority to be to trust God and that He will make everything else work out.
No, this doesn’t mean I am going to join a commune or live on the streets waiting for manna (or money) to fall out of the sky. Just that I follow His lead in everything I do or decide.
I know that I have never “fit in” exactly, but its about to get worse, or better depending on how you look at it. I don’t want to fit in at all any more.
I am dealing with major culture shock now. Still. Whatever. I never had a problem with consumerism before, but as I drive down the road I see the little boxes(stores) with things for people to buy(merchandise) with lights screaming for attention(signs). This is the country I have defended? What is wrong with my country? My culture? I see people trying to “survive”, but I find that they define the term different here than somewhere else. Here surviving is living comfortably and conveniently, keeping up with technology, etc. Forgive me, but I thought surviving meant “not dying”. That’s what in means in much of Uganda. There people want to make enough for everyone in the family to have the basic needs met and preferably to send the kids to school. Here people don’t think they are surviving unless they have the latest cell phone or whatever little gadget they consider to be essential. And a car, preferably a SUV which will survive the apocalypse should it come. And a living space tastefully decorated with an artistic kitchen for the feeding of the all-judging stomach.
Most people here have a definitive plan for their life, even if they don’t acknowledge it. And, for the most part, it looks like this; go to school and get as many degrees as possible, get a career, get a nice box/house, have a family, drive in a nice little box/car back and forth between all the buildings which comprise life. Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tacky… (if this doesn’t make sense, go watch the theme song for Weeds).
Yes, I realize I am overdoing it a bit. I do that to make a point. My country is ridiculous. Having those things isn’t ridiculous, it’s the “necessity” of such things which I call into question. Its not wrong to have or want such things. I ask only that you consider your dependence on whatever you have and at the very least come to a new gratitude for what you have.
That being said, I then considered the Christians living in this culture. What I find worse than watching how my culture lives is to see the Christians living the same way. I cant see much difference in their actions or anything else most of the time. And that makes me sad, no, it makes me weep. Those are my people. The ones set apart. Living in the world but not of it. …Really? Or has that line gotten blurred so much as to become invisible to the unpracticed eye. (my eyes are out of practice in this sort of distinguishing – that’s what happens when you leave a culture for a while). If you have to have an intellectual map to distinguish Christians from non, then there is a problem. A major problem.
There is something very wrong – it hurts to watch. People who acknowledge the problem rarely see a solution – that hurts even more. Those people, seeing no solution, deaden themselves to the problem – that hurts worst of all.
Because of how I see my culture now, I see also that I cannot fit it to this culture anymore, not that I ever really did. I guess what I am trying to say is this; God forbid that I ever fit into this culture. It would be just as bad to fit into the counter culture. So what then? I ask that God give me something radically different, so different that I can never fit in any of the categories. God forbid that I live life by a plan directed toward comfort and convenience. Putting me in such a box would shut down my heart, spirit, mod, whatever your term for it is. My heart is awake – but it hurts to look around America.
My goal is not to make money – even though making money is useful and makes life much easier. I wont turn down money on principle. I neither seek it nor reject it because money is not my focus. Same with fame, knowledge, power, human love. I will neither seek nor reject them. Come what may, I do not need that which God does not give me. Nor is my goal to seek out those who are like me, or think like me, or believe like me. We are spread out for a reason. (still figuring out the reason). I would love to meet others like me, but that’s not the point of my life.
I want something different. Something radically different. So different that I cant fit in. that there are no worldly terms to describe it anymore. I want a life where my plan is to trust God – that He will lead me thru life one step at a time. What job to have, where to live, who to talk to, how to live. I want my one goal and priority to be to trust God and that He will make everything else work out.
No, this doesn’t mean I am going to join a commune or live on the streets waiting for manna (or money) to fall out of the sky. Just that I follow His lead in everything I do or decide.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Pumpkins
So I walked into a grocery store here in the states last week with my mom. (I have passed the point where I run out of grocery stores, I have moved on to whatever the next stage is after that). I saw one of those box/barrel things holding pumpkins for sale. They had some really cool pumpkins along with the regular jack-o-lantern bright orange things. I prefer the pumpkins that resembled classical pictures, which is what I mean by really cool pumpkins. Upon closer inspection, I wondered about the edibility of this particular specimen.
What does it say about our culture that we decorate with food?
I remember carving pumpkins as a kid. I always wondered if the innards could be eaten. They are, but they don’t taste good. They actually breed pumpkins for the best jock-o-lanterns and others for actually eating. Wtf, mate? But its fairly easy to not think about that considering that they sell canned pumpkin to use in cooking. Americans don’t ever have to cook from scratch if they ever want to. We have canned pumpkin, or if that is way too much work, you can always just buy a pumpkin pie from any grocery store. They even shred lettuce for salads. Or mix shredded lettuce and various other veggies for premade salad. just don’t forget to add the serving bowl.
Ever wonder who “they” are? I do. A lot. Who are the people who make this food. More importantly, who are the people who think of these things?
What does it say about our culture that we decorate with food?
I remember carving pumpkins as a kid. I always wondered if the innards could be eaten. They are, but they don’t taste good. They actually breed pumpkins for the best jock-o-lanterns and others for actually eating. Wtf, mate? But its fairly easy to not think about that considering that they sell canned pumpkin to use in cooking. Americans don’t ever have to cook from scratch if they ever want to. We have canned pumpkin, or if that is way too much work, you can always just buy a pumpkin pie from any grocery store. They even shred lettuce for salads. Or mix shredded lettuce and various other veggies for premade salad. just don’t forget to add the serving bowl.
Ever wonder who “they” are? I do. A lot. Who are the people who make this food. More importantly, who are the people who think of these things?
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
culture shock
so i'm still dealing with culture shock. i went thru an entire week of confusion, then i progressed to anti-consumerism. so far i have been in that for a week. i almost run out of big bargain stores which i used to have no problems with.
otherwise i have been resting, seeing people, and talking thru stuff. i know thats vague, but thats all you get for now. the rest is doing its good work on my system, i am beginning to feel less like a zombie and more like i can have a life.
i went down to portland monday and tuesday to see a friend. if you have never been down there, and you like seattle, you should go. its like a miniature seattle with more homeless people and less regulations. people can buy alcohol on weekends, and smokers can smoke in the city limits. i did see a lot of weird people tho, and one muttering about a black dude checking out a white girl and how the black dude should be taught a lesson. sadly, im not joking. but see the waterfront park and the several bridges; a river goes right thru the city. go see the little neighborhoods and the rose gardens.
i stayed in a hostel, my first time in a hostel. i didn't quite know what to expect but the experience pleasantly surprised me. and its fairly cheap. yay. i could travel and stay in hostels for months without getting bored. especially if all the cities i visited had places like powell's bookstore. its the worlds biggest book store. an entire city block. i was so overwhelmed i just wandered thru the aisles trying to remember any of the books i have been looking for. i bought 2. thats it. oh well.
i haven't heard much from uganda lately. im not working so i hear even less than the guys at work do. i still am not sure about whether i am going back. my boss and i are still discussing. more like i am waiting to hear if he think he needs me to go back. i will keep updating with any news i hear.
otherwise i have been resting, seeing people, and talking thru stuff. i know thats vague, but thats all you get for now. the rest is doing its good work on my system, i am beginning to feel less like a zombie and more like i can have a life.
i went down to portland monday and tuesday to see a friend. if you have never been down there, and you like seattle, you should go. its like a miniature seattle with more homeless people and less regulations. people can buy alcohol on weekends, and smokers can smoke in the city limits. i did see a lot of weird people tho, and one muttering about a black dude checking out a white girl and how the black dude should be taught a lesson. sadly, im not joking. but see the waterfront park and the several bridges; a river goes right thru the city. go see the little neighborhoods and the rose gardens.
i stayed in a hostel, my first time in a hostel. i didn't quite know what to expect but the experience pleasantly surprised me. and its fairly cheap. yay. i could travel and stay in hostels for months without getting bored. especially if all the cities i visited had places like powell's bookstore. its the worlds biggest book store. an entire city block. i was so overwhelmed i just wandered thru the aisles trying to remember any of the books i have been looking for. i bought 2. thats it. oh well.
i haven't heard much from uganda lately. im not working so i hear even less than the guys at work do. i still am not sure about whether i am going back. my boss and i are still discussing. more like i am waiting to hear if he think he needs me to go back. i will keep updating with any news i hear.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
home safe and sound
I’m home safely. I’m fine, except I got a small cold in the first few days. Oh, and my phone isn’t working. The touch screen went bezerk and I tried to fix it over the phone with customer service, but that only worked to make it so I couldn’t even turn the phone on. yay helpful customer service.
It’s a little odd being home in the states. The streets are so empty and its cold here. I inhaled the first cheeseburger I got. I have driven, but I’m a little rusty on stateside rules of driving. Oh, and I bought beer, but the cashier almost didn’t let me have the beer because she didn’t recognize me from my ID. Oi.
It’s a little odd being home in the states. The streets are so empty and its cold here. I inhaled the first cheeseburger I got. I have driven, but I’m a little rusty on stateside rules of driving. Oh, and I bought beer, but the cashier almost didn’t let me have the beer because she didn’t recognize me from my ID. Oi.
New airport story
I have a history of interesting airport stories. I’m glad to announce I have a new one to add to the list. Thankfully this one doesn’t include any slingshots. I pack with my usual strategy to get everything home without having to pay fees for overweight luggage. The key is to pack most of the weight in the carry-on. well, at least that is the key in American domestic flights. And of course I brought my drum not knowing exactly how to get it on the plane but figuring I would take it as a carry-on. most of the workers accompanied Bryce and Andrew to take me to the airport. Maureen cried when I left. That made me sad to leave her with all those guys.
Anyways, they dropped me off with all my bags to navigate the Entebbe airport on my own. Fun times. I entered the line to go thru security with all my bags. That took a while since when my turn came to put my bags thru, they had to restart the machine since they said one of the previous bags had knocked the scanner inside. that got my vote of confidence. At the check in counter they told me I couldn’t take my drum as a carry-on. “ok, what can we do?” “Well, lets weigh your carry-on.” “you want to do what? why would you weigh my carry-on?” so we weighed it. “you need to check that bag, its too heavy.” “I cant do that, it has all my valuables in it.” I ended up putting most of the weight from my carry-on to the checked baggage. But I had to get my drum wrapped – a service they offered for a nice fee of $5. But they don’t take cards, even if you don’t have any cash. And as I was talking with the guy, another security guy brought my smaller bag over which had split a seam saying that they wouldn’t accept it till I got it wrapped also.
So I went out thru security, in thru the other security, down the stairs, took cash out, went back upstairs, out thru security, in thru security and back over to the wrapping dude. I handed him 20,000 ugs. He said he needed 3,000 more but I didn’t have that so I just handed him the last 2 American dollars I had. He didn’t look happy so I told him in no uncertain terms that that would work. He grudgingly wrapped my bag and drum. I took them back to the counter to trade for my carry-on and passport.
Next step was to go thru the passport check. And the woman found an issue with my passport and asked if I would pay the fine one that. “that depends on how much the fine is.” “$900” “nope, I don’t have that kind of money.” “can you go to Kampala and fix this then come back?” “that’s an hour and a half away and then back again, my plane leaves in an hour and half. Also, its nighttime. No, I cant.” So they decided I had to get a new visa so they could let me out of the country. Ok, whatever, that’s only $50. So a guard took me back out thru security, in thru the other security, down the stairs, thru the customs area, and into an office with another woman obviously having visa problems also. And we waited. Apparently we had to wait for the officers checking all the people off the last flight. …ok. The other woman and I both worried about making our flight which left soon. Finally one officer came in and helped the woman. “What’s wrong with your belt?” “I got sick of taking it off going thru security, so I just hung it around my neck.” Then he sat down to chat with another employee saying I had to wait for the other officer. After a few minutes I turned to him and asked if he could help me. I explained the trouble and we touched on the same points as the woman upstairs. Finally he said, “so you admit the mistake?” well duh. I cant not admit something plainly stated in the paperwork. Eventually he told me I was forgiven.
Ok, go back up the stairs, out thru security, back in thru security, and back up the line to the woman behind the glass. I told her the other guy had forgiven me and she let me go this time.
I’m happy to say I didn’t have any more actual trouble after that. just lots of waiting and waiting in lines. Oh, and the ironic thing? I went thru security about 12 times. and when I got home, I found a steak knife in my carry-on that I had forgotten about. Good job security.
Anyways, they dropped me off with all my bags to navigate the Entebbe airport on my own. Fun times. I entered the line to go thru security with all my bags. That took a while since when my turn came to put my bags thru, they had to restart the machine since they said one of the previous bags had knocked the scanner inside. that got my vote of confidence. At the check in counter they told me I couldn’t take my drum as a carry-on. “ok, what can we do?” “Well, lets weigh your carry-on.” “you want to do what? why would you weigh my carry-on?” so we weighed it. “you need to check that bag, its too heavy.” “I cant do that, it has all my valuables in it.” I ended up putting most of the weight from my carry-on to the checked baggage. But I had to get my drum wrapped – a service they offered for a nice fee of $5. But they don’t take cards, even if you don’t have any cash. And as I was talking with the guy, another security guy brought my smaller bag over which had split a seam saying that they wouldn’t accept it till I got it wrapped also.
So I went out thru security, in thru the other security, down the stairs, took cash out, went back upstairs, out thru security, in thru security and back over to the wrapping dude. I handed him 20,000 ugs. He said he needed 3,000 more but I didn’t have that so I just handed him the last 2 American dollars I had. He didn’t look happy so I told him in no uncertain terms that that would work. He grudgingly wrapped my bag and drum. I took them back to the counter to trade for my carry-on and passport.
Next step was to go thru the passport check. And the woman found an issue with my passport and asked if I would pay the fine one that. “that depends on how much the fine is.” “$900” “nope, I don’t have that kind of money.” “can you go to Kampala and fix this then come back?” “that’s an hour and a half away and then back again, my plane leaves in an hour and half. Also, its nighttime. No, I cant.” So they decided I had to get a new visa so they could let me out of the country. Ok, whatever, that’s only $50. So a guard took me back out thru security, in thru the other security, down the stairs, thru the customs area, and into an office with another woman obviously having visa problems also. And we waited. Apparently we had to wait for the officers checking all the people off the last flight. …ok. The other woman and I both worried about making our flight which left soon. Finally one officer came in and helped the woman. “What’s wrong with your belt?” “I got sick of taking it off going thru security, so I just hung it around my neck.” Then he sat down to chat with another employee saying I had to wait for the other officer. After a few minutes I turned to him and asked if he could help me. I explained the trouble and we touched on the same points as the woman upstairs. Finally he said, “so you admit the mistake?” well duh. I cant not admit something plainly stated in the paperwork. Eventually he told me I was forgiven.
Ok, go back up the stairs, out thru security, back in thru security, and back up the line to the woman behind the glass. I told her the other guy had forgiven me and she let me go this time.
I’m happy to say I didn’t have any more actual trouble after that. just lots of waiting and waiting in lines. Oh, and the ironic thing? I went thru security about 12 times. and when I got home, I found a steak knife in my carry-on that I had forgotten about. Good job security.
safari
I haven’t gotten around to telling you all about my safari. Let me do so now. It was awesome. The drive of the first day wasn’t so great. We left the site late for various African reasons and headed west with Moses one of the workers. At one point in Kampala I looked out the window to take in the scenery and found a sheep staring at me. That was a bit disconcerting. Even more so since we were moving at a good clip and it remained staring at me from 3 feet away. That’s when I realized a boda with 2 men were carrying the sheep down the road. At least it wasn’t a chicken this time. We planned our first destination to be Moses’ house to eat dinner with his family. Very nice people. Especially since they waited for 4 hours to feed us. Construction in Uganda really slows traffic. And we crossed the equator. And the guys saw zebras while I slept. Oi. Finally arrived in Ibanda around 10 instead of 6. They fed us a feast of food and introduced us to the entire family. Then we slept in a hotel for about 5 hours. The attendants asked us twice if we were sure we needed 2 separate rooms.
6am we got up and started driving towards queen Elizabeth park. Western Uganda is beautiful. We actually found mist so thick that we worried we might miss the turn-off. Awesome after being drenched with humid heat for several months. When the mist did part, tea plantations stretch for miles over actual hills. Tea bushes are a strong emerald color, even without the sun hitting them. Banana trees grow in small forests. Gorgeous. Bryce isn’t one to stop on a road trip, but we pulled over several times to take pictures. Hills, hills, and more hills. Then, as I looked between the trees for the hillside next to us, it wasn’t there. Instead a flat plain several hundred feet below us stretched out to the horizon. Perfectly flat. We descended the final hill and drove down the road, passing people pushing bicycles with 4 or 6 stalks of matoke. Insane. We saw monkeys and herds of water buffalo which are quite rare. Usually you only see solitary males.
We turned down the dirt road with a sign and immediately found out that American washboard roads cant compare to washboards in Uganda. Bryce’s whole body vibrated from holding the steering wheel as he tried to miss all these little duck-birds and the large potholes. Finally found the actual park entrance and hired a guide. then we had to go find the guide who was coming back from another trip with tourists. He took us to another part where he had shown others a pride of lions.
We saw the lions. We found the momma lion as we drove 10 feet from her shady sleeping spot. We stopped to take pictures and she reared back on her haunches ready to pounce on this metallic thing which interrupted her nap. Wild lions are big. And actually wild, you can see it in their eyes. I have seen lions in a zoo, I became bored because that was the look in their eyes. Boredom and apathy. But these lions didn’t look like that at all. our guide kept saying “take photos fast then we go” in a high pitched voice like he was scared of this situation. We also found a young lion in a cactus tree. We stopped to take photos of that one also. It didn’t look like it wanted a fight, but rather that it really wanted to get away but couldn’t figure out how to move quickly from its perch in the cactus.
We also saw crested eagles and warthogs and impalas and random birds. Like the spotted mouse bird. That’s when Bryce decided to call me mousy. I must say that is a first. I don’t really consider myself mousy. Then the guide took us to the village inside the park so we could have a boat ride. We surprised him when we refused to have a boat ride, our excuse was that we build boats, why would that be such an attraction to us? Oh, and I watched a little kid beat Bryce at cards. Not once, but several times. I had to get pictures of that. the fishing village lives next to the group of hippos. They look kinda like rocks out in the water which randomly open a large mouth with funny teeth.
Oh, I got a good burger at the park lodge. I saw it on the menu and decided to take the risk. Risks are sometimes richly rewarded. I tried not to show my enjoyment too much since Bryce looked very envious at my rich reward. We sat there listening to the groups of mzungus talking amongst themselves. We tried to guess their nationality but honestly we felt very uncomfortable being around them because of the way they acted towards the Ugandans serving them. Nothing exactly bad, but we could see the superiority complex playing out in their body language. Also listening to them plan how to fix Ugandan problems with western ideals sounded ludicrous to our ears.
That night we stayed in fort portal at a small hotel. The bar upstairs was names the parrot bar. Guess why? Two large gray parrots live in a cage next to the door squawking loudly. Annoying birds. At least they shut up for the nighttime. Bryce and I found decent pizza for dinner then went back to the parrot bar for drinks, cigars, and pool. I’m still horrible at pool. But losing at pool seems less problematic when smoking a cigar.
Next day we drove back to Kampala and Entebbe. More construction. Kinda funny seeing the process of putting in culverts? Under the road everyone is driving on. Bryce and I don’t have the same reactions to anything. Take our reactions to returning to the site after a 2 day trip. Bryce felt “refreshed”. I felt revived enough to feel the impending doom of returning to the site. Bryce and I just don’t work on the same tracks.
6am we got up and started driving towards queen Elizabeth park. Western Uganda is beautiful. We actually found mist so thick that we worried we might miss the turn-off. Awesome after being drenched with humid heat for several months. When the mist did part, tea plantations stretch for miles over actual hills. Tea bushes are a strong emerald color, even without the sun hitting them. Banana trees grow in small forests. Gorgeous. Bryce isn’t one to stop on a road trip, but we pulled over several times to take pictures. Hills, hills, and more hills. Then, as I looked between the trees for the hillside next to us, it wasn’t there. Instead a flat plain several hundred feet below us stretched out to the horizon. Perfectly flat. We descended the final hill and drove down the road, passing people pushing bicycles with 4 or 6 stalks of matoke. Insane. We saw monkeys and herds of water buffalo which are quite rare. Usually you only see solitary males.
We turned down the dirt road with a sign and immediately found out that American washboard roads cant compare to washboards in Uganda. Bryce’s whole body vibrated from holding the steering wheel as he tried to miss all these little duck-birds and the large potholes. Finally found the actual park entrance and hired a guide. then we had to go find the guide who was coming back from another trip with tourists. He took us to another part where he had shown others a pride of lions.
We saw the lions. We found the momma lion as we drove 10 feet from her shady sleeping spot. We stopped to take pictures and she reared back on her haunches ready to pounce on this metallic thing which interrupted her nap. Wild lions are big. And actually wild, you can see it in their eyes. I have seen lions in a zoo, I became bored because that was the look in their eyes. Boredom and apathy. But these lions didn’t look like that at all. our guide kept saying “take photos fast then we go” in a high pitched voice like he was scared of this situation. We also found a young lion in a cactus tree. We stopped to take photos of that one also. It didn’t look like it wanted a fight, but rather that it really wanted to get away but couldn’t figure out how to move quickly from its perch in the cactus.
We also saw crested eagles and warthogs and impalas and random birds. Like the spotted mouse bird. That’s when Bryce decided to call me mousy. I must say that is a first. I don’t really consider myself mousy. Then the guide took us to the village inside the park so we could have a boat ride. We surprised him when we refused to have a boat ride, our excuse was that we build boats, why would that be such an attraction to us? Oh, and I watched a little kid beat Bryce at cards. Not once, but several times. I had to get pictures of that. the fishing village lives next to the group of hippos. They look kinda like rocks out in the water which randomly open a large mouth with funny teeth.
Oh, I got a good burger at the park lodge. I saw it on the menu and decided to take the risk. Risks are sometimes richly rewarded. I tried not to show my enjoyment too much since Bryce looked very envious at my rich reward. We sat there listening to the groups of mzungus talking amongst themselves. We tried to guess their nationality but honestly we felt very uncomfortable being around them because of the way they acted towards the Ugandans serving them. Nothing exactly bad, but we could see the superiority complex playing out in their body language. Also listening to them plan how to fix Ugandan problems with western ideals sounded ludicrous to our ears.
That night we stayed in fort portal at a small hotel. The bar upstairs was names the parrot bar. Guess why? Two large gray parrots live in a cage next to the door squawking loudly. Annoying birds. At least they shut up for the nighttime. Bryce and I found decent pizza for dinner then went back to the parrot bar for drinks, cigars, and pool. I’m still horrible at pool. But losing at pool seems less problematic when smoking a cigar.
Next day we drove back to Kampala and Entebbe. More construction. Kinda funny seeing the process of putting in culverts? Under the road everyone is driving on. Bryce and I don’t have the same reactions to anything. Take our reactions to returning to the site after a 2 day trip. Bryce felt “refreshed”. I felt revived enough to feel the impending doom of returning to the site. Bryce and I just don’t work on the same tracks.
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