Letters of Motivation

I have many tales to tell from the Kili trip, but will start with something that helped us all along the way. Each morning, we opened letters from friends, family and students with motivational messages. It was great to know that people believed in us and were thinking of us while we were away.

The funniest letter came from a student I taught last year, which reminded us that the mountain was very, very high and that she did not think we were that fit! Luckily we read it at the beginning and were able to laugh it off. My absolute favourite letter came from a boy in my class, who was very envious of the trip and said:
Please take care of my teacher and don't let her get lost in the snow desert!
Very cute indeed!

The Post post

I have been feeling a little guilty for my lack of genuine correspondence with friends recently. By genuine correspondence, I mean a long email to only one recipient at very least, or even better, a proper, handwritten letter. One liners on Facebook don't count, however busy we all proclaim to be these days! This post is a very public thank you to everybody who remembered me this year and a big red-faced sorry for being so utterly useless at returning the favour ... but after reading this, you may understand why!

After returning from the Christmas holidays, I was delighted to find over ten cards sent all the way to Uganda for me and several parcels. The blatant hint on my profile page obviously hit home! Receiving a card or a letter from a friend puts a smile on my face and I like to stick them on my fridge as a reminder of home. I have been meaning to get to the Post Office ever since I got back, but with just the one in the centre of town, which closes at 5pm, it's not as easy as you would think. Imagine my annoyance, when I was told that I was not allowed to send anything to Canada until at least the middle of February, as the US and Canada have put on a temporary ban of receiving goods from Uganda until after the General Election! What can you do?

I think one of my questions for my next international job will be 'how many post offices are there and how far away are they?' Kampala is one up from Bogota, as in my two years there, I never managed to find a single post office or anybody else who knew how to post stuff from there. If you do have even a rudimentary understanding of the Colombian postal service, do fill me in! On the rare occasion that I did send anything from Bogota, I handed the parcel over to the school secretary who was obviously in on the secret!

PO Boxes

I know that people complain about the demise of the Royal Mail, but I really miss having my post dropped through my letterbox in the morning. We have a PO Box number and have to wait in line and show ID just to get our post.

If you ever needed any proof of how antiquated the postal system of Uganda is, then take a look at these photos. Proudly displayed in a case entitled 'Stamp News' are stamps celebrating Prince William's 21st birthday and Princess Diana's visit to Uganda!

I think they had better start thinking about producing the stamps for Prince W's silver wedding anniversary!

Look at the haircuts - not even Princess Diana in her latter days!

Actually, I am being a little unfair. They had totally sold out of the Michael Jackson commemorative stamps today and below is a face from more recent times:

If it wasn't for my knees I'd be running that marathon ...

It's a glorious sunny November afternoon in Kampala and the frost and snow in the UK truly seems a million miles away. Friends and family often read my blog with envy when they hear about the endless sunshine and my little adventures, but of course there are times when I'd do anything to be at home, closer to my loved ones. This is one of those times, as I'm sad to say that I lost my Gran this week. Although I am far away, she is in my thoughts and I know that she was proud of what I do here. She often joked that 'if it wasn't for her knees' then she would come and join me.
A few weeks ago I when I signed up for the MTN 10km run I called her bluff on this. I noticed that there was an option for a wheelchair race. I sent a message home and asked whether she would rather enter the half or the full marathon. She replied that she was in for the full 26 miles, on the condition that I pushed her around and avoided the notorious pot holes.
When I heard the sad news I wondered what I should do. In the end, I decided to take part and dedicate the run to her.
This morning, a sea of runners, all wearing sunshine yellow running vests took to the streets of Kampala. Most of the 30 000 had signed up for the 10km, but a small and brave minority took on the challenges of half and full marathons. At 7am the sky was cloudless and I knew it was going to be particularly hot. My friends and I jostled for space in the crowd as we approached the start line. We lost sight of each other within a few hundred metres as the start was not staggered, so top class athletes had to fight their way through the throng of joggers and walkers. As the crowd thinned out I settled into the run and enjoyed the supportive cheers from standers-by and encouraging banter with other runners. Sometimes it's great to be with a mass of people all intent on the same goal of finishing the race.

 The Kampala marathon attracts runners of all ages and all shapes and sizes. Sprinting skinny legs weaved their ways through larger ladies with sizable 'akabina' (that's bums to you and me!!) The outfits on display were also a sight to behold. I spotted purple shell suits, a lady carrying a handbag, a spectator wearing a full length leather coat joined in and there were even women in skirts! I was wondering why I was the one suffering from blisters when footwear ranged from flip flops to deck shoes!

After the run we went for a celebratory breakfast, ensuring that we replaced every single burned calorie! I chatted with friends about what it's like to lose somebody when you're away and how times can be tough. I'm lucky enough to have a great support group here who will pop round at the drop of a hat, drink wine with you or do whatever you need to make you feel better. Many of us have gone through tough times in our time away and know it is important to prop each other up.  I'm missing home right now but I know that we are all thinking of each other at this time.

Gran always looked a little worried when I took control of the wheels (and rightly so!)

So long, farewell ... the comings and goings of Kampala

Life as an international teacher has its ups and downs. Unlike working in the UK, you often find that your friends are your colleagues and at times it can feel as though you are living inside a bubble. Friendships are forged quickly as people share their new experiences and your colleagues become your friends, your exercise pals, drinking buddies and often closest confidantes. It all goes swimmingly well, then around the third month, if you’re not careful, then cabin fever sets in. This is why it is really important to seek friends outside of the workplace. In Colombia, this was a bit of a struggle due to the language barrier and a lack of other ex-pats. Sure, there were people who I met who were kind and patient enough to listen to my crap Spanish for half an hour, but I must have made pretty exhausting company with all my mistakes and misunderstandings!
Kampala, however, is a little different. For an African city, there are literally thousands of foreigners staying here for different reasons. It’s pretty easy to spot who is who too! Anyone who walks around Garden City shopping mall in hiking boots and trousers with too many pockets is here on a visit for safari. Then there are the young gap year volunteers, who can be heard bartering with locals in order to save a ha’penny from a hundred yards away. There are probably thousands of young, well-educated folk working here for various NGO organisations, teachers and medical staff working in both private and public schools and hospitals for an average two or three year stint (this would be my category!), living on a moderate wage. If you walk into the Irish pub, you will find a huge crowd of South Africans watching the rugby or just enjoying a pint or eight, who are working for big multinationals like the phone companies and so on. Then there are the old timers – the families who have stayed here for generations and feel completely at home, be it in Kampala or out in the country.
Many people are only staying for a month or two and it soon becomes clear that people want to know which sort of person you are. A first meeting with a foreigner in Kampala will usually establish what line of work you are in and, the key question, how long are you staying! The long-timers see my time here as a fleeting visit and it would be very easy for me to think the same of the folk staying here for 6 months or so. Many a conversation has ended, and many a friendship has not had the chance to get off the ground in this city, just because of how long you are staying. I get it – it takes much precious time and effort to make new friends, and it’s sad to see them go.
This year though, I have started to break out of the bubble a little. Monday is the hash day which provides me with a good run and a chance to meet new people and catch up with old friends. On a Wednesday I go to yoga and have made a few friends there too. Many of us are trying our hardest to branch out, which then means that we get to meet friends of friends. I know that this does not sound very remarkable to anyone living in their home country, but believe me when I say that this is progress! This weekend I went to Jinja with a couple of friends to farewell one of these newer friends. It’s sad to see people go, but making the effort most definitely helps keep you sane here!