Boda Polo

Boda polo, billed as 'the quintessential British sport Africanised', involves teams of four participants on the back of a boda (motorbike) using a mallet to hit a banana fibre ball into a goal.

Unfortunately I missed most of the action as the sky blackened and crackled with fork lightning shortly after I arrived. I did, however, manage to catch a glimpse of the match between the Police Force and another corporate team.

This really is a little too bizarre to explain, so I will let the photos do the talking.

The police join in the action

In full swing

Surely all these people can't fit on the bikes!

Help is at hand for any mishaps!

Seasiders!

A while ago, I decided I was going to make a real effort to watch all the Blackpool matches and to start a Ugandan fan base. It hasn't been going too well. The fatal flaw in the plan is that I'm not really that much of a football fan, but being away from home always makes the heart a little fonder! A couple of weeks ago I met a friend who was also keen to watch and support Blackpool in a Premiership match.

So on Sunday, I headed to Tickles and Giggles (what a brilliant name for a pub) to watch the Seasiders. Most, if not all, of the Ugandans were there to support Arsenal. I wondered if I could convince anyone to change their allegiance. I thought it would be better to start with someone young, so when a ten year old boy came up to my friend who was wearing an Arsenal shirt and said 'that's my team' I said that he should support the ones in orange.

"But how can you support them when they are losing 2-nil?" was his reply.

Hmmm - he had a point, but not to be deterred, I told him that they were lulling Arsenal into a false sense of security and would score 5 goals in the second half. As if ...
Anyway, after having a few chats with people around the bar, here is a draft letter to the manager so he can try and recruit a few more supporters this side of the world:



Dear Mr Holloway,

I'm not sure if you'll read this, but on the off chance, I have a few suggestions for how you could encourage a few Ugandans to support your team.

Firstly, you should try and sign a Ugandan player. I have it on good authority that Ugandans will be happy to support a team, even if they are sometimes a bit crap, if they have a representative from their country. I understand that we do have the Ghanaian goal keeper, but Ghana is a long, long way from Uganda. I am sure Uganda has many great players and that you would not be short of applicants.

Secondly, it would be a good idea to try and win a game now and again. There are a couple of reasons why I had trouble recruiting supporters. One was that the small boy feared a beating from his Dad if he started supporting the ones in orange instead of the ones playing in yellow, but I also found it hard to persuade a bunch of glory seekers to support the underdog. The argument that Blackpool were at the top of the table at the start of the season is wearing a little thin.

My final advice is to promote the similarities between Blackpool and Kampala. What other two cities have a bar every ten paces and drunks staggering around before noon? Forget the normal tourist attractions such as seven miles of golden sands or the Tower and promote the numerous bars peddling booze cheap enough to strip your stomach lining and you will win a few hearts.

If you want to go one step further, then pack up last season's strip in one of those bin liners that you believe is going to charity and they will be sure to end up on Owina Market six months down the line, sold at a considerable mark up (for transport, of course).

Yours faithfully,

Ali!

The Sprint (?) Triathlon

There's probably something wrong with me for thinking that taking part in a triathlon constitutes a lovely day out of the city, but the Lake Victoria Triathlon always has a brilliant atmosphere. School was well represented, with six teachers participating as well as a few sporty parents and a brilliant eleven year old swimmer. 
At 2am on Sunday morning I was woken up by the most enormous clap of thunder. Not the best omen. I lay awake for an hour or so wondering whether my bike would hold out for the race or whether I would crash into something on the notorious dark tunnel under the airport runway on the bike ride. It was still pouring down when we left at 5.30am, making the drive to Entebbe horrendous. I used up all my adrenalin dealing with the glaring full beam headlights and trying to avoid knocking down any Ugandans taking an early morning bike ride without any lights on at all.
The event started over an hour late as the storm had destroyed the transition area. I then had over an hour to wait as we watched all the swimmers for the Olympic distance go first. We finally started our swim at 9.30am, so I knew it was going to be scorching by the time we got to the run.
I'm feeling a little pooped tonight, so in short: the swim in the pool was a little choppy and squashed but preferable to the bilharzia and crocodile ridden lake; biking past the lake is always beautiful and I enjoyed racing along with the other competitors; the run was exceedingly hot, my ipod decided not to work in my moment of need and I struggled up the hills, but did manage a sprint finish.
My training buddies and I all did a great job. One passed me out in the run and encouragingly told me to 'stretch out my legs' ... if only I could have! She got third place - fab job! I beat my target time of under 2 hours by nearly 20 minutes - and if I hadn't spent 5 minutes untying the stubborn double knot in my trainers it would have been even better! My friend also finished her first triathlon in under 2 hours and vows to better her time next year.
Today I am enjoying a little quality time with my sofa and the fact that I found a Galaxy bar in Kampala!

Final steps!

Phew - thank goodness all that's over!

Mind the step Laura!!

Tired but proud and happy training buddies!

Training buddies!

Practising the technique! Think my goggles were too tight!

I went the wrong way out!!!

Transitions are not easy!

Tri Again!

And the challenge for March is ... a sprint triathlon. This year, the organisers have moved the venue to a pool, so there's no risk of drowning in Lake Victoria or contracting bilharzia - phew!
 It's a 400 metre swim, 20 km bike and a 5 km bike. And it's in two weeks time! Luckily, Uganda has given us lots of public holidays recently, so we've had extra time to get some training in. Today was a public holiday because of the Mayoral Elections, since the first attempt last month resulted in minor riots after they found out that many of the votes had been fudged. As far as I know everything has gone fairly smoothly today, or at least I haven't received any text messages from the British High Commission to inform me of violence and areas to avoid.
I have a new biking buddy and she has taken to it like a fish to water. She has no problems with attacking the hills, but is feeling a little frustrated with the frequent shout-outs from random passers-by. Ugandans have a few lessons to learn in tact and diplomacy. How do you make somebody realise that shouting "Eh, you are last" or "Pedal faster, you are lazy" at a passing cyclist is not OK? Particularly when the said commentator is sitting on his rear end, guzzling a Nile Special, doing diddly-squat. On the other hand, rather a tactless Ugandan than an aggressive chavvy British teenager ...
This time I'm concentrating on the transitions, in particular the painful bike to run. My two fab training buddies and I have been egging each other on and the training has been enjoyable and stress free. Today we practised the whole thing, but in the wrong order. We took a 17km bike ride through the villages, passing the Baha'i Temple at the end, followed by a 5 km wobbly legged run. We finished with the swim and I now fully understand why the swim is placed at the start of the event and not at the end. I always thought it was annoying to have the swim first, as changing into biking clothes afterwards is going to be a bit annoying. By the time we hit the pool, after a hot and thirsty run in the thirty degree heat, we flopped into the pool and had about as much control as jellyfish! Lesson learnt! Then, to add insult to injury, the sky clouded over and there was a giant clap of thunder just as we finished the swim and hoped to relax in the sun.
Instead we consoled ourselves with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits, managing to undo all our good work in a matter of minutes! Perfect!

What a load of old rubbish?

Look at what we came across on today's walk. It looks like some kind of artwork, all made out of old rubbish, to promote sports in Uganda. The spelling is a little worrying, considering it was in the grounds of a university.

Marabou storks thankfully DO NOT deliver babies!

Baby Marabou Storks - they are fluffier but NOT cute!

Or you will get Maribou Storks around ...

Amateur Boxing Association is what they were trying to say!

Except it is outdoors!

Game of chass anyone?

TURG of War???

Prosperous enough to buy a dictionary?

A space for the Kabaka

And also a space for the president!

This was too good not to share. The artist must be a dedicated soul to root through all the feral garbage!

A more triumphant triathlon

Our sporty school staff

I am not genetically designed to be a natural sportswoman. In my family, extreme sports constituted the competition to complete The Sunday Times crossword before noon – so all of these energetic pursuits of mine don’t really fit.


Last year, the triathlon was really a bit of a disaster for me. I freaked out in the murky waters of Lake Victoria and was worn out with exhaustion before I even got on the bike. Nevertheless, the team spirit on the day made me want to give it another try. I got a team together and decided to do the bike ride. This was one of my better ideas! As I saw my team mate swimming towards the shore, I fixed my helmet on and sprinted (Phoebe from Friends style if the photos are believed) towards my bike. In the Botanical Gardens I saw that a friend had bike problems and I had a dilemma. It’s not that I wasn’t willing to help – more that there probably wasn’t much I could do and I didn’t really want to give up my own race. I carried on, with a few pangs of guilt for my friend. The route takes you through the gardens, along the lakeshore and around the airfield and even includes a scary dark tunnel under the runway. I was flying along and passed out a fair few cyclists on the way. The dreaded 30 km passed in a breeze and I loved hearing the cheers of my friends as I passed the finishing line only to find out that not only was I the second female cyclist back but also the fastest woman on a bike! Who’d have thought it eh!

All the competitors

 

Somehow I managed to wear my helmet in the style of a French beret, perched loosely on my head!

 



It's all go here ...

As usual it's all go in K-Town and I'm having a rare lazy evening in at home, vegetating infront of Glee (it's going to finish soon and I am in need of a new obsession - any suggestions?).
On Sunday I'm joining a team for the triathlon. I've guaranteed  myself no repeats of the near drowning panic attack incident last time and have only signed up for the bike ride. I'm a little concerned as I haven't even covered the full distance yet, but my team mates assure me that they are not feeling competetive ... I hope that really is the case as I am no Lance Armstrong at the moment! Anyway, a few of us are heading out to Entebbe the night before and I am considering the whole thing a social occasion with a 30 km bike ride thrown in for the hell of it.
I am barely going to have time to recover from this before I head off on the Outdoor Education trip. This time we are heading for the beautiful bilharzia-free (it's a selling point here) waters of Lake Nabugabu for two nights. The kids assure me that they are now all experts at the art of putting up tents and I intend to test them out and put mine up for me too!
This half term has to be one of the longest on record - so naturally my thoughts have turned to holidays. At the moment I am battling with my conscience as to whether I should stay in the posh lodge in Kidepo National Park or in the cheap and cheerful bandas. I'm told that staying in Opoka is a 'once in a lifetime experience' but after having 'once in a lifetime experiences' for the past four years my bank balance is suffering from serious malnutrition. The other big news is that my parents have just booked flights out to South Africa for Christmas and I'm doing a very good impression of a travel agent - infact I think I could have an alternative career in the making there! We have booked some awesome places just by the beaches in Cape Town and looking to stay in the winelands for New Years - hic!
So I as my head nearly falls on the keyboard from total exhaustion I will repeat the mantra 'holidays are coming, holidays are coming' ...