A hair raising experience

Getting a haircut can be a tricky issue at the best of times – it may take several attempts to find a good salon, in a convenient area, at the right price and most importantly, building a relationship of trust with the stylist. It usually goes that you try somebody out for the first time with something simple like a trim, and if you’re happy with that, then you advance to having a more daring cut and eventually may try out a bolder colour. So having been here in Kampala for roughly 2 months the time had come to get a little snip. I’d had a few recommendations from friends, but being the creature of impulse that I am, I decided that I would have my hair chopped there and then. So I breeze confidently into Sparkles salon and demand a pedicure and a haircut. One of the ‘features’ of a Sparkles pedicure is a little foot and leg massage, which should send you into a state of relaxation, however, this guy decided to pummel the living daylights out of my poor legs and I would not be surprised if I had a bruise to show for it in the morning. I survived this little ordeal though and then went to wait to get a haircut. I was escorted to a seat and before I had even said what I wanted doing, this guy was brandishing a pair of scissors, with an evil glint in his eyes. I politely ask him if he can wash my hair – simple enough, you would think. At the sink, I am exposed to alternately scalding and freezing water and he then proceeds to tip what feels like an entire bottle of shampoo over my hair and washes it with as much care as though he was scrubbing the kitchen floor. After that, with clean but wild hair I am then taken back to my seat. Conveniently, my gym pass has a photo of me taken just after having my hair cut in Colombia, so I show him and explain that I would like it cut in pretty much the same way. He nods in an assuring manner picks up a comb. As my hair is such a tangled mess, this really hurts, so I ask him if he would mind if I combed it myself, which I do. He then grabs what looks like a a toilet roll and ties it round my neck, apparently to protect me from hair going down me. Then for the cut. And this is the really horrifying part. He starts chopping into the back, which naturally I can’t see. By the time he gets round to the side I notice his technique for cutting is a little bit unorthodox. Although I have never in my life attended a hairdressing course, I am aware that in order to cut layers you need to take sections of hair in a neat and even way and to use your fingers to help guide the scissors. No, no, no! He ‘sections’ my hair by taking random bunches and then just snipping in. I can’t stand any more of this, so I ask him how he learned to cut hair and he just ignores me. My next question is whether he took a course or if he learnt on the job and at this point he slams the comb and scissors down on the counter and says he doesn’t want to talk about it. This has now become too much for me, so I stand up, remove the overall and am fully prepared to walk out with half cut hair. I walk up to the counter and say I will pay for the pedicure but the hair experience was out of control. I am fully expecting for a full on debate, but to my surprise, the ladies on reception were in full sympathy with me. One of them told me that she just keeps her hair short and natural and is afraid to let anybody touch it – not really the best advert for a salon, but reassuring nonetheless. They were very kind and told me somebody else would be along shortly to sort it all out. So second time lucky (well it’s not perfect, but al least it’s even and nobody went wild and shaved my head). Having said that I have just realised that nobody has shown me the back of my head yet, so who knows what lurks behind. All I can say now is that I will not be returning for a repeat performance and that if that was a traumatic hair experience, then it has more than put me off the though of having my bikini line waxed there!

Get thee to a nunnery

According to the Bradt guide to Uganda ‘Patience is not so much a virtue in Fort Portal as a positive means to survival’. This certainly turned out to be the case this weekend. A friend and I have been going on the running hash each week. This involves going for a run for roughly an hour, with several stops along the way, often for refreshments in the form of beer. After the run are the hash rituals, the group gathers in a circle and they choose some ‘sinners’ who have to be punished. This can be for anything from chatterbox (some people are talking on the phone on the way) to the hashit – who may, for example, have turned up somewhere very late, then has the dubious honour of having to run the following week with a toilet seat around their neck. New shoes are always recognised and the owner has to take one off and then drink beer out of the shoe. So it’s all in the spirit of good fun, and with this in mind, we decided to go away for the weekend with the group to Fort Portal.

Very early on Saturday morning I was rudely awakened by my friend calling me, to ask if I was ready. I panicked and realised I had forgotten to set the alarm when I came in at 2am the previous evening. So I dressed at rapid speed, grabbed my backpack and left the house ten minutes later. When we arrived at the National Theatre to get the bus we discovered that a few people hadn’t yet arrived. So we waited and waited and waited some more, and eventually hit the road well over an hour after the agreed departure time. After getting through the busy Saturday morning traffic in Kampala we reached the open road and we were impressed by the smooth and relatively pot-hole free roads. That is until we got our first puncture. I say first because it was the first of five. So the first one was fixed fairly quickly and we set off again feeling quite optimistic. Ten minutes later we had another puncture. Watching them repair the puncture was a little bit worrying as the jack was not big enough, so they just rested the bus on a couple of big rocks. Luckily nothing untoward happened. Anyway, to cut a long story short, the 300 km journey took us roughly 9 hours, which means that we averaged a speed of 30km an hour, which is pretty damned slow.

We arrived around 5.30pm, so had to change quickly and get going on the run as soon as we could, in order to get back before it went dark. Fort Portal is west of Kampala and it just at the foot of the Rwenzori Mountains. So we had a great view along the way, passing through lots of small villages whilst contending with many great big hills. Now I have a confession to make – I make a great downhill runner, I can cope with the flat bits, but am totally useless when it comes to running uphill, and unfortunately there are many hills in Uganda. The peak of the run was at King Oyo’s palace, ruler of the kingdom of Toro – the king is actually the youngest in the country and is a year 12 student at my school, who my house mate actually teaches. Now this boy has a few big decisions to make when he hits 18. Apparently the area is very rich in oil and natural resources which have not yet been exploited, so he has to choose between making a very poor area very wealthy, or maintaining the natural beauty of the local environment. I am certainly glad that I am not in his shoes. Now back to the run. We picked up an extra friend when we arrived there, a local guy, who decided that he wants to move to Kampala, just to join the hash, and came along for a part of the run, complete with guitar. He didn’t quite manage to run all the way though – he was later spotted on a boda boda – cheating! At the end of the run a couple of our friends were nominated as sinners as they abandoned our bus on the second puncture and opted for a matatu instead, which in actual fact only saved them half an hour in the end.

Later that evening we were bussed over to our hotel for the night, only to be greeted by a nun! Yes – we actually stayed in a convent for the night, and to make matters worse, we had paid extra money for this privilege. The ‘hotel’ room was very sparse, but it had hot showers and clean bed linen, so we were reasonably happy for the night. We then went back to the nice hotel for a few drinks and a party. We shocked the nuns by being the first back as we were so exhausted after the long journey and the chaotic day.

On the whole the trip was very poorly organised. Nobody told us that there was a run on the Sunday morning, and nobody seemed sure of what time we would leave to return to Kampala. This disturbed both of us, as we had hoped to be able to visit some crater lakes nearby and really make the most of the time away. You can imagine that this was frustrating as we are both from countries where things usually run on time and have some kind of schedule, and not only that, but both of us being teachers, we are used to organising trips down to every last detail. Needless to say, they have not heard the last of this, and we are determined that if we ever go away with the group again, that we will organise our own transport and be much more independent. The journey back was much smoother, but I was sitting next to a guy who started drinking beer at 10am and was very loud all along the way. So after many pee stops along the way we finally made it back to Kampala. Oh the joys of travel!

There is absolutely no need for any theme parks in East Africa when you have plenty of bumpy and potholed, twisting and turning roads. Just over a week ago I set off with 3 friends on the very bumpy road to Kigali to see fellow abolo obruni, Alex. We packed the car with goodies for the trip, but he dairy milk was not such a great idea in the heat, so we ended up with a mushy mess of molten chocolate. We set off on the Friday and after an hour or so we passd through the equator. The equator experience consists of a sign by the road and a faded painted white line and a few people selling a bit of tourist tat, but it was a great photo opportunity all the same. On the Friday night we stayed in a place called Masaka, where we all had muzungu moments of anger when the club sandwiches we ordered took well over an hour and mine turned out to be a fired egg butty. After that we swore to eat only local food whilst on the raod, and this proved to be very successful the next day when we stopped off at a roadside cafe and were served delicious plates of avacado salad, vegetable curry and a few other local dishes.
We arrived in Kigali just as it was starting to go dark, then went out for dinner, then to a party where we were able to drink as much banana beer as we could drink (which was actually about half a cup - it's a bit of an acquired taste). Then on the Sunday we went off to the genocide memorial museum which was impressive but horrible and moving at the same time. In one room they just have family photos of all the people who were lost and it makes you realise the extent of it all.
The city of Kigali is so amazingly clean. You can walk down real pavements and smooth roads without having to worry about falling down potholes and dodging speeding matatus and boda bodas (minibuses and motorbike taxis for those of you not familiar with the local lingo. They also make you wear helmets on the bodas, even if they are all pretty big, and they don't let you double up either. Apparently, once a month there is a community service day where you have to go out cleaning all the rubbish off the streets. Also, even the roads oput of the city are really smooth tarmac. Incredible!
On the Monday we took a very nice bus up to Lake Kivu. We passed through stunning scenery and the sites of the mountains and the smell of the trees really reminded me of Colombia. I guess it makes sense as it's at asimilar altitude and there's also lits of volcanic activity round there. We stayed in some little cabins right next to the lake and spent the afternoon sampling the local beer, then the amarula, then very foolishly, the Ugandan Warargi (like a cheap gin, but pretty strong stuff). Afternoon turned into evening, and eveing turned into night and needless to say, the following day was a little bit painful. This was sorted out with a quick dip in the lake, followed by an afternoon of pampering ourselves with pedicures and massages and yummy food at the nice hotel in the town. It's a hard life I lead you understand!
The next day we ventured further afield, into the Democratic Republic of Congo no less. And before anybody asks, I can officially confirm that there is no Um Bongo there at all. But there is a whole town that has been recently smothered in lava from a recent erruption, leaving the roads very black and uneven. There is also lots of evidence of the war that is going on outside of the city, with UN troops (lots of hotties from Uraguay) all over the place and loads of emergency NGOs and so forth. It was quite strange walking round there, but I don't know whether it was the knowledge of what is happenng in the rest of the country or whether it was the atmosphere created from the sultry and humid weather that day and the lava covered streets that gave that illusion. After walking though the streets all day we went to a beautiful estaurant right by the lake, which was a real haven and a total contrast from the rest of the city. Oh I almost forgot to mention the special treatment we recieved from customs. We were immediately invited into the office and the cheesy customs officer greeted us with such platitude as 'how lucky they were that 3 such beautiful women were visiing the Congo that day' blar, blar blar. Anyway, the best of it was that we acually got a proper A4 sized certificate to say that we have been to the Congo. Brilliant! Getting out of the country was also a bit of an adventure as we had been relaxing at the restuarant so much that we didn't realise it was half an hour before the border shut. So we sped through the streets of Goma, yelling 'vite vite, nous avons 10 minutes' at the motorbike drivers, while they were yelling to slow down becasue they had muzungus! We made it by the skin of our teeth and Kelly even had time to do a bit of bargaining to buy a mask before we passed through the border. And I have to add that I never thought I would utter the words 'thank god I'm back in Rwanda' in my entire life!
That's pretty much it (or at least my time is about to run out anyway).

Camping trip and Eid

It's the end of yet another long and eventful week here in Kampala. We had a public holiday on Tuesday, for the Muslim holiday of Id to celebrate the end of Ramadan, so we took ourselves off to Entebbe on the shores of Lake Victoria for the day. I had my first matatu (crammed minibus) ride and was quite impressed - you got loads of space compared to the trotros in Ghana and the windscreen was pretty much in tact too! So we arrived at the beach (by the lake shore) at about 11 in the morning and pretty much had it to ourselves. We were wondering why nobody else had come on such a lovely day. Any temptations to take a little dip in the lake were quickly dispersed though as we spotted the snails that are a sign of bilharzia in the lake (they carry the disease which gives you a very nasty skin rash and all sorts of other yucky problems I imagine), but we were quite happy to have some food and beers on a sunny day. The next thing we know is that we are approached by a midget with a camera, who wanted to take our photos. OK we said and paid our 3000 Shillings each - thinking it was a nice little memento of the day. So that was all fine, until later on this Muslim girl came up and told us that she had paid 1500 Shillings - so later on we had a little debate with the little man and truly put him to shame, and informed him that no more muzungus would be shopping with him in the future (since he is pretty easy to spot ha ha). We did not, however, get a refund, but later we wondered whether the cheap price was a special offer for Id and therefore only open to Muslims!! Anyway, as the day progressed, the beach got busier and busier and turned into a huge party. There were people there from Kenya, Ethiopia and Uganda - and they did not have the same worries about catching bilharzia as they ran into the lake dancing away.
On Thursday and Friday we went on the overnight camping trip to Mabira Forest. In the meeting the head assured us that it was just like a North American campsite with showers, flushing toilets and the like. So when we arrived and saw literally just a space to pitch tents and latrine loos we were not very impressed. Basically we had to do everything on the trip too - from planning and taking all the activities, to buying and cooking the food. So we had arranged to go shopping on Wednesday afternoon after school, when we were told that we had to wait for the bursar to bring the money into school. Then when we went into the school office, we were informed that another person in the office had quit and that we had to sort the money out - which was a mixture of cash stapled together, all mixed up for the different year group trips and that we had to sort it out. Now I realise that I am not a qualified accountant, but I don't think it would be unfair to say that this is not how it should be done ... surely! So by the time the cash had been counted the shops had closed. So we were told that we would go ahead anyway and somebody would do the shopping in the morning and bring it up to the campsite later on and we would take a packed lunch from school. Fine we thought ... except that the packed lunch was not ready when we were leaving school at 8.30 in the morning, so that would come up with the shopping at around noon ... except that noon turned into about 2pm, by which time we have on our hands about 30 children, who were pretty much starving, but high on e numbers from all the crisps and sweets their parents sent them as snacks. In the afternoon we set off for a nature walk through the forest, which was lovely, but I have a few little princesses in my class who are afraid of a speck of dust, let alone mud, who literally tiptoed through and tried their best to cling on to me for dear life every time they saw so much as an ant!! Anyway, the rest of the day went fine and when the kids went to bed we finished off the day with a bottle of wine - drunk ever so delicately out of the cups the kids normally use to wash paintbrushes in coz the head forgot to pack anything to drink out of! I had a barney with a TA when I discovered that one of the water bottles was actually filled with kerosene for the lamps and it had been left out next to the water bottles - as you can imagine, I flipped my lid and said that maybe sometime in the future I may wish to teach in the UK again, and that if children had swigged back a bottle of kerosene it may not go down too well on the old CV - so he continued to argue that it should not be in the car because Jerry cans with petrol are now illegal in cars in Uganda - and I drummed the point that kids drinking lighter fuel would lead to a far stronger punishment - and then he bitched at me for the rest of the day, until he slipped on the walk in his bloody plimsolls and then complained about a sprained ankle! In the middle of the night there was a huge tropical storm, with very heavy rain and lightning. I can not say that I behaved in the most responsible way, as when I heard that the head was dealing with the screaming kids with leaky tents, I turned over and went back to sleep. I was thinking that if I heard Sibyl's voice I would get up and help, while she was in her tent thinking if she heard my voice she would also do the same. Needless to say, we have been somewhat slagged off for this, and I do not imagine that I will be first on the list to be chosen to take the kids to France on the ski trip in February!
Last night we went to the farewell party for our principal who is leaving (resigned ??? who knows there are so many stories). Was good to say goodbye and all the teaching assistants were having a good old dance, but I have to say that his dancing was just like watching the scene in The Office where David Brent does his little dance performance, so we made an early exit before the evil drink could let our mouths work before our brains!

Well it's about time I updated this and fill you in on the last couple of weeks. Last weekend I had my housewarming party. We decided to have an Oscar night theme, so dressed the house up with a red carpet (made out of crepe paper), lots of sparkly stars and candles throughout. Everyone got very dressed up and even wore heels, which is a bit of a rarity here, considering the state of the roads with all the potholes and lack of tarmac and the like.
School is going on ok, but still has been full of dramas. The kids are still great - they are all very good at English (many native speakers and the ESL ones are fluent - no more 'miss, he is molesting me' or 'it is that I need to go to the bathroom'! The admin, however, is a bit of a shambles. The woman in the bursar's office is so off the rails that she makes the head of hr from my last job look like Mother Theresa. We are all a wee bit concerned that a couple of weeks ago, the bursar did a midnight shift a flew the country back to India, leaving the office and his house in a real mess (and for the house I am talking total devastation - dirty plates of food left around being attacked by maggots, clothes everywhere and loads of old furniture all over the place.

Sunday

Today I’m feeling a little dazed and sun stroked. This morning I got up early to take a walk up to the Bahai Temple up the road. I can see it from my room and it’s a big landmark in Kampala. The religion is a bit of a mixture of all different world religions and there’s just one temple on each continent, so I thought it would be rude not to bother to go up there and see. To be honest, it looks much better from a distance, it’s just very simple inside. The gardens surrounding it are very pretty and it’s a lovely and peaceful place to visit. Unfortunately my new walking shoes rubbed my feet and am now suffering from massive blisters and am not sure whether I’ll be able to make the running hash tomorrow.

This afternoon, for the first time since getting here, I had time to go down to the pool and lay out in the sun. It’s brilliant to have the free membership to the club – I’m swimming a lot after school, going to the gym and also have had a few tennis lessons. The only downside is that most of the families from school are also members, so as I walked in today I could hear 3 little voices yelling ‘Miss Crosbie’ – aaaahhhh teacher’s nightmare to be relaxing by the pool in a bikini, only to be greeted by your kids charging round and throwing each other in the pool!

Last night my friend had a barbeque on her outside terrace. I think we girls can be very proud of ourselves for successfully cooking everything on the bbq with no male assistance whatsoever.

Now for a little bit about the next drama in school. On Friday we were called into the staffroom for (yet another) emergency meeting. This week’s big shocker is that the principal has resigned, probably with immediate effect. Whether he jumped or was pushed is another issue, so watch this space for what happens next. So now we have no principal, but they have managed to replace the bursar (who made a midnight dash back to India about 2 weeks ago), so hopefully we should get paid this month.

My group of friends and I have now firmly established Friday night as restaurant night. Each week we’re trying somewhere new. There are loads of great restaurants here, all with really good food. We went to the Turkish this week, which is lovely because there are lots of comfy sofas to relax on and it’s all outdoors in a park. We’ve also tried out the Thai, the Belgian, various Indians – we think Mexican may be the next on the cards.

Now I wonder if anybody can figure out his little conundrum for me – my friends and I have tried, but we are no closer to reaching an understanding. When you want to buy soft drinks here, they come in the returnable bottles – all well and good so far I hear you say. However, when you try to buy one in the shop, they won’t allow you to buy it unless you have a bottle to return. Nor will they let you put down a deposit. So if any of you can think of a solution – answers on a postcard to …

White Water rafting on the Nile

Today I am a little sore around the arms, a bit bruised and battered and have 2 very sun burnt knees because my suncream clearly wasn't as waterproof as it was supposed to be. Well I thought I had been rafting in Colombia - but this is nothing compared to yesterday's adventure. We set off to Jinja, which is the source of the Nile to go on a whole day rafting. Apparently it is in the top 3 places to do white water rafting in the world and I can see why. It's such a shame that they are building a dam right now, so it will come to the end and make a huge eyesore as well. So there were 5 of us and we felt very sorry for the poor Swedish bloke who got stuck in a boat with us weaklings who were too weak to drag ourselves back into the boat when were tipped out and spent the whole day hauling us lot in!! We went through full on grade 4 and 5 rapids, we were tipped and thrown in every direction. At one point I got thrown out, I lost the boat and was hurtling downstream the Nile at full pelt - next stop Egypt I thought!! I struggled to understand the Kiwi instructor as I wondered what I was supposed to lift until I realised he actually meant left. The scenery was totally stunning - the river is so vast and all you can see is trees, hills, an immense blue sky and all the wildlife. We saw massive lizards, eagles flying over us and loads of different birds I'd never seen before. There were points where we just floated down and it was so tranquil. Then the guy in the rescue boat, who must've been incredibly strong, rowed all 4 boats for about half an hour, so we just lay back and basked in the sun. I think the other people in the boat must've been a bit worried about the future of the kids we're educating. Kelly made a few classic quotes - especially when she said the the instructor 'Have you done this before?' errr we hoped so (think she actually meant which other places, but never mind) and 'What does sugar cane taste like?' errrr probably sugar love - what do you think? So you will be glad to know that I am no longer the dizziest blond. I slept very well last night, being totally exhausted from the day.

School has started now and the kids have been in for 3 days now. All I can say about my class is WOW, WOW, WOW!!! Am wondering to myself when they are going to stop being so polite, articulate, helpful and nice and start behaving like normal kids and start knocking seven bells out of each other and so on. Feel like am on one of those training videos they show you when you're training to teach and the kids come out with all the right answers and nobody starts messing about or anything - very strange. I gave my top reading group books just a bit higher than my top kids in Colombia had at the end of the year - only to discover they read them 2 years ago - whoops! We are having a bit of a nightmare with the planning and paperwork though and spending very long days in school. Apparently last year there were 4 different people teaching in the year group - including an American who just got up in the middle of the night once and left the country - it's all a bit of a mystery. Also, there is a ridiculous procedure for getting hold of any resources where you have to sign things out - and there is about a 4 minute window for that each day, otherwise you're screwed.
I don't know if any of you heard but there is an old king of Jinja who died last week, so we have a national day of mourning on Monday - otherwise known as a public holiday - hooray!!!! So to treat ourselves, a group of us are heading to Jinja tomorrow to the source of the Nile to go white water rafting - yayyyyy!!!!! I can't wait.