Sunday September 5, 2010 – Back to Kampala and the Golf Course Inn

Sunday September 5, 2010 – Back to Kampala and the Golf Course Inn


After a leisurely breakfast and Sarah painting Brenda’s toenails bright red (hope she can find some nailpolish remover at some point) we pack up the campsite and start working our way back to Kampala for the last 2 nights of our trip. We start with a bit of curio shopping for our trip – a few gifts for Elizabeth’s friends and for Yoram and Ayala’s baby girl, which we just found out about. Jinja is an interesting town – it was a much busier place in eras passed and the downtown streets are laid out in grids and lined by shop facades with the names of probably long-gone Indian families and dates ranging from the early 1900’s through to the 1950’s. Many are curio shops now, just opening up late morning as the operators come out from church. We pick up the things we want quite quickly – most of the stuff carried in one shop is the same as in the next, but there are always small differences and one finds something a bit novel, or at a better price. But we can only handle so many shops – we are definitely curio’d out. Next stop the “Source of the Nile” monument on the west bank – a pretty park on a grassy slope leading down to the river. A monument to Speke, who claimed Lake Victoria as the source of the Nile and got into a big argument with fellow explorer Burton over it. Right now there is a view of the curio marts and bar on the opposite bank but one can also look further off to the lake and the fishing boats, which are mostly taking tourists for rides. But it is pretty.
Back in the car and back to the stables for the sandals we left there yesterday, and then continuing on the back way to Kampala. Longer but almost no traffic, anc certainly no big trucks and petroleum lorries. The road is actually really good back right into the outskirts of Kampala, and it is all country with small habitations along the way, including a large papyrus swamp. I stop at one point for street food – Sarah isn’t going to make it all the way back to town – and buy a charcoal roasted goat kabob and four roasted bananas. For some reason neither girl will have anything to do with them so I get the whole meal, Sarah is onto her favourite Mr. Noodles, and Elizabeth just opts to give her stomach a break.
Kampala is a shock to the system. Our road deteriorates rapidly as we hit the outskirts of town as there are roadworks going on and that just makes a mess of it in the mean time. So we’re back into traffic and city potholes and weaving in amongst the other vehicles and the traffic. I’m actually quite getting to like the rather laissez-faire driving style – moving out of your lane isn’t a major faux pas, and all the bad driving things one does when not sure of the route, such as slowing unexpectedly or turning abruptly or not turning after signaling are all taken completely in stride. In fact I’ve almost completely stopped using turn signals as I’m petrified I will be giving some poor soul a message that it is safe to pass when in fact I’m just thinking of changing lanes. Between my memory of the map and the gps we manage to make our way into town through the diversions, passing through a market area where they are carving enormous ditches – enough to drive a car through about 10 feet down, as part of some sort of renewal. I wonder how many people of cars end up in there. But we hit my familiar territory and withing a few minutes we are at the Golf Course Apartments, our base for the next two days. Mike was supposed to be staying here as well, but his passport is stuck in Kinshasa where it was getting a multiple entry visa for Congo, so he is tied to quarters in Rwanda until it comes through. The Vet Guest house has been turned into offices in our absence, so we have had to go up market. So we have a nice two bedroom furnished apartment in a rather sprawling complex with a pool, a restaurant which serves all sorts of cooked breakfasts, a tennis court, and a bunch of pretty gardens. TV and internet and hot water and real screens so for the first time in a month (two months for me) we don’t sleep under mosquito nets.
We drag a load of stuff upstairs to our place, spread it all over, and then head to the pool for a quick swim before starting the sorting process and cleaning ourselves up to go out for a dance performance. The Ndere Centre is the home of the Ndere Dance troupe, a professional group that performs regional traditional dances and puts on regular Sunday night shows. I’d booked us for tonight in advance, and even gone to the place so we’d be able to find it at night. The centre is quite beautiful with an outdoor amphitheatre and a lot of stone walls and structures, that aren’t quite so apparent in the evening. Tables are set round the stage in tiers, and there are two buffets – traditional African and Mongolian (of all things – various meats and veggies they stir fry on a hot wok). We get food and drinks and by 6:30 the show starts, and goes pretty solidly until about 9:30. The MC is character named Stephen, who does the introductions, the comic relief, and the fill in bits while dancers change costumes and reorganize between sets. Some of his stuff is really runny (a good series about Idi Amin), some pretty corny, but he certainly holds the centre stage. There are dances from Rwanda and from various parts of Uganda all with different musical instruments and different music, and different costumes. In the finale women balance up to 8 pots on their heads and still manage to dance and wiggle and sway without any of the pots falling down. Quite amazing. There is a bit of an intermission, or rather a break for the dancers, and the MC gets all the kids in the audience down to dance around and have fun, and then he starts to thank the audience for coming, especially those who pre-booked. And he calls them by name to come down to the stage. Guess who is about the third person called. So down I go, say where I’m from (he makes fun of the way I say Toronto), and then Sarah comes screeching down the steps to join me. Elizabeth holds the fort and all our valuables. In the end about ¾ of the audience is down on the stage, introduced by country, and then all the Ugandans are asked to shake hands with all the visitors and welcome them, and then there is music and everyone dances around a bit – Sarah loves that part – it is well past her bedtime and she’s getting manic, and then we are all thanked and sent back up to our seats for the rest of the show. Certainly a novel way to break up the evening and to prevent “plastic chair disease” as he calls it. sSo as the last dance ends and the final thank-yous are underway we duck out and head back to the apartment – loading ourselves into bed at the almost unbearably late hour of 11:00.