Why make it easy?

Last week I went to Kumi, which is a tiny town in eastern Uganda with only one street where there are shops. The rest around are open fields and some roads with residential houses. Kumi itself wasn’t so exciting, but I liked the area around the town. It was very rocky! Big round rocks here and there and there was even a place where they’ve found old paintings in some caves.
I went to Kumi together with some staff from NUWODU, because NUWODU had organized a work shop on HIV/AIDS for a group of disabled women living in Kumi town or nearby villages. I didn’t do much during the work shop days, I mostly sat and listened to a language that I couldn’t understand in between as I took photos of what happened and spoke to the women who attended. Sometimes all the waiting got a bit boring but I really enjoyed to meet all the women and to see what happens outside of Kampala. Many of the women couldn’t speak any English and were illiterate, but they still liked talking and joking with me and they all went crazy about my camera and wanted to take pictures with me.

I also got caught by the police already on the first day in Kumi. I was walking back to the guest house from the work shop together with Phionah, a girl who is also volunteering at NUWODU. We crossed an open field which had the road right next to it on one side and some buildings on the other side. As we were walking along a track, which went across the field, two police men came up to us and told us that we’re trespassing. Ooops, we said sorry and we didn’t know because it’s our very first day in Kumi. Still, the policemen wouldn’t let us go obviously attempting to get some money from us first. They kept talking about the sign on which it says “no trespassing”, but as I asked them to show us that sign (because I could really not see any such sign around) they couldn’t, simply because there is no such sign –surprise surprise! I started to get angry and told them that they can’t hold us for anything since there is no sign or a fence around the field that would indicate that people can’t walk around there. Logical to me but now to them, so instead they started talking about us going to the court meanwhile I became more and more angry biting my teeth together to avoid saying something stupid. Eventually the others from NUWODU came there including the boss of these two police men and then there was no problem anymore. We could easily just walk back to the road and go back to our place without bribing or going to court. This is what happens when you give little boys a gun to carry: their dick grows but not their brain.

While I was in Kumi I also got to hear several crazy stories about when the rebels stayed in that area in the 80’s (I think). The rebels weren’t very nice. There were too many stories about them raping anyone who wasn’t from that area, other kinds of attacks and the digging of a mass grave. And in some strange way the people still considered the rebels to be the ones that protected them…At the same time the government (the same one up until today) burnt the people who wouldn’t give it information about the rebels (mostly innocent civilians that had no information to give).

The trip back to Kampala was a shopping trip. Since food is so much cheaper to buy in the village than in Kampala we all loaded the car with live chicken (except for me, I felt sorry for those poor little things hanging off the car), rice and posho flour, charcoal, fruits and vegetables. To this I added a pumpkin which cost 10 cent and one chair. Not bad :o)

Back in Kampala starting a new week I went to the immigration office –AGAIN. This is the place that could make you seriously start thinking about packing all your things and leave the country forever! You who have been there know what I’m talking about… The lack of clear rules of how everything functions results in everyone telling you different things each time you go there. Now, this Monday I’d finally come so far that I could go to the bank and pay for my first visa. I went and paid and the whole procedure took three hours including waiting for a receipt that took 2½ hours. When I finally got my receipt I took a taxi back to the immigration office only to find out that I’ve paid too little money. Note: I only paid what it said on the bank slip that was given to me by the cashier at the immigration office. This meant that I had to get another bank slip and go back to the bank which would not be able to get my receipt ready before it closed for the day. So, my dear little contemporary visa could not be completed although I spent a whole day trying. My struggle continued the next morning and by noon I finally got a handwritten visa in my passport. That was only step one. I’m still working on my real visa which might be ready to be paid for in a month, I’d like to believe it but I doubt it. I’m lucky to get my visa before it’s time to leave this country.

And for you my dear little Norwegian friends with whom I went to Fort Portal last year. Guess what? I’ve once again been to the local pubs of all the local ones where they serve local beer only :o) But this time I was in Kampala. It made me laugh and that warm, sour, muddy beer still tastes as wonderful as I can remember it :op Drinking sour “mud” with extremely long straws, now who came up with that idea?! I only say one thing: go Nile!