11 July, Day 28: To Uganda (ho!)

Breakfast was a pleasant affair. Had Kellogg’s (I think it was Kellogg’s) with cold milk, a piece of watermelon and pineapple. Hit that back with some strong coffee, before we placed our order for eggs (done “ice”. This I was told means “soft”, so ice it was). The lottery started shortly after, since Mattie put in a order for “raw” and Annelie for “relatively hard”. There was also a “scrambled”. We all got over cooked, although mine was pretty “ice”. Scrambled eggs REALLY fucked them up, but after the second plate of “ice” they eventually understood.

We thanked the “big chief” for the stay, even though the showers didn’t work. And even though they got folks in to fix a shower in one of our rooms yesterday, and the same folks tried sticking us with the bill. I’m learning that here in Africa as long as you still have a strong stomach, you haven’t been poisoned, you actually got a good night’s sleep, your car was still intact and tires inflated you’re ahead and should be thankful. And I was.

Looking forward to the border party again. Uganda is the destination, only about an hour or so away. The first town we’ll be arriving at is Jinja (think I may have spelt that wrong in a previous posting). Close by is where all the Nile rafting action is at.

Traffic was a breeze (by that I mean the taxis, busses and even bicycles still run you off the road, but somehow today they seem nicer about it) when we crawl to a standstill of people, shacks-an-shops, taxis, cars, big trucks and the usual fauna all blocking the road. This... was the border.

I really do wish I could take my camera along, a true spectacle to behold. All the players are there, only the currency-exchange executives all wear yellow over all, with “Money Exchanger” printed on it, and they all have calculators in hand. I discovered a new species today, the “Customs Liaison”. Friendly bunch of guys, all falling over their feet to help you. Dressed smartly, all wearing a very official looking tag on a lanyard around their necks, the live to serve as a facilitator of easy border crossing. Of course, they immediately attempt to touch my documents... which makes me understandably uncomfortable not to mention fucking pissed off. But I do smile and politely refuse their advances, which they only hear as “yes please”. No still means yes in Africa. I think Yes means “yes please, and here, have my wife too”. So I’m careful to use it, lest we start an international incident. I point to the see through plastic folder, the words “Carnet de Passage” emblazoned on the (now glowing, in the presence of Orcs) golden paper. And like most Holy Artefacts, it soon repels the heretics, the leeches and th3e stupid. I smile.

But not for long.

What a god damned mess. I mentioned all the cars and trucks blocking the road already, but picture a huge dustbowl of garbage and you’re almost there. Hey, at least there’s a Barclays here (which didn’t accept any of my 3 visa, Barclays cards). In the queue, get a blue form this time, fill in the useful-useless information, stand in line, bat the horde of “Exchange brokers par excellence” in over coats (but with pretty words and numbers printed on the back, so, they MUST be trustworthy), hand over passports and $100. Cars next. Find the office next door, informed we should go to their other office next to the gate. Walk the 200 meters to the gate where there’s a little booth perched on this mound if earth. Someone seems to have dug up a 3 meter stretch next to the road to install water pipes. The same someone probably got tired of the idea eventually. We now have a 3 meter wide, 1.5m deep, standing water, garbage infested and who knows what else barrier to reach the little office, perched on soil. To their credit, there are 3 sections of concrete pipe here! But something had started to grow on them since.

We get our climbing gear, say our goodbyes and vault the chasm. Success!

Well, success is relative. We now have to fill in reams and reams of forms (even though we HAVE the Carnets) and then walk back the 200 meters to the Barclays (yes, Barclays) and pay 47 000 UGs (yes, Ugandan Shillings, 1000 UGs = 4 S.A Rands, or about 28p in Old Country money) and then come back here. Not pushing our luck, we find another route off Customs Island and trek back to Barclays. Btw, I’m sweating like a moose at this time, it’s the hottest day yet! On the way to the car I gear up (or down?) into shorts and a lighter shirt.

Back to Barclays, 47 000 UGs become 49 000 (bank charges, you understand...). More waiting. And more waiting, then batting other Africans who thinks it’s savvy to jump queue. We show them that it’s not. That 4 pissed off Souf Afrikan male syndrome is coming on again. Annelie in the meantime has received our passports back, and eagle eyes as she is, she spotted that they only put my name on the paper for the visa. “Oh, sorree. let me correct(sic)”. How kind.

Grab an airlift back to Customs Island (where the margaritas as extra frosty). We don’t bother to balance on the precarious ledge in from of the window and just open the door to his cage (which is air conned!). This exercise is truly designed for maximum discomfort. I marvel at the thought. We hand over our slips and finally get the Carnet’s back (we persuading him to fill in the forms while we went to do his bidding). “Any other surprises?”, asks Fanie. None. “Where do we get a gate pass?” (this seems dumb, but if you don’t ask, and you’ve paid, and then you come back to get it, it’s a case of convenient memory loss for the clerk, or a major attitude problem to contend with).

One hour, fifty minutes and random seconds later, we pass the “gate” and leave the madness behind. I so look forward to doing that again.

Uganda is what you imagine the tropics to be. Road was shit up until about 30 KM’s in when we finally saw or 49 000 UGs at work in the form of pothole-less asphalt and even road signs. Oh, and painted lines on the road. Taxis still ignore them. And would you believe, a DUAL carriage way?! Impressive. I take pictures of this marvel of engineering.

I reckon it was around 14:00 or so when we arrived just shy of Jinja and pulled into the first Nile Lodge. Think it was called Jinja Nile Lodge and campsite or something (I didn’t jot it down, I was still in shock from the border). Adrift! It was called Adrift... just remembered. Very nice place, lots of backpackers mulling about. They have camp facilities and lodges, but our cars can’t park next to the tents. Big bar and lounge area overlooking (what I found out later) was the 1^st rapid if you were doing the river rafting) and a 70m bungee jump platform. But, all the bandas (little huts) where full and we couldn’t park the vehicles next to the tents. Pat, the manager recommended another spot just down the road, Nile River Explorers. Good rates, good food, although she has better showers.

On the way out, Annelie and I stop at this 5 Star hotel (which EVERYBODY knows about, but again, for the life of me, can’t remember the name). Woaw. Fully stocked has a new definition. Marble floors, immaculate woodwork and finished, big pool, pool table, vaulting stair cases, mosaic windows... etc. A real classy joint, at $200 per night. No camping (I think the concierge even snarled a bit. I do look like a beach bum though. But I drive the dirtiest, most bad-ass 4x4 in Uganda).

Off to the NRE and we find the camp site very suitable, also next to the Nile, further downstream, with fantastic views from the bar / lounge area, big pool, secondary lounge area, back backers lodges and room to camp. For Annelie and myself there was also the prospect to mix with the other travellers. The place also had that chilled backpackers vibe that we realised (much later) that we’ve been missing this entire tour.

Setup and head down the stairs the river. There are some folks there already and we strike up a conversation. The spot where you can swim is right next to what is the 1^st rapid if you were doing the river rafting so it’s like a mini waterfall, with interesting currents and eddies. 4 Kayakers are getting their orientation nearby. The Nile water was cool and very welcome in this blistering heat. I try swimming upstream, like a majestic salmon. Impossible! I walk it instead and go down the rapid (weeee!) but a few rocks along the way discourages me from trying it a third time.

Luke and Sam are 2 guys from South Africa and we chat a bit about what they’re studying and what brings them here and so forth. Later on we also met 2 Danish chicks, Sienna (think I’m spelling that right) and Catherine. They’re also keen to do the river rafting and we chat about lots of stuff. By sunset I’m semi sunburnt and hungry so we say our goodbyes and head back for meatballs and rice. Later at the Bar some of the guides put on a jam session of drums and acoustic guitar. The days rafting expedition arrived at around 18:00 to a fully decked meal of spit braai pork, lamb, all sorts of side dishes... all awesome! So they packed the bar / lounge and everybody was drinking and being merry. Annelie and I convince some of the others to join us tomorrow for the river rafting and Dirk, Mattie and Fanie agree. It’ll be a full day, about 32 KM’s down the river, 7 big grade 4, 5, and 6 rapids. Breakfast, lunch and that kick ass dinner (with 2 drinks, anything you want) included, up to 88 people can go, half days available, and we launch at a spot 45 minutes down the road from the other backpackers lodge (also owned and run by NRE, and were we will be having breakfast tomorrow). Truck leaves at 08:30 to this secondary backpackers lodge. Total cost, for a full day, all the gear, 3 meals, 2 drinks and 2 night’s accommodation thrown in: $125. What a deal!

We spend the rest of the evening enjoying the jam session and chatting. I snap a few pics of the band and the people. Looking forward to trying out the rafting. I’ve always wanted to do it, for some reason always missed out on the Orange river tours.

[G & A], out

Let’s get together and feel alright