The road trip

With my volunteer experience still a lingering memory, I embarked on a journey alongside my dearest friend Miss M (joined later by Mr T) through Namibia and Botswana. I’ve only just managed the time to sit and write a daily account of our adventure, which spanned a period of 9 days. Enjoy!

Day 0
The South African Home Affairs division had done a spectacular job of making my life hell, in what had to date seemed like a futile attempt to get a visa extension stamped into my passport. Their antics meant that instead of making my way directly from Cape Town to Jo’burg, I had to make a detour to Richards Bay to get the wretched sticker pasted into my passport. After a 2-hour flight to Durban at a rather unfriendly hour, I drove 3 hours to this now-familiar office in Richards Bay to collect my visa extension, an event, which took a whopping 5 minutes of my day. Very unimpressed and mildly irritated, I drove back to Durban and boarded a bus for a 9-hour ride to Jo’burg. We finally pulled into the bus station in Jo’burg at some obscure time of the next day. Needless to say, I was tired and slightly cranky, though the excitement wrought by my imminent adventure overshadowed this sour feeling soon enough

Day 1
Miss M picked me up from the bus station and we headed to her house where we finalised our packing for the trip and made our way to pick up our rented car and run other last-minute errands. By midday, we were on our way. The plan was to drive to Namibia via Botswana then back to Jo’burg via Botswana. The route we planned meant our journey would be somewhat circular such that we’d get to see a range of places in both countries. Our first quest was to get to Lobatse from Jo’burg to cross the border into Botswana. It was a solid and uneventful 3-hour drive, with Miss M at the wheels. Armed with good music, the passage of time was hardly noticeable – John Legend, Lauryn Hill, Dwele, Maxwell, Coldplay, Bebe and Cece Winans; just to mention a few, were all we needed to sing along to and enjoy our time on the road. We made it to the border in good time, went through immigration and customs in record time and were soon on our way to our next stop – Kang, in Botswana. I took over driving and we made our way through the Kalahari Desert, crossing paths with many a donkey, cow, goat and sheep. We noted how strange it was to be driving through this “Desert” which though sandy, was covered in grass with lots of animals grazing. That said, there were no visible water bodies and the rivers that we crossed had all dried up, which I guess earns it the right to be called a Desert. About an hour into our drive, I managed to exceed the speed limit only to be stopped by the Botswana police. Luckily for us, they were feeling charitable and simply told us off…followed swiftly by a request for our contact details so they could “keep in touch”. We humoured them (clearly these guys had no shame) and were soon on our way. Several hours later, we arrived in Kang, retreating from a brilliant sunset. We found ourselves a comfortable guest-house and retired for the night, very pleased with the progress made on our first day

Day 2
Was an early start as we were keen to make it to Swakopmund via Windhoek (pronounced: vindhook) in Namibia before sunset. After a large breakfast, we set out for Mamuno where we were to cross the border into Namibia. Our journey went smoothly save the odd towering truck that we had to overtake to make our ambitious target. We made it to the border in record time thanks to a lot of over speeding (no lessons learnt from the previous day I’m afraid). We crossed the border, immediately noticing that Namibians were a lot friendlier and their country more developed and slightly more picturesque than Botswana. We arrived in Windhoek, Namibia’s capital, that afternoon fairly tired. Windhoek is a lovely city, which had a lot of Capetonian features to it. Features like its looming mountainous perimeter, its hilly landscape, its cultural diversity and its high level of development – large shopping malls, perfect roads, fancy cars, amongst other things, were commonplace. Have to say that it struck another cord with me, one that isn’t often struck. I couldn’t quite place what it was but somehow Windhoek reminded me of Monrovia; perhaps it was the soul of the city that spoke to me; I couldn’t help but think that if Liberia hadn’t been plagued by war for all those many years, Monrovia may well look something like Windhoek today, or at least have its vibe. Miss M and I hit the local Nandos (many people don’t know this but Nandos is a South African creation and the company has many outlets throughout southern Africa) for some much needed chicken and hit the highway heading to Swakopmund. We got our first speeding fine about 30 minutes into the drive. Unfortunately the Namibian police, though equally “friendly”, did not do verbal admonitions, we had to pay the fine. Undeterred, we hit the road, paying close attention to the speed limits this time and journeyed on. We drove through the Namib Desert, which was a lot sandier with hardly any vegetation. Our journey took longer than envisaged owing to road works and a rather tragic-looking accident that took place a few hours earlier. We finally arrived in Swakopmund around 8.30pm, thoroughly exhausted. We retired for the evening, glad that we’d arrived safely and postponed any planning for our time there till the next day

Day 3
We had a full day in Swakopmund so we’d decided to sleep in and made it out for breakfast just as the kitchen at the guesthouse was about to close for the morning. We were informed at breakfast that there was something leaking from our car (which was parked across the way at the sister guest-house of the one we were residing in). Turns out our petrol tank had a puncture. Naturally, we panicked; not only did we not know what we were to do about our predicament, it was a national holiday in Namibia that day. The receptionist advised us to go to a nearby petrol station to seek help. We were in luck as the manager of the station was a rather amiable chap who showed us where we could take the car to get the petrol tank fixed. Fairly naïve in these sorts of matters, we nodded at the mechanic’s proposed solution to our problem but were highly suspicious when he told us what he was going charge us for his efforts. After some bargaining we came to what we felt was a reasonable price. We were to find out at a later stage that we were completely ripped off but at the time we were simply relieved that our seemingly insurmountable problem had been alleviated. We planned the rest of our day – some sightseeing, quad-bike riding that afternoon and dinner at a fantastic restaurant. Swakopmund is a fairly small city but is a hot tourist destination in Namibia, with its lovely sand dunes, restaurants and proximity to the Atlantic Ocean; it has everything a decent holiday has to offer. The town is filled with guesthouses and hotels, locally owned shops and pubs, restaurants and a few shopping malls. Its criss-crossed road layout made navigation easy and we drove round and took in all the sights. We arrived back at our guesthouse just in time for us to be picked up for quad-bike riding and rather unfortunately; I locked the car keys in the boot of the car…yikes! We decided it was best to not ruin the day by cancelling our bike ride and to deal with our new predicament upon our return. Neither Miss M nor I had ever ridden a quad-bike before so it was quite the adventure for us. Once we were comfortable controlling our automatic-geared bikes, we hit the dunes led by a very patient guide. We had a lot of fun speeding along and braving some very high dunes with spectacular views of the landscape and ocean. It was an hour of our time well spent. We got back to our guesthouse for some brainstorming with the receptionist on how to solve our problem, which led us back to our friendly petrol station manager again. He watched us approach him with some foreboding and asked: “what have you done now?” We laughed and told him our “little” problem. Armed with a coat hanger-turned-wire and a screwdriver, he accompanied us back to take a look at the car. The plan was to slip the hanger between the car door and its frame so that he could lift the lever that controlled the boot and hence get it open. After an hour and a half of torturous fiddling, we got the boot open. We were amazed at his patience and resilience and thanked him profusely for his kind efforts. Miss M and I were tired from the day’s challenges and activities and decided to dress up and treat ourselves to a lovely meal. We made our way to the amazing “Rafters” restaurant which is built on stilts firmly plunged into the Atlantic. We enjoyed a glass of wine and watched a lovely sunset; ate the best grilled fish (called Steenbras) I’ve had in a while, our day almost behind us

Day 4
Another early start as we had to head back to Windhoek to pick Mr T up from the airport that afternoon. We were excited that he was going to be joining us, if for nothing, at least to share the driving responsibility and to add some testosterone input into our journey, something we felt was needed especially after our experiences the previous day. Before we left Swakopmund, we went on a boat trip to some nearby sand islands, which was home to a large number of seals and a varied species of birds. While the weather was not at its best, the animals were fascinating to watch. We also sighted some friendly dolphins near our boat, an added bonus! We left Swakop just after lunch and sped all the way to Windhoek. Despite our conscious effort to avoid being late in the getting to the airport, we got there an hour and a half or so after his flight landed. Then we made him drive us to the accommodation for the night…poor guy! Dinner was at a lovely Angolan restaurant where we enjoyed another excellent meal of grilled fish and some more wine. Despite our best intentions of staying out and having a good time, our bodies betrayed us; the beds at the guesthouse beckoned strongly by the time we were done with the meal and we succumbed!

Day 5
Windhoek is fiercely hot this time of the year and we fully appreciated that when we woke up. The plan was to travel to the north of Namibia to somewhere near the Caprivi Strip and cross over to Botswana to the Okavango Delta region. It would involve a lot of driving so we had a large breakfast, organised ourselves and hit the road. We arrived in Outjo, roughly half of the way to the Caprivi Strip in the afternoon and decided to spend the rest of our day there and do some sightseeing. We stayed at a lovely lodge called Etotongwe, which was near the Etosha National Park. We checked in and went for a drive through the park where we sighted some lions, giraffe, zebra, gemsbok (cousin to the impala), impala, various species of birds and the saltpans. It was a very relaxing drive and a nice way to end our day. We retired to the lodge thereafter for some kudu (another cousin to the impala) dinner – very, very tasty

Day 6
A relatively late rise followed by a large breakfast and we were on our way to the Caprivi Strip. So far our driving experience had included some close calls: I’d veered off the highway mid-conversation with Miss M then swerved quickly back onto the road on day 1 (incredibly scary); Miss M came close to whacking another car in the back when it stopped suddenly in the middle of the highway en route to Swakopmund; presumably due to a technical fault – we were pretty shaken. On this day however, we were engaged in a heated debate about something or the other such that Miss M’s attention was not a 100% on the road; she ran over a little squirrel scurrying across. We felt so guilty and made a promise to pay better attention and look out for the wildlife, a promise that we kept till the end of the trip. We made a stop at a town called Rundu to see a meteorite, christened Hoba, which had landed there an estimated 80,000 years ago. We were a bit disappointed at the sight though – it was a smallish sized piece of iron that wasn’t quite as interesting or awesome as we’d envisaged. To date we’d also not booked accommodation in advance and just found places to stay as we went along. This tactic was put to the test when we arrived in the Caprivi area. There were hardly any places that were affordable and the first place we saw that we could afford was nothing short of disastrous. The sun was starting to set and things were starting to look tricky. We braced ourselves and decided to check out the only other place that we could afford – a campsite called Ngepi that was located right on the banks of the Kavango River. The set up was very similar to that of Jungle Junction on the Zambezi in Zambia. We decided to have a look around and upon viewing one of the tree houses; we noticed mice frolicking about on the ceiling – yikes. All the huts/houses were made out of a combination of concrete and bamboo material; the bathrooms were outdoors and the doors were hardly secure. The staff was very friendly and it was very atmospheric (the owner of the place had quite the sense of humour as evidenced by the many witty utterances plastered on the walls of the reception area) so we decided to stay there. After staying in relatively plush guesthouses and lodges, it was time to rough it a bit. Miss M was not impressed and after some convincing, acquiesced. We ended up spending the evening drinking and chatting with the guys who worked in the camp, an interesting lot – a mixture of Namibians and Angolans (we were in close proximity to the Angolan border) who were unanimous in their view that Angola was a death trap and that anyone who ventured out there wanted to die. Period. They humoured us with their anecdotes, which flowed freely as the night wore on and the alcohol consumption loosened their tongues. It was a fun night, we retired just before midnight, laughing all the way to our hut and slept right through the night oblivious to the threat of being attacked by hippos, crocs or large snakes (we found out the next morning that one of the bathrooms was now home to large python)

Day 7
We survived the night unscathed; even the mosquitoes had nothing on us! Of course we stopped gloating when we heard the python story and realised just how lucky we’d actually been! We went for a lovely Makoro (handmade canoe) ride along the river, which incidentally was infested with crocs and hippos. It as a peaceful ride though and the river was beautifully littered with water lilies, the sun shone bright and the azure sky was perfectly reflected on the calm water. Our guide was excellent, providing many a history and geography lesson as we were paddled along. Regrettably, it was time to leave by the time we got back from the trip. We’d enjoyed our time in Namibia and especially at Ngepi. Our next stop was Maun, located on the southern part of the Okavango Delta in Botswana. Our journey there was calm and uneventful but once we arrived, we struggled to find a decent place to stay. The rather unfriendly attitude of the people in the town was evident from the moment we set foot there, which helped us, none. After an hour and a half of driving around and dealing with some incompetence, we settled for the night at the Maun Lodge in a nice chalet. We were exasperated from the afternoon’s goings on and dug into a huge buffet dinner. Mr T was also not feeling well – he was under attack by something akin to the flu, so we decided to call it an early night

Day 8
We awoke the next morning mildly unenthused at the prospect of dealing with the unfriendly community of Maun. Breakfast at a café opposite the airport offered no improvements. Our waitress’ disposition could best be described as nonchalant. Our day could not go to waste though so we went in search of activities to fill it. We settled on lunch at a nice restaurant and a boat cruise at dusk. Lunch exceeded our expectations. The Tamalekha Lodge has a brilliant restaurant and the service we received was akin to what we’d encountered in Namibia – there just might be hope for Botswana after all. The restaurant overlooked the Kavango River offering a splendid view as we dug into various culinary delights. Fully rejuvenated, we made our way to the venue for the boat cruise. We set sail from a backpackers lodge in a small boat made of tin; just the three of us and a guide, who said almost nothing the whole time we rode down the delta. We spotted the odd giraffe and zebra and nothing else. We’d expected an experience akin to what we’d had with Ngepi on the Makoro ride, evidently not! The river was beautiful and the peace and quiet was pleasant but it could have been so much more interesting if our guide was a bit more engaging. We decided to give Maun a final shot by having drinks at a restaurant en route to our lodge. Another feisty waitress presented herself, this time speaking to us in a mixture of Tswana and English even though it was pretty obvious that we did not speak the former language. Miss M gave up her cool at this stage and confronted the waitress who responded by saying, rather sheepishly, that we should learn Tswana. We thought it apt to point out the flaws of this young lady’s way of thinking; she finally agreed that she was wrong and that as customers we deserved good service in a language that we understood. A few drinks and laughs later, we made our way home for an early retirement. The plan was to wake up very early the next morning to drive a good 1000 kms back to Jo’burg

Day 9
We were up slightly later than we planned and hit the road heading to Jo’burg via Kang. We skipped a meal that morning and drove into Kang early that afternoon justifiably famished! We ordered our food – goat meat stew and rice all around; the best I’ve had in a while, I have to say. Very satisfied with our food [and service], we called for the bill and offered to pay by credit card, something we’d done regularly throughout the trip. We were then informed that the credit card machine wasn’t working as the electricity was out for the day. Right! We had enough cash to barely cover the cost of our meal AND we had only a 100 kms of petrol left in the tank. A troll of the town proved futile in our search for an ATM that worked. A panicked glance at the map and queries from a nearby office tagged “Tourist information centre” revealed that the closest town with petrol and/or a functional ATM was at least 150 kms away; schuks! the South Africans would say! When mine and Miss M’s genius failed, Mr T stepped in and suggested that we ask the restaurant to trust us, give us the little cash we have back to buy some petrol to at least get to the next town with both amenities and we’d transfer the money to cover our meal into their bank account once we were back in SA. Thankfully, our benefactor, the manager of the fine establishment in question, was a Shona-speaking Zimbabwean like Mr T. Quick, unintelligible words were spoken between them; a smile, a handshake and an exchange of relevant details later, we were in our ride, with enough petrol to get us well on our way. We only noticed then, how hot it was in Kang; we were drenched! We drove to the border with one stop along only for more petrol. We left Botswana just before dusk vowing vehemently to make it our last visit, given the string of bad luck and lacking hospitality! We finally drove into Jo’burg close to 11pm that night, exhausted, our heads filled with giddy details of the last few days

Nearly 5000 kms later, Miss M, Mr T and I viewed our experience as a lot of fun, everything a decent road trip should be

Some of my last days in SA were spent with Miss M’s family in the Eastern Cape, located close to Cape Town. That involved nearly a whole day of driving, attending a wedding and frolicking on the beach, amongst other things. My final days were spent in the Drakensberg (the Alps of South Africa, I’m told) area with Miss M and a few other friends, just enjoying the fresh breeze and scenic presence of the mountains. My flight back to London was somewhat surreal, it felt like somehow my trip was not over, could not be over…it took the freezing cold of the airport in Heathrow to jar me from my stupor

ps. I hope everyone is having a lovely holiday. I still haven't gotten round to trolling through the thousands of photos i've taken in recent months to sort them out and upload a few for your viewing pleasure. I will get round to it at some point and let you know once they are uploaded

Volunteering - the final verdict

Alas folks, my volunteering experience is over. I still remember the moment I decided I come volunteering in Africa. I’d gone through several miserable months [in fact years] of working and knew I wanted a break to go traveling, a desire my parents vetoed, completely in awe of this unfounded wanderlust and genuinely concerned that it would be unsafe for me to do it alone. Ever the respectful daughter, I went away and tried to think of a “safer” option that would allay their fears. In said moment, I recalled a conversation I’d had with one of my favourite people one summer’s day in a friendly Nando’s restaurant in London many moons before, where we’d had a detailed, thought-provoking chat about our longer-term life goals. It was truly one of those light-bulb-lighting-in-my-head decisions - automatic, firm, pleasing to my mind and heart AND incidentally to the family. Deciding where to go and who to volunteer with took some research but were fairly straightforward decisions. The enormity and finality of it all didn’t hit me till the day I handed in my notice at work, when my boss expressed dismay and surprise at my decision. But it was short-lived. Doubt and insecurity didn’t rear their ugly heads till about the week prior to my departure, when all of a sudden, I could think of a basketful of reasons why this was an absurd, impulsive, childish pursuit of God-knows-what. I was assured that it was just last moment jitters…it didn’t feel that way, especially not when I had to say my goodbyes or when I was all checked in and watched tears gather in my mother’s eyes…all that feels like such a long time ago…

Nearly 7 months later, I can say, in a rather clichéd way, that this is one of the best things I’ve done with my life. The memories I’ve gathered and documented here will be with me forever and for my friends, brace yourselves, my stories are bound to bore you in years to come :D. Some said it would be great, I underestimated how great; some said they knew people who didn’t like their experiences, how could they not?

I’ve received several emails, comments on facebook and on some of my posts here, applauding my efforts. I’m grateful for all these and if there was ever a time I doubted myself, those encouragements obliterated that feeling. I’ve met so many wonderful people in all the countries I’ve visited who were supportive and encouraged what I was doing, which more than compensated for the few who viewed what I was doing with some scorn, prejudice or somehow thought me unqualified for the role

I’m especially grateful to my best friends and family without whose support, I probably would have buckled somewhere along the way. From the thought-provoking interactions that led to the decision to embark on this journey, to the encouragement that it was the right thing to do and the right time to do it, to the suggestions of what to name the blog, what to take on the journey, travel tid-bits, kind words, those who offered me a place to sleep, those who faithfully read and commented on the blog; words really cannot express my gratitude. I’m also thankful for my faithful battalion of blog followers; hope you’ve enjoyed reading my stories and managed to live vicariously through me! :D

Midway through my journey, I started receiving emails asking questions regarding what I’d enjoyed so far, what hadn’t worked so well, the best country I’d visited, best volunteer experience, etc. Thought I’d wait till the end of the volunteer experience to express a fair opinion on these questions. Would start with this caveat though: each experience was unique and rewarding in its own way and if I had to do the trip all over again, would definitely not exclude any of them. So, on that note here goes

Zanzibar
You’ve seen the pictures and I’m sure cannot deny that Zanzibar is beautiful by any measure! The white sandy beaches, perfect sunrises and sunsets, [usually] friendly dolphins, great snorkeling and scuba diving opportunities, just to name a few. It has to get 5 stars for aesthetics…note that this vote in my mind is marginal to Mozambique and Cape Town. The volunteering experience, while not the most challenging, was perfect for the start of the trip. It had the right level of intensity and challenge and taught me a few valuable lessons that perhaps helped enrich my other experiences

Kenya
Hands down, should receive 5 stars for the most challenging volunteer experience. I was forced to step out of my comfort zone, focus on the job at hand and more importantly, think about the best way to apply myself. Also have to say that I admire the fact that Kenyans are reaching out to their own and it was great to note that Kenyans run all the NGOs that Fadhili works with. Kenya, like many an African country, is plagued with many problems and it’s refreshing to see that some can rise above the mayhem and show love and care for others. These NGOs may not be perfectly run but their efforts are definitely a step in the right direction

Mozambique
Receives 5 stars as a holiday destination. I’m talking about the total package here: beautiful scenery, a host of activities to indulge in: horseback riding, snorkeling, scuba diving, surfing, island hopping, etc; delightful cuisine and prices that offer good value for money. Getting there by plane is expensive but for me, it was worth every penny. If you ever had to travel there, would highly recommend flying to Jo’burg and driving or busing it to Moz. I admit that my volunteer experience there was ever so slightly soured by some of my sentiment toward the management style but it was still a good experience. I think the project has a potential for expansion and could definitely be improved on a few grounds – reaching out to the medical community, more widespread HIV education, liaising with the schools for reading and art clubs, etc

Zambia
I really enjoyed my Zambia experience because it exposed me to a very wide range of things and showed me what a well-run project can achieve. I’ll give it 5 stars for breadth and impact on the community. I was always on my toes in my time there: be it teaching, building, working with the old folk, farming, etc. While I didn’t get involved in all aspects of the project, I know that the other volunteers who did get to work on the parts that I missed, had a lot of positive things to say about their experiences

St Lucia, South Africa
I shall give a 5 star rating for its HIV education efforts. It had the most structured effort and the impact of AI’s efforts here were the most far-reaching. Overall, the project was also well run and offered an abundance of good experience to all the volunteers. It was also the first project that exposed me to working with very young children, an experience I didn’t expect to find quite as enjoyable as I did

Cape Town, South Africa
I considered CT my best city experience in the whole trip. It had the amazing combination of perfect scenery and modern convenience. I’d recommend it as a stop for all you city lovers out there. While I didn’t experience any of the more negative aspects of what city life tends to offer, I’ve been told that CT can be unfriendly. Though for the more savvy amongst you, this should almost not be a problem for you. If I managed to survive unscathed, I’m sure many others can. The volunteer experience on the other hand was not as challenging though I have to give a 5 star rating to the young ones I worked with here. They were the most fun and interactive: from their fervent hugs and kisses each morning when I walked through the school gates, to their inquisitive and intelligent questions and their love for all things fun! I even learnt a thing or two from them

For the other countries I visited: Uganda gave me the opportunity to do something daring and adventurous; if anyone had told me 8 months ago that I’d try bungee jumping at any stage in my life, I would’ve laughed them in the face. Though I will not be paying anyone money to terrify myself that much again, I’m glad I tried it. Swaziland was very picturesque and exposed me to some beautiful aspects of African culture. If anyone finds themselves in SA, would definitely recommend making a stop there, if even for a couple of days, just to check it out

The trip has no doubt taught me a lot of things and to list them all here would be near impossible. But I just want to shed some light on a few of the personal and other “revelations”
o I love children and being around them. I think they represent everything that is real and beautiful in this life: innocence, the ability to give unrequited, unconditional love, unbridled trust, fearlessness [admittedly, likely backed by naiveté], being non-judgmental, the ability to forgive AND forget, youthful exuberance, the ability to experience joy in its purest form, the ability to dream and remain undeterred in the belief that they can come true, etc. In them I’ve seen ghosts of myself; shadows and memories of who I once was, now dimmed by the lull of adulthood. I’ve relished my time with them and while I have no teaching ambitions, have thoroughly enjoyed the teaching experience
o My experiences exposed me to so many issues on our dear continent that I was hitherto ignorant about. I have managed to garner a full appreciation of some of these issues and ways in which we can help. While I’ve worked hard in the last few months, there is still so much more to be done. I will certainly be attempting to brainwash my African friends [at least] to chip in their two cents of help. More than ever, my belief that the solutions to some of the problems in Africa will only emerge if we start to effect changes at a micro level, has been confirmed!
o Wanderlust is a great thing; how dull, ignorant and unimaginative life is if we don’t travel and see; experience the way of life of other people; get to appreciate what a beautiful world we live in. I have become its humble servant and will definitely be doing more traveling in the years to come, contingent on good finances and a healthy, long life of course

I’m off to Namibia and Botswana now, so you haven’t heard the last from me. I will be in touch as soon as I can with news of my experiences traveling around these countries. Can’t believe that in approximately two weeks, I will be back in England again!

Final words on CT

Much like my time in St Lucia, I don’t know how the last four weeks went by so quickly. I know musing about the passage of time has become a recurring theme in my posts but man can you blame me? Two and a half weeks or so left till I’m in cold, freezing London; a thought which only accentuates my paranoia with the sand-through-the-hour-glass-like flow of time. Anyway, I’m still savouring the experience and making the most of what’s left of my time on the road

With Christmas drawing closer, a lot of my work has been accordingly themed and I’m reminded of how much fun this time of the year can be for the younger ones. The kids at the crèche had their end of year ceremony, which involved a performance of sorts and a graduation ceremony. We dressed them as all sorts of animals, which involved some face painting (man than was a ball!) and mask creation (I tell you, my creative skills, or a lack thereof, have been seriously tested in the last week). The performance itself was splendid; the parents, the teachers and I were full of chuckles and cheers as we watched these little people bring the house down! That was at the end of last week. We’ve spent most of this week decorating Christmas trees and talking about what the holidays mean to us. We’ve been singing carols and really swinging with the holiday mood…it almost feels like Christmas is next week :D. Anyway, seeing as school ends next week, the Christmas obsession at this stage is perfectly understandable (or maybe I’m just in denial of how close Christmas really is)

I finally got to see the summit of table mountain and boy was it an experience! The mountain is well over a thousand feet tall and the sight from its lofty heights is beyond words; CT in all of its splendour, visible from all angles. Few sights make me say “wow” and this was definitely one of them. I hiked across the mountaintop to catch the view and while there are only so many photos one could take, I went all out!

Last Saturday, a couple of the other volunteers and I got on a tour bus to see the rest of the city. We visited the city centre and drove by some museums (which I’ve earmarked to visit this weekend) and other important landmarks. The highlight of the tour for me was when we drove through Camps Bay, which is a gorgeous strip of beach on the other side of table mountain. It’s such a beautiful place though the vibe in that area is very Miami-like – lots of bikini-clad bodies on the beach and walking the streets, loud-music-driven cars, bars and restaurants suitable for a wide spectrum of people, etc. While the vibe was not to my liking, the scenery and food on offer more than compensated for that. The mountains nearby were covered in expensive, luxury homes supposedly owned by the rich and famous in South Africa. For the yet-to-be-famous, a trip to CT is incomplete without a trip to Camps Bay

Sunday was a more relaxed day. Slept in [read: woke up at lunchtime] and said goodbyes to a big group of fellow volunteers who were done with volunteering and journeying on home or continuing with their travels. As the house emptied, my imminent departure dawned heavily on me. Rather than depress myself with morbid thoughts, I got on the train and met up with another volunteer to check out a street concert that was being held ahead of the switching on of Christmas lights throughout the city later that night. It turned out to be rather anti-climatic – the streets began to crowd up very quickly soon after we arrived, with the bulk of the population being of the chav breed and a few of them looked like they enjoyed causing trouble. Needless to say, we were out of there way before the sun considered setting

The plan this Friday is to go see the final draw for the team groupings in the FIFA world cup. There is a concert being held in commemoration of it and have to confess that I’m more interested in that than the actual draw. I’ll be seeing a couple of museums in town on Saturday, then going for an open air concert in Kirstenbosch Gardens on Sunday. In between those activities, I must make time for packing as I head over to Jo’burg on Monday to meet up with Miss M for the holiday phase of the trip. The plan is to visit Namibia and Botswana over a 10-day period after which I shall spend my last few days in SA with Miss M and her family before I head home

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time in CT and as previously mentioned, think it an apt end to my volunteering experience. I will miss the city and think I will be back someday to relive my tourist experiences here. Saying bye to the project will be especially hard because this goodbye will be the real one. An end to a truly amazing experience

Surviving Cape Town

Since I’ve already established that CT cannot be considered part of Africa, it is easy to explain why my work-life balance has tilted ever so slightly to the “life” part. I HAVE been working; don’t get me wrong but nothing as challenging as my previous volunteer experiences. Funny enough, I did not factor the potential for this into my thinking when I booked the trip so it’s worked out rather nicely for me. I’m having a mini holiday before my real holiday, which would mark the end of the trip…which I will not whine about at this stage but can’t deny that when the thought crosses my mind unpleasant things happen inside me. Now, waffling aside, the real point of this post is to talk about my recent activities in CT so here goes

The kids at the pre-school have been my main preoccupation work-wise. As with all my crèche/pre-school experiences, this has been equally enjoyable. In fact more enjoyable simply for the fact that the kids speak near perfect English (in addition to Afrikaans and Xhosa (pronounced: click-sound-osa; will let you have fun with that!) – very impressive especially considering they are age 4 on average) which makes communication all the more easy AND interesting. Some of the things they do and say take me right back to my childhood and it’s odd how easy I can relate given that I’m over twenty years older than them. One 6 year old has a Michael Jackson obsession and he randomly breaks out into song (more so recently when he noticed that I sing along with him; fun!) and has moonwalking and break-dancing down to an art. Some of them have started to develop wit and perceptiveness - we were talking about weight the other day and one of them pointed out that I can’t be considered fat but ALMOST fat. The other teachers and I could not help but burst out laughing at this rather astute observation - just got to love it! A few of them are rather naughty and taming them can pose some challenge but their lovely, gregarious ways more than over compensate for these frustrations. These kids are beautiful, full of life and each talented in their own way. I pray they grow up in a South Africa that allows them to flourish

Helping out at the orphanage has also been fun! The work I’ve been involved in so far has mostly involved running reading and Math workshops with the kids as a supplement to what they are taught at school. As previously mentioned, these are terrific kids who have an abundance of resources (certainly in relative terms) at their disposal. They are in want for nothing and have an existence akin to any regular kid in SA (or the West, I dare say). Being around them always puts a smile on my face - from their sly antics to their jokes and vivacious personalities

A funny observation has been made in the time we’ve spent working in Masiphumelele. On one of its more deserted streets, there is a colourfully painted wall protecting a small wooden cottage and right in the middle of the wall is a white coloured slot. The words: “Baby Rescue” are boldly emblazoned on this wall. Add this to the slot and someone came up with the theory that this could be a shelter of some sort where mothers who don’t want their babies, for whatever reason, can deposit them (through the slot) thereby maintaining anonymity. Apparently, under the slot dwells a nice, comfy baby cot that the abandoned babies would fall into and is checked once a day. The flaws with this theory [which was parroted as the truth for a while] are manifold but the one that first sprung to mind was: “what do these poor babies do if they get “dropped” off hours before the cot is checked?” Or “what if three or four kids are dropped off before the cot gets checked; do they just climb over each other and play house?” Anyway, it turns out that after all the debates this baby rescue place has nothing at all to do with rescuing babies. We still don’t know why it’s there but humour lies in the fact that we spent time, nearly each occasion we drove past, debating something that was so ludicrous an idea to begin with!

The fun side of things commenced on my first weekend. Friday afternoon (we tend to have these off work) was spent checking out the infamous Waterfront area after a failed attempt to climb Table Mountain (for weather-related reasons). The area has an eclectic mix of malls, arts and crafts shops, restaurants, cafes and a large arena for various entertainment acts. It is quite the tourist destination and most of the people there were whipping out their cameras for shots at every corner. Dinner that day was at a cozy restaurant called the Octopus Garden in one of the nearby towns called St James. The owner had gone through a phase in the past where all visitors were allowed to write on the walls of the restaurant. Reading these random scribbles made by people in days gone past was one source of entertainment. The other was when one of our fellow volunteers sat at the piano in the middle of the restaurant to display his, hitherto unknown, musical talent. The whole restaurant was singing along to various ballads soon enough…of course this was way past the main course, dessert and drinks…pure comedy!

The Saturday was spent with a bunch of the other volunteers on a tour of vineyards around CT. The wine connoisseurs amongst you will know that SA, specifically CT, is famous for its relatively recent wine history and offering. We got to see vineyards in the Stellenboch, Franschoek and Paarl areas and have to say, it was pretty good wine and though I’ve never visited a vineyard or wine factory, they all seemed well run. We were also taught the art of wine tasting, which was an interesting [read: humourous] experience. It was a whole day affair and after all the wine tasting and gallivanting, we were ready for a big meal and bed!

On Sunday, a few of us hired a car and drove out to the Kirstenboch National Botanical Gardens, which was a far better experience than I envisaged. The garden is littered with SA’s national flower – the protea in almost every colour imaginable. The lawns are all green and perfectly mowed; various ponds and statuettes scattered across its uneven layout. CT’s full mountain range is in close proximity and appears to loom over this picturesque haven. There were different species of birds floating about and we even spotted an owl and its young, resting in a friendly tree. It was a perfect day and many a family were making good use of it – picnicking in the greens, playing Frisbee, kids chasing butterflies, everyone seemingly blissful. It took us a few hours to tour the whole garden and we retired to one of its restaurants for a scrumptious lunch. We then drove around Cape Town and made our to one of the towns on its outskirts [can’t quite recall the name now] to spend our evening listening to Joyce Meyer speak. I didn’t really know who she was prior to this and as I haven’t been to church in a while, have to say that she did have an inspiring thing or two to say, obliterating my initial apprehension at tagging along with the other volunteers to this event. All in all, it was a great day!

The following weekend was relatively tame: Friday afternoon was spent checking out the popular Boulder’s Beach, located in Simon’s town, which is close to Fishoek. Boulder’s Beach is home to the African penguin and we spent half an hour or so watching these little fun creatures frolic about on the shores of the Atlantic. We then made our way up to Cape Point and Cape of Good Hope, apparently the south western most part of Africa. The view from the clock tower at the tip of Cape Point was absolutely stunning; pictures just don’t do it justice I think! For the umpteenth time, I found myself swept away by the beauty of this country

On Saturday morning, I hopped on the train (yes, these folks actually have a train system that works!) and spent some time in the buzzing CT metropolis having a wander around and sorting out my hair, amongst other things. I then met up with one of my volunteer friends for lunch in the town centre and a trip back to the Waterfront. We hopped on to a boat cruise, which took us round to see all of the CT harbour area, with Table Mountain in clear view from the ocean. Our tour guide was funny and witty, making the experience all the more fun. We stumbled upon a rather entertaining, FREE open-air concert thereafter, ending our day with a bang!

Sunday morning was spent checking out Robben Island, previously home to many a political prisoner, not only from SA but actually worldwide. The boat ride across lasted 20 minutes or so and we were given a full tour of the island, including one of the prisons, where we saw the tiny cell Nelson Mandela spent 18 years inhabiting. Our tour guides described, in detail, the morbid circumstances under which the prison was run and gave us a good history lesson of the roles various countries played in South Africa’s history, specifically in the evolution and abolishment of apartheid. The island, very beautiful and rich in history has become more of a tourist attraction and some of its buildings are used to host international conferences and such. We got home late that afternoon and had a barbecue to celebrate our sun-filled existence and again, ended our day with a bang!

As you can see, I’ve been very hard at work. Having fun is not always easy, but someone has to do it! I will try to “survive” the rest of my time in CT :D

Swaziland!

I hadn’t planned to dedicate a separate post to describing my weekend in Swaziland but as it turns out, I’ve spent most of my other weekends in St Lucia bumming around and not doing anything particularly exciting or new so the Swazi weekend was as much adventure as I’ve afforded myself in the last month (excluding the run-in with the wave that claimed my camera’s life, of course). Hope you find it at least somewhat entertaining. Apologies in advance for not being able to provide photos from the trip; it was the week after the demise of my camera, when I still harboured a delusional version of hope that it could be fixed

First, the geography lesson: Swaziland is one of 2 countries located within South Africa [the other being Lesotho, located farther south]. It also borders Mozambique to the North East. Swaziland is actually a kingdom and [I cringe a little as I say this but still think it a fair comparison] bears a lot of similarity to the kingdom depicted in the movie: “Coming to America”. The trip was Miss M’s idea and since she lives in Jo’burg, a good 5 -6 hours drive away from me, arranging the logistics of getting there worked out to be a tad tricky. After juggling a few options, it was decided the best solution was for me to rent a car from St Lucia and drive to a town midway to Swazi for both of us (she and her boyfriend (BF henceforth) would be driving down from Jo’burg) and we’d journey on to Swazi from there. Now, for those of you that don’t know me well, I’m hardly the most experienced driver out there. In fact I only passed my UK driving test in April this year so agreeing to this was a rather bold [read: risqué] move on my part. I was fairly confident that I could pull it off though, so that Friday afternoon, I got into my rented car, tuned in to a radio station with decent music, laid out my map on the passenger seat next to me, and with my heart thumping at full speed, I embarked on my journey. I drove for 5 hours to get to Piet Retief, the town I referenced earlier and for the most part it was long stretches of clear road. I built up my confidence and even overtook a few cars along the way. The trickiest part was when I came to a rather long stretch of road where there were some road works going on and it seemed like all of a sudden, 6- 8 foot long commercial trucks surfaced out of no where. Driving around them was pretty damn scary, to put it mildly. I ordered myself a large burger to congratulate myself on my achievement of getting [myself and the car] there unscathed and to kill time while waiting for Miss M and BF to arrive. By the time they did arrive, we were running seriously late for making it to the border before it was closed for the night. Miss M, a far more experienced driver than me, took over the wheels and drove like a deranged lunatic to get us there… BF in tow. We made it just in time, quite literally having to run through immigration, road tax, etc. We drove for another hour or so to get to the Ezulweni Valley in Swazi where our hotel was located. It was late at this stage, pitch black outside and hours of driving and chatting had left us all spent and ready for bed!

We were up bright and early the next morning as we’d booked ourselves in for half a day of white water rafting on the Usutu river. Breakfast was a hurried affair and we soon made our way to the office of the rafting company, which was located nearby from the hotel, thankfully. We had to then get driven from the office for an hour or so to somewhere near Mbabane (Swazi’s capital) where we’d then hop onto the river. Our fellow rafting chums were on the bus with us. It was a morning of fun! Though it has to be said that nothing beats white water rafting on the Nile. The rapids were on Usutu a lot tamer in comparison. The banks of the river were, in some parts, lined with the most extraordinary looking rocks I’ve ever seen. They looked like they’d be sculpted but there were actually natural and came in all colours and shapes. The scariest part of the rafting session was when we came to a damn and had to go down a steep slope about 4 metres deep. We felt that in the pit of our bellies! Miss M and BF shared a raft while I shared one with one of the guides. My raft never tipped over whilst theirs tipped over quite a few times! Fun! The morning zapped by quickly and we soon had to make our way back to our hotel to relax and organize ourselves for the rest of the day

We had a gander through a Swazi newspaper [well it was more like a brochure] to glean ideas of things to do. We found an interesting-looking restaurant and thought we’d check it out. It turned out to be way more than we expected. The restaurant was in a resort – the Hawane (pronounced: Hawanee) Resort, it was called. And the chef there had an array of African dishes on menu; boy did we eat our hearts out! And every single morsel of food was divine. Put 3 food lovers in front of food that good and expect them to have a field day! Nothing went to waste! The view from the resort was a stunning one: it was on a hill so we could see rows of mountains and valleys ahead, all covered in green. It was breathtaking and we were so sad we hadn’t booked ourselves into that resort, as the price was similar to what we were paying at our hotel, but with all this on offer! After dinner, we chilled with glasses of wine in the lounge area and had a rather intense conversation that took us into the wee hours of the morning; religion, marriage, African cultures, family, banking (an odd one to add to the mix but being an ex banker and with Miss M and BF still in the banking world, we were bound to touch on the subject at some point), just to name a few. It was a great conversation; one I’m bound to remember for a while to come. We almost got kicked out of Hawane, so we took our fun to another hotel, where we ordered cups of tea and tried to wind down. We finally made it home, very sad that it was our final night in Swazi

We woke up reasonably early the next morning as we wanted to do some more sightseeing and were keen to avoid leaving too late as we all had work early the next day. We went to see the Phophoyane (pronounced: poponyanee) water falls, which wasn’t much it turned out, but was recommended as a must-see by a friend of Miss M. On the way out to the border, we passed by a dam (can’t recall the name now) but boy was it beautiful. We drove to the top of the dam and marveled at the beauty of the river down below. Its banks were covered with a mixture of lush green vegetation and rocks, similar to the ones we saw on the Usutu river. Overall, driving through Swazi showed that its landscape was stunning: mountains, valleys, rivers, all surrounded by lush, lush green. There were lots of gum trees as well, which were pretty but BF gave me a little history lesson which revealed that these trees are grown to feed the paper production efforts of one of the largest paper producers in the world. These trees are not indigenous to the habitat but were there solely for commercial purposes. They are cut down and new ones planted every 30 years or so. The effects of these efforts have been far reaching; its affected rainfall patterns, wild life movement and habitation, amongst other things. Parts of South Africa have also been subjected to such changes and in some cases complete eco systems have been eroded or replaced as a result. I was quite sad to hear this cause I felt it sort of took away from the beauty of it all. Swazi is a very sparsely populated country and sometimes we’d drive for miles before seeing houses or signs of human life

Sad and reluctant to end our weekend of fun, Miss M, BF and I parted ways at Piet Retief, after grabbing some hot wings from the nearest Chicken Licken! It just had to be done! We were met with very heavy rain during part of our journey to Piet Retief and I hoped that I wouldn’t meet this sort of weather on my way to St Lucia. My luck was not shining that day as half way to St Lucia a massive thunderstorm began. I drove as carefully as I could and after what felt like a whole day, I finally arrived at the house safe and sound

Travel tales - getting to Livingstone

Getting to Livingstone in Zambia was supposed to be as straightforward as getting to any of the other destinations in my trip. However, things did not quite go according to plan, which made the journey all the more interesting. The outcome could have been disastrous but my luck was shining the whole way through and I made it to Livingstone unscathed

The journey from Vilanculos to Jo’burg went smoothly. I was driven to the airport, checked in and ready to board the plane, all in record time. There was even time to sit with the project managers, who dropped me off, for a decent goodbye chat. Two hours after take-off, we arrived in Jo’burg and I breezed through immigration and grabbed my luggage. I had 2 hours till my flight to Lusaka [Zambia’s capital], more than enough time to do all the things I had on my to-do list. First off, I was due to meet Miss M to collect some medical supplies my sister had mailed over a few weeks ago. She was a few minutes late but that did not really have a huge bearing on timing. She stayed with me as I checked in and we went to grab a quick coffee thereafter. I left her about 45 minutes to boarding time. I had to buy some toiletries [which I clearly could not get in Zambia??] and get some cash from the forex bureau [again, my expectations of Zambia were that low. Nope, I definitely won’t be able to access cash there!]. The queue at the forex bureau was substantial. Stubborn and delusional, I persisted, telling myself that 20 minutes was nothing and that I would make it to the gate well in time! I got my cash alright, then turned up 15 minutes to take-off and not only was the gate closed, there was no one in sight, not even the airport staff. Several desks down, one of the SAA (South African Airways) staff informed me, with some regret that I was not going to be on the flight to Lusaka that night. Feeling an imminent panic attack [I’ve never missed a flight in my life, what the hell do you do in that situation??], I swiftly calmed myself down and shifted gears to wing-it mode. I asked the attendant to explain to me what I had to do to get on the next available flight. My next step was to go to the SAA main desk, pay a penalty for missing my flight and book myself onto the next one. It was easy enough to find; the attendant there was very helpful, the price for my folly was £10, I can live with that. She then directed me to the baggage claim area for “offloads” to retrieve my luggage. Again, no sweat, luggage was in hand in a matter of minutes. It was about 7.30pm at night and I had been booked onto a flight for 10.50am the next morning. I phoned Miss L, my good friend and ex housemate, who was supposed to meet me at the airport in Lusaka that night and with whom I was planning to spend a day before going down to Livingstone. She laughed at my predicament [in a good natured way] and agreed to meet me at the airport in Lusaka the next morning instead. “Right! Where do I spend the night?” was the next obvious question. Thinking I could crash with Miss M, I tried calling her several times, unsuccessfully. Then I remembered her saying she was going to be working late that day, possibly till about midnight so it would clearly have been an inconvenience to her. I would have to sort this out myself. I was told at the airport tourist desk that airport accommodation was non-existent, the nearest hotel was over-priced [or I was too poor to afford it], and so my best bet was to get into one of the cheap guesthouses located in the vicinity. The lady at the desk was kind enough to give me couple of brochures to choose from. The arrivals hall at OR Tambo Airport was actually filled with sales people for quite a few of these guesthouses and they approach one with a sales pitch they note any signs of loitering. An affable chap strolled up to me and started his pitch. He seemed friendly enough and offered me a discount price compared to those listed in the brochures I’d been given earlier. The deal included transport from and to the airport, bed and breakfast, for a whopping £30. I went with my instincts and agreed to be taken to his guesthouse, which was apparently 7 minutes away. In truly hospitable fashion, he took my luggage and helped me find a comfortable spot in the hall while we waited for the car and driver to arrive [he’d put a call in for one once our deal was agreed]. We got on to talking and he told me about his studies at a university in Cape Town; his ambition was to set up a not-for-profit organization to spread the use of internet across the African continent and we discussed exactly how that would work. He then told me the background to his involvement in the guesthouse work – just a little something he was doing to make some cash. The establishment was owned by his pastor (as in the leader of his church). He was Congolese but had a Zambian name [he was named after his dad’s friend] and had lived most of his life in South Africa. We had a good conversation, which didn’t last long because the driver soon turned up. It was when I sat in the car that it dawned on me that this could be a complete hoax and that I could be driven to the middle of nowhere and killed or God-knows-what! Feeling another panic attack coming on, I calmed myself down and looked at my watch – 7 minutes he said it would take; if we were not there in that time, I would jump out of the car or start acting like a deranged lunatic! I sent Miss M a text to tell her what was happening, at least that way someone else knew my whereabouts. I noted every landmark on the way and watched the driver’s every move like a hawk. We got to the guesthouse about 10 minutes after we left the airport. At the 7-minute mark I noticed that we were in a built-up area, which gave me some comfort. The guesthouse was in a decent residential area and looked like a legitimate business; I recognized the logo emblazoned all over the entrance; it matched the brochure the Congolese chap had showed me earlier on. I was all checked in and showed to my room before I was completely relaxed about the whole thing. The staff was very friendly and my comfort seemed to be a priority. I think there were only 2 other guests that night in the 10-bedroom establishment. The room was very nice, with a rather chic bathroom and comfortable bed. I shut all the windows, took a nice long shower and received a timely phone call from Miss M. She was even more panicked than I was in the car. She gave me all her numbers in case of an emergency and cautioned me to take care of myself. I explained how things went down with missing the flight and getting to the guesthouse. At this point, the whole experience had whittled down to a humorous event and I calmed her down and made her see it as such. I was to inform her once I was checked in and on the flight the next morning. I had one of the best night’s sleep in my life that evening. Breakfast was prepared and served by the Congolese dude; it was actually pretty good: toast, a very tasty omelette with bacon, mushrooms and onions. It was all washed down with a nice cup of tea. Fully stuffed and keen to NOT miss my flight, I made my way to the airport. I arrived at 8.30am on the dot, my scheduled reported time. I breezed through check-in and security checks; I even had time to go online for a bit. I was at the gate 30 minutes prior to the required time. It was only when I was on the plane that I heaved a sigh of relief and completely relaxed. Two hours or so later, we touched down in Lusaka

Miss L was there as promised and we soon hopped into the back of her friend’s car for a short drive to town (Miss L was on holiday and staying with her family in Kitwe [pronounced Kitway], located a good 4 hours’ drive away from Lusaka so we were going to be spending the night with one of her friends who resides in Lusaka). The drive showed that Lusaka was a lot like Accra; the blazing heat gave it an even more familiar feel. We got home and were digging into a good plate of Nshima and chicken stew in no time. We relaxed that afternoon, chatting, watching some TV and cracking jokes. I regaled them with tales of my “adventures” from the previous night. They commended me for my courage: apparently in the hierarchy of Africans that cannot be trusted, Congolese rank second, after Nigerians [can’t say I disagree with that] and before South Africans, so the gods were truly smiling down at me! [All said, very tongue-in-cheek, clearly] That evening, we went to a nearby bar called Rhapsody’s for a few drinks and more jokes! It was good. When we retired for the evening, I was about to go into my suitcase when I realized that it had been broken into. I have a pretty sturdy lock on my bag so the culprit could not break it and resorted to tampering with the zip. They had rummaged through my case (I could tell from the moment I opened it; complete ruckus) and strangely took an 8G memory card I kept as spare, leaving the empty case for me?? I think they attempted to steal my sunglasses, but those have seen better days and are practically falling apart so obviously not worth much. Thankfully, that morning I had decided to keep all my chargers and valuable electronics in my hand luggage, something I don’t always do…pretty damn lucky! Apparently OR Tambo Airport in Jo’burg is notorious for thefts and tampered luggage so I got the first taste of it. At least I didn’t lose anything valuable

The next morning, we had a nice breakfast and found a place to sort out my hair (it seems that locks have become quite the craze all over the continent and I’ve not had a problem finding decent places to get a touch-up every so often and for good prices – something I can’t say I expected when I set out on my trip). I was then put on a bus to get me to Livingstone, reticent to bid Miss L and friend goodbye. The bus ride felt so much longer than the 8 hours it took. Exhausted and ready for bed, I was grateful to be met at the station by the AI staff. The accommodation was 5 minutes away from the station and before long I was enjoying a nice hot shower, unpacked and tucked into bed. I slept well that night

It was also just as well that it was my birthday the next day. The AI coordinators were kind enough to give me an “easy” day. I had a brief induction since I’ve been through a standard AI induction a couple of times already. I was driven around to see the very multi-faceted project – more on that soon. I got to appreciate the AI camp, a cluster of buildings that houses up to 30 people; currently home to 25 odd volunteers. I share a room with 2 other girls and we have an en-suite bathroom, complete with 24 hr hot water, woohoo!!! Our room is in the main building, which also has the kitchen, a large dining area and a fully stocked bar (which runs on a tab system – very dangerous!). The next significant building has a large lounge where we spend most evenings watching DVDs and chatting about daily activities. There is an office for the AI staff that also has wireless internet, yay!! That evening, they surprised me with a very pretty and delicious cake; someone down the road was having a barbecue, so most of us went along and I got to taste crocodile meat for the first time! Very good actually, it tastes like very good chicken. It was a lovely day and I had a peaceful sleep that night, the events of the last few days but a distant memory

The Tofo trip

I initially had no intention of dedicating a post to the Tofo (pronounced Tofu, funny enough) trip but it was fantastic so thought I’d share the experience. Here goes!

At the very unfriendly hour of 3am last Thursday, I was up together with my deck-sleeping friend (DSF henceforth), to get ready for the trip. We were dropped off at the bus station and were on our way by about 04:10. The bus turned out to be a whole lot better than we imagined. It was a large coach that seated about 80 people. There were no goats, chickens or babies being passed over from one passenger to the next, as someone got tired of holding them. It was hardly crammed with some people even have 2 – 3 seats to themselves. Everyone was half asleep so the bus was rather quiet for most of the ride. It took about 4.5 hours to get to Maxixe (pronounced Masheesh), the town we were due to alight at for the next leg of our trip. Maxixe was reasonably well developed; nicely tarred roads, large billboards, decent-looking buildings. We were dropped off next to a bus station, adjacent to something of a shopping complex. At that time of the morning, the street was buzzing with vendors and as we alighted the bus, there were at least 5 people shoving wares in our faces. We found our way to the pier where we were to catch a ferry to Inhambane (pronounce Inhambani), the next stop in our journey. We arrived just in time to catch the next dhow (essentially a ferry) heading out. This time, we were crammed into the little boat with the other passengers. I cast a glance overhead and noticed life jackets; enough for all 40 or so of us – some reassurance, I thought. It was a slow, uneventful ride. Most of the passengers looked very bored; 30 minutes or so later we were there. We made our way to the bus station to catch our final bus to Tofo. En route, DSF and I were trying to find directions when a very dodgy looking guy (think he was South African; Mozambique is THE holiday destination for South Africans; most of them have second homes there) offered to take us. DSF thought him friendly but I made it clear that I was not getting into a car with him.
After about an hour of riding on a bus that was not too dissimilar to a small London bus, we arrived in Tofo. We were dropped off at the town centre, which had a market and a host of restaurants. Tofo is pretty much a holiday/tourist town. There are hardly any houses, just resorts, backpackers’ lodges, hotels, restaurants and such. The beach was in full view from our alighting point. We’d already decided where we would be staying after a good perusal of my lonely planet guide. With little effort, we found the backpackers’ lodge, a quaint place facing the beach that goes by the name Fatima’s nest. We went for the cheapest accommodation available – a dorm. We were given one that could accommodate 10 people but ended up being just us 2 as it’s still the low holiday season. We had our own bathroom and loo, complete with 24 hr hot water and electricity, woohoo! We dumped our bags, got acquainted with our surroundings and made it straight for the beach. The ocean had partitioned itself at one end of the beach such that a little pool had formed. We went swimming there, made friends with a dog I named Spikey (he looked like a Spikey and even better, he responded to the name!), who ended up spending the day with us. We had a late lunch at Fatima’s – pancakes with fried bananas and honey for me, which was very good actually. A plan was then formulated for how we’d spend the coming days. We chilled for the rest of the afternoon and evening, I was reading whilst DSF worked on her tan (apparently she would be laughed at if she didn’t go home several shades darker than she already was). We were quite the unlikely ebony and ivory pair

Dinner was at Dino’s, a lovely bar/restaurant just round the way. I had flame-grilled barracuda, with salad and chips; the best barracuda I’ve ever had, I must say. The food was so good, we decided to go all out and have dessert – moist chocolate cake. Man, it was just too good. We savoured the whole experience with Spikey laying comfortably at our feet. We retired shortly thereafter

DSF had me sold on the idea of taking surfing lessons. It was inexpensive, didn’t sound like I’d be drowning or breaking anything so I thought I’d give it a try. After breakfast the next morning, we went to find our surfing instructor. We got lost on the way but it was a very nice walk along the beach, so not quite as frustrating as it would normally be. Once we found the place, we were soon clad in surfing gear, our boards in hand and listening to our introductory lecture along with 5 other newbies. Once we got into the water, the fun began. We waded around lying flat on our boards for a while, just to get comfortable with them and were soon riding the waves. The instructor then taught us the art of standing on the board mid-wave. The seemingly easy manoeuvre of moving from a flat position to standing on the board mid-wave was made cumbersome by the fact that none of us could even balance well on the board in a flat position and the waves broke in too short a time to allow for fumbling. We tried it many times, some were able to kneel or stand for a couple of seconds. Fully appreciative of my limited fitness levels, I gave up after a couple of attempts. Riding the waves on stomach were very good fun anyway so I was content to stick with that. To make things more interesting, I started ducking under the waves at some point. I never thought I’d be this comfortable swimming and playing around in the ocean. We were all very sad when our two-hour time slot was over. Ravenous and quite lethargic after our morning of fun, DSF and I made our way to a nearby restaurant called Casa Barry for a large lunch – grilled sealine fish with a garlic butter dressing, salad and chips. This was my best meal in Tofo. I don’t know what sealine fish is but it tastes damn good and was grilled to perfection! It was just as well then that it was slightly overcast when were done cause you know what we needed after that food – sleep! We spent the rest of the day laying on the beach. We lost Spikey though; it turns out he was friendly to everyone; we spotted him stalking another group of friends. So much for loyalty!

We decided to have a late dinner that Friday and catch some of the night scene at the beach. Dino’s was the place to be apparently so after dinner at Fatima’s - grilled barracuda (not half as good as what I had at Dino’s), chips and salad, we made our way to Dino’s with our new found friend – a German dude who was also staying at Fatima’s. Dino’s was reasonably packed and though everyone was having fun, house music is really not for me. Two hours later, a couple of drinks down and a nice headache forming, I excused myself. Our German friend was also practically falling asleep on his feet so he joined me in escaping. I was soon in bed, fast asleep

DSF came to bed at some point in the night, the wee hours I believe. She’s 18 and I’m trying to remember when I last went out partying till the wee hours of the morning without taking a nap in between…maybe about 8 years ago. She had a kite-surfing lesson in the morning, which didn’t work out in the end as the weather had deteriorated some more. It was almost starting to put a dent on things. We had wanted to go onto our next activity – an ocean safari, which would involve swimming and snorkeling with various sea creatures. It ended up getting cancelled though because of the bad weather. “Too choppy at sea to go out on a boat”, they said. We decided to hang out on the beach, buy some gifts in the market and have some lunch. Lunch for me was peri-peri chicken and chips; not the best I’ve ever had, I have to say, but it was pretty good. We left the restaurant with our new canine friend in tow, a lovely dobberman DSF named Sarah

The skies cleared by late afternoon, I did some more reading; DSF worked on her tan and got some swimming done. It was a lazy afternoon, which we followed up with a nap (yes, it was that lazy) and ended up oversleeping till about 11pm. Frustrated that we’d missed the chance to have a nice last dinner, we made our way to Dino’s for drinks. It was a lot quieter than the night before. We sat on the deck facing the beach and making conversation with some folks we’d just acquainted with. We left the bar after a couple of hours and sat on the beach watching the stars. It was a beautiful night with the half moon casting its glance across the ocean. We saw a Ryan’s belt formation of stars and saw and wished upon a couple of shooting ones too – priceless!

Our ocean safari had been postponed till the next morning so we were up bright and early to make our way to the venue. DSF and I were soon clad in wet suits, highly amused at how ridiculous we looked in them, and joined 6 Dutch guys to go on the trip. Getting into the boat in the wetsuit was a chore and DSF and I were constantly falling over ourselves getting in and out of the speedboat. It was a beautiful day and heading out in the boat, I was able to appreciate the full splendour of our surroundings. Our guide soon spotted a whale shark; we donned our snorkeling gear and jumped into the ocean. It was coming right at me! They are large creatures (that one was about 8 feet long or so), completely harmless and we swam with it for a good amount of time. I was proud of my swimming skills too; we kept up with it pretty well. It got shy and went away after about 15 minutes; we went back onto the boat. We then spotted a manta ray, gear back on and in the water; I didn’t catch as good a glimpse of this one at first but soon saw it. It was amazing to be swimming next to these animals. We swam with another whale shark – about the same size as the first one and a manta ray. I was tired at this stage and started to feel sea-sick. As we got ready to head back, we spotted a hump-back whale and appreciated it from distance. I started to feel so dizzy and lost my breakfast to the ocean soon after. I was glad it happened then and not when we were swimming with the sharks and manta rays! I was fine and relieved once it was all out. We sped back to shore very happy with our little adventure

Already pressed for time, DSF and I checked out of Fatima’s and found a place for an early lunch. It took forever but it was good; we went to a place called Turtle Cove and had some more fish and chips ☺. Once done, we made our way to the main road heading out of Tofo. We hitched a ride from a guy who turned out to be very lovely. He dropped us off at the pier in Inhambane. We were trying to get to Maxixe for 2pm and left Tofo at 12.30 so he did us a big favour, wanted nothing in return. We jumped onto the dhow, which took a while to get full and seemed a lot slower than the ride on the way in. We got to Maxixe at 1.50pm, half-ran, half-walked our way to the bus station from the pier. Luckily it seemed the bus was delayed because we waited for about 40 minutes before catching the bus back. We finally arrived in Vilanculos at about 6.30pm, tired after the long journey but very pleased that we’d taken the time to do this trip. In untypical militant fashion, we crept back to the volunteer camp, walking through a dark deserted beach. It was strictly against AI rules but it was our last day in Mozambique so I guess a little rebellious behaviour didn’t do much harm. That evening, we regaled the other volunteers with tales from our weekend adventures

Ps. I’m abit behind with my blog posts but should get up to date in the coming days. For now, I’ve made it safely to Zambia and all is well.

The journey to Mozambique

My last week in Nairobi was fairly unpleasant, putting it mildly. Amongst other things, I was battling with the flu for what seemed like the umpteenth time. By the middle of the week, I was in a fragile state and had to spend a day in bed to at least get some rest. The medication [really OVER medication] ensued but it seemed to work in a nonchalant fashion as by the weekend I was still blowing and coughing out multi-coloured “things”. Needless to say, I was ready to go!

I was up at the unfriendly hour of 3am on Monday to get ready and head to the airport. I had spent the weekend with my lovely friend, Miss T, who lives in Nairobi (and had done so for the last few weekends) so I said goodbye to her with mixed feelings (sad to leave her but jubilant to leave and hopefully be able to regain my health as this town proved rather unkind to me in that regard). I was at the airport by 5am and went through the motions of checking in, still half asleep. Of course, I was slapped right awake when they told me the charge I’d incurred for excess luggage (I didn’t go easy on the curio and gift shopping in Kenya, I confess). I negotiated and got the price down somewhat but it was still a staggering amount to pay, I felt. We were airborne by 8am and I took the opportunity to catch up on some sleep though the flight to Johannesburg was only 4 hours long and we arrived a little ahead of schedule.

The Tambo airport in Jo’Burg is rather impressive if only for its sheer vastness; it’s generously endowed with all the mod cons. The immigration procedure was very straightforward and within minutes I was done, luggage retrieved and fervently hugging my dearest friend, Miss M, with whom I was going to be spending the next 24 hours before catching my flight to Mozambique. She’d taken a day off work to spend time with me as we’d not seen each other for about 3 years and not only was a full catch up session long overdue, we were supposed to plan our road trip to Namibia and Botswana. She first drove me to her lovely home in the suburbs of Sandton. The parts of Jo’burg I saw on the way were beautiful and well developed. SA is definitely on top of its game, I was tempted to think; though I’ll save my in-depth analysis for when I see the rest of the country later this year. Miss M then announced that she’d booked me into a spa for half a day of beautification followed by an evening of comedy. I was totally unprepared for this kind and thoughtful gesture; I’d envisaged a long lunch followed by sleep. I accepted her offer with a grateful smile knowing that this was exactly what I needed after that last week in Nairobi.

After dropping off my luggage, we went for a lovely lunch accompanied by a glass of wine each and planned our trip. The spa session was splendid! I got a full body massage, a pedicure and a facial; I felt brand new. The beautician admonished me for not taking good care of my skin: “overexposure to the sun and lack of exfoliation”, she said. I was too relaxed and sleepy to explain my activities of the last 11 weeks so I just took her “advice and recommendations” quietly. It was dusk by the time we were done, so we headed to town for the comedy show. The show featured international comedians and there were 7 of them in total. I don’t remember the last time I laughed as hard as the first couple of comedians made me laugh; their names I shan’t forget: Dean Edwards -NY based comedian and Trevor Noah - a South African comedian. The rest were funny too, just not as much as those two. It was a great evening and I went to bed that night giggling and reminiscing about some of the jokes with Miss M.

I was actually very sad to be dropped off at the airport the next morning. She had made my first taste of SA sweet and I wanted to stay. Nevertheless, I checked in, said another sad goodbye and went off to kill the hour I had before the plane took off. This time there was no big deal with excess luggage; I had the presence of mind to leave some of my luggage with Miss M and travel with just the one bag for the rest of the trip, till we link up for the Namibia-Botswana leg
The airline that took us to Mozambique was a small one and there were no more than 40 people on the plane in the end (we did a stopover in Kruger, another part of South Africa, to pick up some more passengers). After 2 hours or so of flying, we arrived in the beach town of Vilanculos. The Indian ocean was in full view, even from the airport; and the weather was an excellent 24 degrees Celsius.

The volunteer program coordinators were there to pick me up, as promised. A short drive later, we were at the volunteer camp, which consists of a cluster of huts and a swimming pool (yay!) and is located a stone’s throw from the ocean (yay!). There are about 12 volunteers in total at the camp now, all European. Each hut houses 4 volunteers, each with a single bed and a set of bamboo shelves; there is also an en-suite bathroom with a shower and toilet.

I arrived just after lunch so introduced myself, hurriedly dropped off my luggage and was off to work. I later found out that there is hot water (yay!) if only in the evenings, 3 meals a day cooked by a local chef; a combination of western and local food (yay!) – okay I will stop yaying now! Unfortunately, electricity does not get as far as our camp so power is available on the camp for only 4 hours a day via a generator. Can’t really complain about that; work seems to take up the whole day and the vicinity is so beautiful so any free time should be spent enjoying the outdoors. By the end of the first day, I knew I would definitely be enjoying my time here

PS. The internet situation in Vilanculos is a tad tricky so I envisage getting in touch once a week or so. Also, things did not exactly go according to plan with the Kenya and Uganda photo and video upload, as referenced earlier. I will try to get them up as soon as is feasible and let you guys know

Kenya: the good, the bad, the f'ugly...and the interesting

As my time in Kenya draws to an end, I find myself in a reflective mood. I just wanted to summarise my perspective on this dear land that has been my home for the last 7 weeks. My list is by no means exhaustive; I’ve limited it to key observations. In spite of some of the comments I will make, I know I’ll miss being here especially because I doubt any of the upcoming countries in my trip will be anything like it

The Good
1. Kenyans are very friendly people. Their hospitality was obvious from the moment I arrived and has been consistent. If a Kenyan walks into a room full of people, it is not uncommon to find them dishing out effusive handshakes (matched with wide, pleasant grins) and in some cases adding a hug or kisses on the cheek. Now, being blessed with one of those generically African faces, I’ve had many incidents where people reel out words to me in Kiswahili, often in that friendly way that suggests an inside joke, assuming that I’m Kenyan. This warm reception is sometimes followed by a slight disappointment that I’m not one of them.
2. The landscape and scenery of this land is breathtakingly beautiful. That is also true for the other East African countries I’ve been to but I’ve found myself in awe every time I’ve driven past the great rift valley or rows and rows of hills and flat lands with acacia trees. I made a trip to a place called Hellsgate a weekend or two ago, which is located in Naivasha, a town some 2 hours away from Nairobi. I’m told it was the shooting place for one of the Indiana Jones movies as well as the first Tomb raider movie. The road to Hellsgate is littered with rocky mountains, dusty roads and hot water springs. It makes for a great bike ride and hike. Of course this is only one of many gorgeous places in Kenya; I’ve mentioned the Maasai Mara, where I went on Safari, Nakuru (with the lake and flamingoes); there’s also Mombasa (the beachfront town which I’m told is a lot like Zanzibar), just to mention a few.
3. The more developed parts of Nairobi are very developed with amenities and facilities akin to what can be found in the West. There is a shopping mall near where I live that has shops, restaurants and cafes comparable to any shopping mall in London. When I find myself at a coffee shop sipping a vanilla latte, using wireless internet and surrounded by people of all nationalities, I have to remind myself that I’m in Nairobi. Of course, this level of development in a place like Nairobi comes with its woes, but we’ll get on to that shortly

The Bad
1. Unfortunately, despite the point made in “3.” above, Kenya is still classified as a developing country, which suggests that most of its people live at or below the poverty line. The disparity in income between the rich and the poor is vast and the evidence of this is blatant. Places like Kibera, one of the largest slums in the world with over a million inhabitants, is located a 20-minute walk away from the affluent shopping mall I described earlier. Its shocking to think that whilst half-eaten plates are being cleared off restaurant tables in said shopping mall, there a people just down the road who can barely rustle a square meal a day.
2. It is fairly logical that the display of affluence in the face of such poverty simply incites and outrages the poor masses. Since the government and powers that be are doing nothing to level the playing field, people take things into their own hands and deal with the situation as they see fit. Unfortunately, muggings, car jacking, armed robbery and the like are very commonplace in the country. Security [or lack thereof] is a major issue, which affects people of all races. It is unsafe to drive around at night as there is a good chance (especially if you are alone and/or female) that you will be followed home and mugged or even killed. Pickpockets operate round the clock in the city and there is sometimes nothing one can do to stop them. The car jacking is so bad that sometimes armed men raid even buses and other public transport modes. I have been very lucky (fervently knocking wood for my last few days here) that in my time here I’ve had not a single incident.
3. I may have had a whine about this issue already but have to mention it anyway: I didn’t know that Kenya (especially Nairobi) got reasonably cold in its “winter” months of July and August. After basking in the sun in Zanzibar, I came breezing in expecting similar weather only to be surprised by cold, overcast and miserable days that remind me too much of London. Of course, I was wholly unprepared and have had to wear layers of clothing each day of my time here in an attempt to keep warm. I’m one of those people who just don’t do well in cold. When winter hits in England, I wear layers of clothes plus a warm jacket, thick stockings, boots, ear muffs, wooly hats, large scarves, gloves; you name it, I’ll be clad in it. So being unable to adequately protect myself from the cold has been a tad frustrating. I’ve consequently nursed a cold from the day I arrived. It often morphs into a flu-like situation that has me sipping tonnes of ginger and lemon tea, popping pills and wearing even more layers of clothing. It of course doesn’t help that we don’t get hot showers in my host home (though I managed to work out a deal where I get a lukewarm bucket of water for splahbaths) and the house gets very cold at night because there is no heating. In fact, as I speak, I’ve been trying to shake off the flu for the last few days with a dismal amount of success. I will not be missing that side of things, that’s for sure

The F’ugly
1. Given that there has been a drought in the country for the last few months, following a pathetic rainy season, there hasn’t been enough water to go round the country for the last few weeks. There has been a water rationing system going on and most recently, electricity rationing was also introduced (power in Kenya is derived from one source: that generated from a dam, which evidently dried up with the drought). A power-rationing schedule has been issued, which of course, is never followed; they turn the power off and on as they see fit. The power is usually turned off in the day (regardless of business needs) meaning that businesses grind to a halt if they do not have alternative power sources (bear in mind that generators are very expensive to buy and run). The ruckus this causes is obvious. The water rationing is none the better; parts of the city dwell in stench as a result of it. In my house, baby wipe showers have become the order of the day (yes, that means you wipe yourself down with baby wipes to keep clean). The longest I could go for was three days before I needed water to touch my skin. Its unclear when the situation will be ameliorated; for now its indefinite
2. A few posts ago, I shared my thoughts on the existence of IDP camps in the country. I found myself at a literary festival shortly after I’d visited the first IDP camp, where conveniently, I happened upon a panel discussion of the post-elections violence and its implications on the country. For context, the audience and panelists were mostly middle class. Many positive things were said especially in relation to the IDP camps. It seemed the people present were aware of the situation and regularly discuss what needs to be done to eradicate it (unfortunately, this is not universally true of Kenyans; I’ve met some myself who do not know what IDP stands for). My frustration though was that no one seems to be actually DOING something about it. It’s all well and good to discuss other people’s woes over a bottle of beer and its something completely different to mobilize a few friends to drive out there regularly and give these people some food and supplies (since clearly the government is not going to do it on a consistent basis). The sad thing, and I’m glad someone pointed it out, is that if nothing is done NOW, the next elections will be even worse as the number of disgruntled people with nothing to lose would have multiplied. Its effectively a time bomb waiting to explode

The Interesting
1. It seems the memo issued by Angelina Jolie and Madonna on adopting black children made its first stop in Nairobi. I say so because it’s fairly common to see black children being carried around by white mothers. In fact the other day, I sighted a family of white parents with one white child, one Indian child and a black baby (bearing too much resemblance to the Pitt family). I hope these people understand what they are doing by raising these kids in the Nairobi I have described to you. If it’s just a fashion statement, then they have another think coming. I have nothing against adoption or reaching out to others in need but complicated issues can arise in families of differing races (like language, culture, etc) and the income divide mentioned previously (the white families are usually affluent, certainly by Kenyan standards) further exacerbates said complications. But that is just my view
2. A fellow volunteer and I were having a discussion the other day and she expressed her displeasure at the fact that the people she’d encountered during her time here did not express as much gratitude for her generosity (i.e. the fact that she had traveled miles from her home country to help people in need) as she’d envisaged, but rather found ways to exploit her by overcharging her for goods, asked her to buy them things or in some cases fell short of taking the very clothes on her back. I had to explain to this young lady, whose naiveté I found charming, that in a country with so much poverty and wealth that is flaunted but not made accessible, it is only natural that people become exploitative, corrupt, even violent and see dollar signs when they look at foreigners. It’s not right, simply natural. She appreciated this perspective but only in hindsight. Our discussion did make me wonder how many others there are, who come to Africa with preconceived ideas that are a tad unrealistic

Mozambique is my next stop. I’ll be there for a total of 27 days, living in the beach village/town of Vilanculos. I will be teaching basic English to adults and pre-school aged children (the lingua franca there is Portuguese so I may well pick some of that up). I am excited, if for nothing, to at least breathe fresh ocean air and enjoy the sun once again

The impromptu Uganda trip

My host home in Nairobi is quite popular amongst Fadhili volunteers who are placed on projects outside Nairobi. My hostess’ splendid hospitality has earned her a good reputation so when people need to come out to the city for shopping and such and need a place to stay, its her name that usually comes up. Near enough every weekend, and sometimes weekdays, we have someone staying over that isn’t an “original” housemate. A few weeks ago we had a young lady come through who had just returned from a trip to Uganda where she bungee jumped and went white water rafting on the Nile and made it sound excellent. It didn’t take much convincing for all 10 of us staying at the house to sign up for it.

On the evening of last Thursday, we eagerly hopped on a bus from central Nairobi, for what turned out to be an eleven-hour bus ride. The roads between Nairobi and Jinja (the town we were going to in Uganda) were not exactly smooth so we were in for a bumpy ride. The bus was reasonably comfortable (picture a standard coach bus) and we even had more leg room than one would on most economy flights. I was still battling with the flu and hoping to get some rest on the bus ride so it was fairly irritating when a bunch of Kenyans, who we had the misfortune of sitting next to, decided that they would talk and laugh loudly for nearly five hours of the journey. They spoke in a mixture of Kiswahili and English and from what I could gather it was lets-scoff-at–the-West-Africans day. Of course that did not sit well with me so it wasn’t too long before I told them to be quiet (took a lot of composure to do it politely). They took their time but did shut up eventually. We got to Jinja at the crack of dawn and thankfully, there was someone there to take us to the campsite we were going to be staying at. The site was on a cliff overlooking the river. Further upstream, there was an even bigger cliff over which the bungee jumping was to take place.

Uganda is a beautiful country and though the car ride from the bus stop to the campsite was fairly short and it was quite foggy, the lush green foliage, beautifully red earth and the strings of hills in the horizon did not escape me. The air was so fresh and the view from the bar at the campsite was just spectacular: the Nile river at the bottom which just seemed to go on forever, foggy hills meeting the skyline and the cliff on the other side of the river was scattered with beautiful homes that I admired albeit enviously.

Some of my group opted to bungee jump; now for those of you that know me well, you will know that I would NOT in a million years contemplate a bungee jump. I mean why would I consciously jump of a cliff? Don’t care if I’m being harnessed properly, just the thought of jumping off is alien to me. So I was designated the role of camerawoman. I caught them all on camera jumping, one after the other and it started to look like fun. Then my left eye started to feel itchy and funny and an hour later I could barely keep it open. It was swollen and red and streaming with tears; think someone mentioned conjunctivitis (my hostess’s adorable 10.5month son had an eye infection the week before and I do play with him a fair deal so it was not that outrageous to have caught one). I contacted my emergency medical service, a.k.a. my sister, the pharmacist and she recommended something that would put me out of my misery. Someone volunteered to go drug hunting for me and ended up being away for much of the day. I had to keep my eyes shut the whole time cause it was just too painful to keep them open. Finally, at about 4pm she turned up. I applied the drug and it started to feel relief almost instantaneously. I was feeling down though because everyone was in such good spirits and there I’d been, lumped up on the couch pretty much all day. So, at dusk that day I made the bold decision to bungee jump with the sunset in the background in tandem with one of the girls in my group. I was fine walking up to the top of the cliff but I started to panic a bit once I was tied up and had to shuffle right to the edge to be pushed off. I held on tightly to my mate and next thing I knew I was flying down, eyes shut, screaming like a 6 yr old and wondering what the hell I was doing. Must admit that after the initial downward surge, it started to feel good; we bounced around a few times and next thing I knew, we were in a boat, on our way back to dry land. It was short, exciting and downright crazy! I enjoyed it but not sure its an experience I would want to repeat, but who knows? With my eye feeling much better now, I made it an early night as we had a reasonably action-packed day of white water rafting ahead. They showed us a video of the group that had gone out on the Nile that day and it looked like a ton of fun. We spent the night in bunk beds; 4-tiered bunk beds, 15 of us to a room. It was quite the experience; after some chatting and chuckling, we finally fell asleep

We were on the river the next day by about 10am clad in life jackets and clothes that we hoped we wouldn’t lose in the rapids. The rafts were of the blown up plastic kind. Each raft had a guide (an experienced rafter who would save us if anything bad happened and would teach us a thing or two about how to navigate the river) and we were each equipped with a paddle. There were also a few kayakers in the mix, who would also assist with rescue if it came to it. After a brief paddling lesson and instructions on what to do in the strong rapids, we were on our way; in my case with one and a half eyes! The fun began almost immediately; we went through a grade 3 rapid (the rapids that we encountered were graded 1 – 5, with grade 5 rapids being very rough and in some cases with fairly steep waterfalls) after which we attempted a boat flip! Our guide (a fun Ugandan guy) basically tipped the boat over and we were all in the water. We went through 11 rapids that first day, with a lovely lunch break on an island in the middle of the river some time after rapid number 5. Our guide was quite the joker: straight-faced, he pointed out buffalos (actually cows) grazing in nearby plains, referred to croaking frogs as mini hippos and told us that he’d lived on a tiny island right in the middle of the river which had nothing but grass and gigantic tree on it, for 10 years. Apparently he slept right under the tree! (yeah right! but he said it with such a serious look that we almost believed him) Between rapids we enjoyed the calmness of the river, the gorgeous scenery and went swimming. And I kid you not, we were not half way through the day before my eyes were pretty much fully recovered. I reckon swimming in the Nile healed me, biblical style. Who said miracles were not possible?

We were done rafting for the day by 5pm. We camped at a site close to the point of the river where we’d stopped. It was actually a lot of hard work rowing all day and battling with the rapids. There’d been a few bruises and scrapes through the day and one of the girls from one of the other rafts (who is my housemate actually) got a broken nose when someone (another housemate of mine) fell on her whilst they were going through a rapid. We had a splendid dinner that day: grilled beef, chapatti, rice, breadfruit casserole and pasta. Drinks were also aplenty that night. The campsite (I never really found out the location of it) had no electricity so after dinner we retired to a nice cozy fire out in the open and admired the beautifully starlit night. It was fantastic!

The second day of rafting was more chilled. There was a lot more swimming and admiring the scenery than dealing with rapids. There was one grade 5 rapid in which we raft surfed; it was basically a huge wave against which our raft was precariously held with a huge risk of being tipped over any minute; you did not want to get caught in that wave and one girl from my raft fell into it and was sucked in for a while and came out looking petrified; it was crazy and scary but too much fun! Some of the guys also did some individual river rafting after we were done with that. That was fun to watch but me alone with water that rough and a surfboard just did not sound like a good idea. We had lunch on some nearby rocks after that bit of excitement; I sadly fell, pretty hard on some slippery rocks, which of course added to my repertoire of bruises and scrapes.
After 2 days of fun, bruises and such we were ready to head back to the main campsite. We had drinks, dinner, hot showers and called it a day; well I called it a day, the others opted to have a drinking session which ended on a morbid note for one of the lads cause he was so sick. I was never really into that sort of fun, plus it seemed my flu had started to gain momentum again after spending so much time in the water. The second day ended up being a lot colder than the first. I wasn’t complaining though; figured some medication and sleep would set me straight hence the early retirement

We woke up bright and early the next day, flu still nice and strong, to catch the bus back to Nairobi. The 11-hour bus ride felt twice as bumpy as the ride into Jinja; think it was the same route though. We got into the bus station at about 7pm and caught another bus to take us home.

I enjoyed the Uganda trip very much notwithstanding my poor state of health. I hope to go back there some day for a more lengthy stay and maybe even to try my hands at kayaking down the Nile.