Highway to Hell

So – I leave tomorrow to fly home for Christmas, and I really don’t think there are words in the English language (certainly not in my vocabulary) to describe how excited I am about this – it has been just about the only thing getting me through the last week or two – the thought that “you’ll be home in two weeks, ten days, one week etc” has gotten me out of bed in the morning, and through the day. I really don’t think I have ever been this tired before in my life – a bone-deep weariness that just dogs you around. I have warned my parents that I may sleep through much of my home leave, although my mother may take drastic action on that matter – it usually involves being woken by Phoebe (see picture below) who licks you into submission. But who I just can't resist...


I left Soroti on Sunday and drove back to Kampala – this is the first time I have actually driven myself across the country – I drive around the cities etc, but for around Uganda, we use the drivers. However, we didn’t have any spare drivers in Soroti, and we also had a spare car (through reasons much too boring and complicated to explain, my Prado wound up there for my last week in town, which was lovely to drive around – more so than the twin cab which had been my mode of transportation for the past 2.5 months). But I was a wee bit nervous about driving across the country – many prayers were sent up through the trip! Ugandans are completely crazy drivers – I have driven in some mad places, and I really think they are the worst – they are very reckless, and also very selfish on the roads – there’s no sense of working together to solve a traffic jam, it’s just “oooh – there’s a three inch spot I can try to squeeze into – ahead of the 15 other cars that precede me” etc. And they also have a predilection for…as my Grandad used to say “they only want half the road – the middle half” – which is wicked scary as they barrel down the center of the road towards you and won’t budge over. I have seen any number of wrecks here – really bad ones – they often involve the boda bodas (motorcyclists who take passengers on the back and weave in and out without ever looking over their shoulder – they have a low life expectancy) and matatus (the vans that serve as buses around and between cities – also mad as hatters on the road and the cause of many accidents).


So I was reasonably nervous getting out on the roads, and had warned Geoffrey (the water engineer) that I would be taking longer than our drivers, as I was not going to do 150km/h like they do! The trip was mostly okay – we drove through quite a long stretch of roadworks, stuck behind a never-ending line of trucks (this highway is the main road from Kenya to Uganda so full of trucks) which meant that dust was kicked up so thick that I literally could not see the road in front of me at all – I couldn’t see a thing. Which was pretty scary – I just had to drive straight and pray… We also passed a dead pedestrian in the road – obviously knocked by a car in one of the villages (again – not a great deal of care exhibited when walking/cycling/crossing the road) and that was pretty awful – he was lying at a strange angle in the road with blood running from his head – I looked away pretty fast! Apart from that, we made it okay – which I felt very triumphant about.


Seeing as I was driving on Sunday, I took it pretty easy at the Christmas party on Saturday night (not ours – a German guy in Soroti had a party at his place). I spoke to Florian on Friday night and he said “the staff are bringing the food for the party. So today, they brought the food – it is tied up outside, eating the grass” I was devastated (seriously – goats are so cute – how can you?) and didn’t go out back to the BBQ area at all (I think it is easier to deal with when it comes in a plastic box etc – but my vegetarianism is re-affirmed!) But it was a fun night – the remaining flood response people all got together for one last night – although I didn’t follow them to the local disco afterwards, as I had to drive the next day (which I think was a good thing, looking at Brett the next morning!) The local disco is pretty hilarious – bad music and a dance floor lined with mirrors – people dance in front of the mirrors, just watching themselves – it definitely provides for a novel night out, although being a small group of non-Ugandans there means you get a fair bit of attention…


Anyway – I am back in Kampala and packing up to go home. Cannot wait – quivering with excitement and all of that. My home list includes many things – often food related! I will also get up to the beach house in Queensland for a few days to say goodbye to the place – my parents intend to sell it and I am devastated – I adore that house.


So – in case I don’t write again beforehand – Merry Christmas to you all…