Uganda Chronicles 4 : Conference, Conclusions and Ugandan nights from a Kenyan woman's perspective

So this AIESEC experience in Uganda was to facilitate a conference, another first for me. I have been a delegate at several conferences, I have also been on an organising committee for a conference, being a facilitator is just a whole other experience all together.

I loved it!

I was mega touched by the delegates, by the fact that they looked up to me, and I kept thinking to myself, there really isn't anything special about me. Where I was standing, any of them could have been. Did my best to be an inspiration. Facilitating comes with great responsibility too. Apart from the organising committee, you're the first to wake up and last to sleep because the fate of the conference kinda depends on you.

Conference aside, I partied enough for 5 in Kampala. Oh, the days of our youth. Where all this energy came from, I cannot even begin to comprehend!

The night life is way different from the kenyan one. The man are also way different...so freakin' aggressive! By jove!!!

Can't a girl just jam on the floor on her own?! It is not an invitation for company! Not after warding off the first guy, not after warding off the second guy, not even after warding off the third guy is it an invitation for the fourth guy's company! Ha ha! They have probably never met a girl like me. I have also never met guys like them. I got a lap dance from a guy! And a very serious lap dance it was! And I was so embarrassed the whole time! Mostly for this guy. He was a corporate partner at the conference, and he came out with us on the last day of the conference. Now I had profiled him to be the silent and collected guy, which is why we became fast friends, but then the night came on and he took on a totally different persona!

Honestly this one night out felt like a battle! Fighting off men! By jove...ugandan nights from a Kenyan woman's perspective, that is what I should call this section!

Ha ha!

There were better nights of course, when there was better company.

I love to travel because there's a new story to tell, new people to meet, new ways to look at people you may have known for the longest time but not really known. Gives me something to write about. I was sad to leave, I suck at goodbyes. There's always so much I want and need to say, but in one moment, it never comes out perfect. Memories shall be held on to nonetheless. Those we surely made enough of. Friendships forged, hardships shared, laughter and fun...until we meet again Uganda...and sooner or later, we surely will!

Uganda Chronicles 3 : Food, Language and Money

Now can we talk about how Ugandans eat? Yes, we all know Uganda is banana-land. I quite enjoyed this, I love bananas! So...having banana pancakes and bananas for breakfast was okay with me. Another thing, I have never eaten matoke in my life despite the fact that my parents love it and it is prepared every so often at our house, I finally had some matoke! Some I liked, some I did not. There are different kinds, depending on mode of preparation I suppose.

But, back to how Ugandans eat. I am sure I have already said this to about my whole circle of friends...and I hope not to offend anyone by my opinion, but ugandans eat like they're about to head out to a construction site and start carrying stones.

A typical meal is rice and pasta. Matoke and rice. I kid you not! At this point, most kenyans must be thinking, where is the meat?! Yeah, I thought that too. Along with...why in the world is there a great need for two carbohydrates in the meal? Is it not just...too much?

Then when we had buffet meals, then it was quite the treat!

Matoke, rice, chapati AAANNNND Pasta! Plus one meat and stew and their famous g-nut sauce(ground nut sauce) Vegetables? I do not recall eating any. With the buffets, I'm sure the serving staff marked me. I just got fed up at some point and would skip everything except rice and meat stew. That felt a little bit like home.

It took me a while before I got it into my head that I could not just throw in a swahili word or two every time I was talking to people. Every time I would go to a shop or be talking to the conductor of a taxi, I would automatically start my conversation in swahili because that is what I would do at home.

'Sasa, maji unauza pesa ngapi?'(Hi, how much is a bottle of water?) 'Fare ni ngapi?' (How much is the fare?)

The blank stares that followed my statements always got me back into reality. Inasmuch as Ugandans look just like kenyans, they are not. I reckon I got coned once when the guy placed that I was clearly new in the area.

Another thing that took some getting used to...was the currency disparity. The exchange rate when I was there was about 28ush to 1ksh. I remember at the border, when we had just converted money, one of my friends asked what 200ush could get her...and she was told...practically nothing.

We would take a taxi(they call matatus that) for a short distance and then be told that its 1500ush. I was always so shoked! Like...say what now? Was there wifi in that taxi? Did my seat recline and give me a massage? Why in the world am I paying 1500 for that 5 minute ride then? Oh yeah, not in Kenya. I found that some are so used to the 'thousands' that its not a necessary part of conversation. I tried to buy samosas somewhere and asked how much they are. The guy told me 2 shillings. I was so confused...2?! So I took out 200ush and he was shocked...'two THOUSAND', he said to me.

Well, he should have just said that in the first place!

So this guy quickly figured I obviously was not from around and charged me double for the samosas. Might have been an oversight, but when I found out, damn right I went back for my money!

Uganda Chronicles 2 : Random Acts of Kindness

Now that we have been on about food, I want to speak of an enormous kindness that was shown unto me. Let me put you guys in context first...this is literally skipping from my first day to my final moments but...we shall work backwards from here.

My last day in Kampala, I was really tired and I was really frustrated by the fact that I did not know my way around sufficiently enough for me to get myself home. I find this very frustrating about travel, the fact that when you are new to a place, you are like a child, you need to depend on anyone and everyone! So my friends and I had spent the previous evening at a uni that is about 2 hours out of kampala and when we got back into town the next day, my friends still wanted to be out and about exploring and being touristy. I was done with Kampala, homesickness had set in, I was very ready to be back on Kenyan soil, home ground. So I asked a friend, a ugandan girl that we had been spending time with, if she would be so kind as to help me get back to where we were staying and she was fine with that since it was on her route home. Now, this girl is absolutely lovely! She is so sweet and she went to great lengths to talk to me, find out how my stay had been and just be friendly. But I was having none of that! I was so preoccupied with all the packing I had to do before my bus left, shower, have one of Patrick's rolexes for dinner...and she just could not take a hint! Ha ha! I can be so cold. feeling ashamed

We were approaching the stop where the taxi would drop us off, somewhere I finally recognised, and this girl kept going on and on about how she would show me a different route to the house and I should just trust her. So I decided, why not. Only to get off the taxi and have her suggest that we pass by her house for dinner. WAIT, SAY WHAT?! I was actually greatly angered by this. I felt like she was totally destabilizing all the carefully made plans I had just made for the next few hours, but since it was already out of my control, again we were in a place I did not recognise so I could not take myself home, I said why not. I almost cried within the next hour. She took me to her house. I met her older sister and 4 little nieces and nephews. She served me a meal and they were all in awe. She kept saying proudly, 'This is my friend, she's from Kenya', showing me off like I was some prized possession and I realised that she looked up to me and she admired me and for the past hour or so I had done nothing but my level best to disregard her and use her for the mere need of being able to find my way to where we were staying. I was so ashamed of myself. So I never got my last taste of Patrick's amazing rolex, my evening ended up going nothing like I had planned, but I was happy for the alternative route the day took. It reminded me that...sometimes, even when we do not feel like, we must. If not for ourselves, then for others. Because they always deserve better.

Uganda Chronicles 1 : Patrick's Rolexes

You know what I did a month or so ago?!

I was out and about, travelling again. This time, destination Uganda. Now, Kenya-Uganda...definitely not a stretch, right?

I did not know what to expect. I cannot decide yet whether this is a good thing or a bad thing, the fact that I really am not one for expectations.

Uganda however did turn out to be something else.

Let's start at Patrick's rolexes!!

I wonder if I will ever meet him again. Let us start at...what is a rolex? A rolex is fried eggs rolled up within a chapati. We have them in Kenya as well, just not as popular as they are in Uganda. And...Patrick is this one guy who had a rolex stand very close to where I was staying while in Uganda. So...when in doubt of what to have for dinner...Patrick was the guy to go to. 1500Ush for a 2 by 1(2 eggs and one chapati). 2000Ush for a 2 by 2(2 eggs 2 chapatis)

Now, rolexes are really popular. There are literally guys selling rolexes about every hundred metres in Uganda(my inaccurate statistic)

Very much like the way in Kenya there is an Mpesa agent on every street corner. Sometimes 5 at the very same spot. Or those guys with the stands selling smokies....3 at the same spot, all offering the exact same thing! Creativity man...very lacking.

But not with Patrick, I will forever remember him because his rolexes are the best I have ever tasted. He goes the extra mile and puts all sorts of embellishments...tomatoes, onions, cabbage, some spice, before rolling up the rolex so you end up with something that looks like a kebab or a shawarma and tastes absolutely divine! While everyone else just gives you greasy chapati and eggs...soaking in oil...yuck!

Hats off to Patric. I hope I one day get to taste your rolexes again.

Damn, I never even took a picture of him at work!

:-(

Leaving Home to come Home

Well, this blog couldn't last forever. I am out of stories and it is time to move on.
I had a wonderful time though, as you can tell from the stories. I enjoyed sharing them with you just as much as I enjoyed living them.

So as I plan future travels, I think about how I have to go back. Yet there is still so much of the world to see, making it that much harder to choose.
Although I reckon that Poznan, Poland, is one place that I just have to go back to.
There's just something about it. ;-)

I am finally being forced by circumstances to do my final bits of unpacking and I keep finding more and more of those keepsakes that make me just want to stop and...and then I can never figure out whether to laugh or cry.

A note I found at the back of the book one of the host families gave to me as a souvenir...this one just takes the prize!

 One day, when the winds are right and the stars align, visit I shall.
Till then, till future travels...Do widzenia!
Ha ha!
  

The African Effect

Where to begin...this has got to be my favourite post!!

Do you know what it is like to be different?!
Oh yeah...I was different!

I visited a park where traditional Polish homestaeds were being showcased and one of the caretakers gave me a free pot. Here's what happened, she was showing us around and mentioned how traditionally some people made pots! I asked if I could touch them, she said sure. I picked it up and took a look at it and as I went to put it back...she said, "Keep it! Take it back to Africa with you!"
They weren't even on sale!!!
So I quickly stuffed it into my bag and thanked her. Taking it back to Africa indeed!!

Then there was the time a few people and I were positioning ourselves for a picture, and this one lady positioned herself behind me, I was seated, and let her hands run wild on my head. Impromptu head massage right there....and she kept muttering, "Ohhhhh, sooo different!!", while feeling my hair. I just sat there in mild shock and smiled. This came after someone else stopped me on the streets and asked to touch my hair so it was not that new. There was also the girl who could not take her eyes off me on a tram, so I turned to her and smiled, and she blurted out, "Your hair is so cool!" (flips hair in slow motions, says thank you!) Ha ha!

Not to mention the fact that in most situations other interns would be introduced and their nationality would be part of their identity. For example...Crystal from Singapore, Vir from india, Hannah from China...but me, no, not a country for me. Of course this was not always the case, but I was Kathleen from Africa. A whole continent! I was Africa! Hilarious!

Then there were the people who had other friends from Africa. They would strike up a conversation with me, ask where I am from, then tell me all about their friend from Nigeria or Ghana or Namibia and expect me to know all the places and events associated with the story...when really I have not been anywhere in Africa except Kenya, so I probably knew more about Poland than I did about these other African countries at that point.

Then there was that guy at a souvenir shop in Prague. I walked in with a couple of friends and first thing he says to me is..."Miss, we are from the same continent!" I would not have guessed so because he looked Arabic, but he was from Tunisia...I think. For the next 30 minutes or so, he just went on and on about everything under the sun! Yeah, one of those guys but he made my night.

Of course not forgetting the reaction when you meet other Africans...okay, non-North Africa Africans. We can spot each other from a mile away and depending on the situation...a glance, a smile, a conversation, perhaps even saving of seats for a 5 hour bus ride.
I met a couple of Nigerians, as I was traveling from Warsaw to Poznan, at the bus station. From across the waiting hall, they called out to me, "My sister, come sit next to us!" Could not hold the laughter in, so I obliged. We had the most delightful of conversations. They had me cracking up for a whole 5 hours on the bus.

Then of course there were Aunt M. and Billy Boy, the two other Kenyans I was lucky enough to hang out with. They of course take all this attention in their stride, living in the diaspora I suppose. The attention did bother me at first, but Aunt M came to visit and we hang out, and she silently reassured me that it is okay to be different. (Wonder if she knows this...) We were headed back to our hotel one night, and there was that bunch of teenagers who kept staring and giggling. Then when they got off, they shouted and waved. I personally was at a point where I was just tired and fed up, I just wanted to not be the centre of attention for two seconds, but Aunt M. smiled back at them and waved, then turned to me and said...well, I do not even remember what she said but she said it in a Luhya accent and she made me feel so much better. It is okay to be different, but we really are not that much different, are we?
Billy Boy gets a kick out of attributing the stares to his dashing good looks...that is another approach.
To think, just Kathleen, was someone's first taste of Africa.

I almost forgot, craziest thing anyone ever asked me... There was this one teacher at a school where we went to make our presentations. When it was time for questions, she asked...
"You dance a lot, back home?!"
"Yeah, Africans dance a lot, especially at weddings."
"Have you ever danced naked?!"
...huh?! :-o
I was so confused, ha ha!
 

Your Home is Where You Are

We have all heard the cliche phrase...'Make yourself at home, right?'
Well, when you really have no home, this phrase takes on a very literal meaning.

We tend to treat the unfamiliar with great trepidation. As a guest in someone's house, you will not exactly saunter into the kitchen and start looking for the sugar and tea bags to make yourself a cup of tea. There is a social convention which just dictates that as a guest, you have to behave in a certain way. Wait for the sugar and tea bags to be brought to the table, then make your own tea.

I think I got to a stage where it really did not matter for me.
For my last 2 to 3 weeks in Europe, for many reasons, my place of residence went from semi-permanent to...where my head hit the pillow.
Not that I'm complaining, these were the best weeks of my whole stay!

I stayed with one host family for a week, and then stayed with another host family for another week, after which a couple of friends and I decided to visit several different cities before heading home. So I literally had a new bed every 2 or 3 days in a new hostel in a new city.

There really is not that grace period that allows you to be shy and reserved in a new 'residence', hoping that your hosts will walk you through everything before you get comfortable enough to start doing everything for yourself.

Sometimes there would be no one but me home, and I had to fix up my own meal. Sometimes everyone was busy doing their work. Then when it came to the hostels, really, it is no one's home while at the same time being everyone's home!
I just had to fit in and get comfortable because there was no other option.
When I get to a host family and they say...'Make yourself at home, I would take it literally!!'

Find me...opening the fridge and scavenging for a snack just as I would at home.
Find me...propped on a sofa at a hostel living room, warm and cosy under my blankie, laptop on my lap watching a movie oblivious of all the strangers around me.
Find me...trying to fix myself a meal, opening every single cupboard and drawer looking for the knives and spoons, cups and plates and the likes.
Find me...going through the movies and books collections looking for a good read or a good movie to watch.
I learnt to make everywhere as comfortable as home.

Fast forward to me being back home, the other day we had a guest over, a friend from school. He was hungry, so we went into the kitchen to see if there were any left overs from lunch.
Instinctively, I pulled out a plate for him, took off the covers from the dishes that held the food, gave him a serving spoon, showed him where the microwave is and then started to head in another direction.

I would not have thought anything of it, except he said to me...'Wow, no such thing as being a visitor in this house, huh?'