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X-ASG-Orig-Subj: Trip to Uganda Part One
Subject: Trip to Uganda Part One
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Status:   

John Muhanji and I took Eden's truck since the recent track record of 
his truck was so unpredictable. We drove west for about two hours on a 
fairly decent road(tarmac) and crossed over into Uganda at Busia, one of 
the two border crossings  for vehicles from Kenya to Uganda. Walkers 
cross back and forth all the time all over the place out in the bush 
since many have families and tribe members who live on both sides, the 
border having been an arbitrary one drawn by the British colonists. The 
crossing itself was a madhouse that took two hours. The petrol lorries, 
huge trucks, cars, bicycles, vendors, beggars, money changers, animals, 
and people that were all over the place created an atmosphere of mass 
confusion.  If I had not been with John, I would not have had a clue as 
how to get a car across. I'm not sure of the sequence but, he had to get 
a visa, register the car (considered a commercial since it is really a 
pick-up with a cap) stand in very long queue (line) at the "bank", to 
change money from Kenya shillings to Uganda shillings, buy some kind of 
insurance, and then finish registering the truck  -  maybe one or two 
more steps. I was really glad to be able to sit in the truck out of the 
sun and read the Kenyan papers John had bought before we left.

After Kenya gave me an exit visa we were parked in "no man's land", the 
section between the two borders that is such a madhouse. Getting into 
Uganda I had to pay $50.00 US, which I did not have so I too needed to 
"buy" dollars from a money changer. Many, many, many bicycles were 
carrying huge tall sacks of beans from Uganda to sell in Kenya. These 
transport bicycles are called boda-boda because they were originally 
what people rode to cross the border ("boda"). On the Uganda side they 
wear pink shirts and the seats on the back fender are all fringed. 
(Actually, many in Kenya have fringes too.) Many of the trucks were 
piled sky high with sacks of corn from Uganda and also to be sold in 
Kenya. Since ugali is made from white corn meal and is the staple in a 
Kenyan diet, there is a great demand for corn in Kenya. In Uganda 
matooke ("mah toke ay") is their staple. It is made from mashed boiled 
bananas and, to this Caribbean-influenced  American palate, is far 
tastier and more pleasant to eat than ugali.

One very surprising sight I noticed was the great number of handicapped 
people, men and a couple of women, who were riding an old jury-rigged 
tricycle powered by pedals where we would expect to have handlebars. 
They pedaled with their hands and steered with them at the same time. I 
simply could not understand where they all came from and where were they 
going until Muhanji explained. They were transporting goods for sale 
back and forth across the border by carrying them piled on the back of 
their trikes.This is a form of employment available to them; they were 
not all on their way to some special needs conference.

We reached Mbale Thursday eve just before dark and ate supper in the 
restaurant where we also stayed - the Mt. Elgon Hotel, the same place I 
stayed over a year ago with the FUM reps from N.America. It was a 
delightful place that AAA would easily recommend.The most un-Western 
aspect was the length of time we waited for our meal, even for a cup of 
Milo. One comes to expect this however. Africans are not clock watchers. 
Kitchens don't have everything on standby either; usually they cook much 
from scratch. The breakfast buffet (common in hotels) was delicious with 
sweet ripe fresh fruit and omelets made to order. Over dinner we planned 
a bit for the next day and then I went to read in bed and fell straight 
to sleep. John, one of the Ever Ready bunnies, stayed in the lobby and 
read the papers, while he was also able to observe the comings and 
goings of about 40 adults and youth from a church in Colorado. They were 
on some kind of mission to "plant churches" and told me they go from 
"hut to hut"!. Apparently none of them did enough research into the 
local culture where shorts and pedal pushers worn by men and women are a 
huge no-no. I was told Americans like that give missionaries a bad 
reputation. One Ugandan told me I was dressed appropriately in my long 
skirt  and I silently blessed Eden for explaining so much to us before 
we all came last year.

to be continued