I am Mzungu

30 November, Tuesday; Kampala, Uganda. Breakfast at 6:30 today and tents down beforehand. After 2 days, we’re finally starting to get the hang of it, but welcomed some help this morning breaking down our tent. Surely next time we’ll nail it on our own. Then we started off on a long travel day which led us across the border into Uganda. Along the ride, our overland truck is constantly greeted with cries of “Mzungu” and children waving excitedly. Ben and I oblige and wave back and it puts a smile on our faces. Mzungu is a Swahili word that originated with the first (white) European visitors and it roughly describes those who travel around, but tends to mean “white.” We also come across adults that wave, usually with children, but it’s the kids that is so amusing. They seem to have such genuine excitement to run out and wave at the truck. I am also greeted by adults as “Hello, Mzungu.” I guess you could compare the term a little bit to “gringo,” though there is apparently no negative connotation. We make a stop for gas and take the opportunity to walk through a market. A woman offers to sell me a chicken (which is still alive), which I politely decline, though I wonder how one is to transport said chicken home, as there were no empty crates available. The border is next. It’s a multi-step purpose, but easy enough. Stamped out of Kenya on the Kenya side. I walk off while waiting for the rest of group and am politely approached by locals wanting to shake my hand, ask my name and where I am from. I love the chance to interact with the locals, even for a few minutes here and there. We then must wait for a while on the Uganda side to get the group’s visas and stamps. Of course, our bus is a target and we are quickly surrounded by people wanting to sell us fruit, sodas and snacks. I have a long conversation with a boy named Musa, whose name I can only remember by thinking of “Mustafa.” He actually schools me a bit in maths and geography and politely asks if I can bring him a football (soccer ball) on our way back. The kids don’t ask for money, but nearly all ask can we give them a book. I only have my kindle, so I think I will oblige him and bring one on the way back next week.

Some of the differences we quickly notice are the buildings and roads. The roads in Uganda seem to be a bit better, though we do pass through some construction and our driver, Akio, does a fantastic job navigating the potholes and tight passing spaces. Bricks are apparently quite cheap in Uganda, so you see more brick buildings along the highway, though there are also many traditional round houses with thatched roofs. Our guide also gives us a rundown on Uganda’s history (hint – “The Last King of Scotland” is about Idi Amin and a great movie. I want to rewatch it after visiting Uganda) and cultural differences. One interesting point is how the women are brought up to serve their husbands and actually have a class taught by older women on how to please their husbands in bed! This is a striking difference to Kenya where sex is very taboo. I also have an in-depth convo with our guide about women’s issues like pregnancy and abortion. Very fascinating.

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After a long drive, we reach Kampala, the capital of Uganda and home to 5 million people. We don’t get a great view of the city, but we do pass a huge stadium and drive through the slums to reach our campsite which has hot water, electricity and wireless internet – yeah! I meet some interesting other travellers and I’m blown away by their desire and tenacity to travel across Africa (some going from Cape Town to Cairo and beyond). This also sparks a conversation with two girls in our group that have travelled across many countries by themselves – I’m really impressed. We also meet some people that are doing long overland trips in land rovers with their tents perched on top of their trucks. Ben and I thought about doing this until we realized paying for a carnet (car insurance) was going to be nearly impossible. However, there were other reasons. Shortly after we considered this, we went camping in Yosemite and couldn’t find a campsite in the park. We consulted our guidebook and darted off to Fish Camp, a basic campsite south of the park. It was deserted with the exception of one RV and the facilities consisted of only drop toilets. Despite being close to the park, it felt a million miles away from civilization. I kept freaking out throughout the night that a bear might attack us and neither of us slept well. Needless to say, we hightailed it off to the park the next day to snag a camp spot and figured I wouldn’t be able to do the drive-ourselves-around-the-world trip. However, I do think that you adjust to your situation and I wouldn’t say it would be impossible for me to adapt along the way. One thing I would have to get used to are all of the drop toilets. But that’s the subject of another blog!!