I spy with my little eye...

Today was the beginning of our journey home, a journey that would take 2 and a half days. We were up early and on the road at 7 to drive back to Kampala. It was a very long day with relentless rain and hours sat in traffic jams. We had hoped to take a boat trip across Lake Victoria, visiting the source of the Nile. Unfortunately the rain was so hard it would have made for a miserable and most likey disappointing experience so we heading straight for Kampala instead.

We passed Mbale and briefly stopped for a 'pit drop' and petrol refill in Tororo. Tororo sits in the mountains; Charles had agreed to take us a different route back so we could experience the rain forests and what they had to offer. The gas station sat beside a children's home ran by the Salvation Army. As Linzi, Laura and Ella-Sophia are all members of the church they were keen to go and have a look. Two men greeted us at the gate and welcomed us in. As Charles drove in we passed a substantial brightly painted church building and behind it lay 3 or 4 slightly dilapidated homes. A few children with dusty clothes appeared in the doorways and women sat washing cloths on the doorsteps. From out of the nearest house came a pleasant looking Ugandan lady. She smiled and took our hands introducing herself as Lieutenant Mary, a minister in the Salvation Army. She took us to look at the church and asked about the ministry in the UK. The home sat in the shadows of a huge mountain they call the Tororo Rock. We took some photos and gave our blessings, then set off again. 

Our journey continued around the Rock and through the forests. The further we travelled the worse the rain got. Our mood was pretty low as we recollected and reflected over the last few days; emotionally drained, tired and uncomfortable. When suddenly Charles pointed ahead of us. "MONKEYS" we cried as we each grappled for our cameras. Six wild baboons were pacing along the grass verges, eyeing up our vehicle... and the luggage strapped to the roof! They were sturdy and fierce, they owned that road! A little further up the road a family with young children were walking toward the troop carrying their shopping on their heads 😮 we didn't fancy their chances of getting those purchases back in one piece! Then we hit traffic, a huge queue of tankers and lorries littered the road. Ahead was a weighbridge and huge market pulling in crowds of truckers. The highway police dressed in smart white uniforms waved us through and we drove of at speed, past the palm trees and monstrous cement factory, toward Jinga. 

The drive today felt very different; the towns, villages, fields and forests were diverse. Everywhere had it's own personality despite similar sites being seen along the way. It was much busier too compared to last Sunday, people filled every corner even in the middle of nowhere and never were we the only car on the road.  As we came through Iganga the rain got heavier still and the side door began to leak. Water poured down my leg and soaked the fabric until we could find a safe place to stop and readjust the seal. We stopped off in Jinga to have lunch at Java, the westernised coffee shop, where our driver marvelled at our burgers and burritos having never seen them before.  

Most of the team found time to close their eyes and re-energise but I couldn't help but watch the world as we travelled by. There were so many sights to be seen, many I thought I may never see again. Just a few examples;

• People collecting water in huge yellow carriers from the puddles that had formed in the ditches
  
• Chickens being plucked on the roadside
• Live chickens and turkeys being strapped to motorbikes
• More than 20 live chickens being tied to taxi roofs
• People piled on the backs of pick up trucks
• People sitting of the roof of pick up trucks (as they drive, just to clarify)
• Disused train tracks, overgrown with weeds, children balancing along the rails
• People washing their clothes in the streams and rivers as they flowed with rage in the rain
• Many, many allotments running along the main roads 
• A camel tied to a tree!
• Hand painted petrol tankers complete with brush strokes
• A mattress flying off the back of a truck as the driver continued at pace
• 4 men each holding the leg of an upturned cow whilst another hacked at it with a machete
• A number of people cradling live goats on their laps as they travelled by boda boda
• A live goat also being pulled out of the baggage hold of a bus
• Relentless mounds of green bananas 
• Traders selling mismatched shoes and cages of hens stacked up in the markets
• 4 wheel drives with benches on the back carrying police armed in riot gear
• Brightly painted buses decoated with bells and tassels and enscripted with verses from the bible
• Scaffolding made from tottering wooden posts
• An entire street sponsored by coca-cola
• Cows grazed on the lawns of a car factory 

Uganda really is a fascinating country. As we neared Kampala more squeals elated the bus as we shouted "train!" My son is a train enthusiast and had remarked I couldn't return home without seeing an African train, something we thought was going to be an impossible task. It was the ony train, and usable looking track we had seen, and judging by the reaction the delegates had had to the toy train we had thought this was an impossible mission. I was one relieved Mummy, and following a Facetime later, he was one very happy little boy. 

We didn't get very far in Kampala very quickly, we sat in traffic for a good 3 hours, slowly weaving and squeezing through the smallest of gaps. Motorcycles, lorries and buses filled us wth fear and many a gasp and wince was heard around the back of the bus. Charles was a 'total legend!' He negotiated the mayhem and got us through unscathed. As we sat at standstill men selling breadsticks, flicking tubes of chewing gum and carryng cardboard boxes of sodas rapped at the windows. Women with baskets of mangoes and bananas waded through and even people selling rugs and posters called out to us. An overwhelming smell of diesel filled the air. Eventually Charles took a right turn and we headed past the National Theatre and the Ugandan Broadcasting Centre. We pulled in to a car park surrounded by little arches filled wth trinketts. This was a tourist craft market, unlike the others we had passed it was quiet and colourful. Each stall offered jewellery, paintings and fabrics galore. We moved around purchasing some gifts and attempting to get to grips with the currency. Ugandan shilling is approximately 4500 shillings to £1GBP. After many hours on the road an ability to engage our brains and work out some fairly difficult ratios was a challenge. However the therapy of shopping was very welcome indeed. Poor Charles had no idea what he had let himself in for as 5 woman threw themselves in to negotiations. As the sun went down we continued to sift through the baskets and dresses until it was pitch black outside (sorry Charles!)  A gaggle of very happy ladies eventually returned to the bus laiden with small packages and ventured for the hotel. Dinner was on odd affair where we ate pizza and chips over Dolly Parton and pan pipe music as provocative hip hop videos silently played on the big screen. Our beds and mosquito nets were calling and after many an argument with the wifi we all retired for the night.