Tag Archives: travel

The sequel [2016]

“DJ are you ready? DJ are you ready? DJ are you ready?” [Crowds cheer. Repeat.]

Saturday evening, Kampala. A good test of acceptance: the booming shouting drumming from across the road cannot be fought, just absorbed.

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Semi-surprised to be back in Uganda so soon after last time; not quite believing it until I landed, again, into the open green lakeside calm of Entebbe and was driven, again, alongside the still-under-construction highway to Kampala.

The familiarity makes much of it easy: knowing who to call for airport lifts (Godfrey), which part of the city to stay in (Kololo), how to get phone and internet credit (MTN shop in Acacia Mall). Even where to find a yoga class (just up the road, though watch out for the mosquitoes). It makes much of it less lonely, knowing there are a few people in this city who are more than contacts, maybe friends now. Continue reading

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The teacher

Non-adults are also welcome

Non-adults are also welcome

Vincent travels about four hours by bus each way to teach an adult literacy class, getting little more than his expenses paid. He’s been doing this for over a year. Continue reading

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Making it work

Photo by Lawrence

First timers – photo by Lawrence

New project, new challenges.

Back in Kazo, the school was about 20 yards from my home; here, it takes a good hour and a half bouncing along the roads of some not-so-nice parts of Nairobi. The Kenyans I’m working with have zero experience of cameras (which also makes it a lot of fun), and I’m told we need to pay them something to compensate for a day of lost wages. And we have only four working days to do something meaningful.

At least this time, I’m not too surprised when we don’t start on time, or that attendance is somewhat, well, fluid. And since my expectations are lower – this is a bit of a trial, before a real (and funded!) project comes next year – it’s nice just to see where it goes. They seem to be enjoying it so far. Continue reading

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Season two

Hate this bit, the lull before it’s time. Wardrobe emptied, bags busting at seams. The room I’ve inhabited bare-walled again and full of echoes. Strikethroughs on the to-do list (latest version), meaning time to think. And to wonder, again, if I am a bit mad.

Only one way to find out, I guess.

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