Kicking it in Kampala

I have really got this Kampala gig down: sun, lattes, Indian food, gym, pool…I am refining my routine the more I travel down south. This weekend I discovered a local bar that shakes up margaritas – but nothing compared with what Mom Fish can brew up in her Boulder kitchen. As my mother’s daughter, I had to send back the bartender’s first attempt and kindly request to increase the tequila. And finally, I have found true chicken vindaloo at a posh Indian restaurant that a friend introduced me to. You would think that would be enough for me, but it gets better. Steffi, the German woman nice enough to allow me to crash with her, has her very own pool. Not only that, but her house is on Makindye Hill, with beautiful views of Lake Victoria on one side and downtown Kampala on the other. Need I say more?

So the weekend has been incredibly relaxing and I got a taste of the Kampala nightlife - no knees flying out the sockets, so a success! This morning I dragged myself out of bed at 6 to catch the post bus back to Gulu – I can’t reiterate enough how much I hate travel in Uganda. It is exhausting, frustrating, and incredibly turbulent. I do have to admit that I miss Gulu when I am gone, especially since I am feeling out of the loop with all of the latest ceasefire/peace developments. Betty Bigombe is still engaged with the top LRA commanders, and it appears that Kony is requesting that the ceasefire be extended from 7 to 100 days. There have still been attacks and abductions by the LRA (one incident took place just south of Gulu on the road to Kampala), but both sides seem to be moving forward with the ceasefire. I must get back to the Acholi Inn to do some reconnaissance.

What else? I have been asked to be among a team of four facilitators for a reconciliation conference between the government and stakeholders in December. I feel a bit out of league with my colleagues, especially as the only mzungu (and a blonde, 25 year old one at that), but I think it will be a great experience. If everything goes according to plan, and I can manage to avoid parasites, giardia, and other nuisances, I shall head to Rwanda on the bus for a few days next week and ideally join my old colleagues at the Kigali AIDS Commission for World AIDS Day. I was yet again reminded last week of how intimately intertwined Uganda and Rwanda are. A friend of mine in the Ugandan army was relaying to me how he joined Museveni’s rebel movement in the 80s as a child (he refused to tell me exactly how old he was, but probably not older than 10 is my guess) to oust the Obote II regime. Many Rwandans living as refugees in Uganda supported Museveni and fought alongside him. After Museveni succeeded, he provided support to the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), which launched its invasion into Rwanda from Uganda on October 1, 1990. My friend also fought with the RPF for four years until they reached Kigali. Then as war descended in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (Zaire), this friend again took up arms on behalf of the Ugandan army, and now he is stationed in Northern Uganda. That’s a whole lotta war.

I am trying not to think about the fact that I will be missing Turkey Day for the second year in a row. I heard that the US Ambassador does a big dinner at his residence, but that doesn’t do much for me in Gulu. I don’t know any other Americans in Gulu, so I will to go it alone. Last year I had a nice tilapia fillet in Kigali, but this year I will have to settle for the Gulu specialty: meatless chicken. Yes folks, the chickens are hungry too.