The inauguration viewed by an European

For the first time in my life, as probably many other people, I watched the US presidential inauguration. Although I am in Uganda, I watched the inauguration among Americans. But in Uganda this day is huge, there are Obama pictures everywhere. In Buhoma, near the gorillas, you could only find gorilla shirts and obama shirts. Crazy!

Lots of people screaming, is this the Champions League Final? No? What football match is this?

Oh! Presidential inauguration, what exactly is that? Why does the president need to swear? Do you think he spent two years campaigning to drop in the last minute?

A woman comes and starts talking about being patriotic. Touching. Pause, some sort of pastor comes to speech. WTF? A pastor! Why the hell a pastor has the right to speak in front of a few million people? Why is he talking about god? Where is the State Church separation? This is horrible!

Biden comes to swear. The speech is ridiculous. What is that book the other is holding? The Constitution? No, the Bible! Why is the bible there? Isn’t he swearing to obey the constitution? What if the guy was not catholic?

It’s noon in the US and everyone starts cheering. Wait, why is that? Well, the swearing thing is just a joke. The guy is president anyway after noon. I knew it! This ceremony is ridiculous.

Road to Buhoma

I have the impression that I went to the end of the world and came back. It is a part of the world that you do not see in magazines or television. Nonetheless, people live here and they are happy. Yes, people are happy in this part of the world. They do not care about cable television, internet and other luxuries that we consider basic. They have maize fields, cows and goats, and a very decent education system.

Buhoma

I understood here why people are so reluctant to pose for a picture. Until now I just respected their will and I would only take a picture if they allowed me to. What happens is that any picture taken by a white guy might end up making a cover of a magazine with headlines such as ‘poor Africa’ as if they didn’t have the right to be happy the way they want.

The road to Bwindi is full of tiny villages with very basic conditions but still with plenty of food, animals and people smiling. Kids build their own toys, teenagers build their own bikes with wood and wire. In Buhoma, the last stop before you enter the impenetrable forest, the only bar in town is showing a ManU match. Football is huge here and the premiership is passionately followed. The atmosphere at this bar is as lively as in any pub in London and people squeeze to cheer for their favorite.

In order to get to Buhoma, on the border with Rwanda and Congo, we had to drive for 4 hours through bumpy roads. Noah, our driver, explained the route, ‘we take the road to Kabale, then head west, and then into Bwindi. The last part is a little bumpy.’ I’m guessing that bumpy is very relative since the very first miles of road are a sequence of potholes. But as soon as we leave Mbarara the landscape becomes spectacular, with long valleys, vast coffee and tea plantations, clean and organized towns. This is by far the most beautiful part of Uganda.

Road to Buhoma

On the way back, we take a different road, not less bumpy but neither less spectacular. As we drive along Ishasha, monkeys and baboons cross the road in front of us, some antelopes as well. At some point, a few baboons more used to human contact, occupy the road and make cars stop. As we stop, they come to our window to beg for bananas. We give them one banana and they quickly peel it and devour it. Uganda is such a great place to watch wildlife.

A baboon and her baby begging for bananas

Tracking gorillas in the Impenetrable Forest

The Impenetrable Forest

We had been walking for 3 hours when I asked Maddy, our guide,

- Did the trackers find the gorillas yet?
- Not yet, no luck. It is going to be a long day.

It was a long day, 7 hours tracking gorillas in the rainforest. Maddy warned us beforehand,

- This is not a safari. For safari you go to Queen Elizabeth [the game park] and seat in a car to point animals. Here you have to walk and find them, look for signs, track their path. Sometimes it takes half an hour, sometimes 3 hours, and sometimes you can’t find them.

My only concern was the last part of the statement, we had to find those gorillas. So I just obeyed Maddy’s rather rational advice: ‘the trackers follow the gorillas, and we follow the trackers.’

Every day 3 teams leave Buhoma to track gorillas, one team per family. Only 8 visitors are allowed in each team to which you add a guide, one ranger, and 2-3 trackers who walk 1h ahead of the main group to track the gorillas and try to maximize the probably of success. In addition, you can hire porters. Porters are clearly useless in a day trekking but that is a way of helping the local community and that way ensure the sustainability of the park.

We left Buhoma at 8am at Maddy’s voicing ‘let’s penetrate the impenetrable forest!’ And so we did. Looking from our starting point all I could see was a green mass drawn by opulent tree crowns fighting for light on an overcrowded ground. That was the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, the place that 340 gorillas call home. We were about to track 9 of them, one of the 3 families allowed to receive visitors: one silverback male, two females, 4 teenagers, and 2 babies.

Just like we were told, the rainforest is not an easy place to walk through. Multitude of vegetation fights for light, water and ground, forming a living mesh that seems to grab our feet as we walk. The higher vegetation does not allow us to see more than 4-5 meters ahead but we have Maddy, our guide, who moves through the impenetrable forest as if it is his home.

I am behind Maddy when he shouts ‘They found them!’, meaning the trackers had found the gorillas. More than euphoria I sensed relief among the group. Right until then, Maddy’s face did not inspire optimism and everyone was feeling we could be one of the 10% that are not able to see the gorillas. We walk as fast as we can until we find the trackers. They are lying in the ground, drinking porridge, and waiting for us, ‘they are 2-3 minutes away.’ Maddy drives us a few more meters and all of the sudden he stops, ‘the first one is here, try to be silent from now on and turn off the flashes.’ The moment that everyone expected arrived.

The first one we see is Wagaba, a male teenager. He’s seating in the middle of a bush avidly eating pieces of tender bush. We surround him but he’s immutable, like if we were not there. After a while he starts moving and we follow him. He takes us to his family and that is the entire show. The father Ruhondeza, a large silverback, is eating an entire bush. At his right, one of the babies is hanging from a tree eating berries. After a while, Marayika, another teenager, comes and starts playing next to the father. Ruhondeza just wants to sleep. Kashongo, one of the females, joins the crowd and, wow!, she brings one of the babies attached to her chest. We are literally among them. We are so among them that Kanyone, a girl teenager, grabs Sarah’s arm when she is trying to get a close-up, but in a such gentle way that she seems she’s trying to take a look at the picture.

The shy Kanyone playing with a stick 

The little one eating berries

Ruhondeza, the silverback

Kanyone grabbing Sarah's arm

I cannot believe I can be so close to them, being touched by these gentle giants, watching them playing, eating or sleeping, just like any other family on a weekend. The little one comes to the middle and wants to play but none of his siblings seem very excited with the idea.

The family reunion

Maddy starts counting ’15 more minutes’. We can only be with them for 1h in order to minimize the chance of passing any diseases to the gorillas. When we have to go I take another look at that family, they look so much like us.

The way back to the camp is made in silent; everyone is digesting emotions, strong emotions from an unbelievable experience.

Out for the weekend

I am going to track some mountain gorillas. On Monday, I hope to have pictures at least as good as this one.

The importance of a shinning shoe

Have you ever thought that your reputation could depend on how well you polish your shoes? In fact, not only how well you polish them but how well you keep them shinning.

You might think that reputation would be easy to build but not in Uganda. In a country where most of the roads are not paved, where dust invades every inch of your life and lungs, where people dress formally and wear leather shoes, reputation was never harder to keep.

Believe it or not, I have never seen so many shinning shoes as here. Peter, the receptionist at the University Inn, is an extreme example of a proud Ugandan: impeccable ironed slacks, white shirt, blazer… and immaculate shinning shoes. I asked Peter how is it possible to keep those shoes shinning all the time. ‘You have to walk carefully, over the dust.’ Over the dust? I can only walk through the dust.

Ever since we talked I try to watch him walking around. Maybe I am dreaming but whenever I see Peter walking I can swear he is moving a few inches above the ground. Over the dust, like he says. No wonder he keeps his shoes shinning.

Wood Ants

The tunnel. The legs you see belong to the nightstand, so you have an idea of scale

The little bugs rebuilding part of the destroyed tunnel

My room is under attack of wood ants, or at least that is what I think they are. Last weekend a brown tunnel started to grow under the nightstand, coming from the closet towards the wall. These little bugs are fast and I can imagine they will quickly deplete the closet. Since I will be out of here next week my only concern is to investigate their work.

Every once in a while the cleaning lady comes and destroys the tunnel. That does not deter these ants and, like nothing happened, they resume their work and rebuild the tunnel. I don’t exactly know what is the goal of building a tunnel towards the wall, since the wall is not made of wood. They made a detour towards the bed and I think that is too much for them. Why don’t they stick to the closet and eat it all? Why eating the bed? Isn’t that too much of a challenge for them?

I think it is. I keep telling them that it is a strategic mistake to set such an ambitious goal. They don’t listen to me so I gave up. Whatever they think it’s best for them, I am ok with that. It’s their life.

Ugandan Beer

The Winner! Nile Special

I believe I'm done with my research on Ugandan beer. After almost two weeks here, I have completed a thorough research and reached a conclusion. A cold Nile!

I excluded Guinness from my research since, although it is brewed in Uganda. It is no different from the original one and I am not a great fan of stout.

I started my research with a Bell, a light beer, not too light though but still with not enough taste. I then moved to Club, which is the closest to Bud Light, which means water in beer bottle. Then I tried Nile Special, a tasty lager, not too heavy but definitely not light with 5.6% alcohol. The perfect partner for all occasions. The next player was Tusker, a malt lager, brown beer, heavy and tasty. I liked it but it needs a good partner, like beef or the popular goat meat. Finally I tasted Moonberg, a german beer brewed here, very much like Nile but I believe less tasty. It was a close finish between Moonberg and Nile but I stick to Nile.

Time in Uganda

Time is relative, and I’m not talking about Einstein’s general relativity. I’m talking about cultural relativity. One hour for me is not one hour for an American and it is not one hour for a Ugandan. It’s hard to understand this concept but it’s one of primary importance whenever you’re dealing cross-culturally.

Ugandans say that here you should not go to a restaurant when you are hungry, you should go at least 1h before you think you will be hungry. Any nutritionist in the US would probably tell you the same but here it has a different meaning. It means it takes at least 1h to order food to the table. If everyone is fine with that, why shouldn’t I? Furthermore, they even warn you so no complaints.

A meeting time does not mean that people will be on time for the meeting. It is a suggestion; you know you should show up around that time, maybe half an hour later, maybe more, maybe less. If you are early, you drink a cup of coffee or tea and wait. Why should you hurry if no one does?

This logic is repeated again and again in different contexts and situations. Time is relative, so why worry?

Disrespecting local timing is rude because you are assuming that everyone thinks like you, that you are the center of the world, the one who dictates the rules. When we came to Uganda we were repeatedly told that time in Uganda does not mean the same as in the US. Everyone repeated the warning again and again. Nonetheless, those warnings often seem to be left where they were given, a few thousand miles away.

Have you ever thought why should that report be delivered on Monday and not on Tuesday? I’m not asking who gave you that deadline; I’m asking why was that deadline set? Why is half an hour a reasonable time to order food and not one hour? Why should someone be ready to give me what I ask for when I ask for? Why should I be angry whenever someone does not understand my time? Shouldn’t they be angry with my anger?

Vision Empire

In Mbarara, a town with 250,000 inhabitants, there is only one place to go out at night. It is called Vision Empire and every week it offers three nights of fun and drinks. Wednesday is ladies night, Thursday is reggae night and Friday is whatever night.

I went there on Friday with Pidson and a few more friends. It was literally whatever night, from bad American 80s pop to good Ugandan hip-hop and reggae. It's 12 something when we head to Vision Empire. The price of admission is visible at the door: USh 3,000 for the regular room, USh 7,000 for the VIP room. US$3.5 is reasonable for a VIP room and Pidson won't let me go to the regular room. ‘Girls are on the VIP room’, things don’t change just because you're in Africa.

Pison and I before heading to Vision Empire. Notice how black shirt is the uniform

In fact, when we arrive there are no girls or boys. The place is empty. ‘Too early’, complains Pidson. Dinner was too short. I go to the bar and order a drink, ‘gin and tonic please.’ ‘Excuse me?’ I try once more and give up, clearly that is not a normal order. ‘One vodka sprite, please.’ The waiter brings me a 0.375 liter bottle of vodka and a fresh sprite. That's half a regular bottle of liquor in case you're not familiar with the metric system.  ‘Can I have a glass please?’ He brings a glass and that’s all the cocktail. Ice is overrated, which makes sense because it's hard to trust that they boil water before freezing into ice cubes. I take my ‘cocktail’ but after a couple of glasses everything is warm and tastes awful. It’s better to stick to cold beer.

One vodka sprite, please!

Pidson insists in finding me a girl despite my warnings that I'm not interested. ‘Man, here you just have to choose, you’re white, every girl looks at you.’ It is actually not true as I see some girls looking in our direction and clearly more interested in Pidson and Nicholas.

The party is over around 5, not because Vision Empire is empty but because we have an early morning drive to Queen Elizabeth Park. Unfortunately I don’t have good pictures from Vision Empire. They don’t allow cameras inside the place. The reason? Some people bring cameras to shoot celebrities and then publish the pictures in magazines. Who would say Mbarara is such a celebrity spot?

Ugandan Food, Part II

Kalo on the left, Posho on the right

‘You can’t manage that’, was the waiter’s comment on my order at City Top, a restaurant in Mbarara. I just ordered Kalo, which according to the waiter was a millet paste. I thought it was worth trying. He insisted: ‘that is not food for white people. Not even for me. That is for people in the villages. They can handle it. We can’t, it’s bad for your stomach’. I ordered anyway, just to try. Kalo is actually a mixture of boiled millet flour and a bit of cassava flour (also known as manioc or yucca). Kalo looks like an enormous piece of crap and its texture is both sticky and soft. The taste is rather neutral so people eat it with some sort of sauce. You don’t use a fork to eat kalo. Instead, you pull of a small piece with your hands, mold it with your thumb to make a hole, and then dip it into the sauce. The waiter was right. Kalo is extremely heavy and I doubt I can handle an entire piece of it.

Mold a hole with the thumbs

Fill the hole with sauce

And it's ready to eat

Another Ugandan delicacy is Posho, maize meal. As far as I could find out, posho is mostly made of maize flour although some people mix cassava. A couple of people told me that posho is made of cassava but I find it very hard to be true since cassava has a chewy and sticky texture and Posho is hard. Posho looks white, which is funny since both maize and cassava usually have a yellowish tone. I tried to find out why but people just say it’s the normal color so I assume it’s something to do with local maize. Just like Kalo, posho has little taste and people eat it with sauce.

I also learned this week that biñeuá is also called gnut sauce (pronounced g-nut) and is actually made of peanuts and a sort of aubergine. Anyways, it’s still awesome and the best sauce to eat with either matóke, posho or kalo.

Kalo, posho, matooke and rice are the staple foods in Uganda because they’re cheap, very energetic and rich in fibers.