A pair of rainbow-colored parrots just flew past me. Monkeys are leaping from limb to limb in a nearby tree occasionally making a loud clap/yell sound that's unfamiliar to my ear. Below me, perched as I am on a cliff overlooking the White Nile newly-flowing from its Lake Victoria source, two local men are fishing from a canoe; they drop nets and then paddle away from them, circling the nets while whopping the water repeatedly with the paddle -- presumably to chase the fish into their nets.
This is a relaxing, idyllic moment -- and I'm IN it. So into these moments that it's hard to even pick up pen and write about it.
Daniel and Halle and I are spending two days and nights visiting a Dutch couple, Monique and Wim, with whom he became friends after buying his cherished rottweiler puppy from them last summer. Their 12-acre, beautifully landscaped estate (The Far Side because it's on the opposite side of the Nile from the popular rafting launch sites ...and maybe because they're also Gary Larson fans) is about 50 miles from Kampala but the drive over bumpy roads, dodging potholes, vehicles and walkers took about two hours, more if you count the traffic delays getting out of Kampala itself.
The route is scenic, rich with tropical vegetation -- banana palms, coffee bushes, casava (that's the starchy root veggie commonly enjoyed here), and spiky papyrus. There are several villages along the way, mainly rows of small shops and over-crowded vendor stalls lining the main road. Painted signs point to off-road churches, mosques, schools -- some with strangely-Americanized names like Bright Minds Magnet School or Silver Spoon Primary School -- and to numerous social service facilities such as HIV/AIDS testing sites and clinics.
And everywhere, even away from the developed communities, are people on foot, carrying the bright yellow Jerrycans used for getting water at a community well or loaded down with other commodities. Some are pushing bicycles laden with all manner of cartage -- bundles of thatching for roof-making, long stalks of sugar cane, huge bags of maize or charcoal carefully laced together at the top with long green spiky leaves, or recently-slaughtered animals of varying species. And, for all I know, still-alive animals.
Other people are transporting themselves, their families, and various odd-shaped belongings on scooter taxis -- "bodas" --but I have yet to see the load I've heard about -- a boda carrying another boda. I'll keep my eyes open though.
Thanksgiving Day had already been celebrated, before Jinja, with about 20 friends of Daniel's. They were a wonderful mix of U.S. government workers and Ugandan friends and associates. Yes, there was turkey. And yes, there was cranberry sauce, freshly made from the cranberries I had stuffed into my luggage. We had a potluck-type feast, and I was glad that after we ate someone in the crowd suggested we let each person say what he or she is grateful for. I always liked doing that with my family. Me? I feel very blessed to be here, with Daniel and Halle, and beginning this new adventure.
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