Back Across The Border

The journey back to Uganda began very early. We decided to catch the first bus leaving at 0600 to try to hit Kampala at a reasonable hour. No wifi this time, smaller seats and lots of screaming babies for ten hours. Ah well the first experience was too good to be true.

Crossing the border was less troublesome especially as we knew what to expect, what to do and didn’t look like virgin roadies.

Usually I am not a fan of rain. London rain is that pathetic drizzle that can’t make up its mind what to do. When it does rain heavily in the smoke the temperature drops and the wind picks up making it miserable. In Africa the rain is dramatic and energising. It falls hard, in bucket loads and refreshes everything. The air is still warm and fat raindrops are cool. I love watching the terracotta mud floor getting saturated, before turning the roads and into fast flowing red rivers. Africans however do not like the rain. They will go to great lengths to stay bone dry. There was a wonderful sight as the bus pulled up at a gas station and people got out to stretch their legs for a few short minutes. Everyone including the food hawkers selling chapattis, roasted cassava, bags of g’nuts and sodas all huddled under the gas station roof with plastic bags over their heads and cheap broken umbrellas jutting out in different directions for protection.

By the time we had hit Kampala it was late afternoon. We had planned to get back to the hostel, eat, watch the England match and hit the sack at a reasonable hour. Tomorrow we were getting on another bus and heading up to Masindi and onto Budongo – my home away from home in 2012 – the beautiful tropical rainforest I lived in for three months.

The traffic was heavy in the city. We weren’t going anywhere fast. Then I saw this guy. It made me laugh so hard I almost dropped my iPad out of the window. T.I.A (This is Africa). I’m not even sure what he was driving was legal but he certainly did a good job of turning heads.