Aaaaah - Gulu Town. I remember this. Hot, dusty, noisy, dirty - but temporarily "home" nevertheless. Most of us have left the surrounds of IST and points in between and have returned "home."
Climbed on a Homeland Bus this morning and landed a decent seat thanks to another PCV who called ahead and reserved! Left the luxury abode of the Annex (a step down from Motel 6) with bathrooms down the hall, concrete everything - I've mentioned this place before. Had to negotiate to get the cardboard put back in the window so I could block out the megawatt security stairwell light shining in the room 24/7. Having had to do this each night, this encore negotiation required getting re-dressed, going into another part of the building up two flights of stairs, explaining for the um-teenth time about light-in-the-eyes being a deterrent to sleep when combined with all night noise and bumping around of maids. The victory blow was unfortunately: "I will not pay unless you please get someone 'now-now' to fix the window." "Now-now" takes about an hour, but it is done. I sleep until mid-night when I'm awakened by voices down the hall having an animated discussion and then again by party-goers straggling in in the wee-hours.
This is all evidently orchestrated by the universe to bring self back to the reality of life after having spent a truly lovely day, which began with good brewed coffee (a rarity) on the terrace of the Grand Imperial Hotel watching the prehistoric, teradactyle looking Maribou Storks in some trees across the way. This was followed by lunch (Greek salad with real honest to god lettuce - even more rare) and going to see the movie, My Week with Marilyn (excellent) in a theater that would rival the luxury of one in the States. Afterwards, we continued the fantasy by wandering through a bookstore on whose shelves appeared books that were "hot" in the States 10 years ago, but otherwise felt like a mini-Barnes and Noble with strains of Whitney Houston filing in the tableau. Pushing our luck, we went for Mexican food afterwards. It was lovely to sit outside and eat, but you know I AM a Texan and the palate cannot be fooled. The best part though was the dance lessons going on in the main room - beautiful young Ugandans learning to line dance and Salsa and doing it with panache!
Awoke at 4AM to buckets bumping around and at 7AM got a private-hire to the bus park - not quite as disorganized as the hornet's nest known as the taxi-park, but daunting. We pay the equivalent of $10 and climb on as hawkers of everything from bottled drinks to shoes and jewelry climb aboard with their wares displayed on boards and racks and selling until about 8:15 when we leave. This is actually on-time, unlike many buses that wait three-four hours to fill before they will pull out. There are no goats or chickens riding with us this time, but as we were puling out of the park, I saw a gathering of what appeared to be wedding-goers carrying their gifts. It was the bright blue ribbon wrapped around a big stick used for grinding food that got my attention. Another reveler was carrying a big earthen ware jug used locally for storing water and keeping it cool, while another had a big blue bow tied around the neck of an unsuspecting goat, being led by a leash of blue ribbon. Wish I'd had my camera, but this is a scene that will live on in my mind's eye forever.
Crossing the Nile on the way back is always the indicator that we're getting close and it is a fantastic Force 5+ white water rush. Just on the other side, the baboons were back and we can feel the temperature rising. It is at least 10 degrees hotter here. The baboon return must be seasonal, because the last few times we have crossed they have been conspicuously absent. They are my "up-side of Africa" fix. Another stop brings us along side the chicken market where live chickens tied by the feet and dangled upside-down are offered for sale. Someone behind me thinks he'll take a couple and they are un-ceremoniously shoved through the window squawking and flapping indignantly - only to be rejected for reasons unknown.
We are spared the ride back listening to the poor creatures, whose noise would only serve to accompany the crying baby sitting next to the throwing-up seat mate one row ahead. Travel in Uganda is not for the squeamish or those prone to motion sickness. Thank you again Diane for sending me along with SeaBands and to Travis and Brett for replacing the lost ones. They are life-savers. You can forget the American Express Card, but never leave home with out your SeaBands in Uganda!
I arrived home six hours later to see all the trees that were cut down along the fence line to deter the neighbors from climbing over and burglarizing the joint, still laying around looking unsightly. Unsightly sheets of rusted roofing tin have now been added to the fence to make it "safer," and more prison like.... The glass in the broken window has been fixed; Geckos skitter across the walls and skinks slither out of windows as I open them. Yep - I'm home. And while I do not have electricity, I do have water. As fast as humanly possible, I fought the Geckos for the bathroom and won - took a delishously cold shower, threw some laundry in the bucket to let it soak and got horizontal to finish a book I started before I left.
Despite the heat and dust, I have to admit to being glad to be back in a less hectic environment, where good places to eat and movies don't drain the pocket book and one can settle. Since there is no electricity, there is little cold to be found in Gulu, but I lucked upon one shop with a cold Slurpy yogurt and that is dinner.
Welcome home to me ;-) or "Apwoyo dwogo," as I will be greeted tomorrow morning when I return to work. In other words" Thank you for returning!"
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