Clown Cars, Burials, & The Nile

When I got the opportunity to drive and see a new part of the country as well as to see the Nile river I knew I had to jump on the chance. So, last Sunday Nelson and I headed from Mpigi to Jinja.

Now, where to begin? This story has so many directions I can go with it as it was a wild day. Hmm… let’s start with the drive. Originally, it was Nelson and I driving together. Then, the day before, he asked me if his two sons could go. Later, Amos, the maintenance guy at the children’s home, said he had never been to Jinja and asked if he could come. So, 5 people, the car was full.

As I mentioned in my last post, Nelson lives in Kampala so we had to drive to get him. But, when I arrived at his house, his wife was also waiting. Tragically, her father had died the night before just outside of Jinja. So, a child sitting on a lap later and we were off.

Of course, this added some pressure as I had never driven in the capital before, a city with exactly two traffic lights. However, we somehow made it out and began traveling east. About 30 minutes in, Nelson turns to me and asks if we could give his wife’s sister a ride as she is on the way to Jinja. “Why not?” I thought and we stopped in the next town. So, another child sitting on a lap and we were off.

However, 100m ahead Nelson told me to stop. I guess his wife had seen another sister that was walking to catch a taxi. “Why not?” I thought again. A child on a lap, a child in the trunk, four adults in the back seat, and we were off.

We stopped for “eats”, which means we just stopped at the side of the road and 20 people in white coats came running up to our car with bottled water, mystery meat on a stick, and bbqed bananas in tow. We then traveled through a huge forest (Nelson’s words) that was 3km long and by the largest Coke plant and sugar cane plant in East Africa. We were almost in Jinga when we stopped again. Nelson gets out, disappears into a market, and comes back with another person. His brother, he tells me. A child on a lap, a child in the trunk, five adults in the back seat, and we were off.

The way back was much more comfortable as the kids, aunts, and mom were dropped off. However, driving back through a city of 1.5 million people in the dark was interesting to say the least. I only “almost” lost a side view mirror (thank you hinges). Some things I learned to watch out for in the future were three point turns in the middle of busy streets, broken down trucks blocking traffic for miles, and “suicidal” motorcycle drivers. Fun!



So, as we were in Jinja that day, I attended my first burial/mourning. For these, People come from all over and can spend several days. The body of the deceased is laid out in the house for all to see and wailing can be heard late into the night. It was difficult to experience at first. But, after a while, it just felt right. We tend to “stuff it” don’t we? We are asked to “be strong”. I remembered a teacher once telling me that people in cultures that openly mourn actually, in the long run, do better at dealing with loss. I was beginning to believe him. The memory of the shots on television of mothers in middle eastern countries weeping over the death of their children just got a lot less strange.

After we left the burial, we traveled to a local church at which I taught. Of course, because of the unexpected death, we were late and I was almost immediately whisked to the front. Oh, did I mention they wanted me to speak for an hour?! It actually turned out to be great fun and I was even able to experience the announcement of an engagement. You wouldn’t believe the screams of joy, people jumping up and down, and women literally fanning the soon to be bride as if to say she is too hot! Here are a couple of shots of the event:




Soon after we motored out of town we turned of the main road and went what seemed like forever down a unkept path. We ended up here, rapids near the source of the Nile.




Amos, Nelson, and his brother stood and stared at the rapids for quite a long time. They had never seen water like this, the power and volume was overwhelming. The were shocked even further when they saw guys who, if paid a few dollars, would go over the rapids while clinging to an empty jerry can. I had to drag them away after an hour as the sun was setting. It was a marathon day, but one I will never forget.





A story…

I never mentioned this, but a few weeks ago one of the youth in the area got funding to film a music video for his album. So, the whole church community got involved and practiced acting and dancing for days on end. They filmed all over the area and this week the time had arrived to unveil the edited video that would hopefully go into rotation on Ugandan television. I was planning for something “interesting”.


The video was set to premiere on the property at 5:00. I hurried to finish the teaching I was doing as people began to slowly trickle in. 5:30, 6:00, 6:30 rolled by without any video. There must have been 100 people there but no one seemed to mind. About an hour in, music began to play and a small boy, no older than 3, began to dance on the stage. He was amazing and everyone stood and cheered for him. He must have danced for a half an hour without pulling out the same move twice. Once he finished, almost as if was organized, 50 people began a dance party in the back of the building that lasted for an hour.

At 7:00, an announcement was made that the video would be there “soon”, maybe five minutes. So, we waited another half an hour and decided to go up for dinner and for a child to run up to get us when the video arrived. At 8:30, a full three and half hours after the advertised time, the videos started.

The reason I say videos is that I guess people don’t make one video, they make a video for each song on the album! The first two videos I got what I planned for. The third wasn’t bad and the last one had something to do with staying in school or you will end up as a farmer for the rest of your life, a good lesson I guess. For some reason, much of the cinema was footage from a film about a white Jesus interspersed with traditional dancing, guys busting a move with their shirts off, and older women in traditional clothing. However, after seeing some local videos on television since then, it was definitely above par.

I think what I will remember most is the waiting, how no one seemed to care, and the random dance party, where everyone found something fun to do. A different culture, for sure.


More to come…