The Uganda Edition

Greetings from Uganda!

Given the positive response I got for my Princess and the Poo blogs from Nepal (sorry that they tapered off there at the end, I got quite ill and couldn’t see the funny side of life for a while!) I thought that people might enjoy hearing about other adventures I’m having in my role as ‘Princess of the Poo’.

I’m in Uganda at the moment for the IWA Water Safety Conference, to present on my work in Nepal, and rub shoulders with some of my WASH idols (I know, I’m just THAT COOL. Do you think I could get Jamie Bartram to sign my chest?).

I arrived yesterday, and the first thing I noticed was how beautiful the country is from the air. Even though I knew it was on the equator, and that the weather was similar to Singapore, years of Hollywood movies led me to think I’d be flying into a dry dust bowl. But the country is a lush green, and Lake Victoria a crystal blue.

My first stop on arrival was to get a visa. The customs officer had great joy in telling me that he knows the capital of Australia is Canberra- but that no one actually lives there. It’s amazing how much this happens around the world, people love reminding me that the capital of our country isn’t Sydney. Although often when I try to explain that I’m from Perth, they don’t realise that anything happens on the western side of Australia… there’s something to think about!

Once I’d gotten my bag, I geared myself up to find the driver to my hotel. Organising this in advance had seemed like the most logical and safe way of getting to Kampala (about an hour from the airport). Except I read ‘Don’t Tell Mum I Work on the Rigs, She Thinks I’m a Piano Player in a Whorehouse’ a few weeks ago, and I couldn’t get his experiences in Nigeria out of my mind- should I have come up with a password phrase to ensure I didn’t get kidnapped??

Anyway, reality did kick in when I reminded myself that I was not, in fact, in Nigeria, and that the larger-than-life African woman standing with the ‘Mr Dani Barrington’ sign was probably not going to be a threat. She had me laughing straight away about the fact that the hotel thought I was male, and I just wanted to hug her. I love the laugh of African women (is that racist?); they always make me laugh along with them.

On a serious note, heading out to the taxi, this was the first sign I saw. Very topical to anyone who has attended the Perth Development Circle’s Bookclub in the last couple of months (and if this intrigues you, then email us at perthdevcircle@gmail.com to find out more!). This company seems to have built some of the infrastructure at the airport.

On hopping into my taxi I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had a SEATBELT, and that there appear to be ROAD RULES in Uganda! Ok, not quite to the standard in Australia, but in an hour-long trip I didn’t think I was going to die once- after nine months in Nepal this felt like heaven.

Something interesting I saw along the way, but was never quick enough to get a photo of, were signs that said ‘This land is not for sale’. A quick Google tells me that this has something to do with land-grabbing and squatters, but if anyone knows more about this, I’d be intrigued to hear about it.

Something else I saw, that made me both sad and angry, was a lot of buildings painted with red African maps and Coke bottles and the slogan "A billion reasons to believe in Africa".

A quick Google on this subject tells me that it is, in fact, an advertising campaign by Coca-Cola. I’m guessing that somehow some small amount of profits goes back into Africa, but mainly, it seems a ploy to sell more Coke. I know, CSR often means companies profit from philanthropy, but somehow this felt like it had been taken too far (especially having read about some of the stuff that Coca-Cola Amatil has done in the past).

On an amusing note, I did see a great billboard (which again I missed) for a beer with the slogan “The better beer for men”. As a female beer drinker I wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not, but it did encourage me to make sure I try some local beer whilst I’m here.

On arriving at my hotel I had to have yet another giggle. There was a metal detector and two guards out the front. The porter who took my suitcase in walked straight around the detector. I was told to go through, and, having my bags still on me, the machine beeped. I stopped and looked at the guards, who just shrugged and waved me on. Ahh Africa.