Last lines, with love from Uganda

A group of us caught a bus at the crack of dawn yesterday morning over to Jinja, a town east of Kampala along Lake Victoria and on the Victoria Nile river. This town is a hub for adventure seekers drawn to the activities on offer along the river – the white water rafting is particularly renowned, but we were in search of the Nile Horseback safaris. What a trip! The ranch was situated deep into the bush, requiring (happily) a boda ride from Jinja into the jungle, down mud tracks and through villages to reach the property, spectacularly positioned overlooking the Nile, with acres of land and stables for 20-plus horses. The 3 more experienced riders among us were sent off with a couple of guides on a 2 hour ride of the sort which health and safety precautions and general British reserve would never allow back at a riding stable in the UK.

Embarking on a trail overlooking the river, we were then taken into the heart of rural Ugandan life, along tracks through communities of mud huts, feeling our way through paths in the undergrowth amidst banana plants, ducking our heads for low-hanging jackfruit trees, through tea plantations, corn fields, cantering our way wherever possible. The people in the local villages must be very familiar with mzungus passing through apace on horseback, but I certainly felt a little apprehensive (although utterly exhilarated) as we cantered along the dusty tracks with children rushing out to wave at us, goats and cows tethered feet away, women hanging out their washing. The long canter up through the corn fields along a track about 6 feet wide with corn rising high above us on either side was fabulous! Sweaty flanks (the horses), huge smiles (all of us) and nasty blisters (just me) when we finally pulled up to slow down at the top of that hill and surveyed the vast landscape, glistening in the midday heat around us. A perfect final flurry as I gear up for my last 24 hours here in Uganda.

What will I miss? New friends, the entertainment offered by the social life and humour of everyday occurrences, the adventure, the joyful passion which so many Africans exude so freely, the cultural surprises, the energy which comes from the sense that so much needs to be done in terms of development and progress – the fact that so many people we meet socially, Ugandans or ex-pats, are engaged in development work of one sort or another; the 'big fish in a small pond' element meaning that someone with a good brain, a good idea and the resources and wherewithal to implement it, can rise professionally and effect change relatively easily. I'll miss the colourful existence, the adrenalin-filled boda rides, the sunshine, the babies of course, oh and the Nile beer.

What will I be glad to turn my back on? The lethargy which hangs low over so much of the population, the inefficiency, the inability to depend on good standards. The relentless noise and dust and the unwanted attention that you attract as a mzungu, and a female one at that (I have been tempted to get “I'm fine” tattooed onto my forehead in answer to the CONSTANT “how are you, mzungu?”'s with which we are plied wherever we go). I will certainly be glad to inhabit a grasshopper-free bedroom again (the hotel room in which I've been staying for the final few days has granted me quite an edgy experience – one encounter with a lunging grasshopper even resulted in the breaking of the visor on my beloved boda helmet! These insects are vicious I tell you...)

And I could add so much more to each list.

In a dull moment, I will always be able to recall how uplifted I have felt seeing the view of Kampala over my shoulder as I zip up Namirembe Cathedral hill, homeward-bound on the back of a boda, and the insanity of snaking our way through the traffic, markets, people, animals, the intensity of sounds and smells around us which makes for your average 'popping into town' over here. I'll remember the evocative aromas of the jungle on our trips to the Nile or to visit Cissy. Many, many unforgettable moments; and maybe one day I'll drop by again. But for now, a different stage beckons.

So, thank you Kampala... and so long!