For me, life in Masindi is relatively relaxed and predictable, now that I have a grasp on what to expect from life in Africa. So there generally isn’t a ton to blog about. However, last weekend was a bit outside of my normal routine. I decided long before actually arriving in Uganda that if there was any possible way of seeing the sixth Harry Potter movie while here, I would make it happen. So when I found out that it would be playing at the Cineplex in Kampala, the capitol city of Uganda, I was ecstatic.
I planned the trip weeks in advance; I would ride a bus cross-country from Masindi to Jinja for the weekend and have Johnson (the country-wide program manager for BT) review my project. On the way, I’d stay in Kampala for a night. It was solid! After all, Kampala is on the way! (…I mean, depending on which way you take…)
So, armed with a few changes of clothes, my camera, and my computer, I headed to the Link bus station. Now, I’m going to shoot straight with you- Link busses rock. They are WAY more comfortable than mtatus, which are the (extremely rickety and crowded) standard public transport in Uganda. So I get to the bus station at 9 on Wednesday morning, and I am assigned a window seat about three rows from the front. I squeeze into my seat (picture a charter bus, only the seats are about half of the size), and hunker down for what I’m told will be a three hour drive. Shortly after I sit down, the bus fills. Men selling chapatis, toothbrushes, samosas, necklaces, bottled water, and all sorts of other goodies swarm the windows, hoping that someone will thrust a 500 shilling coin in their direction. Suddenly, the bus speakers come to life, and a very energetic Ugandan song starts to blare “Talemwa, Katonda wafwe talemwa…” A woman with a chicken in her lap sits across the aisle from me. The man right beside me has already fallen asleep; the music doesn’t cause him to stir. I take in the scene around me with a small smile, enjoying the sounds, the smells, the closeness of the people, and the bus begins to move.
Two hours and about 200 speed bumps later (seriously, there is a speed bump literally every twenty feet during one stretch of road), I no longer feel the contentment with life that I began the trip with. I’m sweaty, I’m annoyed by the constant jostling of the bumpy road, and I’m SO over listening to Ugandan praise and worship music at this volume. I can’t take my mind off of the trip by reading because of the movement, so I put in my ipod, thankful that I decided against being too hardcore for western conveniences. Suddenly, my seatmate leans away from the aisle, a look of disgust on his face. I notice that others have shied toward the windows as well. I notice a liquidy substance running toward the back of the bus down the aisle. I take out my ipod and ask the man next to me what is going on.
“That man there has fallen ill. He has vomited.”
Now any of you who know me at all know that I’ve always kind of had a thing with vomit. More than revulsion, almost a phobia. I’m so glad I’m getting over that. I roll my eyes, and try to crack my window open. My neighbor helps me when I can’t get it (Ugandans are so helpful that way… or maybe he was afraid that I was going to puke, too?) and I am once again thankful for my ipod… I would probably have had a harder time if I’d heard it happen.
We continue for another two hours before approaching Kampala. I can see buildings (buildings!!!) in the distance, and I know that I’ve reached relative civilization.
It takes another good half hour from the time that we get to Kampala before we reach the bus station, just because traffic is so out of control. I think I may have actually seen a stop light, but the novelty wore off when I realized that nobody actually obeyed it. The streets are just… thick with people and motorbike taxis and cars that are falling apart and UN suburbans. As soon as the bus pulls into the crowded terminal (just a dirt lot packed to bursting with buses and people), people start tapping the window, saying, ‘Mzungu, I take you?’ One really ballsey guy actually boards the bus to collect me, holding up his car key and saying, ‘Madame, we go?’ Gotta admire tenacity like that. I gather my things, avoid the pukey mess, and follow this man through the mass of people trying to get me to go with them. I get into his car, and after being trapped by mtatus for about fifteen minutes, we squeeze through and onto the road. I ask the taxi driver (who is named Richard, as it turns out; he loves Obama and admires me for working with a water source NGO and has three kids and needs money to send them to primary school. Shockingly enough.) to bring me to Garden City. Twenty minutes and about fifty brushes with fiery, car accident-ey death later, we pull into our destination.
Garden City. It is really very appropriately named… it is like a city. It is essentially a mall- three stories of civilization-ey goodness. A coffee shop, a MASSIVE grocery store (that I bought barbecue sauce in!! Barbecue sauce!!!), an internet café, a food court, a place where I can develop pictures, a jewelry shop, and… A movie theatre!!! I could quite easily and very happily live here. I make a beeline for the third floor, and to the Cineplex. I feel like such a rockstar!! I’m in a developing country, and I have managed to make it to Harry Potter on opening day. I am positively floating, until I see a sign posted in the ticket window that advertises a MIDNIGHT SHOWING LAST NIGHT!!! This completely bums me out… I would have totally come a day early if I had known… because I’m that much of a loser. Once my complete nerdiness occurs to me, I force myself to be a bit less depressed and purchase my ticket for the next showing. 4:00 in the afternoon… this gives me two and a half hours to myself in this wonderland of a mall!! I immediately go to the grocery store to pick up some lunch. Walking down the aisles, I get kind of overwhelmed. I end up with only an apple and a bottle of water when I’ve finished perusing… which is exactly what I would have gotten at the Lucky 7 in Masindi. I force myself to approach the cheese counter and get a piece of cheddar. As I’m checking out, I grab a Snickers bar, too. Laden down with my treasures, I head to the second floor, where there are some tables. Let me tell you, cheddar cheese and Snickers have never tasted so good. It’s not that I eat either of those two things on a really regular basis in the states, but just the fact that for the last two and a half months I didn’t have the OPTION to have them makes this opportunity so much sweeter.
I wander around for a while, meandering between the seemingly endless stores, reveling in the… vastness of it all. And make no mistake, this is not anything like the malls Americans are used to; it would be considered extremely humble by most standards. But to me, it’s an absolute palace. I head up to the internet café for a bit, and soon enough, it is time for my movie.
I enter the theatre, only about a quarter of the way full (the notion is a bit crazy to me, considering it’s opening day), and sit by myself. I always think it’s kind of sad to go to the movies by myself, but I actually loved it. I can be as internally nerdy and excited as I want, and nobody has to endure my geeky grin and constantly listen to me discuss plot details.
It’s weird, during those few hours, if I could mentally rip myself from the movie long enough to think about where I was, it kind of surprised me for a second to remember that I wasn’t at the AMC on Rochester Road. I have to hand it to the Ugandan Cineplex people- I felt exactly like I was in a theatre in America. It was even a bit uncomfortably cold, lol.
This blog is not for spoilers, so I’m not going to discuss the movie. Suffice it to say that I am as big a critic as the next weirdly involved book fan, but I very much loved it and didn’t regret the trip at all.
The rest of my trip, from the crazy mtatu ride to Jinja, to the fun I had saying for the weekend with my friend Priscilla and her Ugandan family, to the great times I spent with the Jinja team while I was there… it was all blog-worthy. But another time.
I can’t believe that I am only here for three and a half more weeks. Sigh.