Life in Fort...

I have officially come to my site.  The school in which I am supposed to be working, Canon Apollo Demonstration School, is about 7 or 8 km outside of a town called Fort Portal.

Canon Apollo is a village.  The land is beautiful. It is spread out over farmland at the base of the Rwenzori Mountains. Most days when I walk down the dusty road, people can be found digging the land with hoes, walking their cattle to a place to graze, or working diligently to finish household chores in their yards. Life is simple, the place is beautiful, and the people are kind.

Right now, I live about a 5-10 minute walk from the school and its only another 5-10 minutes from there to Canon Apollo Core Primary Teacher’s College (where another volunteer named Mike works). I say right now because, as with some rural schools in Uganda, there is a shortage of funding and housing at Canon Apollo Demonstration School. Though they have been trying, they have not been able to find permanent housing for me. I am currently living in the boy’s quarters (servant’s quarters) behind a board members house. Sadly, due to the lack of housing, I will probably have to get a site change. They are working hard to keep me in this region, so I may not have to go far and I can continue to have such beautiful scenery to walk by each day.

Okay… sorry for that aside. I promise to keep you updated as things change, but back to my life as it is right now. I also live about a 20 minute walk to Karago Market, which has produce and goods on Tuesdays. It runs along a main road called Bundibugyo. On days when the market is not there, you can find some items you may need at local dukkas, or shops. However, the pickings are slim at the dukkas. You have to be smart about shopping and there are times you might have to make the trek to the next town.

My best bet is Fort Portal. If it wasn’t so difficult to get there, I would be absolutely broke. Why you ask? For Portal has FOOD. I’m not talking local beans and rice… I’m talking PIZZA. My new favorite place in Uganda is a Dutch run restaurant called The Dutchess. They bake fresh bread, have the best pizza, and keep their ice cream cold. COLD. I don’t think you understand how big of a deal this is for me. I’m so thankful.

The problem (and I’m sure this part gives my sweet Momma a heart attack) is getting there. The major form of transportation here is boda boda (motorcycles) and we cannot, by proclamation of the Peace Corps, ride bodas. At times there are vehicles that go to town from the college and I can snag a ride, but those are few and far between. I could call a private hire to pick me up but it is extremely expensive. There is also no taxi park in Canon Apollo, so in order to get a taxi you have to wave one down. They only stop if they are not full, which is a rarity.

So… I walk down to Bundibugyo Road and I hitchhike.  I stand and motion to each car that passes, waiting, sometimes not so patiently, for a vehicle to stop. Before you freak out, it’s pretty safe here. If a Ugandan has room, they don’t hesitate to pick someone up.

The last time I went to town, I waited about 45 minutes. Only those in Uganda can understand the extent of that kind of wait. Even though you tell boda drivers that you cannot ride with them, a hoard of them circles every two minutes to check and see if you have changed your mind. The people all stare at the weird white girl trying to get a ride. The boda drivers laugh.

On this day, I was standing near a man called Amooti, who I am positive was taking pictures of me on his phone. I decided I would ask him questions about the cars coming and whether he thought they would be full or not. After many failed attempts, one of the boda drivers yelled across the road,

“This is the sign!”

He beat a fist against his open palm above his head for me to see. I turned to my new photographer friend and asked,

 “Is this the sign that will tell them to stop?”

I thought it was just waving your hand at your side, so I wanted to do it right. He nodded his head yes, so for the next few cars I beat my fist to my palm, begging people to stop. Now… Ugandans laugh at me a lot. They laugh when they are happy to hear me speaking their language. They laugh when I walk by because I’m white. They laugh when they hear I’m from America. They love to laugh. I have become immune to Ugandan laughter.

This is why I didn’t think twice when the boda drivers were laughing. Finally, another circled by me and stopped to say in the best English he could muster,

“Madam, this means full not stop.”

I turned to my photographer friend and said,

“Why did you tell me it meant stop???”

He nodded his head yes so I tried,

“Omanyire orujungu?” (Do you know English)

He laughed and replied,

“Nangwa, Abwooli.”

I had been talking to him for a long time… He had no idea what I was saying. I love Uganda. Needless to say, I finally found a taxi that would stop. It probably didn’t have enough room for me but I looked pathetic and they let me squeeze in.

Moral of the story is… I’m not sure how often I will make it to the pizza oasis called Fort Portal, but you better believe I would make a fool of myself to hail a taxi every once in a while for a wonderful slice of that pie.