Kelsey: The road to Jinja

I am finally recovered from Sarah's trip to Uganda. As in life has just now gotten back to normal and I am once again a hermit who never leaves my village and therefore never has to spend endless hours on horrible busses with peeing children and pooping chickens and smelly fish. Ugh the bus.

I was on the phone with an American friend the other day and she asked why I never leave Jinja and I told her that I hate traveling. Long pause. She was all um you know you moved to Africa right?

But I think the 48 hours that it takes to get to Africa and the combinations of buses, planes, cars, and motorcycles scares you away from ever traveling again! Its either that or I just don't want to wander too far away from my flush toilet at Denis' house. I really love flush toilets. Really.

So needless to say since Sarah left I have not been back to the big city. Kampala is nice because it has fancy things that we rural people (hill people) can't get, things that are essential for a happy life, like vuvuzelas. Do you remember that horrible sound from the World Cup? Don't you wish you could live with that?

We have very strict vuvuzela zones in this house.

I can't lie though, my favorite part is leaving Kampala. The further you drive away from city the prettier the world becomes. I wish I could make a graph of how my mood grows happier the further we get from the city. But I have not made a graph since sophomore year (of high school). And like everything else I learned in high school I have totally forgotten how to do that.

This hill covered with tea fields is my heaven. I swear I will live on this hill one day. In that clump of trees. In like a really crappy run down house but one with a beautiful bathroom with 3 flush toilets. Also I will have like 5 monkeys and local children will run away from me in fear. Run away from crazy monkey lady!

The best part of the drive is the awesome 'rest stops'. There are designated places along the road where people are allowed to sell food. Like 3 times. Its as if there used to be people all along the entire length of the road and then they rounded them all up and put them in 3 specific spots. That is the only thing that can explain the sheer number of people selling food at these rest stops.

They all wear lab coats that are either blue, maroon or white. (Speaking of white lab coats, last time I was on the bus a guy in a white lab coat came on and tried to sell us some herbal medicine, load of crap, from china. I asked him if he was a doctor and he ignored me and continued his speech. I heckled him, of course, until he admitted he was not a doctor and then he eventually left the bus. A woman patted me on the back. It was a proud day. But I mean aren't there rules about wearing a doctory coat if you are not a doctor? Like not if you are cold and need to get warm so you put on some random coat but if you are selling medicine and basically impersonating a doctor, that is so not allowed.)

It always starts with one and then if they start to lean into the car a million more will rush over and try to beat out that first one.

And then they climb into the car with you. Does anyone have any fanta?

Seriously can I please get an orange flavored beverage?

Oh please come on in. Join us.

For the love of God someone give me a fanta!!!

Denis is unfazed by the ten ugandans who climbed into the car with us. But he is not prepared to share his chicken with them. That is the line.

Word to the wise for any Uganda travelers reading this blog, this roadside chicken is the best chicken in Uganda. The best.