it's a blazing hot sunday afternoon in tororo, and i've taken shelter at my friend erin's place in town. she has a nice little mac laptop that she's been kind enough to let me borrow for a few hours so i can type for free. it's a good feeling. and there's a paul simon concert happening in the background, courtesy of itunes. this all makes me really wish i had a laptop here. it sounds a bit crazy, and i sure felt that way before i left, but it would be so nice to have. if i end up coming home for a little wedding or something, i'm gonna try to find a cheap little lappy to take back here with me.
yesterday was an interesting (and pretty fun) day. as usual, nothing went quite as expected. this peace corps experience, if nothing else, will have provided me with an excellent ability to just roll with the punches and not put too much stock in any expectations i may foolishly formulate. the day began early, as i scrambled to get ready in time to catch a car that was supposed to leave my village for tororo at 7:30am. just as i was about to leave, i heard from the driver that he had "a puncture" and was seeking a mechanic, so he would not be able to give me a ride. at least he was cool enough to call, which i never would have expected. ah, expectations.
so what to do now? i know i am supposed to meet some fellow volunteers in the morning so we can climb that enticing "volcanic plug" (pictured above) on the edge of town. but i don't know when, and i don't want to hold up the operation. i could walk 40 minutes to the main road and try to flag down a car...but that might take hours. i could also hop on my bike (yes, the interwolf!) and take that into town, but that single lane, bumpy, dirt track is long, hilly, generally insane and my bike is not really road-tested yet. but there's wolfy, sittng by my door, with that look on his "well fitted body" (yes it also says that, in addition to "interwolf," on the frame) that i just can't say no to...so i bungee corded my backpack to the carrier, rolled up my pants, put on my helmet, and began my ride.
thankfully, i left early enough to beat the heat and the bulk of the traffic, which consists not only of bikes (some of which are carrying six-foot wide bundles of firewood or perhaps 100 liters of "local brew" in multiple jerry cans), but pedestrians, animals, motorcycles, cars, and trucks as well. all sharing the same single, bumpy dirt lane, flanked on both sides by...gorge-like gutters. it's quite a scene. I could try, but I would not be able to describe it nearly as well as ryszard kapuscinski:
driving a car...is kind of an unending process of compromise: everyone knows the road is narrow, old, crammed with people and vehicles, but they also know that they must somehow find a spot for themselves on it, and not only find a spot, but actually move, advance forward, make their way toward their destination. every few moments, each driver, cattle herder, or pedestrian is confronted by an obstacle, a conundrum, a problem that needs solving: how to pass without colliding with the car approaching from the opposite direction; how to hurry along one’s cows, sheep, and camels without trampling the children and crawling beggars; how to cross without getting run over by a truck, being impaled on the horns of a bull, knocking over that woman carrying a twenty kilogram weight on her head. and yet no one shouts at anyone else, no one falls into a fury, no one curses or threatens – patiently and silently, they all perform their slalom, execute their pirouettes, dodge and evade, maneuver and hedge, turn here, converge there, and, most important, move forward.
after about an hour of negotiating my way through this minefield-in-motion, i coasted into town sweaty and a bit tired...not only physically, but mentally as well. one can only here "muzungu!" so many times in such a short period of time and still maintain sanity.
over the next several hours, a hearty team of "japland" volunteers assembled, all eager to set out on our mission to climb tororo rock. it's an odd quirk about this area, where dhopadhola speakers are known as jopadhola (singular: japadhola) and the place where they live as japland. yes, the volunteers in this region have all been having a little too much fun with that fact (e.g. check out the flag we made to plant at the top of the rock). enough said, i guess...
yesterday was an interesting (and pretty fun) day. as usual, nothing went quite as expected. this peace corps experience, if nothing else, will have provided me with an excellent ability to just roll with the punches and not put too much stock in any expectations i may foolishly formulate. the day began early, as i scrambled to get ready in time to catch a car that was supposed to leave my village for tororo at 7:30am. just as i was about to leave, i heard from the driver that he had "a puncture" and was seeking a mechanic, so he would not be able to give me a ride. at least he was cool enough to call, which i never would have expected. ah, expectations.
so what to do now? i know i am supposed to meet some fellow volunteers in the morning so we can climb that enticing "volcanic plug" (pictured above) on the edge of town. but i don't know when, and i don't want to hold up the operation. i could walk 40 minutes to the main road and try to flag down a car...but that might take hours. i could also hop on my bike (yes, the interwolf!) and take that into town, but that single lane, bumpy, dirt track is long, hilly, generally insane and my bike is not really road-tested yet. but there's wolfy, sittng by my door, with that look on his "well fitted body" (yes it also says that, in addition to "interwolf," on the frame) that i just can't say no to...so i bungee corded my backpack to the carrier, rolled up my pants, put on my helmet, and began my ride.
thankfully, i left early enough to beat the heat and the bulk of the traffic, which consists not only of bikes (some of which are carrying six-foot wide bundles of firewood or perhaps 100 liters of "local brew" in multiple jerry cans), but pedestrians, animals, motorcycles, cars, and trucks as well. all sharing the same single, bumpy dirt lane, flanked on both sides by...gorge-like gutters. it's quite a scene. I could try, but I would not be able to describe it nearly as well as ryszard kapuscinski:
driving a car...is kind of an unending process of compromise: everyone knows the road is narrow, old, crammed with people and vehicles, but they also know that they must somehow find a spot for themselves on it, and not only find a spot, but actually move, advance forward, make their way toward their destination. every few moments, each driver, cattle herder, or pedestrian is confronted by an obstacle, a conundrum, a problem that needs solving: how to pass without colliding with the car approaching from the opposite direction; how to hurry along one’s cows, sheep, and camels without trampling the children and crawling beggars; how to cross without getting run over by a truck, being impaled on the horns of a bull, knocking over that woman carrying a twenty kilogram weight on her head. and yet no one shouts at anyone else, no one falls into a fury, no one curses or threatens – patiently and silently, they all perform their slalom, execute their pirouettes, dodge and evade, maneuver and hedge, turn here, converge there, and, most important, move forward.
after about an hour of negotiating my way through this minefield-in-motion, i coasted into town sweaty and a bit tired...not only physically, but mentally as well. one can only here "muzungu!" so many times in such a short period of time and still maintain sanity.
over the next several hours, a hearty team of "japland" volunteers assembled, all eager to set out on our mission to climb tororo rock. it's an odd quirk about this area, where dhopadhola speakers are known as jopadhola (singular: japadhola) and the place where they live as japland. yes, the volunteers in this region have all been having a little too much fun with that fact (e.g. check out the flag we made to plant at the top of the rock). enough said, i guess...
by mid-afternoon, the team of seven enthusiastic jap volunteers set out on our quest. the sun was hot as we began our climb, but the vegetation soon provided sufficient cover for our 45 minute long climb to the top.
most of the path was pretty steep and rocky, and there were three ladders fixed to the rock near the top to help us up the especially steep sections.
the top of the rock itself was a bit disappointing, dominated by a large, fenced-off cell phone tower and some other random equipment. it was a little difficult navigating the terrain up there, with shoulder-high grasses obscuring our view of the ground and where might be a good place to step. but, holy crap, the view up there was pretty incredible. to the east, we could see our little town, the foothills of mount elgon in the distance, and a bit of kenya beyond. to the west is a beautiful little green "hill range" and the magical tororo cement factory. overall, well worth the climb and a good afternoon of exercise. and then the con-men showed up.
not something you'd expect at the top of a volcanic plug, but then again, what good are expectations?
one of the men was wearing a security guard's uniform and the other was wearing street clothes but was carrying a night stick (almost a policeman, i guess). they were both sweaty and visibly fatigued from chasing us up the side of the rock. they feigned authority with an almost amusing amount of commitment and claimed that we needed to pay them for our climb, especially because we had already come to the top and taken pictures. we were surprised at this whole bizarre scene, and their insistence quickly soured our mood. instead of enjoying the view, we had to deal with these idiots trying to trick the stupid "whites" into emptying their pockets with no documentation of entry fees or anything. to make a long story short, we hiked down the rock, argued with them some more, and got rescued by the supervisor of one of the other volunteers (erin) who just happened to be nearby. he had picked up one of the local police chiefs who confirmed that these men were simply trying to rob us; the hike up the rock is free for all and requires only that we register with the town beforehand (oops). no big deal, though. just another surprise, another saturday in africa.
the daily afternoon rainstorm was just starting to kick into high gear, so erin's supervisor offered us a lift back into town in his pickup truck. of course, non of us want to get sent home early (riding in the back is a no-no), so the seven of us packed into the CAB of a pickup truck and off we went. in all honesty, I feel an odd sense of comfort and accomplishment at being packed like a sardine into the vehicles here.
not something you'd expect at the top of a volcanic plug, but then again, what good are expectations?
one of the men was wearing a security guard's uniform and the other was wearing street clothes but was carrying a night stick (almost a policeman, i guess). they were both sweaty and visibly fatigued from chasing us up the side of the rock. they feigned authority with an almost amusing amount of commitment and claimed that we needed to pay them for our climb, especially because we had already come to the top and taken pictures. we were surprised at this whole bizarre scene, and their insistence quickly soured our mood. instead of enjoying the view, we had to deal with these idiots trying to trick the stupid "whites" into emptying their pockets with no documentation of entry fees or anything. to make a long story short, we hiked down the rock, argued with them some more, and got rescued by the supervisor of one of the other volunteers (erin) who just happened to be nearby. he had picked up one of the local police chiefs who confirmed that these men were simply trying to rob us; the hike up the rock is free for all and requires only that we register with the town beforehand (oops). no big deal, though. just another surprise, another saturday in africa.
the daily afternoon rainstorm was just starting to kick into high gear, so erin's supervisor offered us a lift back into town in his pickup truck. of course, non of us want to get sent home early (riding in the back is a no-no), so the seven of us packed into the CAB of a pickup truck and off we went. in all honesty, I feel an odd sense of comfort and accomplishment at being packed like a sardine into the vehicles here.
2 comments:
Rick -
Great story! Why would it be a no-no to ride in the back of a pickup?
Unrelated to the plug, but when will you post a photo of Interwolf? -HB
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