I’ve spent the past 1.5 years of my life in what I thought was Africa. Sure, Morocco’s closer to Spain than say, Rwanda, but it’s still all one big happy continent according to every map I’ve ever seen. However, a few months into my service, I was informed that Morocco is, in fact, not part of Africa. The conversation went a little something like this:
ME: Wow, you used coconut on these cookies! Do coconuts grow in Morocco?
HOST MOTHER: Ohhhh no no no, of course not. These come from Africa!
And so on and so forth. Casual comments are made allll the time about Morocco playing some “African” team in a soccer match. My mudir (youth center director) looked at me strangely when I told him I was leaving for Uganda, cautioning me that “life is hard in Africa.” And it’s not just Moroccans. PCVs here joke around a lot (most of the times in a service-deprecating way) that we’re not in real Africa. I think this means that most of us have wifi in our apartments (which are cement, not mud brick) and the worst disease we’ll get is a cold from spending too much time in the brrd (as opposed to to Malaria). So, when my dad proposed that I tag along on his business trip to Uganda, my interest was piqued: What, I wondered, is real Africa really like?
A few hours after we touched down in Uganda, I found out the rumors are true. It turns out that Ugandan people don’t dole out African street cred to Moroccans either. Twice during my stay, when conversation veered in the direction of how I am American but currently live in Morocco, they would promptly dive into a geographic epiphany, assuring me that Morocco isn’t real Africa. I guess it’s a good thing we’re all in agreement!
After a bajillion hour layover in the Dubai airport also known as Las Vegas, my dad and I finally landed in Entebbe, the “I’m not really the capital of Uganda in anyway except on paper” capital of Uganda. It’s nestled on Lake Victoria, which is picturesque, but apart from that….not too much there. As my Dad and I stood in line waiting to get checked-in, a massive group of UN soldiers were escorted by us with– brace yourselves– Moroccan badges! The UN sent them to just protect me from the real Africa!
After successfully entering the country, we met up with my dad’s co-worker and our driver. That’s right bitches. This PCV got a driver during her visit to real Africa. We went from Entebbe (capital in name-only) to Kampala (not capital in name but pretty much the capital city). Kampala looked a lot like the child of Morocco and Atlanta, GA. The weather and the foliage reminded me of good ol’ ATL (it’s veryyyy green and verrryyy muggy), and the rhythm of the street was 100% Morocco. A mess of motorcycles carrying everything from towers of chickens to stacks of coke bottles (plus a family of 4) mingled in perfect, chaotic harmony with donkeys, brand new Mercedes, and jam-packed minibuses. Street vendors took the “street” part of their name seriously, selling everything from belts to cell phones to mangos at your car window. My personal favorite thing, though, were the mannequins outside of all of the roadside clothing stores. 90% of them were the average mannequin size….until you reached the hips. Then BOOM! Some had serious booty, others just had carboard stuffed in ‘em to ensure the buyer that yes, this dress/ pair of jeans/ skirt is equipped to hold the booty of your dreams. Funny, and definitely a lot better than the mannequins at home that are the size of my arm!
After an aesthetically-stimulating drive where my head was stuck out the window in dog fashion, our driver took us to the Sheraton hotel. Savor that last sentence. The air-conditioned, hot-showered, comfy-bedded, full-barred, consistent wifi-ed, mosquito-free Sheraton. I can say, without hesitation, that this is the cleanest and most well-fed I’ve been during my Peace Corps experience.
Our first full day in Uganda was spent being 110% tourist. We hired another driver who took us to the Kasubi tombs of the Ugandan kings, the palace of the current Ugandan king, and the Uganda museum. Highlights include the chickens running around the king’s palace, the African huts in the “backyard” of the museum, and the surprise Christo installation at the tombs (this, my friends, is a bad joke– apparently El Chabab burned down the tombs in a terrorist statement and, during the rebuilding process, have been temporarily covered with bright orange tarp. But you can’t blame an art history major for making the tasteless connection…!) My dad and I had a great time attempting to make jokes and being met with blank stares. We found out that sarcasm and irony don’t necessarily translate here– for example, my dad’s remark about the “great drivers” constantly darting in and out of traffic elicited a confused look from our driver, who thought it was obvious that these were in fact the opposite of great. Nevertheless, they dealt with us and just ended up smiling a lot.
Day two was all business. We woke up early and ventured over to the Tuberculosis clinic, where everyone talked shop while I read a book. From there, it was over to Makerere University for lab tours. Our day also involved an extensive stint at a used car dealership, bartering with two very unhappy Indian men over 500,000 shillings (in the context of 75,000,000, it’s not that much). The UGA-Mackrere partnership required a fancy shmancy vehicle to endure the rugged terrain of rural Uganda, and, with the help of university professor/ weekend used car salesman Noah, we landed on our dream vehicle.
We experienced a location change at the end of day two, driving once again to Entebbe to stay the night and flee to the nearby airport in the morning. Our hotel, the aptly named Imperial Botanical Royal Fancy Lovely Beach Hotel (or something along those lines), sat on Lake Victoria and offered us a great range of television to watch (if Spanish soap operas and Fundamentalist revivals get your motor purring). In the morning, Dad and I enjoyed a “breakfast” of goat stew and mashed bananas cooked in banana leaf– our first Ugandan meal of the journey. We got to share it with an friendly orange cat and a camera-sky monkey.
The trip was short and sweet. I got a nice vacation after our interfaith dialogue and a week with my family in Morocco (blog entry about that coming soon!), lots of great food (a surprising amount of cheese…?), a very 5-star exposure to a new country, and, of course, quality time with Fred ice.
Nothing quite beats father daughter time, especially when it’s in real Africa!
