The End.

I have been terrible at finishing this I know. It seemed very odd to write after I came home, everything else on here was so alien, so different. Well I'm going to finish it off with just a few pictures of my final months.

With the brilliant kids from our in school youth club

Saying goodbye to the wonderful, beautiful, fabulous kids next door

On top of Victoria Falls

Some more Vic Falls

Coast to coast: on the Atlantic on the coast of Namibia

Dune climbing, Namibia

Brilliant Cape Town

On top of the world....well on top of Table Mountain, Cape Town

I don't think I have any words left to describe last year. It was brilliant and grueling and eye opening but, at the same time, it confirmed so much of what I had previously only begun to realise. About the importance of family and of friends who become family. About the best and worst of the human spirit. About my own resilience. About blood parasites. But most most most of all about how supremely bloody lucky I am to live the life I do.

So now I'm off to do it again! For those who don't know I'm headed to Korea in a month to teach English for a year or so. I enjoyed writing here so much that I've set up a new, imaginatively named blog here: www.koreamove.blogspot.com

Thank you all so very very much for all your support over the last year, it has genuinely meant the world to me. See you on the other side....

All my love,

Anna

xxxx

The road to Victoria Falls - sorry no pics, coming soon.

The crushing boredom of my days in Dar came to an end as i eagerly made my way to the station midday Friday to catch the 42 hour train to Zambia. The terminal looked like a makeshift refuge camp with hundreds of people laid out on blankets on the floor surrounded by their possessions and wailing babies. I dumped my backpack and sat down on it, looking around for other travellers. It seemed that I was the only westerner in the entire place and I began to abandon my plans of attaching myself to a cool group of people to make the journey more bearable. Then I spotted two people laden with backpacks walking through a small green door near the front of the crowed. I squinted into the distance and read the sign: "first class lounge". Ah. On entering I realised that this was where the other travellers had stationed themselves and the floor was strewn with backpacks, tents and carrier bags of snacks . Suddenly four breathless Americans burst in and immediately started introducing themselves to everyone in sight. Hearing that they were travelling all the way down to Livingstone I wandered over to introduce myself. "Hi", one of them said, "I'm Rob, we have three bottles of Jack Daniels." I had found my people. And not a moment too soon as the rumour went around the lounge that the train that was scheduled to leave at 2pm would be leaving at six. Six turned into eight. Eight become nine. At half past eleven we were finally allowed to board the train. I went to join the boys in their compartment and we passed around a bottle of JD as what appeared to be an angry mob roamed from one end of the platform to another. We hypothesised that they might be pushing the train. A short walk along the train reveled that there was currently no engine car, thus confirming our mob propulsion explanation.
Finally, at 12:04, they attached the engine and we began to chug slowly out of the station. We celebrated this until about half two in the morning when my day doing sod all got the better of me and I went back to my tiny bunk to attempt to defy the rampant bed bugs and actually get some sleep.

For the net two days I did nothing but wander from my cabin to the dining car, to the lounge car, to the toilet and back to the dining car again. Well that and consume a large amount of Jack Daniels and bond with my new found friends - four Law students from Virginia who were celebrating taking their bar exam.

The train was scheduled to arrive at about 7 am on Sunday. Factoring in the delay we were hoping to get to Kapir Maposhi (end of the line two hours north of Lusaka) at about 5pm. We eventually limped in at 5am Monday morning. Our 42 hour journey had taken 64.
The bus station in Lusaka is as chaotic as any African transport hub and it only become more so as we realised every bus headed to Livingstone that day was booked. We worked our way down our list of recommended companies, including a small altercation with a scarface man, until we found a space on the dodgiest looking coach in the park. It did its job thought and we finally got to our destination 76 hours after the train was scheduled to leave Dar. Arriving at the hostel I pitched my tent (feeling smugly like a real traveller), took the best shower of my life and crashed out to sleep off the miles.

The next day it was time for the falls. I really don't know if I can describe them without gushing. They are breathtakingly beautiful. Miles of tumbling water fall into a gorge so deep that its seems to be a scar on the earth. Had someone shown me a picture of the spray, hundreds of meters high forming a rainbow against the shear rocky cliffs I would have guessed it was a screen shot from Lord of the Rings or a photo-shopped image from a motivational poster. Me, the boys and a new friend called Lala wandered around with unshakable, idiot gins all over our faces. We headed to a place called the boiling point at the bottom of the falls where the water from both sides meets and forms a churning whirlpool before continuing towards Mozambique and the Indian ocean.

The best, however, was yet to come. We had heard of a place on the top of the falls where the crashing water had formed a natural swimming pool right on the edge. We recruited one of the local guides and began our journey walking across the falls, clambering over rocks and forming human chains to wade through fast flowing water not six meters away from the hundred meter drop to gorge below. We reached a rocky outcrop where we could stand, gazing down at the drop below, the water pounding all around us. Ten minutes more brought us to the Angel's Armchair, a small waterfall above a pool cut into the side of the cliff. We jumped in from the rocks and scrambles around the edge, the adrenaline making us forget where we were and just how far it was to fall. Occasionally I would look out and see people watching from the viewing platform on the other side, gawping at these distant, half naked figures frolicking on the edge of the world. Ever grueling hour on the train, every delay, every dodgy bus and cut foot and moment of terror was entirely worth it. I would do it tn times over to have that day again.

Then a Baboon attacked me and tried to steel my bag. Swings and roundabouts ay?

Well there was a Masai involved...

My entrance to Tanzania was rather inauspicious. After breaking my only pair of flip flops running for a coach which had turned up an hour late and forgotten to pick us up, I borrowed the only shoes available to me. Unfortunately Christy is a UK size 3 and I am a size 8. Hobbling over the border with more foot on the ground than in my shoes we re-boarded our bus and sped away towards Dar es Salaam. On arrival we realised that "Luther House" was not just the name of our hotel but that it was connected to the city's Lutheran cathedral. Bibles in the rooms and a strict no alcohol policy encouraged us to leave and wander out on the streets in the hope of some food and a beer. During Ramadan. Needless to say no food was found until after sun down and beer proved to be non-existent.

After a couple of days in Dar we took the ferry over to Zanzibar. It began well enough but as soon as we left the harbour the boat began to pitch and roll and my stomach began to do the same. Me and Emily, who was similarly afflicted, decided to make our way through the bottom decks, which resembled a cargo hold for people, and up to the top where we hoped the fresh air would settle our stomachs. After getting lost and nearly throwing up all over the nearest child we were rescued by a nice Dutch girl who showed us the way to the deck. We sat against the railings staring at the horizon and scowling at the fast expensive ferry full of sensible less broke tourists which passed us half way through the three hour journey from hell.

But Zanzibar. Worth every hideous minute of it. We spent a couple of days wandering around stone town's tiny winding streets crisscrossed with washing lines and electrical wires. The call to prayer chimed from loud speakers and people spilled out of mosques at sundown to break their fasts that had lasted since dawn. In the grounds of what is now the Anglican Cathedral you can visit the old slave chambers which were used to hold the slaves for days before the market. In a tiny room in which I felt claustrophobic when four of us entered, 75 women and children would be held for days on end with no running water, sanitation or light. Where the alter of the cathedral now stands was the "whipping post" where the men would be tied up and whipped with stingray tails before being sold. Those who didn't cry fetched a higher price. The shear volume of human suffering is genuinely staggering and I felt myself well up several times.

The last few days we have spent in little village called Jambiani which, though touristy, is small enough to still be charming. The sea is so blue that if you showed me a photo of it I would think it had been photo-shopped. Tiny handmade wooden boats dot the shore and the sand is so white it makes even me look tanned. The evenings are a bit more lively and I spent Saturday night dancing on the beach to Shania Twain with 3 drunken Masais! I have a now have a week here to do nothing but lie back, chill out and catch some rays. Next stop the girls leave me and I get on a 40 hour train to Zambia on my own....wish me luck!

The beach at Jambiani, courtasy of Google.

I wonder what it was like for the fish who used to live here.....

I'm on the road again! Loads of stuff has happened since I last wrote but I will try and fill you in on the important things. Safe to say I'm having a blast.
Finishing placement with a bang me and a few friends decided to go for a bungee jump over the Nile the day we finished post departure training. I assumed that, though I would be scared out of my brains, a few deep breaths and I would be fine.....this was not the case. I got strapped up and then proceeded to spend two minutes on the edge shaking and crying proclaiming that there was no way on earth this was going to happen. Eventually the extremely nice man who was running the thing put his hand on my shoulder and and whispered in his soft New Zealand tones: "look love you've paid for it now and there's no refunds. 1, 2, 3..." and I jumped. Swan dived even. It was fantastic.

The bungee

The next day we headed to Kampala for a final night all together with the six of us. It was sad because we all have different travel plans but it was time to leave Uganda, most of us really felt ready to see some more of Africa.

We headed to Nairobi first, arriving after dark in the first big city any of us had seen for seven months (Kampala is pretty small by comparison). We were expecting to be a bit overwhelmed by the whole experience but every person we interacted with was very helpful and genuinely nice. We stayed at a hostel and campsite and spent the day exploring the city. For lunch we headed to the 'must do' restaurant in Nairobi called Carnivores. As the name suggests its a meat extravaganza! Waiters with skewers of full turkeys, sausages, legs of lamb, chicken, beef, pork, ostrich and ox come round and pile your plate high until you all literally surrender by laying down the flag that sits in the middle of your table. Very tacky but a completely original experience.

The cooking pit at Carnivores

After a four hour wait by the side of the road in Nairobi we boarded another bus for the coast and arrived at the backpackers hostel in Mombasa; a converted mansion house with hot water in the bathrooms and 'Tru Blood' on the TV in the living room; possibly my heaven.

Em and Chris waiting for the bus

Being on the coast was beautiful and we spent a lot of time wandering around the Moroccan-like old town and drinking Swahili coffee sat on the floor in little coffee shops. We also took the opportunity to find a little hole in the wall restaurant and have a wonderful Indian buffet

Me and Chris by the sea

The last few days we have been wandering around the beaches of Diani beach, a coastal area about 20k south of Mombasa, before gearing up for another big bus journey to Dar es Salaam in Tanzania tomorrow. Last night we had dinner in a restaurant called Ali Babar's which is completely inside a coral cave totally open to the stars. It was genuinely stunning, like something out of an Enid Blyton smuggler tale crossed with Disney Land. Reading the guest book towards the end of the meal we stumbled across a comment from a couple from Virginia USA: "I wonder what it was like for the fish who used to live here?". Says it all really.

All of us in the cave restaurant

End of placement: Vital Statistics

Name: Anna, Anika, Anita, Nangobi (my given Lusoga name), Nygaga (another random Lusoga name), Mutisi (last year's volunteer's Lusoga name), Ruth (last year's volunteer's first name) and Naanaa (sounds a little like Anna so some of the kids call me it.....means tomato).

Age: 23/24 (Ugandans will often say that, because I turn 24 this year, I already count as 24. I dislike this.)

Height: The same; though people in Uganda are all so small that even short arse here is medium.

Weight: Anything between the rather hefty 11 stone I was when I arrived to the far too skinny 9 stone 3lb I dropped to in March due to homesickness, actual sickness, no food and walking three hours a day in a sauna. Since then my weight had fluctuated in direct correlation to my access to beer.

Skin colour: Neapolitan (red, white or brown depending on where you look)

Profession: Volunteer: teacher, health adviser, condom demonstrator/distributor, myth buster, agony aunt and general dogsbody

Key placement achievements: As a team of 5:

• Teaching well over 120 school lessons on sexual reproductive health, livelihoods and life skills.
• Forming a club in the secondary school which is now performing dramas and songs about sexual health issues for the other students.
• As well as teaching them Sexual Health issues every week we have managed to get our Out Of School Youth Group registered at the Sub-county and they are now receiving seeds and tools from the government.
• In March me and a fellow volunteer co-authored and submitted a proposal for funding to the Sub-county. We assumed it had been lost in the mire of local government but we found out last week it had been accepted! Our Youth Group is going to receive 2 million Shillings (about $1000) to buy a cow and start a dairy farming project. Out of all the things I've done here I think this will have the longest lasting effect.

As well as all that I have learned to deal with a completely different way of daily life. I think the reverse culture shock will really hit me when I see my first washing machine in over eight months.....

Me and Megs with some of the kids at Cathal's placement.

The Orange Army vs The Kampala Bombers

It had been a fantastic weekend in Kampala. After a night seeing off a couple of very good friends who were going back to Afghanistan, we were all a little delicate on Sunday morning. We spent most of the day eating in the hostel and sitting fully clothed in the tiny pool trying to cure our hangovers in time for the match that night. We had decided to watch the game at the Rugby Club in Kampala as it seemed to be the place to be for locals and internationals alike. However, after a conversation with someone at the hostel, Joyce (who is half dutch) found out that a club in town called Iguana's is Dutch owned and therefore was the Orange Army's base for the evening. In solidarity with her we changed plans and, decked out in various ridiculous orange attires including a builder's hat, we headed out for the night.

Me and the girls dressed up for the match

Iguana's was draped in orange and packed to bursting with revelers. At strategic points hung signs declaring it an "Octopus Free Zone" and orange vuvuzelas, balloons, hats, horns, clogs and socks were everywhere. We squeezed into seats near the front and settled down to watch the match.

Iguana's before the game

At half time, completely unknown to us, a bomb went off inside an Ethiopian Restaurant in southern Kampala. During extra time two bombs were detonated on a packed rugby field about 4km away.

Word must have reached the owners of Iguana's that the bombers were targeting World Cup parties because suddenly the lights went up and drunken Dutch people began pushing us to the exit shouting about bombs. In the total chaos that followed my main thought was that it was a story which had been exaggerated and the evacuation was an over-the-top precautionary measure. Then someone behind me in the crush shouted out from his phone handset that 25 people were already dead.

Totally shell-shocked and with no clue what was going on we called a taxi and arrived back at our hostel at about 1am. The first panicked phone call came minutes later from Joyce's sister who had heard the news back home. Preemptively we all began to call and text home to let them know that we had no idea what was going on but that we were all safe. My Dad called and thanks to his access to the BBC website we began to piece together the night's events. Our shock deepened as we realised that the second bombs had exploded at the Rugby Club we had planned to watch the game at. Only a chance conversation and last minute change of heart had led to us being a couple of miles away and safe.

Ugandan newspapers are not like those at home. The next day pictures of dead bodies and blood stared out at us from every news stand as we learned the death toll had risen to at least 65 (now 74). Accompanied by more phone calls from home we got out of Kampala early in the morning and headed back to Jinja.

Uganda is generally an extremely safe place and this vicious attack has shocked those who call this beautiful country home. It was a cowardly, callous attempt to harm as many people as possible who were doing nothing but watching a football match. These last few days have been full of bomb scares and fear which only worsened when an undetonated bomb was found outside another restaurant the next day. It had been rigged to go off at the same time as the others.

Aside from the shock, and thanking the orange miracle that made us change our minds, we are all genuinely OK and ready to see this through to the end. Its just such a shame that the eight months out here will now always be punctuated with this horrible event. In short: I'm fine...but bloody lucky.

Birthday in the village

Just a short post about some fun times.

Thursday was Cathal's birthday and a great excuse for a village visit. Cathal's placement of Nawanyago is the most easily accessible of all; only 45 minutes from Jinja. He also has the biggest house which is a ramshackle conversion of an old police headquarters, totally infested with bats and the occasional rat. After a day of teaching in our own villages, me Emily and Megan arrived after dark. We were met by the entire child population of Nawanyago, two local guys with guitars, the Ugandan volunteers from two placements, two British "Africa venture" friends, all the internationals, a lot of pasta and a wide eyed Cathal wearing a Barack Obama t-shirt and holding a spoon.

Cathal in his birthday present

Me among the revelers

A night of music and dancing followed, interrupted by dinner which was shared by most of Nawanyago. We eventually bedded down with eight of us on four mattresses on the floor like some kind of wolf pack.

With the wonderful musical birthday cake at the haven by the Nile later in the week

Lesson plans and the evil blood parasite of doom

Last week began well enough. I've begun teaching both my primary and secondary kids again and, just as in England, the beginning of term means increased attention spans and less general all round mocking. I expect this situation to decline markedly as the months progress!

We began by teaching about drug use and abuse in the primary classes, specifically about cigarettes and alcohol as they are by far the most common substances used by adults and young people alike. Other than a case of demonic possession (one of the girls in our P6 class began making wheezing noises and crying and had to be carried out to the field where she proceeded to fit surrounded by about a hundred children. This is so common here that the deputy head merely looked at her and said "oh has she gone demonic again?") the lessons were going quite well with lots of interesting questions such as "if drinking is so bad why did Jesus do it?"

In the secondary school we have started some lessons on HIV which we hope will help counter the HIV fatigue we experience most days. Basically Uganda was one of the first African countries to begin a coordinated response to the AIDS crisis in the late 80's and early 90's. Unfortunately this means most of the young people have been hearing the same messages every week for their entire life and are bored sick of it. Couple this with an AIDS campaign mainly funded by the US, meaning a focus on abstinence only education, and what do you get? Rising HIV rates. To try and make a dent in this I drew a huge world map on two sheets of flip chart. Most of the kids have never seen a world map and most of the end of the lesson gets taken up with them asking where their own personal world cup team is based (most are supporting Holland for some unfathomable reason). We then proceed to stick up the statistics of people living with HIV and AIDS all over the world: 1.5 million in North America, 850000 in Europe, 3.8 million in South East Asia and so on. Then we ask them to guess the figure for Sub-Saharan Africa. They know it will be a big one. 5 million, 6 million, 10 million are all shouted out. I pull out the piece of paper. 22.4 million people in Sub-Saharan Africa are living with HIV and AIDS. There is normally a couple of minutes of chatter and stunned looks from the class before we settle down to talk about the reasons why: lack of access and knowledge about condoms, sexual networks etc. It's shock tactics I know but hopefully some of the message gets through.

I got a cold at the beginning of last week and spent the mornings dragging myself out of bed and staggering along dirt roads for 45 minutes to teach the above lessons. By Thursday (a public holiday so no lessons) I felt ill enough to make my way into town for a malaria test. I was told by the lovely lab attendant that my blood was totally clear. I chastised myself for being such a baby and had lunch with a couple of other volunteers before heading back to one of their placements for an overnight visit. I woke up the next morning feeling more ill than I believe I have ever felt in my life. My head hurt more than I thought was possible and every time I moved fireworks went off behind my eyes. Added to this I felt sick as a dog and weak as a puppy (nice mixed metaphor there). I spent the whole day in bed as Cathal looked at me as if I was about to die and tried to make me drink water and eat food which I admit are good ideas in principle. By the evening I was forced to return to Jinja where a doctor informed me that the doxycycline I take as an (obviously highly effective) anti-malaria medication can affect the tests, meaning the malaria had not shown up. This time the diagnosis was certain and I was sent away with medication to rest and drink lots of milk.

Since then I have been getting steadily better while experiencing some strange side effects from the meds. They seem to effect my ears quite a lot which resulted in all music seeming out of tune for about a day and a half. I nearly killed myself when Coldplay came on the radio. Other than that and general weakness I'm on the mend and teaching again this week. Though I have to say I'm beginning to feel a little restless now, ready to get on the road again in early August.

Love to all, especially my bro who turns 20 today.
Anna
xxxx

Back to reality

The last week of the holidays was one of my best in Uganda. I rafted Grade 5 rapids on the Nile for two days which, though truly terrifying at some points, was absolutely fantastic. We also gatecrashed a very expensive hotel in Jinja and spent the day relaxing by the pool; a nice change from our hostel. Finally, on the last Sunday before our return for training we had a goodbye party for a friend of ours who was leaving to go back to the States forever. Sniff.

Grinning like an idiot with the guys at the party


Feeling clean for the first time in five months

Everything has grown tall in the village since I left. The maize and sugar cane have begun to block out the views of hills and forests. It gives the place a claustrophobic atmosphere it did not have before. Subtle changes add to this unfamiliarity: different cows graze outside my window, the hen has had chicks, some of the children have forgotten my name. That life continues in your absence is obvious; but sometimes it takes these small revelations to remind you.

In order to charge my phone in Busede I have to walk 45 minutes to our nearest trading center which is one of the only places with electricity nearby. As my phone has begun to show it's age I have to make this pilgrimage almost every other day, sit and watch the world go by for an hour and walk back to our little house. Thursday is market day so yesterday all three of us decided to trek up the hill and wait for the trucks to arrive from town. Just before reaching the center we were met by a group of over six hundred people, dressed in their best clothes, crowded around two houses by the side of the road. Two of the local boys had been driving a truck in Rwanda and had died in a road accident. We paid our respects at the funeral and continued to the trading center which was deserted: the whole village turns out for funerals. We managed to find somewhere to charge our phones and sat under an acacia tree to chat to some people who had come from town to register villagers for the upcoming elections.
Five minutes later we heard a cry from down the hill. About one hundred people in full dress clothes were sprinting towards us, pursued by a wall of water which over took and drenched them. Within five seconds we had grabbed the stools we sat on and raced to the nearest porch to escape the downpour. It was the first rain the village has had in weeks and the road quickly became a river. We sat munching on roasted corn. "What is central heating?" my placement partner asked. Try explaining the concept of radiators to someone who lives on the equator. It was possibly my strangest moment yet in Uganda.

Holidays - and finally some photos!

The school holidays have begun and that means that us teachers are getting a (hopefully) well earned rest from village life and a chance to explore some of Uganda. It began with a trip to my placement partner's Aunt's "Introduction". This is a traditional wedding which a couple have to take part in before they are able to have a church marriage in Uganda. It has its origins in tribal practices and is quite a spectacle. The ceremony is held at the bride's family's home and the grooms party sit separately for the entire day. Various female family members are paraded in front of the groom's party until finally the bride is "selected", after which the bride's friends pick out the groom by pinning a flower on his jacket. This was followed by a huge present giving session, food, cake and dancing, all of which was fantastic fun.

Women on parade at the introduction

Me in the middle of the dance floor

The next weekend, after tying up all the loose ends at placement, me and three friends (one of which works for a rather generous NGO and thus has access to a car) headed off to Sipi falls on the far Eastern side of Uganda. It was a great opportunity for a little r + r, though we did manage a three hour trek up to the falls and a swim in the freezing cold mountain waters.

Us at Sipi

Next I took a trip out to the Fort Portal area, about a five hour drive west towards the Rwandan boarder. The area is famous for it's crater lakes which pockmark the valley. They are free of hippos and bilharzia which meant I could finally go for a nice swim. As I was the only visitor at the camp site I spent the afternoon with the local kids who had come for a swim in the lake. They let me play on their self-made bamboo boat and were totally amazed that I was able to dive in from the rocks. Though it was lovely to spend some time on my own I did miss sharing the amazing scenery with someone. Occasionally you just want someone to take your picture!

A panorama of Lake Nkuruba

After spending a few days hanging around Jinja and Kampala my last adventure took me out to Lake Bunyonyi (scene of the events of the previous post!). Despite the worm action the area was beautiful. The lake is a result of a volcanic eruption about 8000 years ago which flooded a valley with redirected water from a river. It has over twenty beautiful islands which you can visit by motorboat or dug out canoe. The latter is much nicer and you pay about £1 per person for a 45 minute journey. We rented a motorbike to explore the beautiful views around the lake and headed out to one of the islands for dinner.

Me playing with some of the great kids we met on our walk.

In a dug-out canoe on the lake

Lansing paddling with Noah our "captain"

Having fun on the island

Uganda really is a stunningly beautiful country. Wherever you go lush vegetation and natural features crowd the landscape. The people too are so friendly and always willing to help you out. We got a flat tire on our motorbike about 2k from the hotel and a man from the red cross stopped to help us push the bike back, just because he was headed that way. I feel genuinely privileged that I have had a chance to live here and experience the country from a very different perspective. Those who just pass through rarely get to see events like the Introduction and often just skim the surface of life here. I know I write about disturbing events and the difficulties of everyday life but I honestly wouldn't trade this experience for the whole world.