Heading northward
Early morning start, dew on grasses, waves from friends and neighbors and unrelenting green jungly bush as we tumble through the mountain amidst the imagined calls of monkeys. A smell of vomit from the back seat where friends sit who have joined us for the journey; our children calling up to us ” are we through the mountains yet?”; David and I foregoing conversation for the joy of watching in silence our mountains in never-before-seen hues of green. Passing across to the other side, we reach the “real world” inhabited civilization, Fort Portal; we sit at a restaurant (!) and eat meat samosas and drink warm Arabian Cokes - this is happiness.
Now we move northward, more northward than we’ve yet gone before. Ready to see a new side of Uganda, yet so much the same. Here the color of the people changes, subtly perhaps. These are among the “blacka ones” as so often referred to by their fellow Ugandans; a beautiful ebony hue, different facial shapes and shadows but the same lines of patient endurance. I remember my early days in Bundibugyo when my eyes, unused to so many dark faces, and shaved heads had trouble distinguishing one person from another. My sheltered existence thus far allowing me to use hair cut, eye color and skin shade as a crutch.
We ride marim roads through and past Hoima, a decent town with hotels and restaurants and at least three bookshops. We are tempted to stop. But we are heading on, still north and west to Masindi, a good overnight resting place as we aim for our eventual destination, Murchison Falls.
Red clay dust, blown up by our wheels, furls in the air around us and my hair has become nappy from the wind and dirt. Naomi rests in the back seat flushed and sweaty as I implore her to DRINK MORE WATER. We listen to Narnia on our ipod converter at very top volume to be heard over the jolts and bumps and rattles and bangs as our 4wd hits potholes, ridges, washboard stretches and large rocks. We hurtle along, small and lonely on a burnt sienna road amidst miles of trees, grass, bush. And the Ugandans of this northern, western land scare up like rabbits from the roadway edges as we pass them, bearing their burdens; wood, washing, bananas, overloaded bicycles and enterprising hearts. Soon we’ll be there.



