Joe Blogs

10 Things I'll miss

2010-07-03T12:44:00.008+01:00

...in a sort of 'top ten' format, this is really not an exhaustive list. I've just been looking through a few of my photos and appreciating some features of my life over the last 2 years. In three weeks I'll be back in the UK.

10. Ants - OK so I didn't say they were things I would be sorry to miss, but it's funny how used you can get to constant lines of ants (usually at least 3 in each room) going from floor to ceiling. You don't like to think what would happen to you if they all turned on you at once but as long as they're just feasting on the bat droppings in the roof it's not so bad.

9. At first glance, having a concrete floor to your home may not seem like the most attractive option (especially when you drop something), but on a hot day it's hard to beat taking your shoes off at the front door and enjoying the soothing cool under your soles. Until, that is, you try to get the dirt off your feet.

8. Four poster bed, Uganda style. This is definitely the best way to hang a mozzie net and, even if it isn't quite big enough, this cotton 'cage' has saved us a lot of blood over the past 2 years. I might just stick four posts on my bed when we return to the UK so I don't wake up in the night feeling vulnerable and insecure.

7. Cool front garden. It's pretty neat having a football pitch for a front garden. Keeping the grass short is a bit of a 'bind' though!

6. Goats around the house. I love it when I drive up to our house to find that our garden has been selected as the grazing area of choice for our 13 goats for the day. What they lack in personality they make up in.... well I'm not sure actually, but they're usually good for a bit for a laugh. Until the point in the evening when you get surround-sound bleating, that is.

5. The Lake from my house. The Lake turns every different colour you can imagine from deepest blue to lilac to silver gray. We see sunrise and moonrise reflected in it and most of our storms come rolling in over the water. I think it's going to be one of those things that I only really miss appropriately when I don't open my curtains to it any more.

4. Signposts that make me laugh. Usually due to an East African interpretation of the English language. This one always makes me thing of beleaguered teachers in the staff room at lunchtime.

3. Saturday football. It's been such a joy to have had regular football every Saturday morning with the EU football league. I've been representing Ireland (and the two guys in green next to me are Americans) but it's been great fun. I've learned that all the stereotypes are true. The Germans are efficient and outperform more talented opposition in the big games. The Israelis are theatrical divers. The Danes can easily be imagined as vikings. The Italians go for the 1-0 lead and then sit back and defend. And the Irish? Perform heroically but go out early on as a result of some grave injustice. Morning football has been nicely augmented by watching the Premiership (all games televised!) at the American Club in the afternoons. It's been a lot of fun. Even if I've had to watch it with Americans (only joking Brad and Matt!).

2. The River Nile. The best natural feature of Uganda in my humble opinion. There's plenty of competition too with the game parks, mountains and volcanoes. However, whether it's camping out on the banks, white water rafting or enjoying all the hippos, crocs and bird life in the national parks from a launch, it truly is everything that every little boy imagines it should be. Stunning.

1. I'm not allowed pictures, but the boys we work with take top spot. They are unbelievably resilient to the effects of so much horror and pain in their lives. They are friendly, helpful and desperate to seize every opportunity you give them. They are truly the most deserving recipients of love I've ever come across and, on top of that, they love Jesus. I think I'm going to miss them when if I find myself working with young people in the UK again!

Coming 'home'

2010-06-19T15:55:00.003+01:00

Coming ‘Home’

With a month to go til we fly back to the UK after our two years in Uganda I find myself drawing comparisons between the two cultures and, if I’m honest, feeling the brokenness and mess of my homeland, even in with comparison with some of the disfunctionality of the East African World.

Having just spent a few minutes on the internet just now, catching up with the news ‘back home’, I have to feel a pretty profound sense of sadness at what I see. Three stories that took me down. Firstly two celebrities at an awards ceremony for a vacuous women’s mag. (Yes, I’ve read it). If you haven’t seen the clip of Sir Patrick Stewart making a bit of an arse of himself and James Cordon just gleefully rubbing it in, then I’d say you’re lucky. It’s a horrific display of self-important, verbal nastiness (by both) and I think says a lot about both celebrity culture and the total lack of respect there is in society. (And yes, I know I’m sounding like and old fart).

Secondly was the story of a well-known supermarket chain recalling a line of paper shredders (price £19.97) because of a minor electrical fault. I’m really at a loss about why this upset me so much. Probably the sheer mind-boggling banality of the story and all the pettiness that seems to exist in a culture that’s lost focus on anything that really matters in life.

The third story was the worst. In my former local park (Wigmore) a group of 5 nineteen years olds were playing football on Friday evening when a group of 20 sixteen-year-olds came along and beat the c*** out of them, leaving one with a suspected broken jaw. I’ve played a lot of football with a lot of different people in Uganda and the idea of anyone coming and starting a fight in a park over it is unthinkable. It’s bad enough if it’s not safe for 12 year olds to play out in the long summer evenings, but these guys were 19! I know it’s not something new, but the futility and the sense of something so beautiful and nice in life being trampled like this just depresses me so much.

I can’t help but thinking that 5 people plus 19 people makes for a nice game of 12-a-side. That’s what should have happened. Everyone should have had a great game and then shared a beer/soda at the end of it. That’s what would happen in Uganda.

OK, so in the UK people don’t die in riots (often), road safety is a lot better, and government officials don’t steal a massive proportion of public money (yes I know about the expenses scandal but duck houses are small fry compared to East Africa).

The other day our boys attended a big rally in celebration of the Day of the African Child. 4000 free T-shirt were printed but only 200 even got given out. That got me pretty angry, along with the billions of shillings siphoned off taxes and aid money. But you know, I think I’d take the crumbling roads and missing T-shirts if I just knew I could go out and have a kick around in the evening with whoever else happened to be in the park, thus avoiding the temptation to ever watch another awards ceremony ever again. And paper-shredders. News?

Fuddy-duddy, prude, straight-laced, bore? Maybe, but I think I’m right.

This time at least.

(Picture: the road to my house. For another month, at least).

Catching Up

2010-06-03T17:46:00.001+01:00

I’m out on the balcony (I think most of my regular readers can probably picture that having sat there once or twice themselves) and the light is just fading. It’s been a heck of a week, the first without our farm manager, but lots of good progress has been made so it justifies the effort. Meanwhile Jess is in the kitchen cooking lasagne and brownies for dinner as she’s taken the Public Holiday while I’ve worked today. Normally I cook and Jess washes up but it’s all change here tonight!

I realise this year has not been so good so far for keeping up with blogging and to completely honest, I think this is partly because I’ve become so used to living here that the earlier ease of knowing what might seem ‘remarkable’ to people in the UK, and therefore worth blogging, has subsided and I find myself quite familiar with even the most bizarre aspects of life here. A fact made all the more disturbing knowing that in less than 7 weeks I’ll be on a plane to the UK without any immediate plans to return.

The Lake is still and silver. How much I take it for granted. The funny thing is, that I probably only ever sit on this balcony when visitors are here. I think it’s party due to having an excuse whereas work days usually mean busy-ness til dark and on leisure days we try to get off-site. The soundtrack is crickets v birdsong v the boys drumming and worshipping under the gazebo.

Things I’ve learned today.

1) Casual labourers in Uganda live a precarious and vulnerable existence. Negotiating contracts directly with them now, I understand in a fresh way the significance of employment law in the developed world.

2) I’m not very good at discerning the gender of 3 month old chicks.

3) If your matooke tree suffers from banana weevil, you have to cut it down and then pee on it. Seriously.

4) We have one or two members of staff here who have enormous potential and natural gifts. It makes me sad that education is not universal to a higher standard as Uganda has probably been deprived of many great leaders because they had to leave school at 12.

Ok, the hassle from the mosquitoes is now outweigh the beauty of the scenery so I’d better move inside. Not, though, before I’ve grabbed several large handfuls of leaves from our basil plant which is beginning to threaten world domination. That and the 8 foot sunflowers. Everything grows so well here but I’ve not taken advantage of it. I can picture a dingy, cold January in the UK now, with a whole bunch of herbs planted and only being able to use them once every 3 months in a meal, and only very sparingly. Plant fruit trees here and 3 years on you’re getting lovely fruit!

What will it be tonight? Fresh paw paw or fresh avocado.
Hmmm….. choices, choices.

Meanwhile, down on the farm...

2010-05-17T16:07:00.002+01:00

Two significant milestones in my farming experience last month. Neither of them of much consequence but both moments that will not be quickly forgotten and definitely left their mark, so to speak.

Firstly I castrated Gareth, my goat. Not, I assure you, an act of wanton torture, but rather a necessary evil to avoid inbreeding and to help fatten him up for the kill. The process was is too painful to recall in a blow by blow account but suffice to say, I did it myself and it involved a sharp razorblade, a small amount of bleeding and a large amount of pitiful bleating. I think the bleating had the same effect on me and the lads holding poor Gareth down, as the sound of a baby crying does to some women. A sort of gut-wrenching cry that drew every empathetic, masculine, feeling from our souls.

Anyway, he’s doing fine, even if he did hobble away with partial paralysis of the back legs (a common, but temporary affliction, I’m told), and 5 minutes later he was back to eating the grass like someone was about to take it from him. Meanwhile I departed to present Jess with her new pair of designer earrings.

Onto incident number 2. I fear word of my act of violent violation must have got around because the other animals seemed to be rather cold towards me during the next two days. This culminated with one of our cows (the pregnant one with horns) goring me. When she approached me I thought she was just being friendly. However, the acceleration and downward position of the head alerted me that something was wrong in the half-second before I found myself lifted on top of her head and neck before being thrown a fair distance. After which I scrambled away as fast as my welly-wearing feet could carry me. Very undignified and right in front of all the boys.

I got a good bruise up the back of my leg but otherwise no lasting damage. However, I’m not sure how swift I will be to perform any more castrations in the near future.

'Ooo', and if you will, 'arr'.

Kigali Memorial Centre

2010-04-15T16:37:00.004+01:00

The Rwanda Genocide Memorial is site just outside the city centre of Kigali built to commemorate the ‘100 days of madness’ in 1994, to remember the victims, and to serve as a warning to the rest of the world. Part gardens, part museum, part mass grave, it is a sobering yet totally compelling place to visit, especially so when, just sixteen years on from the slaughter of nearly a million people in an area half the size of Scotland, it’s so hard for the visitor to imagine such a grim recent past in such a well developed, pleasant and organised city. There is probably a lot that could be said about the place, and probably a lot that can’t really be expressed well in a blog. This is my attempt to describe three things that particularly caught my attention during the three hours I spent at the Memorial last weekend.

1) Copy of memo written by head of the United Nations Mission in Rwanda (UNMIR) Col. Romeo Dallaire to his superiors in Washington.

The memo told of a source who had approached the UN with information that the Interahamwe calculated that killing a small number of the Belgian peacekeeping contingent should be enough to force the international community to pull out of Rwanda. Dallaire wanted the information to be taken seriously and for the source to be protected. His advice was rejected. It is frightening to think that a ragtag bunch of militiamen out-thought and out-smarted the most educated, qualified ‘experts’ in the world. They understood the realities of the situation better than anyone else and this allowed them to exploit the situation perfectly and, ultimately, kill 800,000 people while the world looked the other way.

2) Interviews with survivors about the impact of the genocide on their lives.

For the most part it’s so easy, and right, to be completely bamboozled by the sheer scale of the massacre (one in six people in the country was killed in 3 months, that’s the equivalent of 10m in the UK), that it’s easy to forget that the consequences of the genocide continue in the lives of those who experienced it. Over 80% of children saw people, usually family members, being shot, raped and hacked to death. How does a country ever recover from that? I work with street children and many of them have been through terrible experiences, but how do you rebuild family, community and society when every street, house, church and neighbour has such bloody memories? How do you ever get a handle on dealing with the associative memories every time someone knocks at your door, or sharpens a panga, or even looks you in the eye? One interviewee in the video simply said that he finds it really hard to love anybody anymore. He feels the experiences he went through tainted him and have made him a bad person (he wasn’t a perpetrator, just an 8 year old kid). How do you rebuild a generation that can’t love any more?

3) The superman duvet cover.

Sometimes it’s a quote that catches you, or often an picture or image. Despite living in East Africa for the last 2 years, only a few hundred kilometres from Kigali, I spent most of my time wondering around the Memorial struggling to make any sense of personal connection. That all changed when I walked into one exhibit showing items of clothing that had been recovered from mass graves. Some of them gave a sense of the date of the genocide, such as the bright pink shell-suit jacket. But right in the middle was a blue superman duvet cover. Torn, damaged, and a little bit bloodstained, it hung from a couple of wires in a display cabinet. It was identical one I owned and treasured from the age of five. To my embarrassment (although, I’m sure I thought it was cool again by then) I even took it to university with me. The funny thing is, I’ve never seen another one like it in the UK or anywhere else for that matter. I was never a comic kid or even that crazy about superheroes (alright, apart from about a year) but even night I enjoyed snuggling down under my superman duvet. I don’t think I need to describe what it felt like to look at that old damaged bedding hanging there in front of me but it raised all sorts of questions for me. Who did it belong to? Was it a boy my age? Was he killed hiding under his superman duvet cover or was he buried by his parents or siblings or neighbours or some aid workers in a cleanest sheet they could find in the house?

One thought remains with me. Two boys, in two countries, on two continents own the same duvet cover. If one is tortured and killed, the following morning his story would be on the front cover of every national newspaper. If the other is hacked to death with a panga, nobody will ever discover what his name was. In fact everybody who even knew who his name is now dead. World’s apart.

Thank you for flying Rwandair!

2010-03-22T14:03:00.003Z

Just back from spending a couple of quiet, relaxing days in Kigali, more of which later. However, I had to quickly mention a couple of details about the journey. Having decided to treat ourselves and avoid the perils of the notorious Kapala-Kigali Road, we turned up for Rwandair flight WB106 to find that in fact we had really only swapped one deadly vehicle for a shipping container with wings.

Just to clarify, the plane in the picture above was not ours (we weren’t flying in anything remotely as sophisticated as this). However, this is what I found when searching the internet for stories about Rwandair and relates to the moment a Rwandair pilot accidentally ‘parked’ the plane in the VIP lounge of Kigali Airport last year, more of which later).

For the plane buffs out there, our ‘craft’ was manufactured by de Havilland, (the makers of such classics and the ‘Mosquito’ and the ‘Vampire’ and looking at it, I think it was from a similar era. The sense of ‘flying bus’ was reinforced by a back seat bench for 5, which in true primary school fashion I was drawn to immediately, as the attendant informed us it was a free seating plan.

‘Free seating’ took on a whole new meaning when I read the safety card (it would have been foolish not to) which informed me that in the event of a landing on water, we should hold onto our seat cushion for buoyancy! This prompted mental images of survivors clinging to wreckage, desperately awaiting rescue.

The image was completed when the attendant finished giving out his announcement (through the barely necessary intercom – he might just have told the 9 of us to ‘huddle up’ as he talked) before he started walking round taking drinks orders on the back of an envelope (really!) before returning from the cabin with and armful of sodas and passing them around.

Then there’s the fun of going up through one Lake Victoria storm and decending back through another. It was a scenario made for Reader’s Digest ‘Drama in Real Life’ article (RIP). But we landed safe and well and, as we stepped off, the attendant started pulling the luggage out of the back much in the manner of dad unpacking when you arrive at the camp site.

We all watched the trolley being loaded. Most decided just to grab their bags there and then, but a couple of folk hesitated, and 2 minutes later as the trolley drove alongside our bus back to the terminal (this was Rwanda, now, after all) you could see them regretting their indecisiveness, especially as the bags went through another entrance, to reappear who knows how long later.

There are just a few pertinent notes that should be made about the return flight.

1. Ben Affleck walked through the departure ‘lounge’ and entered the VIP area (I wonder if he’s not seen the picture above?!)
2. None of our fellow passengers recognised him.
3. Two minutes later a Rwandan guy walked through the lounge and entered the VIP area (I repeat my question under point 1).
4. Everybody EXCEPT us recognised him and started nudging each other (he turned out to be a Government Minister).

As we boarded, I solemnly reflected on the somewhat chequered history of Rwandan leaders and air travel from Kigali. And Rwandair’s similarly questionable previous with VIPs.

Affleck got on a private jet. And you know what? I couldn’t blame him.

An End to Ethical Living?

2010-02-28T09:55:00.000Z

Putting aside the fact that I’m writing this from Uganda’s finest steak house and that I drive a 4x4, I think my environmental credentials have been fairly solid over the last 18 months. No central heating, no fridge, generally little power. In fact, if it weren’t for a couple of flights back to the UK, I’d say I’m living the ‘greenest’ two years of my life. The other day I made a meal mostly of items I harvested myself from the farm. Not too many food miles on that.

The biggest lifestyle changes have been enforced by a lack of power at our house. We’re not connected to the mains (although UMEME, Uganda’s sole provider is powered by the River Nile) but have a solar system which charges batteries that then powers the house. Except, since we arrived the batteries have been knackered, allowing us to charge phones and laptops during the day but only run 1 lightbulb for about 3 hours each evening. It’s been a good experience, once you’re used to it. We both have head torches, mine’s wind-up, and are very used to activities such as washing up by torchlight and showering by candlelight (OK, maybe that’s too much information?).

Anyway, a new boss has meant new impetus and last week, the batteries were replaced. Since then the power hasn’t tripped once, even though it’s been a very rainy week. We’ve got a security light on all night now, which is a relief after we found an intruder last month.

We can also now do the following: Mrs GKJ can sit on the couch reading a book in the lounge while I’m cooking in the kitchen. I can sit in the living room working on the laptop while Mrs GKJ is doing the washing up in the kitchen. More than one bathroom facility can be used simultaneously. We don’t have to choose between media – we can use light to read AND play music or listen to the radio. I haven’t tested it out but I’m pretty confident I can even play my electric piano in the evenings now, which any pianist worth their salt will tell you is the only time to play the piano. We can charge phones, charge the laptop, charge the camera at any time of night and day.

I wonder how long it will be before our rather anal approach to wasting a single watt of electricity will relax. Up til now if there was ever any leftover power at night, I’d listen to the radio as I fell asleep knowing that within 20 minutes it would trip the power – no ‘sleep’ button required. I guess that’ll have to change now.

The funny thing is I’ve learned to be quite content with the lack of power over the last year and a half. This is not a statement of noble sacrifice. At first it’s hard, then it doesn’t bother you so much and eventually all your routines are built around the way of life and it actually upsets things to change the parameters! Not that I’m complaining. The biggest bonus will be being able to ‘afford’ electricity to keep our laptop charged at all times so we can teach our staff some vital skills for the running of Tudabujja once we leave.

Still, for a news-junky like me, it’s always nice to be able to hear that most comforting of jingles ‘This is the BBC World Service’ every half hour, round the clock.

I’ve even found a company that will recycle the old batteries too. So there’s another weight off my conscience! Let’s, for now then, ignore my Suzuki Escudo Nomade with 16v 2.0l turbo injected engine and very, very BIG new off-road tyres. As they say in Chelsea, it’s great for the speed bumps.

Africa Highs, Africa Lows

2010-01-29T15:35:00.001Z

I suspect I am not the only foreigner living in here who experiences the conflicting emotions associated with life in Uganda. It truly is a case of fluctuating between the sublime and the ridiculous.

Without giving specific examples sometimes the good seems very good and the bad seems terrible and there’s not a lot in between. Sort of the opposite of the kind of banality and normality you sometimes feel living in the UK.

Back in Blighty there’s a greater sense of predictability. You can generally have a fair idea of what perhaps 80% of your day is going to look, or at least, feel like before you get started. Here it’s the other way round. If you’re sure of 20% of the day ahead you’ve done well.

All this means that with so much ‘up for grabs’ as the day progresses you can never really tell what you are going to face, even if 18 months practice gives you a better idea of the range of possibility.

I’ve never even looked at Twitter but I think Africa is a Twitterer’s dream come true. There are so many incredible and bizarre moments that could be summarized into pithy one-liners. Right now, my offering would probably be “Joe is typing while listing to a crazy Bulgarian, body-building, security-expert shout (in Bulgarian) at someone on Skype”.

Also this week we could have. ‘Joe is throwing around piglets’, ‘Joe is simultaneously wielding a pick-axe and a laminator’ and ‘Joe is abandoning the second car that has broken down on him this week with the windows open, because he just doesn’t care anymore, and besides the bedbugs in the upholstery should deter any potential thieves’.

In Africa the possibilities are endless. It’s no wonder one of the closet associated words with ‘Africa’ is ‘experience’. To put it simply, you know those weeks where you get to Friday and can’t really remember anything that happened in the week? That never happens when you live in Africa.

Wonderful, invigorating, exciting and, at times, pretty damn stressful. Still, the sun’s always shining. Oh, and R Kelly is gigging tonight.

And he shall separate the Pigs from the Goats

2010-01-21T14:21:00.000Z

The Tuda farm has delivered in grand style in the first month of the 2010 with no less than 20 younglings. I am, however, swiftly learning the differences between pigs and goats. Goat kids (of which we have 4) are quite sweet in a weird kind of way. You can pick’em up, toss ‘em around and generally they’re fairly content with life. All legs at this stage (will try to back this up with a photo sometime). They can make a bit of a racket and if you hold them to yourself you have to change you shirt afterwards ‘cos it’ll smell of goat wee. Nice. The mothers are fairly protective and, I know it’s fairly standard fare but, I find it remarkable how the babies and mothers know exactly who they are related too. I mean they can hardly walk but shove them in the barn together and they make a bee-line for one another. (Maybe that should be a goat-line?).

Pigs on the other hand are a different matter. Sow number 1 gave birth to 4 piglets in the night and slept on two of them killing them. Swine cot death. Sow number 2 did rather better with all 10 little’uns making through the night. You’ve got to be careful to make sure the mother is well fed otherwise it’s quite common for them to snack on their off-spring. Before we get too judgemental, let’s face it, we’ve all had a strange hunkering for Pork Scratchings or Sweet’n’Sour Pork Balls at some crazy hour in the night. Still, it’s pretty gross all the same and I’m beginning to think Muslims and Jews have got it right. If only they didn’t taste so damn good. (Pigs that is, not Jews and Muslims).

I can’t imagine the joy the first person to kill a pig experienced. For one, they stopped it breathing. Mission accomplished in the case of a wild boar, I guess. To cook it and discover it’s magnificent culinary qualities must have been an unexpected bonus.

I did pick up one of the piglets yesterday but the mum went crazy and then I couldn’t put it back in the pen or else she would have bitten me. I ended up almost dropping junior in the trough thinking I’d rather mama ate Babe than my hand. Eurghhh! Kill ‘em all. Pig genocide I say. Goats are much better. But then again, for the aspiring farmers out there, pigs have better poo.

(Photo to follow).

"Ladies and Gentlemen we apologise for the delay...."

2010-01-09T14:34:00.000Z

“I couldn’t get my car out of my driveway this morning because of the snow”, said the captain over the intercom. He wasn’t the only one. We had decided to get up at 5am to give ourselves the best chance of making our 10.45am flight back to Uganda. The only way out of our road was by reversing up the hill (nice manoevre, dad), but once we made it out onto the motorways, things were fairly smooth.

Fortunately we arrived on time, which was more than could be said for most of the airport staff but that was understandable. Well, not to everyone, especially Mr upper-middle-class-gent-on-way-to-family-holiday who seemed unable to appreciate that the members of staff he was haranguing for the lack of personnel were the ones who had actually made the effort and got to work.

Most people took it all in fairly good humour though. Until we got on the plane, that is, when the crowds and delays all became too much for one passenger behind us, who we can only guess was some kind of ‘artist’, (significant enough to be escorted by several burly bodyguards but not significant enough to afford first class tickets for him and his posse) who flipped out unleashing a stream of expletives at a member of the cabin crew and had to be restrained by security. (It just occurred to me, maybe he was just an ordinary guys being deported? I think the first version makes for a better story though).

After the captain had told us of his woes (it’s slightly disconcerting to be told the chap flying you halfway round the world in tricky conditions isn’t so hot behind the wheel) we waited another 20 minutes before he ‘returned’ with an update, that would remain etched in our memories.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re all set to go now, we’re just waiting for a tug to arrive so we can get a push off the stand onto the taxi-way”. Ten Minutes passes. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve been told there’s a shortage of tugs right now, but we’re expecting one in about 15 minutes”. 20 minutes passes. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pleased to inform you we can see the tug now, it’s on it’s way and we should be ready to roll in 4-5 minutes, please return to your seats and turn all phones off”.

What happened next was like something from Airplane!. We started to reverse slowly but only made it halfway back to the taxiway before we got stuck in the snow. Cue highly technical operation to clear the way. Not really. Instead we went back to the stand to try again with ‘a faster run up’. My mind drifted back to the scene on our driveway that morning. (Try a bit faster!). We tried again, and again, and once more for luck before the tug driver gave up and drove us back to the stand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we seem to having some difficulty getting out. The tug would normally be fine to push an aircraft of this size but due to the conditions it has failed. We’re now just waiting for a bigger tug to become available so we can push out through the snow”. At this point the cabin crew start handing out drinks which I took to be a bad sign. It certainly didn’t say to me, ‘we’ll be off in just a minute’. And the bigger tug thing. That seemed a little bit like getting a bigger hammer to do the tricky job. I wondered whether the snow or our plane would be first to give way.

Anyway, the bigger tug arrived, and all credit to it, we made it out, first attempt onto the taxiway. I could sense that if we hadn’t all been fervently obeying the seatbelt rules (even the staff-abusing rapper and his homies) we would all have been embracing each other at our imminent departure. (Just 3 hours late. Arrival in Kampala 1am, bed by 2? Work tomorrow morning).

We taxied the length of the runway. I know this because we started at one end and we got to the other and it took a long time. Then we joined the queue. I really needed the loo by now but hopefully we’d be airborne soon so no matter. Then a bunch of planes overtook us. Now I REALLY needed the loo. Then the captain’s voice came over the intercom once more.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m really sorry but I’m afraid we have a problem with the air-conditioning. We’re going to have to return to the stand (Audible groans) where I’m pleased to say the engineers are waiting for us to see whether they can rectify the problem. We then proceeded to taxi what felt like 5 times around the whole of the airport (and half of Berkshire) before coming to rest in the middle of nowhere. Then they turned the in-flight entertainment on (a really bad sign – this ain’t going to be fixed any time soon!) Out of the window I saw a guy in a white van turn up, throw a few cones around the plane (to warn passing motorists?!), pull on some overalls and, I’m not kidding, grab a screwdriver AND A HAMMER from the back and disappear under the plane. These are the people I regularly entrust my life and that of Mrs Gingerkidjoe to!

It was then everyone started phoning people. It was like one of those scenes from a disaster movie where everyone knows they’re going to die. I love you so much. Stay strong. I’d like to donate my organs. But before I’d got the whole of my funeral planned out over the phone to my mum, the guy in the overalls was back to his van, carefully replacing the hammer and screwdriver in the boot, collecting the cones and driving off.

We turned everything off (again), closed the overhead lockers (again), belted up (again) and, best of all, due to regulations had to watch the entire safety video again (how long does it take the average person to forget where the exits are!?!). Finally, now five hours behind schedule, the captain’s voice came over the intercom once more.

“Right, ladies and gentlemen. I’m please to inform you that the problem has been rectified we’re all set to go, were don’t appear to have any timetabling problems so we just need to wait now………

…… for a tug to push us off the stand”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Films of the Decade

2009-12-24T16:45:00.002Z

In a bit of an aside from Uganda, here for posterity is my ‘film list’ of the decade. These are cropping up everywhere at the moment in various forms. The Guardian and Times have simply gone for ‘the best’ films of the noughties, while the Telegraph has plumped for the films that were the most ‘definitive’. This results in Michael Moore’s biting polemical ‘Fahrenheit 9/11’ coming top of the film list of the Torygraph. Who’d have expected that? On the other hand, that’s a bit like saying the X Factor or Stricly Come Dancing definied TV over the last 10 years. Possibly true, but it says nothing about quality.

Anyhow, I’m left with a challenge of how to shape my list. For a start I’ve probably not seen more than 500 movies that came out during this decade (out of a total of more than 5000 released) so this is not going to be a comprehensive consideration of all that has passed through the local multiplex let alone those ‘masterpieces’ that showed at one screen for two days somewhere in a secret location in London. In fact my cinema going was mostly concentrated around the middle years of the decade. And i’ve seen so few films at the cinema in 2009 that even the atrocious tosh that is ‘Australia’ would have to fit into my top 10 of the year! (when it would have failed to make the top 50 of any other year)

So what I’m left with is my own, unashamedly subjective, opinions. And I’m going to do it like this. Desert Island DVDs. If I could only take 25 films from the last 10 years to a desert island with me, this is what I’d take (provided I’d got a way of watching the). I’ll try to justify my seleection as I go.

So, in no particular order, here we go.

1. Battle for Haditha (2008)
I’ve not seen ‘The Hurt Locker’ yet but this seemed to me to be the best thing out there on the first 5 years of the Iraq conflict.

2. Happy-Go-Lucky (2008)
Mike Leigh is a genius of a film maker. Vera Drake might have been a ‘better’ film but this is much better for repeated viewing while stranded.

3. In Bruges (2008)
My taste in comedy has changed over the decade. And just a few years ago I probably would have found this too distasteful and dark. But the central relationship and performances just won me over with this. A beautiful and tender, violent, gangster thriller.

4. WALL-E (2008)
Again, I’ve not caught ‘Up’ yet so I’m going to have to go for the miracle that was Wall-E, a film that could simultaneously entertain UK adults and Ugandan children while still carrying an important message and looking fabulous. Even managing a couple of those things would have been an achievement.

5. Être et Avoir (2002)
Just a beautifully simple documentary in an age of social and educational difficulties which shows how simple and good working with young people can be.

6. Volver (2006)
From a great director whose films I’ve not seen enough of, this is a neat idea well executed.

7. City of God (2002)
One of two films in this list from Fernando Meirelles, this was absolutely sensational in both the storytelling and the subject matter.

8. The Namesake (2006)
Simple, understated and not as punchy as Monsoon Wedding but, for me, the best example of telling a story over a large time-period (including There Will Be Blood!)

9/10. The Lives of Others (2007) / Downfall (2004)
Couldn’t split these two. I’m an historian and I was completely gripped by both of these heavyweight epics.

11. Into the Wild (2007)
A bit indulgent but a great story of adventure. Inspiring, if you’re naive enough to let it be (which I am).

12. The Bourne Trilogy (2002-7)
Started well enough but just got better and better. ‘Ultimatum’ arguably redefined action movies.

13. The Painted Veil (2006)
The best romance of the decade. Get’s better every time I watch it (even though I normally find Ed Norton annoying in most films apart from Fight Club)

14. Batman Begins (2005)
Showed every other action movie what it should have been trying to do. Perfect blend of adventure and characters. Laid it on a plate for the sequel(s?)

15. The Constant Gardener (2005)
It’s been great seeing an increasing number of films looking at Africa although no-ones really gone out on a limb to tackle a current subject (of which there are plenty). Although it’s a fanciful thriller, it captures the flavour of East Africa better and more sympathetically than anything else.

16. Children of Men (2006)
Just a brilliant story (written by an old English lady) and brought to screen by my favourite director of the decade. Couldn’t have been improved upon.

17. United 93 (2006)
Paul Greengrass has done more than just blow things up in Bourne films. How the heck do you make a film about 9/11 that’s worth making that’s worth watching? Like this, I guess.

18. Little Miss Sunshine (2006)
Just about the ‘nicest’ film of the decade. You don’t have to leave it too many months before you’re ready to see it again.

19. Any Given Sunday (2000)
OK, this one will take some explaining. Firstly, it didn’t get released in UK til 2000 so if I’d been doing a list like this last decade it would have missed out (see also Magnolia). Sport and movies just don’t work together, as a rule. Which is a pity as I love both. This worked, really well, and I’ll happily watch it again and again (as long as I’ve got a BIG screen and an even BIGGER sound system).

20. The Cooler (2003)
Yep, lots of rude bits and a bit unsavoury at times (not one to watch with Granny), but a brilliant concept for a story, perfectly paced and a great evening’s entertainment.

21. Intolerable Cruelty (2003)
Shunned by most fans of the Coen brothers but it’s the one I keep coming back to. The dialogue is razor-sharp and who would have guessed the George Clooney could put in a performance good enough to even make a Catherine Zeta Jones film good.

22. Infernal Affairs (2002-3)
‘The Departed’ has cropped up in lots of lists. I was lucky enough to see the originals first and they are better by a country mile.

23. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2003)
Passes the time in suitably epic manner.

24. In the Shadow of the Moon (2007)
In a decade of cinema-documentary’s, many with very important topics, this one blew me away. Made me consider the moon landings in a new way and recognise how remarkable the men and women who achieved it were. Another one that really needs a big screen.

25. 3 Iron (2004)
Maybe I just want to look cool and interesting by putting a Korean movie in the list but the ideas behind this story were so simple yet brilliant. A truly, truly original idea, nicely made.

Bye Muzungu!

2009-12-19T18:39:00.001Z

Anyone who has spent anytime in East Africa will be familiar with the regular cry of “Mzungu” coming from every man, woman and child. When I say ‘anyone’ then I actually mean ‘any white person’, because that is what ‘mzungu’ means. White man. Mzungu (white man) bazungu (white people) etc etc.

But while I’ve known the meaning of the word since day one, it’s taken me far longer to really understand what it really means. It’s clearly an exclamation of sorts. It doesn’t seem to be an insult as such but I’m pretty sure it’s not a compliment either. Some people apparently use it to show off, such as men crossing the road who want to make it look to everyone around like they know a white man. At other times it just seems to be a basic way of getting your attention “Eh mzungu!”

There’s a sense for the mzungu of being to the locals a little bit like the animals we see on safari are to us. ‘Look, it’s a lion/elephant/fish eagle/white man!’’. But nothing seemed to come close to defining exactly why people say ‘mzungu’ so much. And then it hit me.

It’s really just an East African equivalent of the UK ‘yellow car’ game by which the first person to see the object in question has to say it aloud. If you succeed before your friend then you get to hit them. And that would explain why the kids are so keen to shout it faster and louder than all their friends, even if you’re driving past their house for the fifth time in 2 hours. It’s just got to be said. Maybe if I looked back in the mirror I’d see, as the dust settled, one of the kids punching all the others?

Bye Mzungu!

hello

2009-12-17T13:07:00.002Z

I am going to blog sometime. Honestly. I'm just deciding what to blog about. I wrote a load of posts when the internet was down in Uganda so they never got posted. Maybe I'll throw one or two in. Then there's experiencing UK as a outsider, and probably some snow fun to be had too.

Anyway, don't give up the faith!

Now That's What I Call Music?

2009-11-09T13:12:00.003Z

I was very excited recently to receive that great barometer of UK radio airplay, Now That’s What I Call Music (73rd edn. to those who are counting). Obviously in Africa I don’t drive to work anymore to the sound of Chris Moyles et al. although I was beginning to get a bit bored of him in 2008 in any case. But for the past week I've been pretending by playing NOW 73 as I drive around Uganda.

Anyway, I’m forever waiting to get old and start writing off to the ground-breaking tunes of younger generations as ‘tosh’ but I’m afraid something even worse is happening. The problem is not that the songs aren’t adventurous enough or the lyrics particularly shocking but rather that it is all so old, tried, tested, recycled, regurgitated and, well, a bit dull really. Very samey.

There seem to be two styles. Rubbish, derivative girl-pop and insipid, toothless, commercial hip-hop. To be fair amongst the many virtually-cloned tracks there are a few that stand out. It’s hard to ignore Lily Allen amidst a sea of 20-something girls trying to copy her and Kasabian continue to be pretty creative.

Perhaps the biggest discovery is Florence and The Machine who seem to have succeeded in introducing a new generation of emo-teens to, well, Tori Amos music basically. A nice twist on the style though. Dizzie Rascal has sold out though and when it comes to Akon, nothing’s changed there: He still seems to epitomise pretty much everything that rubbish about the music industry.

Even if he did do a gig in Kampala.

Here endeth the lesson. Maybe I’m ready for Wogan on 2 after all?

Who wants to be a Millionaire?

2009-11-05T14:57:00.003Z

My name is Joe. I am 28 years old. And I am, officially, a millionaire. How did I rise to these dizzying heights of prosperity? Actually, all I did was move to Uganda. Just to put my rash and boastful comment in context, a million Uganda shillings is approx £330 sterling, so don't stop that direct debit just yet!

I find myself in a paradoxical position. In one sense, I am probably poorer no than I have been for years. Even at university I had greater potential cashflow due to unscrupulous banks being willing to throw vast amounts of money at me to buy my loyalty for years to come (it didn't work - I switch to something more ethical the moment I left!)

On the other hand, there will probably never again be a time in my life when there is such a great disparity between my material wealth and that of the people around me. And this makes for a bit of soul searching.

If you looked at percentages of riches I am definitely in the top 1% in Uganda. I mean, I may not have mains electricity, a fridge or TV but, well, I can fly to the UK if I really had to. And that makes me a financial celebrity in my neighbourhood. Truly cosmopolitan!

Of course, this has a knock-on effect to my relationship with those around me. Like most 'muzungus' security is a genuine consideration. Because I have more, I have to protect myself from those who have less (damn the poor!). Then, of course I gripe about this. I have so much respect for a missionary friend of my family who basically says she'll only have what those around her have. I'm afraid I don't live up to that standard (pass me my anti-malarials!)

Like most 'rich' people I am in the process of reconciling myself to my relative affluence. There are comforts to be found in bible verse that can be harnessed to justify my position (if you're willing to be creative). Of course, no-one reading this will begrudge me my daily DVDs. You've got computer access after all!

Still, I do find myself wondering what Jesus thinks.

For Hairy

2009-10-21T09:44:00.002+01:00

I'll match your 'velvetine bunny crop' and I'll raise you...

This is the BBC World Service

2009-10-17T10:29:00.003+01:00

I love the BBC. I think I've blogged before about how the lifeline to a more familiar world is a real comfort when the 'Brit abroad' is feeling isolated and lonely. At any given time you can tune in and suddenly hear the tones of your favourite correspondent or the occasional football commentary from 5 Live.

'Auntie' obviously does her best to cover all corners of the world too with an admirable disregard for the banality of much of the British news. It's almost a novelty when there's a report from the UK at all.

However, wonderful as I feel this institution undoubtedly is, I have a gripe. There's been a jingle recently that comes on from time to time which is just the most patronising bit of tosh I think I've ever heard on the airwaves. Word for word, it runs like this...

"The world is big. Your radio is small. Only the BBC can put the world.... in your radio".

Me clever white man. You ignorant black man. Me explain to you how things work using the voice of a primary school teacher trying to make things clear to 5 year olds.

Ok, so I made the last bit up, but you get the gist. Come on Beeb. Surely you can do better?!

Human Roadblock

2009-10-16T13:55:00.003+01:00

It's a tough life being a boda-boda driver. For those not familiar with the term it mean a motorbike rider who works as a freelance taxi driver. They probably represent 50% of traffic on the roads (in town) and 50% of hospital admissions. On the other hand they are a very cheap and convenient way of getting around, especially when traffic is heavy (I took 3 yesterday alone).

Periodically the police have a 'crack-down' on drivers not wearing helmets (that would be most of them) or any other perceived offense they can find. The normal method is to wait in large numbers at major junctions and then charge out when the lights go red and pull the unfortunate chaps off the saddle.

Today I saw, and became part of, a new tactic. The road is very wide so the police stopped a whole bunch of us to create a roadblock of vehicles and then closed in on the grid from every direction taking the keys of any bodas caught in the 'net'. A bit like fishing really.

I wouldn't mind so much if they were really doing it for the sake of the safety of the drivers (and passengers) or to save the health service money but there is no health service and I'm not sure there will be any benefits for the drivers other than to lighten their load (all those unnecessary coins can weigh you down and increase your full consumption).

As an accessory to bribery (the drivers just have to pay a nominal 'fine' and they're free to go) I do, at least, feel like I should be getting a cut for my part in the operation! Maybe I could use it to set up a trust fund for injured boda-boda drivers?

Caption Contest

2009-10-10T13:53:00.002+01:00

Oh no no. Not just ANY old tat!

Brand names in Uganda are often a cause of mirth among the ex-pat community. However, there was something particularly special about the King Tat bar (brought to you by Elvan) that just made me buy it.

An accidental marketing phenomenon? Watch out Nestle!

Kuli Kayo Jimmy!

2009-10-02T15:34:00.003+01:00

Some of the best news I’ve had for a long time came today with word that my brother-in-law has got his VISA to come to the UK (on the ridiculously liberal premise that he’s married to a British citizen!!!). It’s taken more months than it should have but we're there now and so I’d like to propose a special toast and wishes for God’s blessings to Mr and Mrs Mucheru!

Now, start buying some warm jumpers Jimmy!

☺

PS - I stole this passport photo off a blog that was suggesting immigration was the root of all the UK's problems. There's a nice irony in that I feel!

Kicking Back

2009-09-25T12:38:00.000+01:00

As ever, dear reader (and I deliberately address you in the singular) my lack of blogging is due to a lack of time and will rather than a lack of things I would consider worth blogging about.

Time definitely makes you better at ‘doing Africa’. I’m currently lying on a wall at our favourite place to stay in Entebbe while looking back over some previous blog posts. Safe to say, we’ve got our relaxing weekends down to a tee now. It’s been three months since we had a weekend away together without guests and enormously ambitious travel plans so we were well ready for this one.

I looked at a guidebook left by our friends recently just to check that while we’re in Entebbe there’s nothing major that we should do that we’d later regret missing out on. I was rather relieved to discover there wasn’t. Gately, Gorettis, Boma, UWEC and the Botanical Gardens. That’s pretty much it when it comes to Entebbe unless you’re prepared to canoe 10km. And you know what, that’s actually a really nice feeling.

The problem with working in Africa is that the work can be very intense (6 days a week) but when you do get the chance to relax you have to a) get yourself off site, and b) make the most of the opportunities you have to explore this part of the world. And even when you do plan something simple and restful, being Uganda, there is no guarantee that simplicity and restfulness will follow.

However, that makes things all the more satisfying when they do work out as planned. Which for me is right now. Nothing to do. No agenda. Sleep, drink, eat and sleep a bit more. And as you can see, blog a little too. I’ve said it before: It’s more for my benefit than for yours.

I Predict A Riot

2009-09-12T10:13:00.004+01:00

(image from the BBC)

It’s just after Saturday midnight on one of the more ‘African Adventure’ weeks than we’ve had for a while. Kampala is famed for it’s periodic riots (I remember reading about one example on our predecessors blog a few years ago) and they are generally considered fairly small fry affairs when seen in the broader context of East Africa violence (Kenya, Rwanda or Congo anyone?). Generally there are a couple of people killed but no mass slaughter or sense that public order is on the brink of breaking down.

The last couple of days have been a slightly different story, however, and things have got rather widespread and a little closer to home than is entirely comfortable. Over the past 48 hours we’ve got familiar with the sound of serious automatic gunfire (as in lots of guns) within a mile (and on one occasion in town, within 20 metres!) and the warnings of our staff that this is the worst violence in the area since the bad old days in the 1980s.

Having said that, the is a real sense that this is not a simmering tribal tension just waiting to blow up (a la Kenya 2008) but more a situation being exploited by a couple of powerful leaders who at any time have the authority to call the whole thing off and everything returns to normal. It’s really just using violence as a bargining chip. Or at least that’s the way it seems from here.

Having said that, we hadn’t appreciated quite how big this was going to be and when I first heard reports of rioting and tear gas yesterday I wasn’t immediately convinced I should give up my precious chance to visit the PO Box in town to pick up the latest copy of ‘The Week’ , after all we were sitting in a café virtually in the centre anyway, but in the end it seemed sensible to give it a miss and by the time we got home we realised that was not the first lucky escape we’d had that afternoon.

A few of our friends had a bit of a rough time getting out of town and we decided it would not be wise to go in today. Meanwhile, we’ll see how things pan out tomorrow, the supposed climax of all this fuss. If the President and the Kibaka can come to some sort of agreement it’ll be business as usual. If not, well, we’ve got a good stock of water, phone credit and, most importantly, bourbon biscuits. There are many worse places in the world to be stuck than at Tuda. Lake view, a full size football pitch and within a mile of a large military police base.

Remarkable Africa

2009-08-29T15:10:00.001+01:00

After a bit of an enforced blog holiday I’m going to try to get going again. Over the last few months there have been countless times I’ve thought of things I’d like to blog only I didn’t have a computer or the internet or the time or whatever else.

Problem is, now I’ve got all of the above I’m stuck trying to remember all those things I thought would make worthwhile accounting of. Africa continues in all its surreal magnificence. World’s really do collide here. Well, not literally, obviously, but you know what I mean.

It’s possible to see so many remarkable (as in worth remarking on) things in one day that a quick blog post can’t start to capture it. For all those days you get in England where you find the days, weeks and months slipping by in an indistinguishable haze of ‘same old, same old’, you have Ugandan Days, each a unique, tailor-made 24 hours, some of which make Jack Bauer look positively lethargic and unable to find anything to occupy himself with.

Lots of days would be better explained with the help of photos but I’m afraid we don’t get around to taking very many. I’m awaiting the chance to steal off Mr Spikeholland after our recent trip together to the southwest of Uganda, which was stunning and incredible and where we saw far too much to take in and process for several days in a row.

Anyway, a list of things I could blog about and if any of them take your particular interest then leave a comment and I’ll try to elaborate a bit.

-The night we got two punctures and we ended up carrying wheels on the back of motorbikes across the Nile
-Watching England win the Ashes within sight of the Democratic Republic of Congo
-Unexpectedly coming across a bunch of lions
-Fish eagle versus Yellow-billed Stork
-The day I was given the task of spending £4000 in 24 hours
-The day a Chimpanzee tried to pee on me
-Slumming it in the Executive Suites
-The car breaking down 5 days in a row

Yep, and that’s all from the last 14 days. Boring, boring Africa.

Horny Goats

2009-07-28T16:24:00.002+01:00

(pun intended).

The comes a time in the life of any young female goat when she needs to sit down with her mother goat and have 'the talk'. And there is a moment in any young goat-owners life (me) when he has to sit down with his farming colleague and learn the 'facts of life' goat-stylee.

And what a revelation it has been. It all started when we got back from the wedding in Kenya and realised that Gertrude was nowhere to be seen. Worried that she had been nicked, or escaped or else eaten by man or beast, I decided to ask Emma (our farm manager) whether he had seen her.

Emma quickly reassured me that she had been take to go and spend some 'quality time' with Pastor William's champion male, a thought which horrified Jess, who was up to now adamant that Gertrude would be allowed to live her life in single blessedness. In fact, Mrs Gingerkidjoe's idea was to borrow the male and tie him up then set Gertrude free to see if she 'chose' him of her own volition. No burly village alpha male would have his wicked way with our Gerty.

The funny thing is, that from Emma told me that it's actually the other way around. In the goat world it's the females that harass the males and that when they are...er...'interested', the females actually mount the males to demonstrate their intent.

This combines with a couple of other factors including 'general skittishness' and a 'special' cry they demonstrate readiness. (Of course, he could just have been having me on for a laugh). Still, I guess the proof is in the sperm and at 3000Ush for 'servicing' our first ever pet, I wish the happy couple all the success in the world.

The only problem for us is if she gets pregnant now, she'll probably give birth while we're home in December. That would be a pity.

We're hoping for twins.

Snapshots

2009-07-18T12:39:00.001+01:00

Probably did this the wrong way round but the Internet was unfeasibly quick at the ARA today so wanted to take the chance to throw in a couple of photos (or 6) of the last week's adventures. Hope you enjoy them.

Snapshot 6

2009-07-18T12:36:00.003+01:00

The black and white casqued hornbill. Seen here in the Botanical Gardens in Entebbe. This is about 2 foot long to give you a sense of perspective. They're big and noisy and we have one that often perches on the tree outside our bedroom window making a racket sharpening it's beak on the branches. Wouldn't want to get in a fight even if you were in an aeroplane!

Snapshot 5

2009-07-18T12:31:00.004+01:00

Up close and personal with a crested crane (see below). This one was not at our house but at the Uganda Wildlife Education Centre. Think zoo but with as many animals wild and out of the enclosures (such as this fella) as official 'zoo animals' behind the fences. See also monkeys, donkeys, many other birds and the occasional snake.

Snapshot 4

2009-07-18T12:29:00.002+01:00

The lowest and most famous of the Sipi Falls and, incidentally, the view from where we were staying. Tough, eh? The rain has been scarce recently so the volume of water was a bit down but you still wouldn't last long if you tried to stand under it!

Snapshot 3

2009-07-18T12:25:00.004+01:00

Sipi Falls. On the slopes of Mount Elgon, the largest volcano in the world by surface area (look it up on Google earth to get a sense of the scale - it's on the Kenya-Uganda boarder), this is the second level of three, perhaps the shortest fall but very 'Timotei moment-ish'.

Snapshot 2

2009-07-18T12:22:00.002+01:00

The last known photographs of Miss Sellers. I wanted to bring you another of the first known shot of Mrs Mucheru but didn't get a good one myself and wanted to do the happy couple justice. The wedding was lovely though and the music was a particular highlight (so I'm told :)

Snapshot 1

2009-07-18T12:20:00.003+01:00

Crested Cranes in our sweet potato patch. These birds are the national emblem of Uganda and you can get in trouble for shooting them. But why would you want to. This family of three make an appearance in our garden most mornings depending on the pickings in the field. The juvenile is nearly full grown now. For scale, they stand over a metre tall.

Update

2009-07-18T11:45:00.000+01:00

Blogging is getting difficult. I’ve never been the most concise wielder of words but some of what I want to say or report requires so much contextualisation that it’s hard to write about a trip to the shops without producing an essay.

Anyhow, I’ll try to keep it short(-ish) and sweet(-ish) and just blog a little more often. The last week has been an adventure of the nicest sorts including a visit from my dad, a 1500km round trip to Kenya, my sister’s wedding, a stay at the stunning Sipi Falls in Eastern Uganda and an offer to watch someone being circumcised (which I politely declined).

In a week’s time I’m going to be preaching at a lively church of 400 very committed Christians from all around the world on ‘stewardship’ (although in a way that will engage the kids), I’ll be making at least 5 trips to the airport to do various pick-ups and drops-offs (including Mrs GKJ) over the next two weeks and there’s a raft of new stuff to be implemented at work over the coming months.

The next few months will see further visits from good friends and family while we try to really bring positive changes to our areas of responsibility with lots to be done before we next fly back for Christmas in December.

Life is certainly not dull. Meanwhile, life has been enhanced by an iPod and car stereo that allows us to listen to music and the BBC World Service during the long hours spent in the car. Happy days.

Kampala has changed over the summer with lots of ex-pat friends leaving for holiday or, in some cases, for good. In their place are hundreds of ‘Summer Teams’ form the UK, US and Germany who we look at, fondly remembering what it was like to first be in Uganda. We’re probably a bit like the grouchy businessmen on the London Underground frowning at the tourist and small children who are fascinated by the whole process of travelling in London (but we try not to be).

The sun continues to shine although we’d really welcome some rain, especially at our farm at Tuda. The rain makes everything clean and fresh and washes out some of the dust. I can’t tell how much of my tan is from the sun and how much is permanent staining from the famous orange dirt.

Best wishes from UG.

The Great Uganda-Kenya-Wedding Adventure

2009-07-08T15:54:00.002+01:00

Just a couple of minutes to write about this great quest we will be embarking upon. It's tempting to slip into the wonderful rhetoric of the speech Eisenhower distributed to all the troops before D-day but it shouldn't be quite as dramatic as that.

Still, 500 kilometres, a borrowed car, repairs, contingencies, international insurance, maps, a ten-hour drive and the infamous boarder. It's all going to be quite an adventure. And why go through all this? Well, my sister is getting married in Kenya, so failure really is not an option.

The procedures at the border sound quite complex (especially taking a vehicle across) but I think we've done as much to be ready for it as possible. Apparently the record is 29 minutes but other friends have had 90 minutes adventures running from hut to hut to first get out of Uganda, then crossing no-man's land and doing it all again to be let into Kenya. It all sounds a bit like trying to illicitly cross the Berlin Wall in the 1960s.

After the wedding we'll be taking the chance to see something of East Uganda and will be stopping for a couple of nights at the the world's largest volcano (as defined by surface areas) Mount Elgon. Seriously, it's huge. Go look it up on Google Earth. You can see it right there on the boarder.

Anyhew, our Landcruiser is ready, the iPod is charged, the maps are vague, the documents are prepared and the bribes are ready (that's a joke by the way, I hope).

And let us beseech the blessing of God on this great and noble enterprise.....

....you said it, Dwight.

Twitching

2009-06-26T10:04:00.000+01:00

I sometimes use the frequency of my blogging to measure busy-ness and if this formula is to trusted then it’s been a very busy month. There’s probably an element of truth to that but there’s always the question of prioritisation. I’ve also wrote a couple of posts which I never uploaded for various reasons. I guess 9 months in and Africa begins to become a little less remarkable (in the most literal sense).

Anyway, I’m not sure I’ve mentioned it before but I should probably say something about the bird-life out here. I guess this post should probably be dedicated to little-flower (if she’s reading) as I’ll probably be crassly describing some things that others would appreciate more than I do.

The idea of being a bird watcher in the UK is something that people tend not to shout too loud about. Unless, that is, you are either so geeky that there’s no point in hiding it or else so cool you can get away with it (LF). When I was 9 I won a year’s membership to the Young Ornithologists Club. This was a fact I was very careful not to mention to anyone.

Anyway, out here it’s a different story. It’s basically impossible to live as a western ex-pat here for more than 6 months without getting sucked in. The sheer variety and outrageousness of some of these feathered flappers is just incredible. There are more parrots, turacos and storks than you can shake a stick at and even the ‘boring’ varieties are absurdly beautiful.

Take for instance the humble starling. None of your drab greys and browns here, dear reader. No these are Splendid Starlings (seriously, that’s their name), two a penny out here but brilliant, bright metallic blue and purple. It’s great fun picking up people from the airport and hearing them gasp ‘what are those beautiful birds’ and answering, with a smug smile, ‘Oh them, that’s just the starlings’. Same old, same old.

Tuda is incredible as it’s situated on the edge of marshlands. When my future brother-in-law came across from Kenya he told me he saw over 40 varieties in half an hour one morning. We’ve had huge purple herons wading through the garden, a good variety of hornbills (including the black and white casqued, a truly freaky-looking creature) and, my personal favourite, a family of 3 Uganda Crested Cranes, a bird so spectacular it’s the national emblem, visiting our front field every morning for the last month or so. When they fly over to land it’s like a flypast by several light aircraft.

I’m sorry not to have got any pictures but if you get the chance you can Google them and see what we get in our garden on a daily basis. Overall there are over 1000 species of bird in Uganda making it one of the best spots in the world for bird enthusiasts. Which I’m not. But on the other hand, when you’re here in any case then you’d be stupid not to take some time to find out more.

Oh, and a special mention has to go to the Maribou Stork, surely the ugliest of the birds of the air ever imagined up by a God with a sense of humour. They walk around scavenging for rubbish (about 140cm tall) or else perch on top of trees, traffic lights or street lamps. Of course it’s no laughing matter when they let loose. I’ve seen entire cars that were parked in the wrong place at the wrong time and had all windows truly plastered.

Signs of the Times

2009-05-28T15:19:00.001+01:00

One of the joys of living in Uganda is seeing some of the fantastic signposts. I always mean to take photos but never manage to remember the camera. Anyway, some personal favourites include, The Blood of Jesus Takeaway, the Cut & Paste Garage and, perhaps most-mind-bogglingly, The New Life Medical Centre specialising in dental work and circumcision (does the latter result in the need for the former?).

When you see a sign marked Filed Pork does it in fact mean Fried, Fired, or indeed, filed? What happens in a culture where ‘r’ and ‘l’ is often used interchangeably and ‘presidential elections’ are the frequent topic of radio phone-ins? (You work it out).

The religious ones are the best. Forget ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ Think ‘Where Would Jesus Get His Hair Cut?’ (WWJGHHC?). Well, surely at The Jesus Salon. Where else? Of course, not across the road at the The Prophet Salon. What kind of fruit can one expect from the Blessed Assurance Fruit & Veg Shop? And what exactly is the merchandise sold at The Holy Mother Immaculate Video Store.

OK, so I made that last one up but it wouldn’t surprise me to find it exists somewhere in Kampala. I will try harder to provide some photographic evidence of some of these gems but in the meantime I’ll leave you with New Hope Clinic, treating to cure for HIV, AIDS, Cancer, Tuberculosis and Poor Performance at School.

Genius.

Conundrum

2009-05-24T10:55:00.001+01:00

We’ve been back for ten days now and are doing fairly well all things considered. “All things considered” includes our boss resigning (in our absence), two gunman turning up at our gates looking for us (in our absence), and a major covert operation involving a child on the run (in our absence). That’s the thing about Uganda: It’s eminently bloggable and you just have to be a bit selective about what you write about. Every day is an adventure and everything is a little chaotic and unpredictable.

An adventure, nevertheless that is made considerably easier by being more settled this time around. Mrs GKJ pointed out that we are so much better set up now than when we first arrived in September and I must admit the comparison is encouraging. Just things like knowing where to buy food, having the house in order, and friends to invite yourselves to dinner with make a huge difference.

Work is still work and ‘with greater familiarity comes greater responsibility’ (as my great-uncle told me on his deathbed). When we arrived before we didn’t know what we were doing and people accepted that and gave us a bit of time to catch up. The difference is now that we still don’t know what we’re doing half the time but everybody thinks we do. Take, for example, the following conundrum from Thursday…

You are heading into town in a 5-seat vehicle in which you must BOTH travel. Candidates for the other three seats include a boy with stage 4 AIDS and cancer who needs to go to hospital to check out an opportunity on a really good charity ward, his houseparent at Tuda (on whom he is wholly reliant and without whom he’d probably now be dead by now), another boy suffering from a stiff neck, headache, and bloody diarrhoea, and another who was bitten on the face by a safari ant (don’t ask) and who’s face and head have now swollen to the size of a football.

Now, of course, it is feasible to carry all of the above but not legally and you have to remember that following four horrific bus accidents in the space of the last week, the traffic police have been doubled and they just love an excuse to pull people (especially people like us) over. Now you see, a fourth year medical student might know what the heck the right thing to do in this situation would be. We, on the other hand, gave it our best stab, prayed and hoped that everybody would live to tell the tale. T.I.A. and all that, eh? (Thankfully they did all survive. For now, anyway)

These sorts of decisions can be a little stressful but you feel much more ready to make them when you remember that you brought Options hot chocolate back from the UK with you to help you unwind in the evening as you watch West Wing Season 4. A little bit of Britain goes a long way to helping survive in Uganda. You should have seen how quickly the giant Toblerone that we took to our ex-pat homegroup was demolished.

All in all it’s pretty good to be back though. (he writes, sitting pool-side, with a beer on a gloriously sunny day before meeting friends for a film night on his day off).

Enemy Coast Ahead

2009-05-18T11:48:00.000+01:00

I recently bought a favourite book from my childhood which is mostly the accounts of WWII bomber pilot Guy Gibson VC (most famous for leading the Dambusters Raid) flying missions at night, heading out with great trepidation over the English Coast. It reminded me that getting on a plane to Africa wasn’t so bad after all. For a start, it was warm and dry and the Boeing 767 is considerably more reliable than the Lancaster bomber (geek!). In addition there was very little chance of be shot down by flak or encountering any Messerschmitt 109s en route. Best of all, I’m pretty confident I’ll see England again and all the lovely people we’ve just left behind.

On the other hand, Gibson didn’t have to sit next to the child of 1000 detentions, who spent the entire night-flight kicking the seat of the elderly missionary in front (I would not have had the patience and forbearance she showed), throwing food, drink and the pack of cards the stewardess gave him all over the place, and generally ensuring that nobody in our section of the plane got a wink of sleep the whole night.

Suddenly swapping BA 0063 to Entebbe with the devil-child, for a Lancaster, with some flak and enemy fighter seemed an attractive trade. In case you were wondering, we arrived safe and very well back in Uganda thank you, although we were greeted in customs by a horde of masked medical personnel who required us to fill out forms declaring any places we have visited recently and to list any symptoms we have been suffering. I only just resisted informing them that previously mentioned sunbeam had just connected from Mexico and was sneezing a lot

Only just.

Am I a bad youth worker? At least I didn’t hit him.

Hard.

St Brendan's Commitment (6th Century AD)

2009-05-13T23:44:00.004+01:00

Shall I abandon, O King of mysteries, the soft comforts of home? Shall I turn my back on my native land, and turn my face towards the sea?

Shall I put myself wholly at your mercy, without silver, without a horse, without fame, without honour? Shall I throw myself wholly upon You, without sword and shield, without food and drink, without a bed to lie on? Shall I say farewell to my beautiful land, placing myself under Your yoke?

Shall I pour out my heart to You, confessing my manifold sins and begging forgiveness, tears streaming down my cheeks? Shall I leave the prints of my knees on the sandy beach, a record of my final prayer in my native land?

Shall I then suffer every kind of wound that the sea can inflict? Shall I take my tiny boat across the wide sparkling ocean? O King of the Glorious Heaven, shall I go of my own choice upon the sea?

O Christ, will You help me on the wild waves?

(OK, a little melodramatic I know but feel it hits the mark. This time tomorrow I'll be crossing the coast of Africa again.)

Reverse Culture Shock

2009-04-20T22:03:00.000+01:00

I’m struggling to make head or tail of this one so far. I’ve been told that coming back to your country of origin can be more difficult than leaving it in the first place. I guess the fact that it’s only been 7 months since we left probably lessens the impact of this but it is still there.

My confusion centres around the seemingly arbitrary nature of what upsets me and what doesn’t. I’ve searched for a formula or an interrelationship which links some strongest moments of comfort and distress but haven’t come up with anything so far. The nearest comparison I can make is with grief.

When grieving, you experience all sorts of emotions in all sorts of contexts which seem to have little or no relation to the source of grief. This is why one of the best things we can do as grief counsellors is simply to validate the huge range of feelings that people are undergoing. For me, I can’t discern the logic between the grief and the feelings and the things that upset me and I think perhaps it’s the same with reverse culture shock.

I guess it is all about your whole framework of feelings being shaken up and thrown around leaving you a bit emotionally disorientated. Thus you can walk confidently around town all day and then suddenly struggle to keep it together when faced with the shirt section of Marks & Spencer. Or you can come close to tears when searching for scones in Asda. On the other hand you can feel immense joy at the simple sensation of carpet under your feet. And then a bit unnerved at how much something so insignificant can mean to you.

Perhaps this is a little early to be blogging about this and I should have waited to figure it all out a bit more. On the other hand, it’s all part of the experience so I’m post this for posterity. In any case blogging definitely comes under the category of comforting so I don’t think it can do any harm.

Introducing Gertrude

2009-04-02T10:23:00.005+01:00

Meet Gertrude, our pet goat. We've had her for over a month now but only just uploaded photos. Here she is tethered in our garden where she sleeps under the solar panel.

Everyday we let her off her rope and she goes sprinting of all around the site eating everything she can morning to night.

When we come home in the afternoon it's a bit like playing 'Where's Wally' because she gets herself into the most incredible places. My personal favourites have included, standing resplendent atop the table-tennis table, in a wheelbarrow on the farm (eating its contents), and breaking the silence with a huge crash coming from within red cottage as Gertrude flies out of it at top speed.

Apparently goat racing is pretty big down at Monyonyo so might have to see about getting her registered. Think she'll do us proud if we give her a couple of 'go-faster' stripes.

Anatomy of a Flip

2009-03-30T12:08:00.004+01:00

Finally got my rafting photos from November this week. Talking of ups and downs....

(That's me on the back on the right hand side if you're interested).

Ups and Downs

2009-03-30T12:06:00.000+01:00

About a month into our time here I was asked The Question. The Question is a difficult one to fathom, especially when you’re still trying to figure north from south and morning from night. It is one of those tricky ones when you’re as worried about getting the answer ‘right’ as you are worried about telling the truth. And the question was this.

“So, are you enjoying it”.

It sounds simple, doesn’t it? But factor in yourself and your spouse and an audience of 43 financial supporters, over 200 recipients of our newsletter, a couple of churches, a hardcore ex-pat community and an NGO in the middle of a financial crisis (and God) and the temptation to lie and give that most Christian of responses is huge. (“Yes, I’m great and I’m have a great time. Sacrificial maybe but immensely rewarding and fulfilling, thanks, and how are you doing?”).

But when I stop and look back then what was there really to enjoy? Overnight (these things happen suddenly) you’re ripped away from everything familiar and comfortable and dumped in a house in rural Africa with no mains electricity, fridge, drinking water, phone, or mosquito nets on the windows in a tropical environment. One night Luton, the next night Ugandan-village. What’s to enjoy? And don’t tell me the amazing view (although we do have an amazing view). 2 weeks in and I’d rather be back in Luton, enjoying the view of my book made visible with the ELECTRIC light in my CARPETED house while I sup on a CHILLED beer and an evening meal that features MEAT, within an hours drive of most of my friends and relatives (as opposed to within an hours’ drive of the nearest supermarket – and think poorly-stocked Happy Shopper).

Why do I share all this now? Well, because, to be honest, 6 months and 16 days in, I think I’m actually really beginning to enjoy Africa. This I not the enjoyment you get from a week here, neither is it the joy of adventure and change. It the joy of a place, as it is and how it will be for another 18 months. It’s been coming a while, to be fair, but on Tuesday I decided I’m actually really enjoying this. I’m as happy as I’ve been anywhere for a lot of years, and in some respects happier. So yes, now, I’m enjoying it.

Having said this, by Wednesday, I hated it all and decided that Africa sucks. That’s just the nature of it. You go through more highs and lows in a day than is normal in the space of a week in the UK. Incredible beauty, adventure and peace followed by brutality, pain and heartache.

Enjoyment is a funny word. I’m not sure most people would want me to say I ‘enjoy’ brutality, pain and heartache. I’m not a masochist. But, then again, the beauty of Africa…….

Yeah, go on, right now at least, I’m enjoying it. Africa is pretty amazing.

Stanley and Vision

2009-03-19T15:48:00.002Z

It’s been and interesting week. Firstly, for the sake of all the people I frantically texted last week, I have an update on Stanley. (For those of you out of the loop, this was a boy who just broke my heart as I watched him gingerly being carried to a taxi from Clubhouse to take him to hospital, dying), I saw him today and he’s doing really well. The problem was that none of the doctors had managed to figure out what was wrong with him. Hi s body was racked with infections and he came very close to death on several occasions over the last few weeks.

Praise God, a HUGE abscess was discovered on his hip (yep, this was a good thing) and is now being treated. Juliana, our nurse and one of the most remarkable members of the team in terms of her love and dedication to these boys, told me today that he had smiled for the first time in three weeks. I saw him and told him that half of England had been praying for him. I’m not medical expert but I really thought he’d had it when I saw him last Thursday. Now I’m wondering what amazing future God has for him. Brilliant. Hope he comes to Tuda one day.

Do keep praying for him. He’s just one of those cases that get’s you (do you know what I mean?) and I really think he’s going to have a great story to tell. I’ll keep you updated on this blog.

Right, meanwhile we’ve had the strategic plan for the next 3-4 years unveiled this week and I’ve got to say, it’s really exciting. I really think RETRAK is going places (OK, it’s already there, but even further, I mean). For much of these first 6 months (yep, it’s been that long) I’ve felt that I my work is contextualised by being in Africa. AFRICA is the big thing and work is what I try to do while I’m here. With this kind of vision and future, it really feels like I can now see living in Africa in the context of the work I do. Retrak and the boys is what it’s all about and Africa just happens to be the context and something I have to cope with from time to time.

This is an incredibly exciting place to be in. Perhaps I should’ve got there sooner but hey, I’m not perfect. It’s great to know, even as we count down the last month til we visit home, that the next 18 months is going to be really exciting will see lots of changes the lives of a lot of children. Starting with Stanley.

The Ugandan Police

2009-03-15T14:05:00.000Z

So many tales are told out here of police corruption and abuse of power that you can very quickly find yourself getting tense every time you pass and officer on the side of the road (which is usually about every 200 metres). On the other hand, the stories of police doing their job well with integrity and a sense of duty are rarely recounted probably because they don’t sound so impressive or exciting. Today, I want to set the record straight.

When we arrived at the jazz club the other night for a home group social, we discovered the car was emitting a loud hissing noise, even after the engine was turned off. This continued for some time but we couldn’t find the source of the hiss and we didn’t seem to be losing coolant. With plans to take it into the garage in the morning we left the club to spend the night at a nearby friends house.

We made it halfway there before the engine started to overheat and began to make a horrible noise. Oh dear. 11.30pm on a deserted Gaba Road - not most people’s idea of a fun night out. The situation seemed to be deteriorating when a few minutes later a truck load of police turned up. Not just any police either. The hard-core, anti-terrorism police, all eight of who were brandishing AK-47s. You can usually tell how scared you should be of police in Uganda by how well equipped they are. These were in a brand new, fully kitted-out Hilux and wearing very smart black combat uniforms.

The officer in charge jumped out and I thought, oh dear, this is going to cost us money. He came over, shook my hand, asked what the problem was and I explained. He offered to ring a breakdown truck and grabbed a couple of local officers and said we could tow the car to the police post just a couple of hundred yards up the road. He then took his crew to find the tow-truck before returning to gladly accept the sweets that I offered him and his men, who then just wanted to talk football. There were 8 of us and I was feeling a bit responsible for putting everyone in danger but actually the presence of 9 armed men (and 1 armed woman) actually made us feel very safe.

I had a nice conversation with the officer in charge and he told me all about his wife and kids. I told him about the work we do with street boys and he said he’d like to pop in and see us at work. I warned him that he should probably not come in uniform as many of our boys are scared of the police. He agreed and said he’d come in plain clothes. At one point they had to dash off to give chase to a car and I thought that was it, but 5 minutes later they returned to check everything was alright and that the tow-truck driver was doing his job right. Once he was sure we were all fine, he set off and left us in the hands of the local police who…..

….also treated us really well, guaranteeing the safety of our car overnight, giving us their mobile numbers and names and helping us to ensure that we weren’t overcharged by the tow-truck crew. All this time I was waiting for the request for a sweetener or some money for food (actually police pay is very poor here and many live in poverty simply trying to send their kids to school). However, it never came and I walked away reflecting that, once again, as with all my dealings with the police so far, they’ve been nothing short of courteous, helpful and upright.

Of course, should this ever cease to be the case, I’m sure I’ll be quick to blog about it and have a good moan, but in the meantime, to Afro (was that REALLY his name?), his team and the night guards at Gaba Road Police Post, I salute you.

Uganda, Mini-skirts and Road Safety

2009-03-12T14:40:00.002Z

Resisting the urge to include a 'topical' picture for this post, I nevertheless had to draw attention to the recent report on the BBC (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7621823.stm - if you're interested) about the Ugandan Ethics and Integrity Minister (ho ho ho!) calling for a ban on mini-skirts on the basis of.... wait for it.... road safety!! The argument is that crashes are frequently caused by men who more interested in the pretty girls walking down the road than what's actually happening on the road.

Now I'm as keen as the next man to ensure that the utmost is being done to keep us safe on, what we are told, are the most dangerous roads in the world. However, might I suggest that compulsory driving tests, mandatory standards for vehicles and a systematic separation of livestock from roadways would all be more effective methods of cutting down on the accident rate than a national mini-skirt ban.

However, I don't want to don't want to duck responsibility and am determined to do my bit for the highway code. Therefore, from this day forth, I commit to never again wearing a mini-skirt whilst walking down the Entebbe Road.

Now that WOULD be a photo worth blogging.

PS - on a more serious note, can I take a moment to ask people to pray for Stanley, one of the boys at Clubhouse who is seriously, seriously sick. Not sure if he'll survive the night. Sorry to lay a heavy one on you but this boys needs all the help he can get.

Shooting Dogs

2009-03-07T15:05:00.002Z

Just now finally got round to watching ‘Shooting Dogs’, a film made a couple of years ago with the backing of the BBC and UK Film Council. It tells the true story of events at a school in Rwanda during the genocide of 1994 and I’d like to take this opportunity to recommend it to you. It packs a huge punch whilst at no time being emotionally manipulative and while I don’t think it carries a religious agenda, it deals sensitively with the issue of where God is during those times you’d be forgiven for thinking he’d upped and left the world.

To see this film sitting at home in Uganda is quite an experience. Just looking at the map on the wall behind me I realise I drove most of the way to Rwanda just the other week. That’s to the south-west. To our east lies the Rift valley region of Kenya, so horribly torn apart along tribal fault lines just a year ago. To the north, Sudan continues to rumble on in the news. To the West, the Congo now plays host to the ongoing conflict that spilled over from the Rwanda genocide not to mention, just a little further north, the continuing terrors perpetrated by the Ugandan LRA (now operating in Northern DRC and pursued by armies from three separate nations).

And in the middle of all these tribally war-torn lands lies Uganda. Being surrounded by all this makes you ask the unavoidable question of ‘could this all just happen here’? After all, if it’s possible in all our boarder countries, who’s to say Uganda doesn’t have the potential to become the next Kenya, Rwanda, Sudan or, dare I say it, DRC. Of course, this is not to ignore the fact that Uganda has not had it’s fair share of problems over the last 30 years but, even though those conflicts had undeniably tribal aspects to them, they were not as purely ethnic in nature as most of the other regional conflicts.

As far as I can tell, there are more than 40 main tribes in Uganda, each with their own language and culture. I’m privileged to work with representatives of many of them in our team. As ex-pats it’s very easy to see things as ‘them and us’ ie muzungus (white people) and mugudavu (black people), forgetting that it’s much more complex than that. The whole team speaks Luganda because that’s the predominant language around here but only 2 out of 18 are actually Baganda (the Luganda speaking tribe) and Mrs GKJ and I don’t yet know enough of the nuances and subtleties to understand tensions, stereotypes or prejudices that are probably there under the surface.

There are two main conversations you can have to analyse all this out here. Firstly the chat with other ex-pats over an evening beer. This way you fully understand what each other is saying whilst being aware than neither of you really have a clue what you’re talking about. The second option is talking with Ugandans who know what’s really going on but don’t really know how to translate it into parlance, concepts or idiom us dim-witted Westerners can cope with. The perfect middle ground is to find a Ugandan who really understands the constrained muzungu mindset.

I’ve not had nearly enough of this last type of conversation to really understand Uganda but this is what I’ve gathered. Does Uganda have the potential to follow in the ugly footsteps of it’s neighbours? Well, sort of. This is not a blog to talk about the government (another subject I know very little about, and even if I did, I’m not sure I’d have the guts to talk about it glibly online), but I hear that many top people in all spheres of life are now Banyankole or from the South-west where our esteemed President hails from (may God bless him). One Ugandan told me that if there was ever any ‘disruption to the established order’ it would not be great for people from that particular region as they have the most to lose (think Kikuyu in Kenya?). Of course, the south west is the very part of Uganda that boarders Kivu (recently in the news) and Rwanda. What is it with this part of the world?

Just writing this reminds me how little my understanding about all this has come on over the last 6 months. Must find out more. This is a profound part of the world. Within a hundred or so miles you’ve got the tallest mountain range in Africa, the biggest lake, the largest volcano crater on earth, one of the greatest abundances of plant and animal life in the world, the earliest verifiable human remains and the sites of some of the worst atrocities in the history of humankind. ‘Cradle of Life’ is a phrase that is used from time to time but what with malaria, HIV/Aids and the things humans have done to each other around here, ‘Cradle of Death’ fits just as well.

And yet, God is very much here.

Interesting*

*(especially if you’re planning on spending a couple of months out here any time soon!)

Time

2009-03-06T09:30:00.003Z

We've been here nearly 6 months now and over the past month we've been to the airport 3 times to do various pick-ups and drop-offs. Each occasion we visit we realise we're a little closer to our first trip home. It's less than 6 weeks now and it's funny how hard time is to gauge on this one.

This is by far the longest I've ever been away from Luton, since I was 5 at any rate. It's hard to imagine what this means. Has everything changed in our absence? As far as i can make out, over the last half a year the UK has been characterised by plenty of colds & flu, the global economic crisis and a whole lot of snow and cold weather. I don't know if I'm expecting to see the same old places and people but with misery etched on every illness-ridden, cold-pinched, impoverished face. Even the cold is hard to imagine after 6 months of the temperature never dropping below 20C.

Perhaps it'll all be just the same. The same roads, the same shops, the same TV shows (except I never had a TV?), the same faces working at MacDonalds (will obviously have to conduct research into this when I get back).

It seems that the biggest change will be me. From everything I hear, the cultural shift is going to be related to how I see an old familiar world through new eyes. Just as I can't explain how you might see Africa with UK eyes, I don't think you could describe how I will see the UK from a 'fresh out of Africa' perspective. Will I find it offensively ostentatious? Will I just be incredibly relieved at some of the comforts. I'm both a little unnerved at the prospect and at the same time quite excited (you don't know what electricity in the evening means til you've been without it for a few months and I wasn't alive in the 1970s).

I think England will be a fun place to holiday. Admittedly, it can be a pretty miserable and stressful place to work (just look at the people next time you walk down the street) but without a work agenda, I think it's going to be quite nice.

12 things I'm looking forward to.

Drinking water straight from the taps
Washing machines
Tarmac Roads
Unlimited internet time/speed
English beer
Food cooked in an oven
Living within 45 minutes drive of people/conveniences
The cinema
Not feeling suspicious over everything I eat
Post delivered to your house
Fridges
Catching up with friends and family

12 things I'm going to miss...

The prices
Drying washing in less than 2 hours
The ability to 'improvise' admidst heavy traffic without getting shouted at
The warmth and reliability of the sun
The relaxed attitude of people
not having unlimited internet time/speed
Familiarity?
The view from the veranda
The abundance of plant / animal life
The simplicity
How easy it is to make friends here
Swimming 3 times a week outdoors at the end of a hot day

It will be interesting to revisit these imagined lists once I actually find out what it's really like.

Coming soon, the newest member of our household and a competition to name her (no, it's not human).

Eeek!

2009-02-28T14:44:00.001Z

Location: Tudabujja piggery
Approx size: 7cm
Joe: very scared

The Time of My Life

2009-02-21T11:09:00.001Z

It’s been a day in bed with various symptoms, most of which revolve around my body telling me it is -5C when the thermometer assures me it’s actually 28C. Illness in Africa is funny. Most of the time you don’t think about it, then you get a bout of something and it shapes the whole way you think about things. Maybe that’s just the same as the UK. However, I fear my problems may be getting worse.

For an hour and forty minutes, yesterday afternoon, I found myself watching ‘Dirty Dancing’ on the lap-top. While I would like to defend this decision with medical reasoning (help Michael?) I’m not sure even the most ardent of alternative medicine adherents would buy my argument that this film has been ‘instrumental in the treatment and recovery of many, many women across the ages’ (or at least across the 80s).

Has it worked? I hear you ask. Well as a noted film critic (I recently attended the Kampala Japanese Film Festival – beat that Curtis) I shall review the film and attempt to answer the question at the same time. I’m coming to this fresh as I have never seen ‘DD’ before (a happy state unto which I will sadly never be able to return). Symptoms that were provoked by watching Dirty Dancing included acute nausea, perforation to my abdomen (caused by the side-splittingly bad acting), bruising to my head (from banging it against the wall) and the psychological trauma of having ‘That Song' stuck in my head ever since.

But you know what, in the reaches of deepest darkest Africa (Ok, not quite, but humour me) in a strange way it managed to hit the mark and, at the very least, distracted me from my man-flu for a couple of hours. However, I’m writing this from the waiting room at the doctors which should tell you that watching Dirty Dancing didn’t cure me. Indeed, I fear I now have an additional symptom to add to my list of ailments: Oestrogen Poisoning.

(By the way, I’m not sure what all the fuss about Patrick Swayze is – for me he’s just a second rate Hasselhof and Michael Knight was way-cooler).

Relaxing

2009-02-14T08:56:00.002Z

We've been relaxing in style this week. Finally getting a good slot to have our Christmas break we've welcomed the in-laws firstly to Lake Mburo National Park and now Bujagli Falls on the Nile. Both beautiful spots but more importantly time and space to unwind and reflect on the last 5 months. Africa in general is great for reflection but our jobs and lifestyle are not so conducive to just stopping and thinking, allowing yourself to feel all the things you've been suppressing in the name of 'effectiveness', and spend a few valuable minutes at a complete loss for what to do. Free internet was a bonus here so I thought I'd just drop a line to let you all know that GKJ is fatting out for a bit. I hope you're happy to hear that and may I recommend you do the same sometime? (OK, not necessarily at the locations I've been but still).

Round the Bend

2009-02-04T14:06:00.001Z

It's January which is dry season so naturally it's rained the last 5 days and our farm manager is panicking because he needs to get buying and planting seeds (there goes the neat and tidy cashflow projection I worked on last week!). The rain turns the dirt roads to mush and the tarmac-ed ones into ice-rinks. We started off from Tuda yesterday morning in the rain and hit problems immediately when we discovered that our normal road from the village was being ‘worked on’. This is much the same as in the UK only minus warning signs (so you have to back down 400 yards of wet dirt-track) and any alternative routes through the roadworks. It is a pretty dicey business.

After working our way round a painful diversion we got close to the Entebbe Road junction only to find a large crowd, a couple of police officers and a lorry that had clearly been in a collision. It had the customary 'head-dent' in the windscreen (no-one wears seat belts out here which is ludicrous considering Uganda has the highest vehicles to accidents ratio in the world) but there was no sign of what it had hit. Until, that was, I looked to my immediate right and saw a Taxi (that's a 14 seat minibus to you) resting on it's nose in the expansive ditch. Oh dear. Fortunately everyone involved had been taken away so we were spared the carnage. Still, it was a fairly unnerving and very sobering sight.

Mrs GKJ completed the journey in fine (and safe) but the real fun and games were saved for the journey home when I was at the wheel. We made it down the Entebbe Road intact (quite a feat at night with everyone on full beam, no rear lights, no street lights, lots of drunk drivers and motorcycle taxis and pedestrians recklessly dawdling across the duel-carriageway), and we turned onto the first dirt road. At somepoint along this road, I decided the roadworks were probably complete by now (it was only a short stretch they seemed to be working on and the workforce don't hang around out here, especially when Man U are playing Everton on TV.

I should mention it was 11.30pm and our dirt road is very dark. Still, no warning signs so we decided to turn down (a joint decision, you understand) and see what we might find. What greeted us was a scene that the Mars Rover would expect to find during it's test trials in the bottom of a muddy quarry of soft dirt that had clearly been pushed around by vehicles with much larger wheels than ours. Still, it looked like there was a way through as long as we followed the catarpillar tracks. Hmm. There wasn't. To cut an extremely long and detailed story to a merely verbose tale, we ended up at the bottom of a steep hill with no way back and no way forward. Remember, dark, nobody around and still a fair walk from home.

I got out to try and find a way back to the original road on foot (beyond the point where it had been reduced to 2-metre high mounds of earth) jumping about in my flip-flops in the snake infested undergrowth (we've been advised not to creep around. If you make enough noise they get scared and slither away). I discovered there was a substantial grass verge and a ditch between the road and us and that we were at right angles to it. Hmm. What to do? Abandon the car and walk home in the dark trusting that it would still be there in the morning? Our inability to get it out of the quagmire, I am sure, would not have prevented the locals removing it, or simply stripping it down for parts. No, dear reader, your intrepid 4x4 expert (yeah, right) decide to gun the engine (or at least he would have if it wasn't an automatic), reverse back as far as his spinning wheels would permit, get a good run-up and hit the bank/ditch with as much momentum as he could manage without risking flying into the ditch off the other side of the road. Did I mention it was very, very dark?

At best I expected to total the exhaust, but then again, exhausts can be replaced. However, as we set off (with Mrs GKJ praying under her breath) we leapt the edge of the field spectacularly and pulled round on the road just before the ditch on th other side. If it hadn't been late at night on a slightly dodgy road, I would have got out and hugged the car. As it was I made do with kissing the steering wheel and praying we were not damage beyond getting home. But you know what? We didn't even bottom out as we swung out of the field. Apart from a lot of mud, the car was fine. I couldn't believe it.

I'm not really an adrenaline junky. I like extreme experiences as long as I know they are very much under control. The adventure on Saturday night does not remotely classify under the category 'under control' except I think that God was with us in our amazing car. I checked it out this morning. As it was a fair amount off the field and ‘road’ were still attached to the car but there was not even the smallest of dents or scratches to act as a memorial to the adventure. I’m almost disappointed.

This is the BBC World Service

2009-01-31T12:05:00.000Z

You’ve got to love the Beeb, especially when you’re 4000 miles from the UK. It really is an institution that sweetens the ex-pat experience just a little bit. It’s nothing to do with ‘the unique way the BBC is funded’ (although I do appreciate all of you out there that pay your TV licenses thus allowing me to tune in for free out here – you’re all our supporters in that sense). It’s the unique ability of the BBC to poke fun at itself or to celebrate the ridiculous that occurs during its own programming. This is completely counter-cultural to any other media available out here.

Two things made me laugh out loud this morning. Firstly ‘Metaphor Watch’ where the Today Program quickly went over some of the ridiculous illustrations used by pundits to describe the global economic crisis. They ranged from the fairly insightful to the absolutely absurd but my particular favourite was the commentator who, in the space of 30 seconds, managed to compare the meltdown as being like, ‘marriage’, ‘a plane crash’, and finally ‘the human brain’ all in one short summary. Jim Hacker, eat your heart out. Genius.

The second item was a recap over a bungled attempt over the course of a recent afternoon show to link up with a correspondent in Bolivia who was covering a referendum. The link failed the first time prompting a sincere and profuse apology from the presenter. However, over the course of the next two hours, 4 further attempts were made to make contact, each ending in failure. With each failure the poor hosts apologies back ever-more more impassioned and technical in detail. By the final one, he sounded close to breakdown, having run out of words to express how desperately sorry he was and trying to give the listeners a rational reason for the problems whilst clearly not having the first clue of what the fault was.

Even though it was handled with customary dignity and grace, I think most radio stations would have hidden the cock-up in the hope it would be quickly forgotten. Not Auntie though, who brazenly parades her biggest shockers in the form of light entertainment. For which, we pray, may God bless her!

It’s also great to be able to catch the world service version of the Top of the Pops. Saturday 11am sees us moping the floors (Mrs GKJ) and doing the hand-washing (me) whilst we listen to the UK top 5 singles at maximum volume.

Cultural Adjustment

2009-01-29T14:28:00.000Z

Moving into a different culture is a strange and, at times, fascinating experience (for the writer, at least, if not always for the reader!). We’ve been here for 4 timeless months. Sometimes, it feels like we’ve just arrived and at others like we’re seasoned veterans of the mission-field who have been out here for years. So far, I’ve identified 3 phases of settling in.

1) Arrival.
When you first arrive, you are pumped full of expectations of everything being different. And for a while, everything IS different. It’s hard to appreciate the new cultural environment and surroundings for what they are because you’re so busy comparing it in your head to ‘normal’ (for England). However, you’re not overwhelmed because you’ve spent the last 6 months dwelling on how different it’s going to be. In fact you’ve been so worked up about the different-ness that it turns out that it’s not as different as you expected. Life consists of the same basic needs. You shop, you eat, you drive, you work, you read, you have joys, hopes, insecurities and moments of elation. You sleep at night. The first impression is actually, ‘ah, this isn’t quite so strange after all’. However, this phase lasts for a maximum of one month, after which….

2) Acclimatising.
Some things don’t freak you out when they happen for the first time. First traffic jam (this is just like the UK only hotter), first thunderstorm (this is just like the UK only wetter), first meeting, first church service, first curry (this is like the UK only saltier), first bad line when phoning home. You get the idea. You can fit all of these things into your frame of reference as long as you’re willing to be slightly flexible about it. What begins to get to you though is the repetition. The first time you turn up for a meeting which starts 40 minutes late and overruns by 2 hours you think, hey that’s just the culture, I can handle that. The 14th time it happens though, you decide it’s not the culture, it’s just people being stupid and thoughtlessly wasting your time and you’re going to kill them. (Except of course, it is the culture and you can’t kill them because Jesus loves them and you need them). The hardest thing about cultural adjustment is when you think you’ve become reconciled to certain differences only to discover in a moment of barely-concealed rage that you blatantly haven’t. These moments can occur anytime, anywhere, even in the most innocuous situations.

3) Adjustment.
I just read what I’ve written so far to Mrs GKJ and realised I was stuck on what to say for this one. She suggested this is probably due to the fact that we haven’t got there yet. That’s partly true. There are always new things I’m discovering that get to me and I’m no better at dealing with some of the most familiar frustrations now than I was back in September (eg. the water running out mid-shower or not being able to take functioning internet connection for granted). However, for most things you develop either a strategy to avoid getting into the situation in the first place, or else a philosophy that allows you to cope with it. An example of the first would be, if in doubt, climb the water tower before you have a shower to make sure there’s enough water in the tank (this has the useful added bonus of giving you the chance to fish out any dead frogs / other wildlife that is in the system). An example of the second is remembering, when perfect strangers are being incredibly nosy or (ever so rudely) staring at you, that those same people would probably rush to your aid the moment you got in trouble. Well maybe not always, but it helps to think this way. You certainly won’t hear stories here of old ladies being beaten up (let alone being left on the pavement by everyone, ignoring them, assuming they were drunk). Be rude to a granny on the bus here and there’s a chance the driver and passengers will throw you from it without taking the trouble to slow down. You call it mob justice, I call it community responsibility. Ladies and gents, I present to you, Cultural Adjustment.

And as if to prove a point, as I type these words, the power fails. But I’m ready to sleep. Who needs electricity in the night anyway?

(Grrr…)

Batman and Robin (Hood)

2009-01-24T14:29:00.000Z

We had locked up, brushed our teeth and changed for bed and, in Mrs Gingerkidjoe’s case, actually got into bed before we realised there was a bat in the room. Hmm. We hadn’t noticed it because it wasn’t flying. Up til now, that was. Now it was swooping around at high speed, in the room that is furthest from any exit. Opening windows was out of the question as this would only serve to allow more wildlife in. What I might have done was scream like a little girl and run naked from the room. But in actually fact, what I did was… scream like a little girl and run naked from the room. The moment the final nail was hammered into the coffin of my noble, male chivalry however, was when I sent Mrs GKJ back into the room to collect my clothes for me.

I tell you this so that the next bit will not sound like I’m boasting. When armed only with a washing basket, a beach towel, a torch and no little amount of skill and bravery, I sallied forth into the room and captured the beast of darkness and, whimpering ever so slightly, carried it out of the front door whereupon I, with great composure threw all of the above equipment as far as I could with one smooth, seizure like motion, and slammed the door behind it (still whimpering just a little).

Just another regular, surreal, African night. Or at least it was up until 2 minutes later when there came a knock at the door. Tentatively I opened it to find, half expecting the bat to be returning to remonstrate. Instead it was Nsimbi, our guard, a dark outline on a moonless night, brandishing what was unmistakeably a bow and arrow in my direction. It turns out he was simply coming round to see what the commotion was about but it was certainly news to me that he patrols at night like Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest. Note to self, if I ever decide to wander Tudabujja at night, make sure that Nsimbi knows it’s me and not a warthog or robber.

The end.

Joe's Travel Guide: Entebbe (Part 1)

2009-01-19T09:43:00.000Z

While I fear I can never attain the heights of pithy witticism achieved in the early writings of Mr Holland during his travels across Europe, I can at least pledge to supersede him in verbosity and cultural crassness. In part a record for myself to look back on, in part some useful pointers in case you should find yourself stranded in Entebbe, with a computer, internet access and this blog address learned by heart, here are my thoughts on Entebbe.

Today, some backgound. Entebbe (meaning ‘seat’ in Luganda) was name thus by those plucky, imaginative British colonial-types who, back in the day (not sure what day that was, I’m an historian but that’s not my period…) decided Entebbe should be the ‘seat’ of government for Uganda. Rumours that ‘matatus’ were named by the early governors after the local translation for ‘death-trap-on-four-wheels’ are unconfirmed. Entebbe was therefore the capital of Uganda until someone said so. That someone was Idi Amin who moved things 30kms up the road to current capital Kampala or ‘Hill of the Impala’. By this cunning logic it can be deduced that in Luganda (the local language) Warden Hill would be known as Ka-warden, Henman Hill as Katoff and Luton, Kastroppymoaningchavtennagers.

The result of all of this is that Kampala became the big, grimy, sweaty, smoggy mess leaving Entebbe as the quieter, smaller, greener and generally more pleasant place to be. Which is why we went there for a couple of days away recently. Seriously though, arrival at the international airport (still located at Entebbe) is a great advert for Uganda. Green and lush, for the first 10km towards Kampala, you might think you’ve done pretty well and wonder why people don’t to Uganda more often. And you could do a lot worse than just stop there in Entebbe. For a couple of days at any rate, it’d just get boring after that.

A word on the airport, whichever way you come in, you fly over the lake and just when you think the pilot is attempting a ‘Hudson River special’ the tarmac appears and you land on it. If all goes to plan. Of course the airport is most famous for the hostage crisis in 1970-something (not my period…) when German and Palestinian terrorists took a planeload of Israelis hostage and flew them to Uganda, a potentially pleasant, if unscheduled trip had it not been for the fact that Amin was in power and Uganda was in a bit of a (or total) mess. The German and Israeli governments decided to cut the stay short, however, and planned a rescue. Meanwhile, Amin was attempting to milk the situation to boost his international standing by playing the heroic mediator. However, he was left looking a little silly when, after several days of his fruitless pontificating, Israeli commandos reversed a replica of his presidential Merc out of a moving cargo plane which briefly touched down on the runway before immediately flying away. The commandos drove the car serenely up to the plane and the hi-jackers, thinking it was the sympathetic Idi, rolled out the red carpet for him (well, figuratively at least, although I do like the literal image) and the commandos took the plane. Poor Idi, if he hadn’t been such a criminally-tyrannical, right-wing, lunatic-dictator who was responsible for the death of at least 300,000 of his countrymen and the desolation of the incredible wildlife and environment, you’d have to feel a little sorry for him.

Well that’s everything I know about the history of Entebbe. I’ll continue shortly with what I actually found when I went there.

Health & Safety - Uganda stylee

2009-01-10T09:53:00.004Z

The mind well and truly boggles. Suffice to safe I paused to consider my decision before bravely entering the gates the Head Office of Total Uganda to pick up my fuel tokens yesterday!!

11 days that defined my 2008

2009-01-08T15:17:00.000Z

A slightly vain and self-important exercise, I fear, but one that I’ve become accustomed to completing for cathartic purpose. No accompanying photos this year as I can’t afford to spend that much time on the internet. (Each photo can take up to 30 minutes to download!).

1. February 8th - Isobel Grace McIntyre. Born the day before we flew to visit the project we now work at, holding my niece, less than a day old was the most profound experience and greatest privilege of my year.

2. February 14th – Molo Refugee Camp. A visit to my sister took us to within 3 miles of 45,000 refugees. The visit we paid to the ‘camp’ made the pictures, and people I have seen and wondered at on the news, real.

3. May 21st – May Meltdown. Almost lost it for a bit there but thanks to some loving support, wise management and a relaxing break in Sutton I learned some valuable lessons about myself and got through it.

4. July 25th – Speaking on the last night of Summer Camp (Lost The Plot). Technically my final night working for the Luton Churches Education Trust this was a surreal 24 hours. God was at work, 6 years of work was harvested, I got a sense of closure, and I spent some hours sobbing like a little girl.

5. August 8th – MA deadline. Oh, dear Lord, never again. Not quite as spectacularly last minute as my last dissertation but almost finished me off (again - two weeks after another experience that reduced me to an emotional wreck!)

6. September 15th - Last Night in England. Can’t describe this feeling. Thanks to some good friends and the Green Man, Great Offley, we got through it. Thank you Ali, Hairs, Woody, Jeff and Michael (alright, I’m not sure you were all there but you were all with us when we needed you).

7. September 16th – Nightflight. You have not discovered terror until you’ve woken up at 3am on a flight and realised you are halfway to Uganda. And you’re not coming back. Gulp. A little bit like riding ‘Oblivion’ at Alton Towers, upside down, without a safety harness.

8. September 17th – First Day in Africa. Given the keys to an automatic minibus (when you’ve never driven an automatic) in the city which holds the highest vehicles to accidents ratio in the world, on one hour’s sleep, with our phones taken off us. A challenge. Still, after we’d survived that, the subsequent dinner, night and thunderstorm seemed small-fry. Kept looking at the scene around us, not quite able to believe that Luton wasn’t just over the hill somewhere nearby.

9. November 22nd - White Water Rafting on the Nile. Undoubtedly the ‘coolest’ day of my year. I am man, hear me roar!!!!!

10. December 8th - Dead Cow Night. There are nights we pretend to be still in England. We were watching ‘Cranford’ and eating apples when the farm manager came knocking on the door at 9pm to tell us that it was time to go and collect the dead cow in my car. This was the last in a whole series of events that constituted the most ‘African’ day we’ve experienced so far. Enough to reduce you to hysterical laughter, or tears, or possibly both.

11. December 25th - Christmas Day. 15 streetboys, 1 sister, 1 future brother in law, 9 visitors, no power, a big BBQ, 4 litres of washing up liquid, 1 war chant, 30 degrees, a bunch of presents, lots of mosquitos, 2 Christmas stockings, 2 games of ‘Empires’, and 1 huge water-slide.

Top 10 films of 2008

2009-01-04T15:08:00.000Z

There may be a slightly early year bias to this year’s countdown due to the fact I’ve only caught two films at the cinema since arriving in Uganda. (Quantum of Solace and Australia, for the record, neither of which will be troubling the hit parade). However, in reverse order....

10. Lust Caution

Uncomfortable, edgy and a bit more racy than most of my top ten but an undoubtedly well told, acted and filmed epic. Not recommended as one to watch with the grandparents though.

9. There Will Be Blood

Uncomfortable, edgy and a bit more sinister than most of my top ten. Daniel Day Lewis was immense, my companion was perplexed, and it took me several days of thinking about it (and you do keep thinking about it) to make out what it was all about. Came out of the cinema with no wish to see it again any time soon but convinced it was a very fine movie. Just received the DVD now and just about ready to go through it all again. Not for the faint of heart.

8. In the Valley of Elah

Not one I can remember very well and one of a plethora of Post 9/11-Iraq type films to be released in the last 18 months. Not the very best one (as you’ll see further down) but certainly a good effort from the mainstream. It says something that a film set entirely in the US can give such a great critique on the Iraq war.

7. WALL-E

Yes it was a rip off from Short Circuit but I can’t help it, I really think this is the best computer animated film ever created. And look at the competition. How do you create a film in which the hero has no dialogue, which appeals to small children yet carries a real socio-ethical punch? You’ll just have to ask those clever people at Pixar. Showed this to our boys at Tuda recently and even they loved it. Kind of terrifying, albeit in a thoroughly ‘U’ sense.

6. The Dark Knight

Like so many people, the follow-up to Batman Begins was my most eagerly anticipated film of the year. A surprisingly minor role for the name but Aaron Eckhart was brilliant Heath Ledger’s final performance really was as good as the critics were saying (it wasn’t just sentimental hype). Enjoyed every minute of this admittedly bloated epic.

5. In Bruges

Again, not one to watch with delicate relatives but a genuinely sweet-hearted violent-gangster thriller. How often can you say that? Colin Farrell got the plaudits (just because he’s young and pretty) but Brendon Gleeson and Ralph Fiennes were fantastic and despite some superfluous purile content the quality shone through.

4. Juno

Aw, gone on, it was great wasn’t it. I watched it twice and began to find it annoying halfway through the second time but even if it was unrealistic schmalz it was a nice, well-thought-out, unrealistic smalz. Superior teen movie of the year.

3. The Kite Runner

Now we’re getting into the serious territory. I’ve never read the book and I did have some problems with this film but it was just a great story and was released at just the right time when, once more, the future of Afghanistan hangs in the balance (when has it ever not though?). In a stronger year or if, indeed, I had been in the UK in the final third of the year I suspect it would not have featured quite so highly but, hey, you could do a lot worse for a DVD rental.

2. Happy Go Lucky

The top 2 were so far above the rest of the competition I feel they deserve their own category. Mike Leigh’s latest, and most feel-good, movie to date was just a superb film in every way. His unique way of directing a project is far more than a gimmic (actors are often sent into a situation unaware of what they will find there). It brings great results every time. Sally Hawkins gave the performance of her life but it was Eddie Marsen, surely one of the UK’s most versatile and powerful actors, as the disturbing driving instructor Scott who stole the show for me. I could watch this again and again and, thanks to my mum, I will be doing so.

1. Battle For Haditha

Wow. I travelled to London to see this and it was the perhaps the best film experience I’ve had since Children of Men in 2006. The curried parship soup, scone and free wifi was a good start (see Curzon cinemas) and cheaper than the normal popcorn but what followed left me profoundly moved. Nick Broomfield’s retelling of the story of the slaughter of 20 Iraqi citizens at the hands of US marines, bent on revenge after the death of one of their number, is astonishing in that somehow, amidst all the evil and pain, the audience gains a sense of empathy for the victims of the massacre, the military perpetrators and even the bombers whose actions provoked the whole situation in the first place. Astonishing cinema. Profoundly disturbing. Absolutely brilliant. If you have even the slightest residual interest in world affairs, you have to see it.

Isolation

2009-01-03T11:27:00.002Z

I just wrote a long moaning blog entry about computer and network woes. Then I thought I should probably spare the details. We're alive and well. I'm just feeling very, very isolated right now. There's a newlsetter sitting in my outbox which I've been trying to send for the last three days. Instead I think I'll just have to send it to the 3 e-mail addresses I can actually remember off by heart from another computer. Great. At least mum will read it :)

Christmas has been very full on for us and we finished up by having a review of the year yesterday. A really good time of reflection but it almost finished me off. Need a break but can't make anything work. Maybe God is trying to tell me something. Still, it's been more than a month an a half since I enjoyed reliable e-mail contact. I think I've got the message now. It doesn't help that the only ex-pat blokes I've met so far (everyone's female out here) have been out of the country for the whole of December.

In the house we've been kindly lent for our days off (while the owners are in the UK) I found Season 1 of 'Lost'. I've never seen so much as an episode, but when the electricity is on, I'm watching and lapping it up. Absolute pap but a situation I can empathise with at the moment, although admittedly there are no polar bears or man-eating monsters out here. The scenery's as good too!

Yeah, and if you thought this was a big fat moan, you should have seen the unedited version :)

I'll try and post again soon. There's so much out here that's worthy of comment but I just needed my frustration to be heard for a moment. Right, I'm off to introduce my computer to a sledgehammer.

Grrrr.

Dad

2008-12-08T11:21:00.002Z

Today my dad turns 60 and I just wanted to say a few words about him in this semi-public context (may I strongly discourage any of my readers from making any 'bus pass' jokes at this juncture on this solemn occasion). :)

So I guess I've know my dad for nearly half his life now. Some things have changed. Up til when I was 5 he was a research scientist then he become a Church of England minister but at the time I was too young to appreciate that this was not a common move for your average PhD-qualified bio-chemist of 20 years. Other things don't change. As a committed Man U fan (with the local credentials to back this up) I can still see the pain on his face when he admits that Arsenal play good football these days).

I was reading a chapter in a book the other day about the impact of Father's on their sons and I realised a few things. Firstly that my Dad is not perfect. This is a simple deduction based on the assumption that there is no such thing as a 'perfect dad' and to describe him as such would be trite and meaningless. The second thing I realised is that he has been (and continues to be) a great dad who has failed in many different respects to mess me up or otherwise ruin my life (unlike some of the dads I was reading about).

The book I was reading was talking about how little boys want to be with their dads and to imitate their adventurousness. My dad was (sorry dad, is) a very talented footballer and my happiest memories for a good chunk of my life come from dragging him up to the top field to kick a ball about. To my seven year old self, being able to do this felt a bit like playing on the same pitch as my heroes at LTFC would do now. Other things we did together were building model buildings for the train set and the highly manly writing of poetry on his hi-tec AMSTRAD computer. (Can I just say this was all about the computer, the poetry was just the excuse. I think).

Anyway, I realised the past few years that things don't change and that at 27 I still have the same great joy from being with my dad. Having season tickets together at Kenilworth Road was a particular highlight over the last few years and walking home with dad (at that brisk pace only fathers can manage) after the game analysing what we had just seen will always remain, for me, the perfect occupation for the 5-6pm slot on a Saturday afternoon.

Before I finish my slightly embarrassing ramble I want to say this. I also recognise that most of the good qualities that people appreciate in me these days are qualities I can trace back to my dad. This is going to sound like blowing my own trumpet now but you know that's not what I'm saying. Integrity, humility, a desire to think the best of people, ecumenism, a willingness to serve God faithfully in un-glorious contexts (hang on, I forgot I was in Kampala for a moment), friendliness and a terrible line in jokes, are all things I got from him.

I'm not ignoring my mum here. In fact I think it was because of her that I ever took on any of these qualities for myself but just for today I want to acknowledge that they come from you dad. You are my model for what a man is (well you are my dad) and even if you're not perfect, I reckon that if I can do half as well as you as a dad, I'll be very pleased with that.

Thanks, old man and many happy returns.

Miscellaneous

2008-12-03T15:05:00.002Z

Which I hope I have spelled right. Right, this is going to be raw and unedited as I'm paying by the minute and have been unable to carry out the normal careful proofreading before going online. The news.

Computer dead. It is being flown back to the UK on Thursday with full military colours where it will be met by someone at Terminal 4 Heathrow at 6am on Friday morning (any volunteers, please text!). Fortunately I believe in the resurrection and the life so I'm hoping for a swift repair and return to UG with my sister who is visiting at Christmas. We'll see.

The computer meltdown has been the cause behind the lack of blogging. It's difficult, expense and time-consuming to get internet access when you can't pre-prepare (is that a word?) so we could be disappearing for a few weeks (hopefully not months). Please don't forget us in the meantime.

That also means e-mail is limited (we've lost our address book so unless you write we won't be able to reply for now) although it's all backed up so once we're sorted we'll be back like we were never away. Please be patient.

Uganda continues to amaze, inspire and challenge me. Every day is bloggable for one reason or another. Off the top of my head I'm currently stunned by the sight the other night of a lunar eclipse flanked by Jupiter and Saturn brighter than I've ever seen a star. Surreal and like something out of Star wars. Picture the cosmic version of *u* and you've got a pretty good idea what it would look like. brilliant for the first of December and Advent. it was alomst enough to make me polish off the ol' gold, frankinsence and myrrh, get on my camel and head for Bethlehem or at least look for the second coming.

What else? Urm. Latest Boda sightings include a matoke tree, and a new favourite, a coffin (wondered if it was full or whether he was carrying it around 'just in case').

Right ho. Have to dash, washing in a machine (yes a MACHINE) at a friends house (they've given us the keys while they are away in UK for December). Those of you who know the hand washing is my job will know what bliss this is. There are also two alsatians so you know what Jess' feelings are. We've also adopted (sort of a very very very cute kitten born in our rabbit hutch).

We've decided not to buy tickets for Boys 2 Men gig on Saturday night. First big gig of our time here but, hey, what else is there to look farward to after they've done "End of the Road"?

What a profoud life we lead. I should say this. we were really low when our computer died Saturday morning and thought 'that's it we're cut off'. We went to the PO Box on the off chance knowing that if we opened it to find it empty we would feel really miserable (this has only happened once but getting there is such a faf it's a real kick in the teeth when it's empty). We foudn 4 packages and three letters including some great stuff from my mum and gramdma. thank you so much Mum, they meant such a lot, we could have cried. (with joy). we finished the Lindor today, i will finish the Nick Hornby book tonight and we will watch the DVD's on the portable DVD player some friends lent us Saturday night. See, even the things we don't need God is making sure we have.

If you've stayed to read til the end, God bless guys, we'll try to blog. we have kitten pictures (it rides on our dashboard) and hopefully some rafting ones soon but we'll have to see what we can manage. Right, time to try posting this sucker. God bless and happy advent!

Just in case I die this weekend

2008-11-20T12:11:00.004Z

I love you all very much.

Just a little time to squeeze in a quick blog before heading off to Jinja for some RnR and white water rafting on the Nile (For those of you in Luton, think jumping trolleys in the River Lea only more fun). I also wanted to tell you about our visit to the Emmanuel Primary School Sports/Speech Day but don’t have time for now. It is an adventure worthy of proper treatment. I’ll try to fill you in on both when (and if?) I return safely from the weekend. Prince William went rafting with these guys and he never does anything stupid, right?

Of course, I'm sure the perils of the best rapids in the world pails into insignificance next to enduring a course in Obstetics and Gynaecology (and no, Mr H. I'm not being sarcastic) but hey, beggars can't be choosers right?

:)

Picture Special No. 2

2008-11-19T08:59:00.003Z

And on the mud flaps of Uganda, the freewill-predestination debate rages on....

Update

2008-11-15T12:58:00.000Z

Good day folks. I’m aware that I’ve been a little becalmed in my blogging of late so here’s a little update for those of you who feel like your life has no purpose when the news from Uganda dries up. (I know, that’s a problem for a lot of you).

So, in no particular order

1) We’ve been writing the next newsletter (which tends to take up all our collective creative energy). This should be out shortly and if you’d like to receive it but are not then do get in contact.

2) We have FINALLY got our hands on West Wing season 2. If you’re a fan you’ll know what this means to us. We’ve been hanging on the cliff since we completed season 1 in early October.

3) Talking of the White House, I forgot to mention earlier that the phrase “Presidential Election” took on a whole new complexion here due to the interchangability of the letters ‘l’ and ‘r’ in Luganda (the local language). Much mirth was had over various radio new reports.

4) I had my first experience of being ‘out of control’ and having to engage the 4x4 facility in our car. I cornered a little too quickly near home and gently slid into a barb-wire fence belonging to a rather stroppy neighbour. Oops! Both fence and car were fine, however, although the JMT (Tiger’s graduate who acts as cover for the houseparents) was travelling in the car with me heard a word he’d never heard me use before!

5) Generally, we’re doing ok you know. Things are becoming ‘normal’ to us which is a big part of the familiarisation and we are just beginning to tentatively use the word ‘enjoying’ now and then in conversation. Enjoyment may not be the key to life or being here but it certainly helps. We’re in fairly good nick so thanks for all your support and prayers.

I’ll leave you with a little snap shot. Last night we unexpectedly called in on the boys of one cottage to have dinner with them. They eat at 9pm and go to bed immediately which is a bit strange to us but hey. You would not believe how much food they manage to pack away – it’s incredible. We had matoke with ground nut sauce and a lot of fun involving the cup game, bottle tops and text messages from my dad (who was also eating dinner) warning them ‘not to waste time supporting Chelsea’. These boys were sleeping hungry on the street this time last year. Now they are playing with the toy cars we awarded them for good behaviour in October and asking us to lead them in prayers. Happy days. Not sure I’d rather be anywhere else right now.

Photo Special

2008-11-08T16:19:00.001Z

Spot the cultural difference No.1......

Election Reflection from Africa

2008-11-05T10:54:00.000Z

I planned to work from the American Club today so I could sit preparing the latest draft of our budget for 2009 in front of CNN. In recent years we’ve got used to US elections yielding results slowly and gradually with many contra-indications during the count. I was surprised, therefore, to wake this morning (approx. 4.30GMT) to hear the confident voice of Mr Obama, president elect, thanking his opponent for his gracious endorsement for his presidency (God bless the World Service!).

I guess everybody will have their take on this moment. It’s always been clear that this would be an historic campaign regardless of the outcome. But hearing the reporters describe Jesse Jackson (and Oprah, but let’s forget about her) weeping in Chicago as Obama addressed the crowds, the enormity of what has just occurred really hit home. This is undoubtedly a profound chapter in the story of America and amongst other things, I rejoice in the new voice that many Americans will have for the first time (we’ll have to wait to see the extent to which this will be a real change of merely a symbolic one).

There are ironies too. For some of us (I’m sure I’m not alone here) part of our excitement over Obama’s election is because of his social and international stances (at least in comparison to his McCain). His brief précis of the current international climate described two wars and a world in peril. This seemed to me to be a tantalising hint about taking climate change seriously (although it’s possible he was alluding to other matters and was being deliberately ambiguous).

The funny thing is, Obama has not been elected for his moral stances. The biggest factor in his election surely has to be economics. In fact the last time America elected a president on social issues, Bush was returned to the White House to reek havoc for a second term (notably, with the support of a very sizable proportion of the African-American vote). So as it turns out that Obama’s ‘moral’ victory as we recognise it probably has very little to do with the morals viewpoint of America, let alone international policy.

Meanwhile in Africa a couple of perspectives have surprised and challenged me. The first came when, shopping at a small supermarket opposite the American Embassy, I was asked by the girls on the til who I was voting for. After pointing out that I wasn’t an American (well, not a practicing one at least) I said my support was for Obama. They said that they felt he should not be American President because he’s not a ‘proper American’. It was strange to hear a viewpoint I normally associate with right-wing Americans being espoused by a couple of black Africans but it does seem that people see it that way around here. (I just heard Kenya is holding a national holiday tomorrow!)

Secondly, little though I doubt that Bush’s reign has left the world in an even bigger mess than it was before (and yes, I recognise it’s not ALL his fault), I have discovered since coming to Uganda that his administration has done more in terms of direct aid and relief for Africa than any previous administration! In particular, the money thrown at AIDs (and no, not just from an abstinence point of view either) has been huge. I have to admit I know very little about all this and would be grateful to hear more from any of my readers who are more ‘in the know’.

So what I am saying is that from a local African point of view we could be going from a right wing conservative president who has prioritised African aid and relief (relatively speaking at least) whilst neglecting American poverty to an African-American president who will prioritise domestic aid and relief and neglect the third world. That’s a strange perspective to be getting on this and I’m not sure the many callers on the BBC World Service phone in (here in Africa) realise this yet.

Still, just for a few hours, or maybe days, I’m going to allow myself to hope in a way that has been impossible for the past 8 years. The rhetoric has all been about ‘change we need’ and Obama can’t be as bad as the last lot. Can he?

Newsweek

2008-11-01T14:49:00.000Z

I’m a bit of a news junky so it’s not surprising that a move to Uganda has found me frantically searching for the best ways of staying up to date with what’s going on in the world. Out goes 5-live and radio 4 and in comes the BBC World Service (African edition – hope you’re proud of me Jo). I’m slowly navigating my way around the schedule and it’s always nice when you hear the familiar voice of former domestic BBC presenters and reporters. For a few years I’ve been following the BBC, CNN, Aljazeera and Die Welt news sites and on a limited basis I’ve been able to continue this out here. In addition I’ve got occasional CNN( in between the Premiership coverage) here at the American Club. I’m booking my seat next Wednesday to follow the US election results. I don’t have TV at home but that’s nothing new for me so no great loss there.

From what I can gather it’s been a strange week news-wise. The big three seem to be the election, the Brand-Ross scandal and the deepening crisis in DRC (how deep can it get?). From most accounts it sounds like Russell Brand has been hogging the UK headlines. However, just as I was preparing to get on my high horse and condemn the UK for only caring about trivial pap (Steve Warner has a great line in this – check out his blog, his finger is always right on the pulse and for this I salute him) I was stunned to hear that what’s going on in the Congo is actually making waves in Europe for a change.

It turns out the David Milliband is being ‘sent’ to Kinshasa to try to establish talks and a new ceasefire and furthermore, he’s actually going to pop in on Goma itself! Now I’m far from being an expert on these things, but I can’t recall the UK making such a clear statement of involvement in the whole of the sorry story covering the last fifteen years in this region. What’s going on?

The cynic in me wonders if this area is becoming more important to the international community now that of the discovery of ever more natural riches in the area. Is it possible that the presence of oil is attracting more attention that 5 million dead has failed to do? Perhaps that’s being too harsh. What I’d like to think is that Africa is becoming more important to the rest of the world. (Aussie trio Tripod sung a great song about the difference between Iraq and the Congo several years ago you can probably still find it on Youtube – hilarious and tragic at the same time, thanks to Christine MacFie for first introducing me to this).

The other discovery I’ve made is this. In the past I’ve seen third-world crises (maybe apart from the Tsunami of 2004) as something which everyone but the hard-hearted and self-obsessed West cares about. The reality is that things are so local here that even though we are the matter of a couple of hundred of miles from Goma, nobody seems to be very concerned about it. It turns out that it’s not just us Brits who don’t care about the third world. It’s everybody. On this basis I’m glad that Milliband is going, whether for good or bad reasons.

Meanwhile back in Sachs-gate, my prediction is that in a 6 months time Brand will be bigger than ever, Ross will bring out a new autobiography and Andrew Sachs will appear on’ I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here’ and his Granddaughter in FHM. Just a guess.

Cops and Robbers (or The Uganda Highway Code part II)

2008-10-29T10:55:00.000Z

Back by popular demand...... (thanks Hairs)

1. Where there are no police be cautious of robbers.

2. Where there are no robbers be cautious of the police.

3. Robbers can steal things out of the car if you leave windows open or doors unlocked when in a queue or at a junction.

4. Police can take you straight to court for minor offences (sometimes without your car / possessions) to pay your fine.

5. Be extra cautious of robbers near the end of the month and end of the year.

6. Be extra cautious of the police on Saturday’s. The courts don’t open at the weekends so if you’re caught doing something wrong like breaking the speed limit (the existence of which I only discovered three weeks in!!) the police will put you in prison til they open for business on Monday.

7. Don’t stop moving if you feel threatened with robbery.

8. Do your best to not stop moving if a police officer is taking an active interest in you.

9. A bag of sweets in the car can get you a long way with people (perhaps this works more with cops than robbers).

10. Revving the engine and using the horn can get you a long way with people (perhaps this works more with robbers than cops).

11. Pray every journey you take.

12. Get on with life and try not to worry too much about all this.

Forecourt Follies

2008-10-24T15:55:00.000+01:00

Everybody here has a horror story about the police. Even if nothing has happened directly to them, most people know someone who knew someone who was pulled over without reason, had their car impounded and their laptop nicked or were put in prison over the weekend for talking on their phone while driving. It’s enough to make Ugnada freshers (such as ourselves) quake in our 4x4s. It’s certainly true that the police line the routes apparently waiting for you to do something wrong. Recently there has been a summit held in Kampala which was attended by no less than 26 African leaders. As a result of this, the police presence has been increased to a group of three every 100 yards on the main road to the city.

However, we’ve had no problems so far. We did discover we’d been speeding (quite badly actually) during our first few weeks here but fortunately we were told by a friend in the know that the traffic cops had a new toy and that if we wanted to avoid unwanted attention we should stick to 50 (kph that is, not mph). Nevertheless the packet of sweets we have in the glove compartment for the sole purpose of bribing nasty coppers remains unopened (well not exactly, but this has nothing to do with the police) and so far, so good.

Until yesterday, that is.

Yesterday it was raining and we had missed the turning for our hotel. No problem, all we had to do was turn around and head back to the Shell garage. Having travelled a little way further I set my eyes on a disused petrol forecourt. It seemed suitable. Good upramp, no other vehicles, in fact, deserted. Perfect. Or so I thought. The first thing that went wrong was that I noticed the exit, which would perfectly complete my U-turn and graceful return to the highway, was blocked with a number of large rocks. The second thing that went wrong was that I realised that the forecourt was being used by no less than 8 police officers, sheltering from the rain. The third thing that went wrong was when, hurriedly reversing to get out of this situation, I put the rear left in a storm drain which was slightly wider than the wheel, two foot deep and had vertical sides. D’oh!

Neither Jess or I dared look back to see what the boys in blue (actually, it’s green here) were doing. If ever there was a great chance to bribe a few hapless muzungus, this was it. I reacted in the calm and rational manner you would expect. Almost. Actually, what I did was gun the engine, spin the wheels, jump us out of the storm drain, get back on the road rather quicker than was perhaps advisable, and speed back off in the direction I had come. Very probably looking like a very guilty man.

To his moment, neither Jess or I know how close we came to falling foul of the law. And you know what? Ignorance is bliss. Our blood pressure levels are slowly returning to normal. Let’s hope no-one got the registration plate, eh? What with the ‘shotgun’ incident (see previous post) we shall always remember yesterday as the ‘fuel station anniversary’.

Handbags and Shotguns

2008-10-23T15:12:00.001+01:00

At some point soon, I’ll get round to taking some photos. I’ve witnessed a number of scenes that would make for interesting viewing, I feel.

Today was one of my favourites so far. ATMs in Uganda tend to be the toy of the rich and privileged (For a start you need a bank card which I imagine very few Ugandans have). As a result, ATMs are usually situated in a nicely kept room of their own accessed through a door in the outside of a fuel station or shop. When you enter, it’s a bit like going into a phone box only a bit bigger. As a security measure there are normally a couple of armed guards outside and there’s stuff on the windows that allows you to see out but not in.

Today, however, the ATM at Total Fuel Station had enhanced security measures. As I entered I saw, propped in the corner, a loaded shot-gun. Hanging from it was a handbag. Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that in the event of an assault you’d go for the handbag first (especially ‘at dawn’). I, however, was filled with a strong temptation to pick up the shotgun and walk back to my car, you know, just to see how far I could get. I could have robbed the station on the way out as a kind of bonus and taken all the fake Cadbury’s chocolate I could get my grubby hands on.

I can also tell, dear reader, that you’re thinking it’s highly irresponsible leaving shotguns around cash machines in private rooms. Given the current global financial climate, I have to agree that it’s not unthinkable that someone might enter to check their balance only to discover they are ruined, become despondent and take their own life.

In the UK people leave brollies at ATMs. In Uganda it’s shotguns. I now have a great image of a formidable old woman on her way home suddenly remembering where she left her bag, gun and floral jacket (yep, there was one of them too).

Welcome to Uganda. You’ve got to laugh.

Food, Glorious Food

2008-10-15T15:20:00.000+01:00

So, now the newsletter is out of the way, back to the blog. Uganda continues. Our familiarisation continues. I say we’re finding our feet. Mrs Gingerkidjoe points out we’re still searching for our ankles. I’m often finding that to my shame my happiness is reliant on feelings of comfort derived from shallow little pleasures and luxuries.

I guess I’d like to think that I will be happy as long as I have the ‘Joy of the Lord and a pair of sturdy sandals’ but I’m afraid that’s just not me. My day and mood is markedly improved by being 1) the traffic going my way 2) being well hydrated 3) getting my own way and 4) being well fed. In the first few weeks here we hadn’t yet negotiated our way around not having a fridge in a hot climate and living more than 2 minutes walk from Asda. Consequently we had times of getting hungry and weak and we didn’t always bear it very nobly.

It reminds me of Harry Potter (sorry Michael) when the three fugitive friends learn that full stomachs more often than not mean harmony and empty stomachs, discord. It’s humbling when you see the boys wolf down their meal at feeding on a Thursday knowing it’s probably the best meal they’ll get all week by a margin. I’ve long since stopped feeling guilty when I can manage my mammoth portion of posho, rice and beans. The boys are always ready to snap up whatever you can’t finish.

Still, we know our way around now and are a little more confident at how far our budget will stretch `(which is plenty enough to eat very well thank you) and so we haven’t been hungry for a while now. Happy days. But I can’t help but feel I’m far too easily upset and pleased.

(By the way I do have, of course both the Joy of the Lord AND a sturdy pair of sandals. And as of today a Masters degree – sorry couldn’t resist – that’s another thing that make me happy!!)

Everywhere You Go

2008-10-06T16:29:00.000+01:00

It’s Saturday night and I’m under the net with just a couple of candles for light (and the laptop too, I guess). I’m using the little power left in our battery to play Iain Archer on the CD player. It’s soothing music, and there’s been plenty of need for being soothed recently, but tonight it’s hard to hear over the sound of the rain pounding on the metal roof and the occasional rumble of thunder.

It was really only a matter of time before I started to get meteorological here. I’ve always found the weather interesting and there is plenty to keep me happy here. The most remarkable feature is the thunderstorms. They are huge and powerful but somehow not as violent or scary as I was expecting. They rumble away in the distance slowly drifting towards us off the lake and you can usually hear them coming for at least two hours before they arrive. When they finally get here I’m usually in bed and can watch the lightening flashing off the walls. Sometimes it’s like strobe lighting coming from every direction with sound of constant thunder, each peal indistinct from the last.

I love extreme weather but I’ve got to admit it gets me a bit jumpy at the same time (unlike Mrs Gingerkidjoe who has little interest and doesn’t bat an eyelid at the loudest of booms). Each night the storm approaches and you wonder how big and scary it’s going to be and then usually after it’s been at its height for a while I relax and drift off to sleep only to wake many hours later to hear it finishing up. The storms can drag on the whole night.

The combination of rain and sun (and some say the lightening too) make for very fertile soil here. The theory is lightening releases nitrates which are absorbed into the soil. Natural fertiliser, as it were. Rain at night has the advantage of reducing the dust thrown up by vehicles on our dirt road but makes it so mushy that I keep thinking I’m going to have to engage the 4x4 any moment. I’m not entirely sure how to do this but have every confidence our ability to work it out if we need. I’ve not driven in heavy rain yet but I can’t imagine it’s a barrel of laughs. A lot of vehicles seem to have issues stopping at the best of times and this is not a land of extra-grippy road surfaces when you’re approaching junctions/lights/roundabouts.

The rain has slowed for now. Just a short storm tonight. I think the thunderstorms are the precursor to rainy season so once that gets going properly you can look forward to another fascinating installment of GKJ’s Weather Watch. Don’t forget to tune in folks!

These are the Days of Elijah?

2008-10-02T16:10:00.001+01:00

So last week it was the mighty wind that I thought was going to blow the roof off during the thunderstorm that raged around us. On Monday it was the wildfire that broke out on the marshland that surrounded us. The noise and the flames were quite alarming, although no-one around here seemed very concerned and it went out of it’s own accord (apparently it’s quite a common phenomenon). So can you guess what came today? That’s right, it was my very first earthquake! Nothing very serious, not even enough to force a pause in our gripping budget meeting, but still, a strange experience. I hear people often require counselling after earthquakes because their confidence in the ground is permanently shaken (so to speak).

So, scholars of 1 Kings, what should I expect next. That’s right, I’ve been listening for the ‘still small voice of calm’. And you know what? Calm is not something I’ve been feeling an awful lot of recently. It’s been a manic few days, not because of the sheer weight of activity alone but because of how much harder it feels to get stuff done in a strange culture. It just seems to take so much more thinking about than it should do. After four hours driving in heavy traffic yesterday with a squeaky wheel and a mystery warning light of which nobody knows the meaning of, we were pretty knackered (one of those 8 til 8 days). Today saw half the team (12 people) gathering at our home to thrash though the aims and objectives of our department. Being aware of the importance placed on hospitality here we were determined to extend a warm welcome and to keep our guests well fed and watered throughout the day (the meeting was due to last the morning but we know better by now!).

We prepared for our 9am start with your writer determined to get the washing done first. Everything was going well, the house was in order, the food and drink ready and I was nearing the end of the washing when Jess poked her head around the door to inform me that the Local Chairman had chosen this moment to pay us a visit. I should explain a couple of things at this point. Firstly, a visit from the LC1 is kind of a big deal, it’s important to make a good impression and set a good basis for a long and fruitful relationship full of co-operation. This was definitely not one of those things we wanted to make a hash of. The second thing is that hand-washing bed sheets is hard work and I was doing this in nothing more than my birthday suit to avoid overheating and making more washing.

Cue panicked rinsing, drying and dressing as smartly as I could in 2 minutes and presenting myself to the Chairman, sweating profusely at 8am in the morning in our living room. The following half hour was surreal enough, and even now, more than 12 hours later, after an 8 hour meeting, which in typical African fashion started 2 hours late, I have not yet ‘got up properly’. (In fact I’ve given up and will just start again tomorrow – hence the blog-writing). Just as we got to the end of the meeting we discovered that one of the boys, who had been left to their own leisure all day long (hmm..), had hit another making a good and proper mess of his nose. Ok, enough now or you’ll never dare check this blog again, but the point is, a little earthquake really didn’t seem that significant in a day like today.

I must end by returning to 1 Kings. I realised I couldn’t remember what the still small voice said to Elijah so I thought I should look it up. Do you know what God said? He said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” And do you know what he said next? “Go back the way you came”. We were warned before we came here that some days we would just feel like getting to the end of our dirt road and turning towards the airport instead of towards Kampala. The last few days have been a bit like that. However, the still small voice has not, as yet, told us what it told Elijah. We’re in the right place and it’s challenging and tough in many different respects but that’s ok. God has not spoken clearly but I have a strong sense of his presence here with us. For now that is far more important than any specific words could be.

Right, I’m off to Mount Carmel for a BBQ competition (or perhaps I’ll just go to bed, eh?).

The Uganda Highway Code (Part One)

2008-09-28T12:54:00.000+01:00

1. The horn is the most important function of your vehicle. It is perfectly acceptable to drive at night without lights, brakes or a windscreen but if your horn doesn’t work you could be in serious trouble.

2. Use horn liberally. It is not rude, it is merely the way to ensure people recognise your presence (and hopefully react accordingly).

3. Having said this, be careful when you hoot angrily at a truck that cuts you up ensuring, first, that it’s not actually full of soldiers!

4. Motorbikes are perfectly acceptable family vehicles (for up to five people!)

5. Boda-bodas (motorbike taxis) are suitable for transportation of long planks of wood, metal poles, beds and goats.

6. Beware of unannounced, overnight changes to the road. Speed bumps may appear where before there were no speed bumps. There are no markings to denote this.

7. When it rains, lorries will end up in ditches. That’s just life.

8. Pot-holes. See 6.

9. Indicators are not used to indicate what they indicate in the UK. Their actual use is ambiguous (ie I haven’t worked it out just yet).

10. Always drive in the lane that will make it the most difficult for the police to pull you over.

11. Pray every journey you take.

12. Don’t worry, it’s actually not that bad. Contact is common but it generally happens at extremely slow speeds. Follow your nose and don’t worry about what is happening all around you. You’ll be fine.

Water

2008-09-24T14:16:00.000+01:00

The story so far. Day 1-3, play it safe, buy bottled water. Day 4, start experimenting with borehole water processed though freshly cleaned out water filter. Day 5-6, increase reliance on filtered borehole water to 100% - no ill effects. Day 7, discover sinister red worm wriggling around in water filter. Local staff amazed we’re not boiling our water and refuse to drink it at staff meeting. Start boiling water. And they all lived healthily ever after. The end (hopefully).

Painting a Picture

2008-09-24T14:11:00.000+01:00

The joys of technology have made moving to Africa so much easier than it can have been even ten years ago. Within minutes of arriving we received a text, by lunch we were on the internet and by the weekend we were fielding phone calls from back home. My Grandma was recently telling me about her great uncles who went out to make new lives in California and Arizona respectively. I was inspired by their bravery until she informed me that they had no way of ever returning home and that one was finished off by disease and the other by the great depression. Not what we signed up for (I hope!)

As we sit down in the evenings now, with dinner and The West Wing on our lap-top powered by solar-charged car-batteries, it’s possible to forget for a moment that we’re actually in Africa. Sometimes, I go to the door and look out just to make sure, expecting that perhaps the sky will be a different colour to England or the air different or that the moon will look different from here (stupid I know). Actually a lot of it is just the same. It’s rainy season right now and actually the weather and atmosphere wouldn’t be out of place in the UK (this is rather pleasant for us right now).

The biggest problem of communication is not lacking the means but rather the words. Despite some of the cosmetic differences, this is such a different world that when I have chatted to family on the phone I’ve felt a bit lost for how to describe what it’s really like. This, more than anything else, gives me a sense of isolation. It’s trying to communicate something that you know people won’t understand or ‘get’ unless they experience it for themselves. I won’t give up and hopefully this blog will help me to paint a picture for the folks back home.

And right now, the picture is this. I’m under my mozzie net with bright white energy saving lightbulb lighting up the room (not very ambient). The thunderstorm, which has been rumbling in the distance for the last hour, seems now to be heading our way. I’m going to fetch the radio and listen to the world service through headphones. My mind is full of Africa, budgets, stories of troubled youth, practicalities, and what will happen to Leo when the press discover his pill-popping past (yep, already on episode 10 folks). Perhaps life out here isn’t that different after all.

Day One

2008-09-21T13:16:00.002+01:00

I guess you only get to do the first day once. And on the balance of things I think that’s a good thing. Today is a strong contender for most tiring, most surreal, most bi-polar and most-banger-racing-inspired day of my life.

I mentioned waking up on my last day in the UK previously but believe me, I am now sure that for sheer bizarreness and terror, nothing can beat waking up in the middle of the night, trying to locate yourself and understand why you’re feeling rank only to realise that you’re on a plane and your halfway to Africa and your not coming back, for a while anyway! It was a bit like that moment in the Matrix where Neo is awoken to the full reality of life and is violently sick everywhere as a result. I managed to avoid said sickness staving it off with the help of a quick prayer, a walk round the plane and a documentary on Alain Robert, the ‘human spider’.

When I say it’s been a long day we’ve now been awake for all but an hour out of the last forty and in that condition had to go about familiarising ourselves with life here. For the first half of the day we were driven around but as lunch arrived we soon realised that I was going to have to take the wheel and navigate my way out of the centre of Kampala in rush hour. On very little sleep. In an automatic. Which I’ve never done before.

Memorable moments have included getting all 12 (including hand luggage), bags onto the flight and only having to pay for one excess bag (official entitlement is 1 main bag each – keyboard and guitar went as ‘sporting equipment’*), getting all of these onto two tiny trolleys at the other end with the keyboard sideways only just making it through double sliding doors, being greeted by a Minibus with a huge banner bearing our names and a welcome to Uganda covering most of the front, experiencing the most creative traversing of a petrol forecourt I’ve EVER witnessed, having three members of team singing ‘He is Lord’ (yep, that version) before leaving us alone in this house, in the middle of nowhere, near Lake Victoria, IN AFRICA!!

And that, dear readers, was all before you’d even woken up that morning. I’ll have to save the rest for some other time. (I didn’t kill anyone with my driving by the way – yet). I should perhaps also mention day one’s evening relaxation was provided by episodes 1 and 2 of The West Wing and in association with the letter ‘T’ (Starbucks Tazo Chai tea bags**). Nice. Now for sleep if the crickets, birds and whatever is rolling about above the ceiling allow it.

*the mind boggles – any suggestions?
**I estimate our supply will be getting low by November :)

One small step for man....

2008-09-16T10:03:00.003+01:00

This morning I woke up and had one of those moments you have where for a fraction of a second you know something important is happening today but you're still trying to remember what. Like when you were a kid and you remember it's your birthday or Christmas or the start of a holiday.

This morning, however, I decided I probably felt a little more like Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Mike Collins as their (probably very quick) brains registered that today they were going to leave the earth in a rocket and fly to the moon. There are a few key differences to note. Firstly, there was no precedent for flying to the moon and surviving. In contrast, many people have moved to Uganda and lived to tell the tale (apart from a few, unfortunate chaps a long, long time ago who found themselves on the menu that night). Secondly, BA0063 to Kampala will be aboard a Boeing 767 with Rolls Royce (I want to say Merlin, but it's probably just as well that they're not) engines and streamed videos, whereas the lunar flight was made in a small capsule gaffer-taped to the top of a big stick of dynamite. Basically.

Today is going to be surreal. I've decided it's not the day to feel the excited anticipation of what God is calling us to. There have been many moments like that up til now and hopefully there will be many more to come, but that's not today. Today is strap yourself in day, try not to think about what you're doing and make sure you press all the buttons in the right order. We're not going to the moon but we do have something else in common. The fabled 'Mountains of the Moon' are supposedly those of the Ruwenzori National Park just down the road from us (according to Richard Burton anyway). I suppose we may try and pop in on them when we get a day off sometime....

But before you get too jealous, just remember this: Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins were only gone 8 days. Wimps! :)

God bless and goodbye England. 11 hours and counting...........

New Beginnings

2008-09-04T15:33:00.003+01:00

Welcome to the new blog. I've made some changes to reflect a new phase of my life. In 12 days time Mrs Gingerkidjoe and I will be flying to Uganda to begin our new jobs with RETRAK, a charity which works with street children. The picture you can see at the top is the view from our front door step and I'll try to post some pictures and videos as we go. This blog isn't designed to be a substitute for the infamous 'prayer letters' which will still be coming out every couple of months. It's just going to be a continuation of my own musings and ramblings (isn't it amazing how often those two words appear in people's blog descriptions?) Film reviews will be fewer but they should be suitably replaced by safari lodge, thunderstorm and road traffic reports. I hope its enjoyable (for both you and I!!)

Intensity

2008-08-19T18:18:00.000+01:00

The last few months has had so much packed into it physically, mentally, emotionally and even spiritually. In fact it’s been so full with profound (and often disturbing) moments that I’ve hardly had the chance to process them, let alone get around to blogging anything.

Reflecting now from a large converted barn in Devon, I finally feel I might get the chance to catch up with my thoughts and perhaps a little sleep too. The difficulty is that, with 30 days to U-day, suddenly even the most routine, mundane tasks in life take on bizarre sentimental significance. I will have to keep this tendency in check.

For instance, it’s fair enough to recognise that we’ve already had our final days of our home as we’ve known it for the last four years. This weekend we dismantle it and send it off to the four quarters of the kingdom. However, it’s probably verging on the slightly too unnecessarily sentimental (and slightly aspergers) recognition of today as the final 19th of a month I will spend in the UK for goodness knows how long. Hmmm…

Still, at least there’s no shortage of toasting opportunities in the days to come. Oh, and with a new start on the horizon, I’ve decided it will be time to for the old faithful blog to undergo a bit of a facelift. It all started back in 2004 with the travels of a very dear friend. Next stop, Africa, from where I hope to continue my both the friendship and the blogging!

Broken Home?

2008-07-03T17:09:00.001+01:00

The controversy in the Anglican Communion over the last few years has largely left me unaffected, in a practical sense at least. Now that I belong to an independent evangelical church (not something I feel especially proud about) it has been possible to look from outside the Church of England with a certain amount of sorrow but knowing that whatever happens, my weekly routine will probably continue unaffected.

In the past few days, however, I feel like I’ve woken up a bit to the profound violence of the debate and the latest developments have just now begun to hit me where it hurts. The bottom line is I’m an Anglican at heart and so much of what I love about my spiritual home stands in grave danger of being destroyed. Watching the various wings of the Anglican Communion turn on each other feels a little bit like what I imagine it must be like to live in a home where you know your parent’s marriage is breaking down - and it’s not just a relationship that’s being broken but the whole structure and context of your life.

Like so many others I know, it’s not the argument itself that distresses me. After all, relationship means conflict and disagreements are part of the joy and pain of knowing and being known. That’s just life so I guess that’s just church too. What cuts me is the manner of the way that the issues are being dealt with. Instead of loving and reasoned discussion it’s all acrimonious shouting matches and put-downs and bitterness and threats and accusations. I feel a bit like the kid hiding at the top of the stairs listening in to the words and crockery that are flying around, scared and powerless to do anything to stop the inevitable.

If the Church splits I guess I will have to get used to living in a broken home. My own views on homosexuality are fairly simple (and I hope more than anything, humble) but I know people on both sides of the debate and the beauty of the Anglican Church has always been its sense of compromise (before you get offended by this just remember it only exists because Henry VIII got horny!). I’m not saying compromise is always great in itself but from that broken place the Church has exhibited many of Jesus’ most beautiful qualities.

I won’t have to make the decision whether to stay at my mum’s or my dad’s place for now because I’m currently staying with a cousin (somehow the independent evangelical church feels a bit like a straight-laced, straight talking cousin who can be a bit pig-headed but is generally good-hearted and a great sport). Meanwhile I’ll wait with fear and sorrow to see whether the threatened divorce goes ahead.

Sex and the City / Gone Baby Gone

2008-06-12T12:11:00.003+01:00

It’s about time I blogged again so here are my thoughts on a couple of recent releases.

The SATC film has been for many people (including my mate Ali and democratic presidential nominee Barack Obama) the most eagerly anticipated release of the summer. Having never seen an entire episode before I was baffled as to why I was able to list the main characters’ names but I guess that says something of how far this long running sitcom has permeated our collective conscience. So, how did it all look when dressed up for the big screen?

Well, if I was being honest, its bum looked a bit big – very big. Not purely because I was forced to watch it from row three of the biggest screen in Stevenage, but rather that at a whopping 2 ½ hours this really could have done without the cinematic botox (I’m sure someone, somewhere must have used this obvious metaphor but I haven’t seen it so I’m going for it!). Somehow I got the impression that the SATC franchise was not built around characters taking an hour to explore certain emotions (like being jilted – oops, hope I didn’t spoil it there) but rather snappy, fast-moving storylines. The upside of this was that the idea of watching a forty minute episode is now something I could reasonably contemplate. However, this may be akin to the idea that having elastic bands fired at you for forty minutes seems bearable when you compare it to 150 minutes of the same.

On a brighter note, Gone Baby Gone is a much more engaging film. Casey Affleck does pretty good job at starring in his brother’s directorial debut. The plot (private investigators looking into the abduction of a 4-year-old while dealing with an unco-operative police department) was pretty good and the acting really solid. Ed Harris and Morgan Freeman brought a heavyweight presence to the cops of questionable morality and Amy Ryan put in a good turn as the mother of dubious lifestyle.

In terms of the direction itself, I thought it was a bit of a mixed bag. At times, Affleck the Elder showed a great touch. The opening five minutes really made me think I was onto something good here, good atmosphere, good feel, a very promising start. However, as the film progressed there were several times when it felt like Affleck was trying just a bit too hard too be a bit too stylish and it distracted me from the type of story that I otherwise might have got completely lost in. Nevertheless, despite this fault and its far from light-hearted theme, it would seem churlish not to highly recommend it in comparison to the bloated alternative.

(Oh, and Indiana Jones wasn’t bad too as long as you go along expecting more of the same. Worked for me).

Happy-Go-Lucky

2008-04-24T16:40:00.002+01:00

You always know you're in for treat when you go to see a Mike Leigh film. You don't have to be a great connoisseur of cinema (and I'm not) to recognise a good film, brilliant acted and well paced with just the right mixture of tension and resolution. Basically classy AND enjoyable. The only thing is, Mike Leigh usually makes fairly heavy, somewhat 'dark', films. Admittedly Happy-Go-Lucky has it's moments but on the whole this is one of the most life-affirming, feel-good movies you'll see all year. And it's so much better than you'd get from Richard Curtis or, let's face it, most of Hollywood. Following the irrepressible Poppy as she waltzes and giggles her way through life, this is such a keenly observed and well-set film that if you've ever lived in the south-east of England and work with children you'll appreciate every minute of it. All the cast are great but special mention has to go to Sally Hawkins as Poppy and Eddie Marsden as Scott her uptight driving instructor. I really can't recommend this highly enough (although perhaps I shouldn't do that as it'll be an anticlimax if you do see it). Great stuff though.

In Bruges

2008-04-24T16:08:00.002+01:00

In Bruges is a lovely film about two hitmen sent to Bruges for a fortnight in the aftermath of a botched job. I say 'lovely' and I mean it because this is actually quite a heartwarming film in some ways. Don't be deceived though because at the same time it is also one of the most uncompromisingly bloody pieces of cinema you're likely to see this year. Not one for a romantic date but if you want an idea of what it's like then think what A History of Violence or Lock Stock might have looked like if they had been directed by Ken Loach or Mike Leigh. That sort of thing anyway. Brendon Gleeson is absolutely superb as the old hand and mentor to Colin Farrell's rookie. Farrell is overshadowed by both Glesson and Ralph Fiennes (who does a brilliant turn as the gangster boss), but nevertheless manages to show off new range to his thus-far rather limited acting skills playing the ignorant yet sympathetic central character. It's funny, tragic, fairly bloody but strangely likable film.

Possibly the best neighbours in the world....ever?

2008-04-16T09:16:00.002+01:00

When Mrs Gingerkidjoe and I were first looking for a place to live we thought perhaps we ought to pray about it. I guess there was a little bit of us that just wanted to be ‘led’ to the perfect house at a discount price (you know how it is, getting a leg up over the heathen in the property stakes: isn’t that what prayer was invented for??). Another part of us was probably trying to rope God in as some sort of extra free-at-the-point-of-delivery home insurance (this didn’t work – we got a brick through the window from the disgruntled, previous tenants two weeks into our stay). However, there was at least a little bit of me that was genuinely excited by the idea of us living together for the first time in a place of our own, all grown up like, and wanting God to play a central role in our new life and home.

So we prayed, and after we had exhausted our wish list of luscious carpets, pleasant decor and a beautiful yet easily maintained garden, we found ourselves asking for, and I quote ‘neighbours we could be a blessing to’. God has a sense of humour. I guess I was sanctimoniously hoping for some troubled, yet honest humble peasant-types unto whom we might shine the light of Christ and lead along the narrow way. What we got was two sets of neighbours who have showed us from day one what God’s love looks like. It turns out that we were moving in after an often noisy and violent couple that had wracked the nerves of some folks. The extent of our ‘blessing’ to the locals turned out to be simply NOT shouting and smashing windows at three in the morning – what a trial the Lord had for us!

Some other ways God has taken advantage of our selfless and heartfelt prayer (Lord make me a vessel of you grace to the poor, lost folk around me….) is with neighbours who mowed our lawn uninvited when I broke my hand, shared their wireless internet with us (yes, knowingly), and who have re-taught us the concepts of hospitality, generosity and word Barbeque. I tell you people, prayer is dangerous. I never imagined that I would appreciate those living around me so much. I’ve grown up in a vicarage and the local community always have a bit of a funny take on a big four-bed detached house in a row of terraces (understandable really).

On Easter Saturday we were privileged to witness our neighbour get baptised just a couple of days after her and husband moved to a bigger house. They’re a couple of miles away now, but you know what, they still haven’t stopped blessing us….. as they have done…… since the day we became their neighbours. We’re going to be moving again in September and I think we’ll be asking God for some more people to ‘bless’ just like before, only this time with a little more conviction.

In the Shadow of the Moon

2008-04-01T16:13:00.002+01:00

In The Shadow of the Moon is a documentary featuring the only surviving men who have ever looked at the earth from another celestial body. It received a limited release in the UK last year but got some great reviews and so seemed to be the perfect candidate for a night at home alone with the video projector and a beer.

The astronauts, who were all members of the Apollo missions to the moon, tell the story in their own words with great lucidity and insight into some of the issues their project raised, accompanied by stunning never-before-seen footage from NASA. But this is so much more than just another telling of events and the crew members really convey something of how their experiences changed their understanding of society, the world and the very origins of life.

I guess I had never really appreciated what a ‘giant leap’ the moon landings were, not just from a technological point of view but in the impact it had on the whole world. This is one of the finest and most engaging documentaries I’ve seen in a long time and one that clearly is worthy of the ‘big picture’ treatment at the cinema. As someone born in the 80s it was a profound experience just watching this and one that is well worth catching even if you’ve never been even remotely interested in space travel. In the Shadow of the Moon is about people and their discovery about the universe and, perhaps more importantly, about themselves. Top stuff.

There Will Be Blood

2008-03-27T11:31:00.002Z

The great thing about living in Luton is your film-viewing expectations are so lowered that when something good comes along it takes you completely by surprise. Well that's almost true. The reality was I had given up hope of seeing Paul Thomas Anderson's critically acclaimed adaptation of Upton Sinclair's novel and, having heard this was the type of movie you need to see in a quiet cinema, decided I'd probably missed the boat.

So it came as a great surprise when more than a month after it was released, out of nowhere, Cineworld started giving the good people of Luton three (yes, three!) daily opportunities to see Daniel Day Lewis' latest Oscar-winning performance. Perhaps the management was embarrassed into this rash decision by the tripe that is filling the other 10 screens. I certainly can't imagine that There Will Be Blood will be enjoyed by many (or any) of the thousands of teenagers who are currently on Easter Holiday. But that's not the point, really, is it.

My final big fear was that the audience might be full of people who thought the title sounded cool and subsequently got restless and irritating after the first 15 dialogue-free minutes but I needn't have worried and settled down for what felt like the most part of a day (it turned out to be under three hours) to see what the fuss was about.

And you know what, it wasn't what I expected. Powerful, disturbing, deep, and a little bit nuts and hard work for the audience. Not exactly a good one for chilling out in the evening (although after seeing 'Love in the Time of Cholera' last night I would rather watch There Will Be Blood on a loop all week than endure another 10 minutes of that tripe). The most interesting aspect of this film for me was the powerful message about the relationship between money, oil and the church in America. It is a story that despite being set over a century ago, clearly has so much to say about the Iraq war and the relationship between politics, money and religion which drove it.

Let's assume for a moment that the invasion of Iraq could not have taken place without the blessing of the Church, particularly in the Bible Belt. Let's then also assume that oil was one of the primary concerns in the invasion (which isn't too big a leap when you realise the 'dangerous and oppressive regime' that was 'selected' for democracy happened to be the oil-rich one and not the poor African or Asian ones). Then let's imagine that the invasion was sold to the church on false promises (I remember 'opening up of mission fields' being banded about at the time). Most disturbingly, though, if I'm reading this correctly, then the final act of There Will Be Blood (which lives up to it's name) is a worrying suggestion about where this could all end.

Plenty to think about.

Spring

2008-03-14T13:36:00.002Z

I declare today 'the Beginning of Spring'.

On what basis do I make this bold assertion? I've decided that spring is not something that can be judged by statistics or date, rather it is something you feel, and I felt it just now walking down to Asda without a jumper on (oh yes, dear reader, I know how to live on the edge and I make no apology for that!). It's the feeling that you can imagine drinking cold beer on the garden bench (or in the pub garden) sometime in the near future, going for long rambling walks and watching your team get relegated, promoted or miss out on both.

Having said all that, your avid ginger weather-geek is also here to tell you that things are going to get much frostier soon and there is even a very outside chance of a white Easter! How cool would that be? I advise keen snappers to polish up the SLRs and set the alarms early sometime soon! (Probably*)

Finally, an advanced notice that the 3rd annual fry-up and pilgrimage from Hedley Rise to the Green Man, Great Offley on May Day Bank Holiday looks set to go ahead again so put Pimms and puddings in the diary for the 5th. We may even start a campaign to get the Oreo Cookie Tower reinstated for just one day.

*GKJ takes no responsibility for unnecessary sleep loss and meteorological disappointment

D'oh!

2008-02-26T01:26:00.002Z

Q: What do Eduardo and I have in common?
A: Football-related broken bones.

(I'd rather go with my injury than his though..)

Kampala

2008-02-24T11:40:00.002Z

It’s hard to get your head around February in England when you’ve spent a fortnight on the equator. When we arrived back in Sutton last night it felt like months since we set off. I guess this is probably a result of the incredible range of profound experiences we’ve enjoyed (for the most part) over the past few weeks.

This past week we were in and around Kampala, Uganda. The landing at Kampala is dramatic as you approach low over Lake Victoria wondering whether you should start reaching for the buoyancy aid under the seat. The pilot either out of complacency (or maybe because of the altitude? – more of this later) attempted the fastest landing I’ve ever experienced but it was smooth and we successfully stopped, after a painfully long drawn out breaking process, short of the end of the runway (and the Lake). Welcome to Uganda.

Having left Nairobi, the first things that strikes me about Kampala is how incredibly green it is. Not in the eco-friendly sense (I’m not sure many of the vehicles would pass the MOT emissions test) but there is just an abundance of vegetation everywhere. (Note to self, the rainy season must be something incredible). Actually, I learned Kampala is the most thundered-over capital in the world so maybe that’s why it’s so green. What isn’t green is orange, mostly the roof-tiles and, of course, the famous African soil. Green, orange and also the faded blue of the hazy sky. Kampala.

There’s so much I could blog about it’s hard to know what to talk about. One of the most unexpectedly profound experiences of the week came when we went into one many slums. Not as big as Nairobi’s legendary monsters but equally impoverished, it’s hard to expresses quite how upsetting it is to spend time in these places. Part of me just wanted to weep, another part just to leave and pretend I’d never seen what I’d seen. In the end, I just left suitably humbled and disturbed that so many in the world live out their lives in these rancid, disease-ridden hell-holes. The incident that took the biscuit was being summoned by a woman sat at the side off the road, if you can call a mixture of mud and raw sewerage a road, who petitioned us to take her baby away from her and with us out of that world.

Having gone through that, the truth is that most of our time was spent in appreciation of the great beauty around us and the work of organisations like the Tigers Project who are working to rescue lives from the abject poverty of slum-life. There are numerous NGOs in Uganda and a big expat community who were very welcoming. We enjoyed time staying with Jen and Nathan at Tudabujja, a halfway-home where former street boys are rehabilitated and prepared for reintergration into mainstream society either through returning to their own families or being fostered. Tudabujja means ‘we are being made new’ in Luganda (the local language) and sums up what is being done there. Situated on the banks of Lake Victoria, the centre consists of housing for 32 boys, an education centre, and a model farm complete with crops, chickens, rabbits, cattle, pigs (who seem to be named after various staff members) and much, much more. There is also the all-important football pitch which has always been central to Tigers ministry.

It would be wrong to leave a report on Uganda without a mention of the transport infrastructure. There are two types of roads. 1) Roads used for CHOGM (the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting) held in Kampala last November which were done up to impress the queen and other visiting dignitaries, and 2) The Other Ones. 4x4s are advisable for the city and essential for the countryside. The driving is a wonder to behold and I now understand why Uganda has the highest vehicle to accident ratio in the world bar none. Lorries, buses, and cars all jostle at unnervingly close proximity frequently exchanging paint but the icing on the cake are the infamous ‘boda-bodas’, unlicensed motorbikes driven by daredevils, who, in their thousands, weave in and out of the tiniest of spaces between the rest of the traffic with one or two passengers often carrying large ungainly items, including plate glass windows, telegraph poles and, my personal favourite, a bed. We had one go (Mrs Gingerkidjoe’s first ever ride on a motorbike – I’ve never heard such language!) and arrived at our destination safe having seen our life pass before our eyes (well my eyes at any rate – hers were firmly screwed shut) just the once.

Despite the dangers and bad driving, everybody seems ridiculously relaxed about things and there was one surreal moment when a man playing chicken with a car, walking across the road so slowly that it actually hit him sending him sprawling onto the bonnet, simply got up, dusted himself off and, unperturbed, held a calm and highly polite conversation with the driver before both continued on their journey as if nothing had happened!

Luganda has few words for time and urgency imperatives and the attitude was summed-up beautifully when after a delay in getting underway on our return flight, our captain informed us that one of the engines was reluctant to start and in any case air traffic control hadn’t decided which runway we should leave from. One hour later, the bolshy engine had finally started at the fourth attempt (apparently it’s an altitude problem) and we set off from hot, sunny, green Uganda. Back to February.

The Refugee Camp

2008-02-14T14:50:00.005Z

This morning a few of us headed up to Molo (the nearest town to Turi) to visit the refugee camp there and see if we could organise a few games for the kids. I mentioned yesterday that there are 16,000 displaced persons there but when we arrived we discovered that the figure now stands at 46,000 and that is just counting those in the town itself.

We called in on a site just outside Molo where the Kenyan Red Cross, UNHCR and UNICEF are setting up a large tented village which should open sometime soon. This kind of site is the image you see on the news. What I hadn't appreciated is that most refugee 'camps' are merely areas around churches or police stations where there are just unusual concentrations of people, many of whom settle down to sleep at night by the side of the road. Not very safe and not very visually impressive - just a real mess.

Five 'wizungu' were of great fascination to the kids who flocked to see and greet us. It really reminded me of our experiences working with kids in Kosova - all smiles and excitement and polite welcomes. It's ridiculous really, you visit a bunch of people living in horrible conditions and they are just so pleased to see you and treat you like royalty.

We headed to the stadium while Simon (the local Red Cross co-ordinator) went to fetch kids from the seven nearby camps. A slow trickle began with many parents in tow. It was encouraging to see that there were clearly several adults from the camps who have been organising activities for the kids. Simon told us that at least fifteen teachers from amongst those displaced had come forward to run classes in the camps.

The trickle turned into a flood and soon there were several games of 'granny's footsteps', 'duck, duck, goose' (and it's watery equivalent 'drip drip drop' - which was the cause of much fun amongst the children and mirth among the watching parents) and balloon games (which didn't translate quite so easily. We left as a game of football was getting going with much shaking of hands and waving goodbyes.

It's hard to describe this experience. It is embarrassing how ‘worthy’ the trip sounds as I write it up. We really did very, very little and took nothing to give to those in desperate need. We swanned in and left less than two hours later to return to our hot showers and food from the fridge. The trip cost us nothing and we clearly benefited from it more than those we met.

On the flip side, it helps to have seen things with our own eyes and perhaps most excitingly, three of our party, who are teachers at St. Andrew's International School where we are staying, were inspired to see about going back with some of the privileged kids they teach (Kenyans, East Africans and some Brits) to run more activities in the stadium. Now that really would be something worthwhile, both for the displaced children and the students. If any good is to come of this situation it must surely be in initiatives like that.

Lake Baringo

2008-02-14T14:46:00.001Z

Our East African adventure continued over the past few days with a stay on Island Camp, Lake Baringo. A three hour drive north of Nakuru, Baringo is a beautiful sanctuary a little out of the way of the tourist masses and the Camp (essentially a tented village on an island in the middle of the lake) has got to be one of the best ways to experience it. Our ‘tent’ (a huge canvas structure under a solid roof) was located on the very end of the island on rocks surrounded on three sides by water and included bathroom, solid wood double bed and an unparalleled view of both sunrise and set. The wildlife was incredible (if a little scary at times – I’m very jumpy when it comes to small crawling things) and we had lots of lizards, exotic birds spiders and insects which, for the most part, remained on the right side of the canvas. I had a couple of bad spider moments and narrowly avoided stepping on a scorpion in the shower this morning but otherwise got through feeling a lot less scared than when we started. (That’s half a lie. I still jump a mile when taken by surprise by even the most innocuous of creatures).

We had a boat trip around the lake and saw crocodiles, hippos and fish-eagles which were lured into the water by our guide with bait – will try to post some photos soon. This trip also gave me my first experience of driving in Kenya. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be in our battered old Toyota 4x4. The main trick was avoiding the pot-holes and other road users (lorry, car, bike, foot) simultaneously. Actually the biggest menace were speed humps that appeared (or rather existed invisible to the naked eye) for the most part around villages, but occasionally in the middle of a perfectly decent stretch of rural road! With the help of my vigilant (and slightly wired) passengers we managed to spot most of them before impact although I did hit one rather dramatically right on the equator (which lies between Turi and Baringo) causing us to literally take off from one hemisphere and land in the other.

It’s interesting getting used to Africa again. There are many strange differences from life in England but at least as many bizarre similarities – in some respects, it feels far closer to Blighty than Europe does – especially at Turi.

We still haven’t seen much evidence of what went on over the last month. Things remain calm for now. We did see the remnants of a few roadblocks on our way north but people seem to just be getting on with life. In fact it’s hard to believe that just three miles from where I write this in the comfort and security of the school there are 16,000 displaced persons settling down for another night in the refugee camp. Tomorrow I hope to visit to see first-hand the impact of the last month and hopefully to just play a few games with some of the kids who have lost the comfort of home, routine and so much more besides. I think some realities of life just have to be seen to be believed and I would find it hard to leave the country on Saturday knowing that I had blissfully avoided facing what is really happening just up the road. I wonder what we’ll find there.

Arrived in Kenya

2008-02-11T11:51:00.000Z

So we arrived in Kenya on Saturday on a fairly empty flight. This gave us the advantage of being able to have a whole row of seat each which was a bonus. I guess people don't want to come to Kenya at the moment although I've got to say, since arriving, I've not seen one single piece of evidence of the recent troubles. Nothing burnt out and not a panga in sight. The only problems were the regular Kenyan ones of horrific off-road diversions for roadworks which almost did for the car we were travelling in (and had already put an end to several lorries with their sorry-looking broken axels). We winced at the sight of a lorry which had overturned and fallen down a 30 foot embankment. We didn't even get pulled over by the police (which is par for the course for white people driving private vehicles). Talking of which, I had my first go in an aged 4x4 which we'll probably drive up to Lake Burringo tomorrow. It's pretty knackered but apparnetly it's held together by many years of prayer and the playing of worship CDs. Evidently it's a holy car and should be fine (does the Pope-mobile ever break down?). I think it also helps that it's big, rugged and Japanese built.

Ho-hum, that's it for now. It's nice being up at Turi with Deb. Completely relaxing. It's warm but not hot (the perfect tempterature really), beautiful and a pretty great place to be. And there are no signs of the fires which dotted the horizon regularly throughout January. Let's hope it stays that way.

Battle for Haditha

2008-02-08T23:11:00.000Z

With a visit to Kenya looming and having heard rave reviews I decided to pop down to London to catch Nick Broomfield’s ‘Battle for Haditha’ on one of only three screens currently showing it in the UK. The true story of the Marine Corps response to a roadside bomb in 2004 (which killed one soldier and badly wounded two others) has been well documented. Twenty-four Iraqis were killed during the horrific hours that followed but it was only after a student released video footage of the scene two months later that an investigation began.

Broomfield has taken these events and created a masterpiece of storytelling which manages to capture the horror and brutality of what occurred whilst somehow still leaving the viewer with a sense of empathy for all involved who, whether Iraqi or Marine, were in some victims that day. The immediate comparison that springs to mind is Paul Greengrass’s ‘United 93’ except not even that dared to make the audience feel for the perpetrators on September 11th. That was a hard film to rate because it was so far our of a normal cinema experience. Battle for Haditha qualifies in the same category and is by far the best of the films over the last year exploring the post 9/11 world.

I can highly recommend this if you get the chance this week or if by some miracle it gets a wider release next week. It could not be called an enjoyable experience but it is certainly a profound one. If you have any interest in global news then it’s an absolute must.

Cloverfield

2008-02-04T17:37:00.000Z

So, after a famous viral teaser/trailer campaign, I finally got to sit down in a mandatory 'big' screen at the cinema for Cloverfield. Having missed out on the sensation of producer J.J. Abrams' previous work 'Lost' through lack of a T.V. (which one day the Licensing Authority will hopefully catch on to!) I wasn't sure if I would quite 'get' Cloverfield. The other day I saw a parody on '24' and realised just how much T.V has changed since I had one. I gather 'Kickstart' and 'Paddles Up' and even 'Beadle's About' have all been canceled damn it! However, my fears of cultural ignorance proved groundless (or at least not a major problem) as I settled back and enjoyed every minute of this 21st century take good ol' mindless disaster action. When I say 'every minute' I should probably have said every minute apart from the last 5which I thought were a little bit pointless and didn't add anything. Apart from that, good escapist fun. Nice.

Book: Everything Must Change (Brian D. McLaren)

2008-02-01T17:04:00.000Z

One of the perks of working at LCET is getting a free 'team book' each term. The idea is we all read the same book which in some way engages with our work and ouselves before discussing it during team retreat.

This term it was the latest work from Brian McLaren who is one of the figureheads of the 'emergent' movement in the evangelical church. Everything Must Change picks up where his last book (The Secret Message of Jesus) left off, radically applying Jesus' teaching to the political, economic and social climate we live in. He critiques three main 'systems' (security, prosperity and equity) which he suggests in their current manifestations are driving our planet and it's inhabitants to extinction in an ever-strengthening, downward spiral of suicide.

So all in all not exactly a light read for the beach but rather a very well written account and a timely challenge. What McLaren does so well is not really about highlighting new problems or even suggesting radically new solutions. Instead he draws many thread of thought together and presents them in a way that is accessible to people today. His analysis of the world we live in (and are complicit in) is fairly terrifying and his main point is to look at how Jesus responded to a dominant imperialist narrative in his day (as created by the Romans) and apply it to how we should be responding to the dominant imperial narratives of our day (which evidently share many of the same characteristics).

If you're a fan of McLaren (or Don Miller, Shane Claibourne etc), then you'll probably love this. If you've got frustrated with McLaren's theology in the past (perhaps even having thrown one of his books across the room in annoyance SW?) but have a heart for how the Kingdom of God can save and relieve both the rich and the poor of this world then you'll probably want to get your hands on this. There's plenty to reflect on, think over, discuss, agree and disagree with and be provoked by. Good stuff, and probably my favourite of his books that I've read. (The others being, Adventures in Missing the Point, The Last Word and the Word After That, and The Secret Message of Jesus).

From Russia

2008-01-30T17:17:00.000Z

Today during the last of my three 'Visa' trips to London, I popped in to the Royal Academy hoping to get a ticket for the much-praised 'From Russia' exhibitions. The closing of (or rather, perhaps, the creating of) a legal loophole has enabled many incredible works of art to come to Britain for the first time ever. I'm not a great student of visual art but with the help of an audio-guide I usually manage to appreciate what I'm seeing, even if on a very basic level. Expecting to be turned away, I was pleasantly surprised to gain instant entry (after paying £7.50 for NUS plus another £3 for the audio-guide) and with outlandish headphones on, I got started.

The first thing to say was that this is a BIG exhibition. I think somewhere in the region of 120 works of art are featured in nine rooms and I would suggest that the eighty minutes I spent there would be the absolute minimum you would want to allow. I usually feel I have a threshold of about an hour of looking at art but today I could have gone on much, much longer. The exhibition takes you on a progressive journey of seeing the links between developments in Western Europe during the first half of the 20th century and the uniquely Russian take on these themes. Many of the works are worthy of a good, long look but the thing that struck me the most was how well arranged they all we. Some of the rooms were simply stunning and standing in the middle looking around provided a dizzying experience of colour and beauty. I was truly taken by surprise. I can really recommend 'From Russia' for arty people and those (like me) who don't really have a clue. There are no entry-time restrictions and you could do a lot worse in London with a tenner.

Justice and Peace

2008-01-28T23:28:00.001Z

Just some thoughts. Since I wrote the following on Saturday things have continued to deteriorate…..

So, as most of you know I have a sister in Kenya, specifically the most screwed-up part of Kenya (The Rift Valley) and I’ve found myself on the verge of blogging several times over the past few weeks but have not until now found the words. I think, however, that I need to say something about ‘justice and peace’.

The context of this post comes as I read tonight that the road through Nakuru (Debbie’s nearest town and her route out of the Rift Valley to the safety of Nairobi) has been cut by armed youths who are pelting any cars defying the barricades with rocks. I tell you this because it is important to contextualise what I’m about to say.

My question is this. If you have to choose between justice and peace, which do you choose? Since the flawed election at the close of 2007 it has become increasingly apparent that both are not possible in Kenya at his time. In history justice is often only achieved through great sacrifice (see South Africa, American Civil Rights, Universal Suffrage etc etc) but the sacrifice of peace is a little harder to accept when the safety of a loved one is at stake.

The reality is, of course, that Kenya seems to be struggling to find either justice or peace at all. Neither Mwai Kibaki (the previous incumbent) or Raila Odinga (the opposition leader) seem intent on either so really the question is academic. But given this how much sacrifice of peace can be justified by the dream of justice? In the West we are full of the rhetoric of democracy and freedom and use it to start, provoke and excuse ridiculous wars. However, I noticed that as soon as the dubious election results were announced Condoleeza Rice was on the phone to Kibaki congratulating him on his ‘victory’ (remember Kibaki is an ally in the ‘War on Terror’ so is exempt from the professed standards. The Ugandan president quickly followed suit. After all, a stable Kenya is vital for the supplies of food and fuel that Uganda and other East African nations rely on.

Peace or at least stability, is therefore a very tempting option and I personally wouldn’t take much persuading to agree that a life lived under injustice is preferable to a life lost. On the other hand, what would the world look like if it always went down this route? If nobody had challenged Hitler and Japan forty million lives might have been spared. If the North hadn’t stood up to the Confederate States, a whole generation of young American men might not have been wiped out. If Jesus hadn’t stood up to society, the religious leaders and the Romans then he might have lived. But what would a world like that look like?

Sadly, I fear that the sacrifice of innocent Kenyans is only for the sake of a couple of petty, power-hungry men. On the other hand, what price justice? In two weeks I land in Nairobi and head out towards Nakuru. I’ll probably realise how naive these thoughts are. In the meantime, please pray with me for both justice AND peace and keep in touch with what’s going on out there.

For more info check out the BBC and Al Jazeera news sites. Steve Warner’s blog (see link on the right) has regular updates and links to some members of the blogging community in the Rift Valley.

In the Valley of Elah

2008-01-28T08:48:00.001Z

In the Valley of Elah is the latest in a string of films looking at the effects of US post 9/11 foreign policy. With the directing and screen-writing credentials of Paul Haggis (Crash, Million Dollar Baby) and a leading role for Tommy Lee Jones supported by critically-acclaimed Charlize Theron, there was much to recommend this movie as one to see. And to be fair, it pretty much delivers. Haggis seems to have the pacing of his stories down to a tee. It broods just about as much as possible without ever provoking the audience to boredom, creating a gripping climax out of even then most low key of plot turns. The only thing that spoiled the film for me was the last two or three minutes which, like Crash, indulged in some gratuitous sentimentality but I think Haggis knows his audience and manages to make a tough and politically engaging storyline perfectly acceptable (if a little heavy) Saturday mainstream viewing. Great stuff.

The National Army Museum: Helmand

2008-01-25T23:00:00.000Z

Preparing to go out to Kenya and Uganda next month I've made a couple of visits to London lately to get Visas and while there I've tried see few interesting things to justify the train fare. Last week I went to the National Army Museum to see an exhibition based on the experiences of 16th Air Assault Brigade in Helmand Province, Afghanistan.

Once I found it (having popped into a recruitment office whose staff had never heard of a National Army Museum - but looked so hard that I decided not to ask why) I had a good nose around, followed closely by a suspicious security guard. It was certainly interesting stuff but I came away feeling it could have been so much more. There were displays of equipment and video clips covering various aspects of life on the front line. All this was accompanied with soldiers accounts of the campaign and lots of war-themed rock music and sound effects of bombs and gunfire to keep you on you entertained.

And that, I think, was where the problem lay. I made the trip hoping to get some insight into how the fighting men and women 'felt' about their experiences (I know, I'm such a therapist!) but what I got was the kind of impersonal, information-heavy stuff that seemed designed for parties of school kids. It was a pity because there had clearly been a great deal of effort and money put into the exhibition and it had the potential to really give the British public an idea of what is going on in their name on the other side of the world.