Travel Day 3 Arrival

Arrival in Ft. Portal

We got to Fort Portal about 3pm or so. We expected to make it there by 5pm, so we were making good time. We didn’t go into town because our house was on the outskirts, so we climbed the big hill up the road and arrived at our house. It was, to say the least, incredible. We were greeted by the cutest hand-painted “all are most welcome” signs in the house – clearly they had worked hard to make it so nice. There was a huge front yard and two giant terraces – one on the bottom and one on the top – a large living room, kitchen, several bedrooms and even a little apartment attached to the main structure. The house also boasted living quarters for the people who would be taking care of us to boot.

We met Margaret – the woman who we’d seen pictures of from Mary’s Craft Shop who jumped for joy when she saw Sara and met us all, and Betty, who is really also called Margaret but since there are two, we call her Betty because that’s her middle name. The ladies were so sweet and so beautiful. Margaret was a bit older and Betty looked like an older teenager, happy to have us there and eager to please.

It turns out the boys side of the place was the little apartment, which was great. I threw my stuff in the small bedroom with the single bed. “How are we going to figure out who gets the single room” Ian asked. I think my bags were the answer. I told him we could switch if we wanted to, but Lech moved his bed into the small living room next to the desk, so we all had our own rooms. I moved in a little bit and immediately felt like a freshman in college, or worse, that I was back at Boys State in New Mexico. All the stuff I had brought with me was going to have to fit in this tiny corner, but I had done it before.

We totally trashed the place and sat down for lunch. Betty had made us chicken, french fries and vegetables. I was so happy to see french fries, it made me think of home. She is a great cook, and I am as happy to have her as she is to have the job. I had professed to Rachael that I had no qualms about staying in a nice place in Africa. I had grown up in the country, I said, and didn’t need the “outward bound” experience, especially since I was going to need the comfort to work. I will say this once and say it a thousand times, it is probably the best thing in the world to have someone cook and clean for you. Not that I expect it, or can’t do it for myself, or am too lazy to – it just enables me to do more in a day, and I am very thankful for all the people who do these daily tasks just so that one person can take over the world.

After lunch we went to the market for the first time. It was bustling. Clothes and shoes were everywhere. Sara said they came straight from Goodwill in the States, and while at first thought it was a good gesture, we quickly realized it was an economic problem similar to the agricultural “dumping” policies. The donated clothes, which are either free or ridiculously cheap, flood the market and prevent any local industry for clothes. The men and women who want to make their traditional clothing and use their skills to run a sustainable business are unable to do so because they can’t keep up with the inventory or low prices of the donated products. For people in refugee or IDP camps its one thing, but in the city, it’s thanks, but no thanks, Goodwill.

Immediately after Sara explained this I looked out the window and saw a man wearing a Texas Lottery t-shirt. No joke. Globalization again rears its ugly head.

We parked in the middle of the market and all eyes were on us. 10 Mujungus in one outing was a little much for the people of Ft. Portal. We tried to walk around and stay low key, but it was impossible. Everyone started at us so curiously. It was frightening as all hell. Margaret had to buy some food for later and asked that we not follow her, because if the local people saw she was buying for 10 Mujungus the price would probably skyrocket. So we made our way around the maze of the market. It was overwhelming.

Tiny little shops lined the sidewalk. It was kind of divided into sections – clothing, beauty shops (which were getting the most business), toys, household items, and finally – meat. I won’t go into detail here, but let’s just say I pretended like I had not just seen the giant cow’s head in the corner with the intestines on out on the counter.

Margaret got what we needed and we got back on the bus on the way into Ft. Portal to another market for cold items and clothes for Whitney. The electricity was out in town, but Lech was itching for African beer and ice to keep it cold, and we found it at Andrew’s – our soon to be favorite supermarket. To my excitement they had Tusker – a beer brewed in Kenya that I was lucky enough to sample at party at the Kenyan ambassador’s residence in Washington D.C. I got really excited and told Lech to get some – I couldn’t tell if the man at the grocery store was impressed that I liked Tusker or upset that I chose it over the regular Ugandan beer. Either way I was happy to have it.

We made it back to the house about sundown. We had a few snacks, but we were so tired we skipped dinner. I walked upstairs to look around. There was a fierce game of soccer going on at the plot of land next door to us, and you could see it pretty well over the terrace. It looked like the kids were playing with, or around, the cows. I snapped a photo. Fucking Africa. So hot right now.

Suddenly the electricity came on. We all swooped to play with our toys. I immediately charged my dead laptop and looked my pictures. It was nice to have the computer to help process everything. I took the rest of the night to move in, read and get ready for bed.

Before turning out a few of us chatted with Margaret and Betty in the kitchen, who made us a late night snack of french fries. I had my Tusker and settled in to our home. Apparently I got a little too comfortable, because as I slowly leaned back in the one plastic chair we had in the house, I went crashing down on the kitchen floor, having broke the damn chair. Poor Margaret was so embarrassed. “I’m so sorry” she kept saying. For what? I thought. You didn’t break it! Everyone kept asking if I was okay, and I just told them as I lay on the floor I had say it coming, and it didn’t scare me because it had happened before. From now on no more plastic chairs in the house.

I finally made it to bed at God knows what time. The sounds of children laughing and Joseph, Margaret and Betty were outside my window as the cool breeze began to put me to sleep. Then, right as I turned out the light, I heard an unexpected voice from the watchman’s radio. Fucking Celine Dion had made it Africa. Oh Celine, the power of love.