Lake Bunyoni

After leaving Zanzibar on the night ferry, thank you mom for the extra thick sleeping pad, I made my way across Tanzania from Dar Es Salam to Kabale in South Western Uganda via a 40 hour bus extravaganza, thank you mom one more time for the extra thick sleeping pad. These photos are in revers order starting with the bus ride. Does anyone know how to format in Blogger? It just gets messy when I try. Anyways, whats an Arch Bishop doing leering at me through the wind shield? The pin striping on the front of our bus is to reinforce cracks in the glass rather than add flair although I am sure the flair is welcome. A peace corps grandam on the same bus put me up in her apartment in Kabale. The hot shower, big bed, and grilled cheese sandwiches were much appreciated. Kabale is cooler than most of Uganda at 1000 meters or so which means cheese will keep unrefrigerated. Taking advantage of this and the abundant local free range organic grass and trash fed cow milk a Belgian has settled in Kabale and makes loaves of fabulous cheese for the area. The next morning I headed to lake Bunyoni.

Bunyoni is a magical place with cool swimable water (no germs), scattered islands and winding shorelines that give the moderately sized lake a lot of depth. Terracing covers every bit of available land giving the space a fun geometrical aspect. The folks who call Bunyoni home manage well scratching the dirt to cultivate their crops. It is quite rural but by no means empty. Where ever I went I would find people.

I stayed at a backpacker's resort on one of the islands, Byoona Amagara, which means All of Life, at the recommendation of Shannon who patroned the place a year earlier. I though the name a little pretentious but still cute and nice. They have a fun symbol adapted from the popular yin yang with land, water, people and the sun and a flag of the Earth. I felt my Pagan tendencies vibing well with the place. Here I finished reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, over a thousand pages of philosophical econ-adventure love making. I was very proud of myself for reading such a mammoth and slightly disturbed buy its contents. If you ever feel the urge to take on a solid hyper conservative challenge, read Ayn Rand. I heard she slept with Alan Greenspan when he was in college.

One day, I set out on adventure to cross the lake and climb the tallest hill (reference the photo with the boat) . I packed some food, water, and my camera and set out in one of the dugout canoes made locally from eucalyptus. These canoes are an engineering marvel. Their natural state is to spin in circles, an effect called the mzungu corkscrew. I have never encountered a raft with such abominable dynamics and I immediate wanted to instruct the ship builders on the wonders of tapered tails. Paddling strait takes considerable effort and attention but it was a fun challenge and I was able to take my time. I moored at a trading post on the far side of the lake and explained my bizarre goal to climb the hill simply to look around. I was issued a guide and set off after a few brief formalities.

I was feeling good. Picking a hill top in the distance and setting out to scale it is something I fantasise about on a regular basis but rarely get to take on. I enjoy having a straightforward goal to reach and always take pleasure in observing a place up close and personal. It is the hikers high but with a complicating twist; there is no set trail to follow. My guide led me part way up the hill to a nice new medical clinic with solar panels and a metal roof. From here I was on my own. Along the way we encountered the most startling sight I have seen in a long time, a disheveled man lying on the ground and babbling to himself with shackles on his legs. I asked my guide what was up and she swirled her finger around her ear to indicate that he was crazy. Unfortunately, I was too shy to take a picture. I desperately wish I had because it would have been quite compelling.

I really wanted to take pictures of people because they are often more interesting than even the stunning landscape but many people are shy or feel imposed upon, understandably. I soon figured out a couple techniques for getting people pictures. You can always take a picture from a safe distance but for a close up I would offer a snack, I had a lot of fruits and small cornbread rolls with me. If I didn't want to give up my food I would offer to send them the picture when I got home and I would write down their mailing address in my note book. Once I took one picture and showed whoever was there the image on the screen suddenly everyone wanted a picture. Digital cameras are cool. At the medical clinic I was offered a lunch of beans and potatoes but I refused, weary of the time and not being able to escape my host if I consented. A single potato half was forced into my hands as I went on my way up the steep hill.

After some wandering I found a quaint new church near the top and poked my head in to have a look. The minister was there with some painters preparing for the church's blessing by the region's bishop or something. The minister was friendly and offered me some tea. After having climbed a thousand feet or so some sugary caffeine sounded quite nice. I forgot, however that 'tea' means 'stuff the guest full of carbs until they cant move' in Ugandan. I required a brief visit before I was on my way but to no avail as potatoes, an array of sweet potatoes, beans, and tea were brought out for my host and myself to enjoy. It was actually quite good and I enjoyed the break, greedily drinking several cups of tea. Afterwards the minister took me on a mini tour of the hill top. We stopped by the primary school which had some impressive rain water harvesting. Before rain water harvesting the people on the top of the hill had to haul water up in plastic cans, an ominous task usually given to barefoot children. There were now many rain water harvesting tanks on the top of the hill, all recent additions. At the very peak of the hill the minster pointed out Rwnada in the distance.

I bid the minister farewell and began the trek back down the hill on the other side, taking my time. The baby in the picture saw me coming towards it down the path and turned running to its mother screaming and crying. I felt like a monster but was able to make amends by offering a banana and performing a juggling act with some passion fruit. I made more friends and took more pictures on my way down and finally made it back to the trading post late in the afternoon. If I was to get back before dark I needed to head back right away. I was blessed with the local spirit made from bananas, waragi, by the local drunks and found my boat with the paddle missing. I had no money and wasn't getting any help so I grabbed another paddle thinking it would be replaced by the one I came with eventually. Awkwardly, I chanced to grabbed a legless man's paddle who was now screaming at me and rushing my boat. I hesitated to push off because this guy looked like he meant business and would probably be able to catch me on the water. Just then a bystander spotted some children coming back in a canoe with my paddle. I happily returned the legless man's property and he angrily threw it back into his boat with a loud thud. The children looked a little embarrassed but no worse for wear. I regained my oversized ladle and headed out.

I was eager to get back before dark as dinner often took three hours to be served after an order and I was disappointed to find the wind heading strait at me. I tried to be clever and hide from it as much as I could by hugging the shore but it was not much help if any at all. The return paddle was a long and difficult one fighting the wind, cramping arms, and the torments of children along the shore line asking me for money and my name. I began to speak nonsense to them just to keep myself in good spirits. Eventually, I made it back in one peace and surprisingly full of energy. Settling down to a couple beers and a fine meal I reveled in my adventure. It was a good day.