A Long-Winded Journey Description- Kakamega to Soroti

March 23, 2011
D’venue Guest Hotel
Masindi, Uganda
Philip Arscott

Departing Kakamega was a little later than expected, but that helped me on several levels. First, as mentioned previously, my genetic disposition includes the uncanny ability to pack a plethora of items in a small space. My first 45 minutes of being awake required testing my ability to remember and adjust how I packed all these things before. Second, due to #1, I was late getting downstairs, dragging my excessive baggage and feeling more and more like a tourist with each “thump” down the stairs that resonated throughout the hotel. However, I kept reassuring myself- “you are going to be here for a while, so surely you’re going to use everything you’ve packed?” Third, I enjoyed a nice, relaxing breakfast as the sun filled the compound and Anne, Sarah and I discussed the upcoming drive. When Wilson pulled in to Sheywey, we were ready to depart, 2 eggs, one cup of tea digested and ready to go.

We began the journey in earnest- Anne and I attempting to discuss several Operations topics and take notes. This was subtly finished once the smooth tarmac gave rise to unpredictable roads, potholes and tire ruts dictating the course of the car and thus our bodies within. I was quietly happy regarding the change in surface, as I was now able to stare and explore the realm of Kenya from Kakamega to the Ugandan border. I found that even though the road was not an author’s dream easel, I began jotting down notes of what I was seeing and now as I look at notebook- I see that the road was truly deciding my writing ability. But here is what I can decipher:

Markets full, busy with people going this way and that. Tarmac ahead has the distinguished look of snow-covered roads in the dead of winter, but instead of snow, asphalt forms the tire ruts. Sugarcane as far as the eye can see and a distinct change after Bungoma, as Tobacco becomes the crop of choice. In the rush past the sites and sounds, distinctly fire red flowers blossom on stick figure trees, Tororo Rock visible on the horizon as the border approaches. A woman with her baby clutched riding side-saddle on the back of a bicycle. Trucks, trucks and more trucks- lined up in an endless cue awaiting customs. Shops quickly changing from the norm to adhering to the traveling crowd and finally, the countless, kind gentlemen waiting to help us at the border with our paper work.

Wilson parked the car and we joined the line for customs. Some other mzungos where ahead but not from America, they seemed to have acquired a level of grit I am only now three weeks in beginning to appreciate. The sun was beating down and few people at the border are joyous about being there, however I will always remember and thank a man who warded off another who was soliciting money from those in line. He simply told the man (who had found the bottle at the wrong time of day) to leave those in line at peace, and our peace keeper did not seek or ask for anything in return (he was selling leather purses and wallets)- always nice when you feel that sense of common humanity. After much time in the sun and a brief stint in the shade of an awning, I handed my passport over to the man behind the glass, who quite officially reviewed it (the many pages of stamps in no particular order), took my picture then slammed his stamp down indicating I had left the building- well country. We then hopped back in the car and sought to pass through Uganda customs and grab visas. This was a painless process, although I dodged a bullet because Anne had enough money to cover me- I had been anticipating an ATM at the border but it had recently been closed.

With my Ugandan seal of approval, we then had the arduous task of waiting for our driver to arrive from Soroti. This can sometimes be much more work than planned and we sat for what ended up being an enjoyable hour and a half, only due to a boy who I began speaking with:

Soy (not sure of spelling, but lets go with Soy, like the bean), is a young boy roughly 12 years old. I spotted him with some beverages but upon feeling the bottles, I asked if he could get me a cold coca-cola. He abliged and ran away in the blink of an eye. A few minutes later, he returned with a cold one. He was very inquisitive and we began to discuss football (soccer). He remembered just about every goal from the world cup as well as the inner workings of the English Premier league. His favorite player is Wright-Phillips, but his knowledge of the entire league put me to shame. After some discussion another boy showed up and I asked if he was his brother, to which Soy replied, “He is my business partner.” This had me rolling and he seemed to acknowledge that his formal business etiquette may have exceeded his age. Speaking with Soy made me forget that we were waiting, in the no man’s land between Kenya and Uganda for our driver who was already an hour late. Though young, Soy’s energy and out-going manner took me by surprise and I can only imagine how it will help him in the future. When I travel back to Kenya along the same route, I’ll be sure to have something for him in case our paths cross again.

Our driver finally showed up and we have the ominous task of fitting our baggage into a smaller vehicle than the one in which we arrived. My bags caused the most problems, but luckily it is not take too much force to get the door shut. We bid farewell to Soy and his business partner as well as a few other kids who had taken notice of the mzungos profusely sweating in the equatorial heat. We drove no further than 40 yards before the Ugandan crossing guard inspected our cargo. He had no doubt watched us load the vehicle from a distance but nonetheless felt as though a quick investigation was necessary. Our driver handled the situation well and in no time we were allowed through.

Kenya gave way to Uganda in no time. It was as though the border crossing included other barriers besides a fence to divide the two countries. We were quickly overwhelmed by a greener landscape, with some rivers and streams quenching the soil’s thirst, compared to the more arid stretch of land we passed leaving Kenya. Anne and Sarah were sitting in the back chatting, but the wail of the engine and rush of wind made it impossible for me to join the conversation, so I simply sat and enjoyed the new view. Along the way we passed the expected fields of cassava- spine-like stems protruding from the earth with pointed leaves at the tips, looking gangly and awkward. Bananas abounded along with the wild mango trees lush with leaves and their prized cargo, rice along the river-banks where the characteristic flooding irrigation was evident. We approached children who claimed to be filling in potholes with dirt, but as we flew by their outstretched hands we saw their faces turn to frowns once they realized we weren’t buying the gimmick. As we finally approached Soroti, we drove along a stretch of road that had been washed away in a huge flood several years back. The new construction included huge pipes every 25 yards to so that ran underneath and perpendicular to the road, in the hope that the flood waters would pass through rather than overwhelm and demolish. I excitedly watched Soroti town appear on the horizon and grow successively bigger with each km, my new home for the year.

We pulled into Plains Country home (owned by former country director Michael Ewalu) and exited the car, our bodies vibrating internally from the ride (the car isn’t exactly a “smooth” ride, even on tarmac). After unloading the bags, we asked Robyn, who works at Plains for some sodas to cool off. Anne being the experienced Plains visitor, knew the best place to sit in the courtyard where we could relax. As we enjoyed our beverages and watched the chickens wander around the property, the wind began to pick up and we felt that omninous feeling that perhaps the outdoors is not the place to be. With that realization, plumes of began filling the air as the wind increased like something out of the Wizard of Oz. We quickly ran inside squinting in the feeble attempt to keep out the dust, and within minutes the wind was joined by rain, bringing much needed water albeit only a light shower.

We met the owner of the establishment and former Country Director of Uganda Michael Ewalu, who Anne knows well and wanted to give us a proper greeting. We discussed VEF stuff, sunflowers (he owns a sunflower oil mill as well) among other things- nice to have a steady conversation after the bumpy ride. A few moments later, Charles Erongot, current Country Director and Herbert Okello, Operations Director arrived. Just as with the Kenya staff, it was great to finally meet the people I’ve been in contact with via email for so many years. We took a seat outside and discussed the plans for the week- the main focus was getting Sarah out to vist the Sunflower Umbrella Groups so that she could learn how they’ve been saving and operating. Time flew past and as a cooler than normal breeze swept by the Plains courtyard, Charles and Herbert bid farewell for the evening.

Later that night, with the power characteristically out, we happily ate our dinner via headlamp enjoying a great tilapia stew, capping off the meal with sweet pineapple. With a full stomach and memories of the day’s journey, it was a breeze to fall asleep.