Our home

So we have moved into an apartment. We were staying in a serviced apartment since we arrived that was set up by Deb’s work. While we enjoyed the place, it just wasn’t ‘home’ for us. We looked at many different places ranging from large houses in private compounds, gated townhouse communities (yuck!!) to apartment buildings. In the end, we have settled on a two bedroom (just waiting for you to come to visit!!) apartment with lovely outdoor space. Kampala is made up of seven hills and we are close to the top of one of them. We have great views over the city and get lots of green. We have large enough balconies that we are going to try to grow some of our own fruit, veg and herbs. As long as Deb keeps her thumbs of death away from our garden, we will hopefully be eating our own stuff soon enough. Perhaps the best part of the apartment is that we share a pool!! Deb has already spent a lazy Sunday afternoon ‘working’ by the pool.

We have now been in our place for almost two weeks although it is still difficult to call it ‘home’. We rented the place ‘unfurnished’ and they were not joking about how bare it was. We had nothing in the place. No cooker, no fridge, no blinds, no curtains, and definitely not any furniture. Luckily we borrowed a mattress and have had something soft to sleep on (although we had no pillows for the first 5 nights). We thought it would be easy to find some used appliances and get sorted quickly. Although there are stores here that cater to expats and have the things we needed, most were not good quality and we were always charge way more than locals. Stu has done what he does best and chatted up all the locals to find the best spots for all of our specific needs. It has taken some time but things are coming together. We can now make our own food, keep our beer cold and have chairs to sit on the balcony. Even though it sounds like it has been rough, it has been a really pleasurable experience getting here. We have gotten to choose the things we want rather than what the stores think expats should want and have been to many areas where expats don’t normally venture. Along the way we have been able to enjoy what might be a bit more of an authentic experience.

I (Stu) have been doing most of the shopping and the local motorcyle taxi (bodas) have grown fond of taking me for a ride, talking football (soccer), local events, or whatever else, and then being laughed at as we proceed home loaded up with crates of beer, pop, groceries, tables, chairs, 18L water jugs, or whatever else I have picked up that day. Ugandans are not shy of laughing or enjoying a situation and when they see Jesus (as I am known here to most folk) riding the boda just like they do, they really do love it.

I have had several other brilliant experiences where the locals could not believe I would venture into ‘their’ land. Perhaps the most memorable is from my meeting with the Local Chief of our neighbourhood. Although Kampala is urbanised (there are 1.5 million residents) it is still possible to see the history of what the city and the agriculture was like 100 years ago. There are banana trees growing on our street and chickens and goats are in abundance. The area is also still ruled by the Bugandan king who has a rocky relationship with the central government (perhaps we can post more on this once we understand it better. The simple root of it is that there is a very large following of the monarchy and the government is seen as an outsider who has taken their land). Part of the arrangement with the kingdom is that there will be local representation down to the smallest areas. I needed to meet with the Chief to get a ‘reference’ for the bank. The reality is that it is a small piece of bureaucracy that brought me such pleasure. I was in interviewed for almost an hour about my past experiences, views on Uganda, what Deb was doing here, etc.

So I passed the interview and was told to wait outside with some locals. We got to chatting and for some reason (this seems to frequently happen to me) we started talking about local food and drink. The group were impressed that I enjoyed matoke but disappointed that I had yet to start with my family of chickens. They did promise to help me out once I was ready and would take me to the market to make sure I got a fertile hen and rooster (to keep your chickens going, you need to make sure to leave a couple of chicks to grow up and take the place of your hen once you eat her). I was also was ‘taught’ about several of the different alcohols that Uganda is known for. They make several very interesting alcohols out of banana and a very sweet one out of millet, which you drink from straws out of a communal pot.

After 45 minutes the chief returned with my hand-written reference letter describing me as “law abiding”, “cooperative to his neighbours” and “congenial”. I wasn’t sure he had the right person when I read the letter. Either way, I have made some friends and have popped down several times for a catch up since.

One thing is becoming clear. Although our physical space may not feel like home yet, Kampala is. Our neighbours and those around us are making us feel like we have been here for ages.