Flic's had an Accident

She's ok, her family have been in touch and it seems she is recovering in the best possible way, in good hands and being taken care of. I'm not with her and like everyone who knows her I'm feeling rather impotent and helpless.

After spending a couple of mosquito infested nights in The Burundi capital of Bujumbura catching up on old Britney Spears videos, feasting on the best food since Uganda, browsing craft markets, swimming in the lakes and of course going through the usual logistics of travel planning and red tape of extending out 3 day visas, we arranged to meet in a scummy hotel in Kigoma, a little town across the border in Tanzania.

We woke up at 6am (I set my phone alarm) and left just before 7am, Flic was pumping up the tires on Edward when I left her. My bus over took her on the road about an hour into the journey at 9am. She had stopped on a bridge, I yelled out the window like a total chav (ned, skeemi, occa, bogan) but she (amazingly considering my shouting voice) didn't hear me.

I got into the agreed hotel at about 5pm (that is as scummy as the guide book promised with added extras of no running water and the smell of burning rubber mixed with decomposing fish). after dinner I went in search of an internet cafe to warn Flic to get her departure stamp from a hidden building about 20km before the border. I noticed too when I crossed the border my phone beeped, I didn't turn it off after using it for the alarm and my sim card seems to work throughout Tanzania despite it being Ugandan.

My phone rang in the evening. A voice introduced herself as Felicity's mother informed me that Felicity has had an accident, she was unconscious and in hospital in Burundi. I only know one Felicity, a ghost tour guide I worked with in Edinburgh... why would her mother be calling me? It took a few seconds to register Flic's Sunday name. I would like to think that I was composed and calm during the conversation, I said I would go straight back to Burundi to be with her. After I hung up, the shock hit me and I broke down and cried, this attracted a much larger and more silent crowd of starers than usual.

From what I understand from a few phone conversations (with annoying and confusing time delays that I didn't think happened in international calls anymore) was that Flic had been hit, she was found by a Catholic medical Aid NGO worker unconscious on the road, her bike (Edward) was gone but the luggage (that was attached to Edward and contained passport etc) was still there. They took her immediately to hospital and managed to get in contact with all the right people, her parents, insurance, foreign office and British Embassy which in turn contacted the Australian Embassy in Kenya.

Flic has since regained consciousness and movement and was showing all the signs of a healthy recovery. In my head I would like to believe that she was saved by her dreadlocks cushioning the blow, I have no idea what actually happened. Last I heard, she was being flown to Kenya or South Africa for better medical treatment. I expect nothing less than a full and complete recovery.

I've only known Flic a month, by have spent more time with her than anyone one else this year. She's Awesome.

Update Map

Love maps. I'm in Burundi, tomorrow I'll hopefully make through the Tanzania border and then (on the red line of future travel) I'll get a train to the coast, Flic will most likely accompany me for the first half of the train ride they she will cycle to North Tanzania. I don't know what I'm doing. The volunteer programme I had intended to do here actually expected me to pay fees... I'm now on my last 500 pounds (not bad since I left the UK with 2000 pounds and have managed to make it last 9 months so far. So I must find work. Either volunteer with a sustenance wage, or an internship, or other work... and If that means I have to leave Africa for a while, then so be it.

I was hoping to stay here (in Africa) for another year and a bit then return to Scotland in July 2008 (I will need to get a new passport then) and spent July-Aug 2008 there doing hospitality work and catching up with old friends before resigning myself back to NZ to stagnate or go to Art School or get a real job and be a productive member of society or something. But that is all in the future: right now I have 48 mosquito bites, Whitney Huston belts out power ballads on the radio and the news is announced in Swahili just as loud on the other radio, a local goes though all his telephone ring tones and after one hour Lycos mail still hasn't opened.

The day I turned 31

I try not to linger to much on details, I think it is better to try and keep it brief... except I'm not very good at not rambling. I though that to give you an idea of life in detail for one day. My birthday seemed like a good idea as I can compare it to last year: I worked a day in Minuteman, got my first hemorrhoid which was congratulated by my flatmate, had a great night out at the Holyrood Tavern where I used to work, a quick photo shoot for the Nukes surf band and the day off the next day to introduce an arachaphob friend to a tarantula at the butterfly farm. great day.

by comparison: May 24th 2007 (all times approximate as I don't have a working watch... don't need it) Ginsenyi, Rwanda

04.00 Woke up to a banging noise outside the hotel room, when to check to out, didn't see anything more than a couple of cats on the roof.

05.00 Woke again to a mosquito buzzing in my ear, so I got up and set up the mosquito net above my bed. I woke up Flic who was in the bed next to me, we were sharing a twin room, she also set up her net.

08.00 Woke up. I finished reading my book, I read a lot here, more than I have read in my life I think, It helps to have a good book for all the times spent waiting. This book was excellent, it's called 'shackled Continent' a former writer from 'the economist' looks at why Africa is a mess, I have a much better understanding of it all now. I would never have bothered to read the book if I was not here, But I now have an understanding or the people and places so things make a bit more sense. Flic gave me a snickers bar... yum.

09.00 popped to the hotel reception and gave them my bucket for hot water so I could have a hot water bucket shower. luxury.

09.30 Flic and I joined Fred, a Canadian that we met up the Volcano in Congo the day before, for breakfast. I ordered one tomato and toast each, a black tea for me and for Flic warm milk.

09.35 I got my omelet and tea.

09.40 we got presented with 4 pieces of uncooked bread bun which we send back to be toasted.

09.50 the toast and Flic's milk

10.00 the butter arrives

10.05 after a bit of questioning Flic got a cold omelet. Despite ordering the same thing for 4 days in the same hotel somehow they get it different every time. They over charged because they claimed that today the omelets had 3 eggs instead of 2.

10.30 packing and procrastinating packing, it is kind of equivalent to cleaning my room. Flic gave me another gift of a bracelet she made from hair beads in the colours of the Ethiopian flag (rasta colours)

11.29 Decided I had to pack my steel caps and wear my flip-flops due to my under-the-callus blister that i had popped the night before had re-sealed and re-filled.

11.30 spent a while negotiating with the hotel in bad french to store our luggage in the office while we went out, they were not happy about the bike in their grubby office.

12.00 one hour in the internet, I wrote and posted the blog on Congo while my email slowly opened, took 45 mins to finally get there: no emails. filled in the rest of the hour mucking about on Myspace. Flic researched logistics, visa, hotels and country information.

13.00 Left our small bags at the internet place and went down to the lake for a swim, were followed by a few children and 3 women who laughed at the state of my skirt that is now ripped at the back.

13.15 went swimming in the lake as a small crowd formed to watch the spectacle. Some girls came in the water with us and we impressed them with our handstands.

13.30 left the water and attempted to get dressed and remove the wet bikinis with some sort of dignity. the children (now numbering 30) kept a respectful distance of about 40cm... moving in closer to get a better look and better laugh at my unmaintained bikini line and discussing the world of weirdness before them.

14.00 back to the hotel for their $2 all you can eat buffet of starchy foods.

14.30 bought bus tickets to the capital Kigali, negotiated the price of getting the bike on the bus.

14.45 played card games for an hour waiting for the bus to leave.

15.50 popped across the road to the bus station, although no one helped me with my bag a few in the ubiquitous crowd asked for money for their services. I don't pay people who do nothing. I got a seat over the luggage compartment on the (rather large) bus, this way i could see if anyone was getting my bag out when we stopped.

16.07 Bus left. This is surprisingly on time. Flic was in the aisle so she had a smelly old man who dribbled on himself engage her in conversation that was translated by the guy behind ("you are lovely etc"). We had fantastic views of children, hills, children, lush green farms, children.. tons of children, I mean ridiculous amounts of children... how are all these kids going to get jobs when there grow up? Not many old people, I think the average life expecancy in this area is about 47 years... which makes me over middle age.

20.00 Dark arrival into Kigali, the bus dropped us off near a hotel we found in the guidebook. Our legs were still suffering from the volcano hike and I was weighted down with a far-too-full backpack and Flic has her bike (Edward) the hotel was full except for the most expensive room, but the staff were rude so we chose to walk to the next one.

21.00 after an hour walking up steep hills with all our gear loaded onto Edward, a group of guys approached us one moved in like he was gong to push me... showing off to his mates, as he grabbed my arm i pushed him back he resisted so i punched him in the shoulder "oh solly, solly" he said "Go Away." I said.

21.30 We asked a many people, referred to our maps a lot and finally got to our third choice of hotel. it was a bit smelly, but the price was good so we booked for 2 nights. I pointed out on the registration card that it was my birthday and asked for a discount... I have got into the habit of saying things in slow, clear English then attempting to repeat them in bad french, as I don't know the french for "may I have a discount?" I replaced it with "a little gift for me?" The manager smiled and charged us full price.

21.35 The manager returned with a lovely and very frilly Christmas card sealed in plastic and unwritten on. "happy aniversaire" she said, I was chuffed.

21.40 The manager returned again and showed us photos of his girlfriend who does no live in the city but is going to school somewhere at the moment.

21.45 The manager returned again to show us some more pictures of his girlfriend, they shall be married next year, he is very happy about that.

22.00 we went out in search of food.

22.30 our 5th resturant and a hell of a lot of walking and talking to people later we found a place that was: 1) open, 2) had food 3) had a cook and 4) could serve us. I orders number 31 on the menu: chicken soup. perfect, well worth the wait.

23.00 headed back to the hotel, where I wrote this down and watched an occasional beetle scuttle across the floor.

Yep, so that is a day in the life. tomorrow Flic and I go to Burundi. It's a county that I only learn existed last week. did you know about it? its tiny and just blow Rwanda... I have know idea what is there, hopefully a boat and a way to get through to Tanzania.

CONGO!

Yep, that's right the The Democratic Republic of Congo, The DRC, The Congo. I know it's arrogant to be impressed with just going to a country but I impress myself. This is the second time I have wandered out of my guide book, actually my 2004 lonely planet (Africa on a shoestring) says to stay away from Congo, and definitely don't go out at night. By contrast the more recent addition of Lonely planet East Africa that Flic has recommends the volcano and also to check out Congo's excellent night life... how fast things change.

The food here is, well, not very nice. For meat eaters the common food is cooked green bananas (not as flavoursome as you might think) and a block of solid old animal flesh overcooked and covered in oil. For a vegetarian there is a lot of confusion followed by banana and what looks like boiled nettle hiding the grissel of fish. Mmmm. Fortunately we found a nice restaurant that offered good curries for pretty cheap... I think I may have had one too many curries on my first night.

So after a lot of the typical red tape it takes to do anything in this place we finally got to climb the volcano. I was still a bit iffy from the one-too-many curries, and totally unfit. After one hour I was puffing and panting, whinging and moaning, greeting and ballin. In my head I thought I was never going to make it, I kept thinking "spent bloody $100 on this bloody permit, didn't bloody see the gorillas, didn't bloody go rafting, I bloody spent my bloody money on this bloody volcano that I'm not even going to bloody be able to climb" Luckily Flic was there, she put up with my whinging and tricked me into going just a little bit more, and a little bit more after that. I was walking frustratingly slow, kind of like being stuck behind an old lady on a busy street slow... except I was that old lady. Actually It's my birthday today, I'm 31, Flic bought me a snickers bar and made me a bracelet.



On the trip with us was a German documentary film crew that had planned 3 years to climb. And some local Congolese scientists monitoring the volcano's activity. The Germans, unsurprisingly, were rather well equipt, they had super rain coats, and camping chairs, sleeping mats and wind breakers. We were a little less prepared, we had a white grain sack with "Net weight 100kg" written on the side... they served all the same functions of the German's stuff but we didn't need 29 porters. The Congolese skipped up and down the volcano in their plastic sandals and t-shirts.

After 7.5 hours or so, we had done it. The volcano was awesome, lava bubbling away inside, a thunderstorm passed by but missed us fortunately, as Flic and I were sharing Flic's summer weight one man tent. So here is a comparison of stuff I've climbed:

Volcan Nyiragongo, Goma, Congo: 3470m

Annamalai hill, Tiruvannamalai, India: somewhere between 815m & 4000m (internet accuracy)

Mount Sinai, Shamil Shek Egypt: 2285m

St Mary's Peak, Flinder's Ranges, Australia: 1170m (but I stopped 50m from the top)

Aurthur's Seat, Edinburgh, Scotland: 305m

Back in Rwanda my legs are complaining, and the laundry was calling. after 6 buckets (wash, wash, rinse, wash, rinse, rinse) the water was still manky brown. We are going to go for a swim in the lake and head into the capital today. I'll try and give you the low down on the history as I attempt to understand it myself. I'll also upload photos and spell check as technology permits.

Looking back at Uganda

Best thing brought: Well I didn't actually bring my mother, but meeting up with her was a pretty good idea.

Worst thing brought: Bad memory for PIN numbers.

Best thing bought: Rolex: which is a chapati and an omelet rolled together for about 30c US.

Worst thing bought: Internet time on a computer that took one hour to open my email but shut down just before I got to read it.

Most surprising: That I haven't been maimed in a motorbike accident or got malaria yet... actually the thing that has held me back most is waiting for a British bank letter to arrive... approx 3 weeks of down time.

Typically Ugandan: Fabulous hair bright clothes incredible arse.

What's accepted: Staring.

What's not accepted: Staring back.

What works: Tourism.

What doesn't work: Electricity, they have the source of the Nile and one of the worlds most powerful waterfalls, but what little hydro electrics they do make gets sold to Kenya who sells it back to Uganda for a profit (an agreement was made a long time ago). So they import diesel to run their generators.

I knew I was in Africa when: Listening to someone go though all their ringtones on the bus didn't annoy me.

Got a camera... The toilet photos are back.

Yes, that's right, my obsession with documenting the way the same basic human action is done so differently in different countries is back... definitely not by popular demand.



This is my ideal loo. From a lovely back packers in the south of Uganda it's clean versatile and practical. it's a squatty with a flush and a butt-hose. Everything you could possibly want in one toilet.



And this is a toilet from a Ugandan petrol station, you may notice the lack of hole fortunately the concrete is sloped down to the gutter. For number 1s only I expect (hope).

Back in the Southern Hemisphere

On Tuesday I picked up my Rwandan visa, hitched a lift with a kind Dutch lass I met in the Embassy and crossed the equator to a little border town in Uganda.

Yesterday was totally spent travelling a relatively short distance. I got from Uganda though to the Rwandan capital (Kigali) in the middle of the country then out to where I am now next to the Congolese border where I have met up with Flic. She (of course) also has a blog: www.wanderingword.com/nucleus/rad.php .

Tomorrow we'll pop over to Congo. There is a volcano there that looks awesome, we intend to climb it and stay the night up there. It's going to be ace. The Congo night life is reported to be fantastic too.

It's nice to be on the move again. I'm heading south into winter while those in Sudan are moving swiftly into an intense summer. I still see Orion's belt every night, it is now starting to turn upside down... or maybe it's the right way up. Actually this is the first time in 5 years that I have been in my home hemisphere. And of course the moon that looks like this ) when it is waxing in the North and like this ( in the South and has been smiling or frowning at me on the equator is starting to turn.

I'm speaking French a bit, mainly by speaking English with a bad French accent, and I'm not dealing with this French keyboard at all well. But even when I was in English speaking Uganda I had problems trying to understand people... and people refused to believe that English is my first and only language as to them I speak so badly.

Thought I was fucked... now I'm fine.

After waiting 6 days for my new PIN to be sent to my old flat I phoned the bank, the lad informed me that it was totally not possible to have any for of letter sent from the bank as I was not authorised to do any form of phone banking. And no I can not set up phone banking now, no he can not help, no there is nothing I could do, no Bank of Scotland is not connected to any banks in Uganda, no visa card services does not apply even though I have the visa logo on my card, and no you can't do anything in Uganda you will have to contact your branch, no they don't have a phone.

I was fucked. no access to my money, all this waiting here for nothing. I had been living pretty cheap, eating bananas and avocados but even then I would have enough money for only a week. Insurance couldn't cover it. I have a credit card at zero but without earning money I wouldn't be able to pay it back until I left Africa. I know my mother would help me, I could open a bank account though my friends dad at the bank of Cairo and get my mother to put money in... after Africa return to Scotland physically withdraw my money from the bank and pay her back. It was all shite.

Then while I was attending a free lunch help by the Cairo bank I got a phone call from David in Edinburgh. He said "A bank letter arrived for you, shall I open it." In my mind David had both angel wings and a Superman cape on his back at this moment... it was my PIN. It works, I have money, I have freedom, I have possibilities. I even have my tolerance for Christian Evangelists back.

So I'm trying to get in touch with Flic who is already in Rwanda to see if I can catch up with her (takes 2 days to get the visa)... if not I might just head for Tanzania. There's no work for me here, but I'm in touch with a volunteer organisation that is based in the Arts in Tanzania maybe I'll have more luck there.

Turns out I, um, did forget my bloody PIN. Instead of putting all my cards onto the number I had used for the past 4 years, a couple of weeks before I left the UK I changed them all to a new one... one that I forgot in ATMless Sudan. Yep, I'm an idiot.

Bored, sick of waiting, sick of Christians.

I think I have been in Uganda about 3-4 weeks now, and I'm still doing a whole lot of nothing. I'm stuck in a backpackers hostel with minimal money playing card games without the five of diamonds, reading less and less interesting books from the hostel book swap and watching crap on satelite while the radio plays at the same volume.

Why? Money. Not that I don't have it, It's that I can't get to it. First my card had expired, it took a week for my mail to get here, turns out I didn't have a new card in amoungst my mail but I did have the letter asking why I hadn't activated the new card. From these letters I realised the card that had expired was actually not where my money was, so happily I skipped to the closest ATM to get some cash out from the other account. Wrong PIN. No it's bloody not. I know my bloody PIN. So I phoned the bank who asked me piles of questions and said they will send me a PIN by mail (to my old address in Edinburgh). That was 6 days ago. and I thought Africa was slow.

The backpackers is cool, I have been hanging out with Flic. She is in the same situation waiting for her camera to arrive from Australia... last recorded in London where they changed the tracking number... wasn't tecnology supposed to make these things more efficent? She's headed off to Rwanda to beat her Visa expiry date. If I got access to my money tomorrow I would join her, there is a volcano in Congo I would like to climb, but not alone.



Since moving out of the Arab world two groups of people have popped up in swarms... Israli tourists and Christian evangilists. It's the Christians that are bothering me at the moment. Their arrogant belief that they have the monopoly on truth grates me. The idea that only 23% of the world are right and everyone else is wrong... actually less than 23% because there are always the right and the wrong kind of Christians, what kind of horrible, exclusionary, narrow minded God is that that they follow. It must be so wonderful to know that your stories are right and that all other stories wrong... but they are going to be lonely in heaven without all of us sinners.

Wahine toa

Wahine toa means ‘strong women’ in Maori, and I’ve been hanging out with a few of them lately.

Firstly my mother came to Uganda for a week. We went to Jinja, a wee tourist and NGO town at ‘The source of the Nile’. Then we cruised up to a national park where we went for a trek up a hill and saw some big mammals called cows and some curious looking birds, called chickens. We also saw loads of goats and a few lizards… actually in Jinja we did catch a beautiful green emerald snake moving swiftly through the barstools at the backpackers. It was about a mitre long and the width of my thumb, totally harmless, but we didn’t know that at the time.

My mother is very chilled out. She hitchhiked from Cape Town to Kenya before blogs were invented. Still she sleeps in shared dorms, jumps on the back of trucks and eats cooked green bananas sold through bus windows like she has never stopped travelling. Even on an pre-dawn trip to catch the first bus (the first bus gets the diesel, the others are not guaranteed) she didn’t fluff or fuss… even though that trip was in darkness downhill over roads that were more pothole than road, two motorbikes, six people, one headlight and almost no fuel for 20 minutes. Maybe there is a travelling gene. New Zealanders tend to travel a lot, our European ancestors were the intrepid few who braved leaving their home just to live on a island no one had ever heard of… but Americans also have similar origins and they don’t seem to travel as much while Australian do travel… although their ancestors didn’t choose to end up in Aus.



Also Margaret bought me a new camera, so next time I’m on a computer with a USB I’ll upload. I have managed to get other peoples photos as well so I might be able to fill in a lot of blog entries with pictures. Yay

When I was in Sudan a few people told me that it was impossible to travel south overland into Uganda. But a friend of my lovely friend Amanda had already done this; I knew of her, I knew her name was Michelle. It was possible because I knew that Michelle had done it and was living happily in Uganda. So while my mother and I were in Jinga we asked around and tracked her down. Cool chick, she manages a backpackers/campsite the looks over the Nile. Turns out she didn’t travel over land into Uganda, but she has travelled all across Africa as a tour guide.

I’m now hanging out in another backpackers; we swap books and play card games. There is a loud of Americans, a banter of Scots, a defensive of Israelis (I’m out of the Arab world) an ay of Canadians, a hang of Brits, a efficient of Scandinavians and a annoyance of Christian do-gooders.

In amongst them I found Flick, a dread-headed Aussie lass who I met in Sudan, she had come down from Cairo with her bike… push-bike. She has cycled loads of the way and also spent a fair wack of time on top of trucks. So yet another strong woman.

None of there chicks really think of themselves as anything special, they are just doing what they want to do and dealing with life as it comes. But they are unique because they do it instead of just think it, they take the risk and the have faith that it’s just work. They have the right attitude.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m still treading water: looking for jobs, looking for a life to start, looking for something to happen, something to be. Until then I send out CVs and hope my money doesn’t run out first.