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DAY 4 – Kotido to Kidepo

I got up at about 8am and went to “wash up”. There was no running water. I told some random guy about the situation and he said welcome to Karamoja. He told me that the taps were installed in the bathrooms in anticipation of a water supply system. Maybe they’ll have one by the year 2067???

I met Christine for breakfast. She brought me to a Uganda Wildlife Authority (UWA) office just down from the lodge where she said I could store my bag. In the office I met the local officer called Judith, a friendly, tall, middle aged lady with nice straight hair, and a hairlip. (Did I really have to mention that she had a hairlip? I dunno. Does it add to the story? Dunno. You tell me. I don’t know how to describe characters.)

Anyway, she offered to store my bag in her house, I said wow, that’s really nice of you thanks. So she opened a door in the office and put my bag in a room which contained a mattress and some scattered clothes. That was her house. Once again I was amazed how the government treated their staff. She was getting paid 200,000 per month (about 60euro) to run the only UWA office in Northern Uganda. I suppose it’s enough to get by on, but with the amount of money that the mzungus are giving to the Ugandan tourist authority ( for example 330euros to spend one hour with the gorillas) I would have thought that at least she would have her own house – but alas – c’est Uganda. By the way I was the second tourist she had met all year. She receives on average one tourist per month. That’s how remote her office is.

So myself and Christine the ranger went for breakfast to a restaurant called Botanic Hotel. I don’t know why they called it a hotel as it’s not a hotel it’s just a restaurant. Anyways, we got some breakfast – the only option on the menu – beef and bananas with meat sauce. It was actually delicious, I’m taking that recipe back to Ireland! I also asked for some tea. The waitress asked “would you like wet tea or dry tea?”…… I was like “HA?” She explained that wet tea comes with milk, dry tea has no milk, just hot water. Right…..

Lots of kids were coming over to the restaurant to have a look at the only mzungu in town. I felt like a zoo animal.

I asked Christine about transport to the Kidepo Park. She said that we can walk around town after breakfast and try and find a truck that’s heading north. These private trucks wouldn’t be able to bring us to the park, but it would at least get us closer, furgther norgth.

After breakfast we went back to the UWA office where we found some great news. Judith told us “word on the street is that there is a UWA pickup coming to town today!!!” The park accountant had to do a few things in Kotido town, then head back. Christine told me that we can hop on the back of the pickup and go straight to the park – for free! Awesome. I was envisaging a five month journey on the back of a camel or something. I really felt as if the leprechauns were watching over me. First of all, Lonely Planet said I was going to get shot in Karamoja, but I was still alive. Second, a guy on a bus said that if I wanted to get to the park I was fucked for transport, most tourists fly, but lo and behold a UWA truck is coming to town for a few hours! Thirdly, I happened to bump into Christine the Kidepo Ranger, which made everything that much easier to organize. If I had decided to begin this journey one day earlier or later, I’d probably have ended up getting lost in the desert and being rared by wild dogs Mowgli style.

So the UWA jeep was supposed to come at about 2pm…. by 3pm we were still waiting. Judith called the driver and asked him where they were. It turned out that as they were driving to Kotido they heard some heavy machine gun fire in the distance and had to hold back for a while. They eventually made it to town at 4pm, two hours late. The pickup stormed into dusty Kotido with five Rangers on the back, four with AK47s, one with a huge G2 machine gun. One guy was decked out like Rambo – in his AK he had two magazines taped together, and he had a pouch that went across his stomach which held three more magazines. As I looked at all the equipment the guys were carrying I then realized that I was truly in the infamous Karamojaland. They’re hardly going hunting ducks now are they?

We waited around outside the office for the accountant to do his business in town. There were about ten kids just standing around staring at me. It was starting to get a bit windy and the dust was getting into every fecking orifice in my body. There is no tarmac in karamoja, the roads in Kotido were just sand. I wasn’t looking forward to the two hour journey to the park, but at the same time I was… on the back of a pickup through arid Uganda, just a stones throw from Sudan… As I sat outside the office waiting, a huge herd of cattle made it’s way through the center of town, escorted by the military.

At about 5pm the accountant finally finished his business and we moved towards the pickup. Christine asked me if I wanted to sit in front. I declined, and hopped up onto the back with the rangers, and about 50 other Ugandans. When a vehicle comes into Kotido it’s pretty much the only chance to get out of town, as there’s only one official bus out of town per day, and that’s at 4am, and that only goes south. The UWA truck was going north. So I was on the back of the pickup with the five armed-to-the-teeth Rangers, mothers, fathers, kids, auld wans, bags of this that and the other. As everybody was shuffling around trying to squeeze in I’d get the odd poke of an AK47 to the face. There was ammunition and guns everywhere, including two chickens which wouldn’t shut up. Even a government town councilman had to bum a lift from the UWA jeep – public transport is a shambles up these parts, and that’s what makes it good craic!

So off we tore into the desert at about 5.30pm.

It was amazing how quickly Kotido town disappeared. We were suddenly in the desert, speeding past cacti, huge rocky outcrops, random lone Karimojong warriors walking in the distance, wind blowing in our faces. The environment reminded me of Looney Toones Road Runner. Some of the outcrops had huge rocks balancing on top of them, just waiting to fall off… or just waiting to be pushed off by Mr. Wiley Cyote. Everybody was having the craic on the back of the pickup. A few people on the pickup were familiar about the history of Ireland so we gave out about England for a while. Then the Ugandans started arguing amongst themselves about the Karimojong people, whether they were civilized or not, or are they even Ugandans? I just stayed out of it and watched the argument for the craic. I learned nothing, they just went around in circles!

At one point the Rangers went silent and started cocking their guns and pointing them over the side of the pickup. This silence lasted for only about five minutes – I didn’t ask but I’m guessing that we were passing the area where they heard gunshots earlier in the day on their way to Kotido.

We reached a village called Kaabong and stopped for a while to get some provisions. Within four point two seconds the pickup was surrounded by village folk checking out the mzungu. The Kaabong village nutbag, a real “Seany Gull”, about 80 years old I’d say, came over to me and had a chat. He was wearing a helmet made out of a punctured football. He told me he was American, and that he went to the moon. I was like “Oh really you went to the moon? Wow that’s great…” I was just about to have a bit more craic with him when one of the rangers came over, pointed the gun at him and told him to move or he’d kill him. Poor auld lad. Obviously he fecked off pretty rapid. Another crazy drunken guy came over and asked me “Where are you going?” …. “I’m going to Kidepo National Park” …. “Ok, you give me money then you can go” …. Feck that.

A few more people hopped onto the back of the pickup, including a young girl who nobody knew. She was sat in the corner and one guy was like “Who owns this child??!!!” but there was no answer. He picked her up and gave her to me to put her to another corner of the pickup. She was really quiet and she looked scared… I dunno where the feck she was going but I can’t remember what happened to her!!! Oops.

Off we sped into the desert again. Everybodys face was now powdery with sand. My hair was rock hard. I kind of liked the feeling actually. We were now in pure mud hut territory. The thatched huts had cool little roofs. They reminded me of crooked witches hats. I would have taken some photos but a number of reasons held me back; we were going too fecking fast, the road was too bumpy, I was surrounded by really poor people who’s yearly wage was half the price of my camera, and it was too dusty. I really want to return to Karamoja some day to properly take some photos though. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, in real life or on TV or otherwise.

We finally got to the park gates at about 8pm. Some of the people hopped off the pickup to go god knows where, and myself and the park staff continued into the park, exposed to the elements on the back of the truck. It was pitch black though so I couldn’t see the lions watching me… but I could feel them! There sickle moon was casting only the slightest of light on the park, perfect for lion hunts. They usually stay at “home” when the full moon is out, as the prey can see them coming a mile away.

Once we got to the park HQ I booked myself into a Banda, like a little thatched cottage, in the Apoka Park Hostel. There is another Hotel in the park called Apoka Lodge, but that costs $400 per night. My banda was $15, and it was pretty comfy. After throwing my bags in I went over to the hostels “restaurant”… a tiny kitchen with just one cook. I asked for whatever he had. The menu was meat, rice and potatoes. Perfect. I went and sat outside in the patio and listened to some strange whimpering and growling sounds. I was hoping they were lions, but then the cook came out tapping a spoon off a pot and a group of jackals came running over to receive the kitchen scraps. It was my first time to see a jackal, and they move fast. They gobbled up the scraps in seconds and bolted back into the darkness to wait for more. As I was eating my dinner an elephant slowly walked past the patio and into the bush, which was cool, but I had already seen plenty of elephants in Queen Elizabeth. I was here to see only one thing: lions. I organized a game walk for 6am in the morning and hit the sack.

DAY 5 – KIDEPO

I woke at 6am and made my way to the park HQ to meet up with the ranger who would be taking me on the game walk. There he was, waiting, AK47 in hand, and a huge smile on his face.

“Good morning!” I said.

“Thank you!” he replied. His name was Sam, and he loved to say thank you.

“How are you Sam?”

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m good!”

“Thank you!”
I asked him if we were waiting for some more tourists, and he told me that I was the only tourist in the park! Is this place remote or what? So off we went on the walk. He pointed to a mountain in the distance and told me that it was in Sudan. I knew we were close to the Sudanese border but I didn’t think we were that close. I asked him what the chances were of seeing lions, and he said we will see them if we are lucky. There were zebras, buffalo, antelopes, impalas, elephants… but no lions. The antelopes had an interesting feeding strategy. The whole group would graze except for one, who would stand on some high ground nearby and scan the area for predators. This guard duty would run in shifts, all of them taking turns.

We walked around for about two hours, and Sam told me a few stories about his home town, Gulu, in northern Uganda. Gulu and other areas in the north was up until a few years ago the site of “the biggest neglected humanitarian emergency in the world” according to the UN Secretary for Humanitarian affairs and Emergency Relief. The Lords Resistance Army wreaked havoc there for almost two decades, trying to install the Ten Commandments as law but breaking every one of them in the process. They kidnapped thousands of children to use as sex slaves or child soldiers, mutilated and/or killed much of the population to keep them quiet (chopping off hands, feet, nose, ears or lips) and generally tore the north asunder. Sam was lucky enough to get the hell out of there, but his brother and stepmother were killed. The LRA are now allegedly hiding out in the Central African Republic. Northern Uganda, including Sams hometown Gulu, has become relatively stable again, although there are still some Internally Displaced People camps up there. To change the tone of the conversation to a happier one, especially since it had begun to rain, we started talking about crazy nights out in Kampala and swapped some funny stories.

We finished the walk without seeing any lions, but at least there was a game drive the next day and we could traverse much more of the park in the jeep. We got back to HQ at about 8.30 and I gave Sam a decent tip of 20,000 shillings – he gets 175,000 a month and has two kids to send to school, who he almost never sees as he is stationed in the park for months at a time. I told him to go buy some beers and relax for the day.

As I was eating breakfast, across the plain I saw a huge, lumbering elephant making it’s way towards the staff quarters. I stopped eating and looked around to see if anybody else was seeing what I was seeing. That elephant is moving straight towards the staff housing! Where are the kids? hide them! Lock the windows! Get grandma!

“That’s Bull Bull” the cook said to me.

“Eh?“

“He comes here every morning for alcohol and won’t leave until he gets it. He has even broken down doors looking for it before.” It turns out Bull Bull the alcoholic elephant loves the local brew, made from rice. He gets the residue and some of the drink from the staff who brew it themselves. He arrives like clockwork, every morning at about 9.30, to get his sip. I looked over to him and he disappeared into the network of Bandas that is the staff quarters, and I heard kids laughing and screaming. I finished up my breakfast, grabbed my camera and made my way to the huts.

I followed the commotion and laughter of the children through the staff village until I finally came across Bull Bull. He was absolutely huge, standing totally still like a statue, just staring at one particular house – obviously the house of the lady who brews the best stuff, as an alcoholic he’s surely tried them all. A few kids were hanging out the window trying to poke him with a stick but he barely noticed it, all he wanted was his sip for the day. A lady exited the house with a saucepan and made her way over to a nearby tree, and Bull Bull came to life and jollily followed her over. She emptied the contents onto the ground and ran back to the house as Bull Bull lapped the stuff up. Happy as Larry after finishing the brew, he stuck his tusks between some branches of the tree to prop his head up, and went for a nap standing up. I went back to the kitchen and got myself a beer to show solidarity for Bull Bull and his cause. The rest of the day was spent just relaxing in the sun, sipping beer, watching the zebras come into camp to graze, and also watching Bull Bull stumble around. At one stage I heard people shouting “BULL BULL AGGGHHHH!” and I ran over to have a look, he was eating the straw off the thatched huts – the local brew obviously gave him some serious munchies.

Later on Christine invited me to her hut for some chicken and rice. She lives on her own, away from her kids and husband, and usually has nobody to share dinner with. Her hut (in fact all of the staff accommodation) had no electricity. She told me about having to send her three kids to school on her measly wage, leaving almost nothing for herself, so she has set up a little shop in her hut. She sells beer and cigarettes to the staff to supplement her income. The next day she was going to be stationed in a remote outpost off in the depths of the park, there for two months at a time, with nothing to do. She has a scrabble set, but the guy she’s stationed with can’t read or write English. I told her that I would send her a gift once I got back to the nearest decent town, something that would help pass the time in the outpost, where probably the most exciting event is the monthly delivery of rations.

After dinner we went outside to play some scrabble, and she nearly bet me, even though English is my first language, and not hers. Christine was pretty intelligent, sharp, spoke her mind. She really wanted to be a nurse, but any money she has goes towards her kids’ education and can’t afford any for herself. I bought two beers from her and I added my own “Mzungu tax”, half for the laugh, half just to give her an aul tip. After the beers I went off to bed early, as I had a game drive at 6am. I told myself if I didn’t see a lion this time, I was going to escape from the camp at night and run around the savannah naked shouting and screaming to attract them. Fingers crossed.

DAY 6 – KIDEPO

Up and ready to go at 6am, I strolled out my door and made my way towards the HQ in the pre-dawn light. I was cursing to my self “there better be some fuckin’ lions out here or I’ll go nuts, I didn’t travel through these wild west towns for feckin’ nothin’. I swear I’ll….”

GRRRROOOWWWWWWLLLLLLL!!!!!!

“That was definitely a lions roar! And it was close! That’s great!…. Except I’m out in the open!” So I legged it back to my room as quickly as possible, jaws theme playing in my head, trying to unlock the padlock on my door horror movie style, keys jingling all over the place. Come on come on open you stupid lock! Once I made it into my room I started peeking out the door like a little baby. I couldn’t see any lions but they were definitely close. I kept my eye on the HQ, waiting for the ranger to arrive. He would have an AK47, all I had at that moment was a shitty torch, so I wasn’t leaving my room until I saw him arriving with his gun.

After a short while the jeep pulled up at the HQ, then the ranger arrived shortly after, so I slowly walked over. Maybe I was being too paranoid but I thought to myself if the lions saw me running across the camp, their predator instinct would come to life and they’d catch me and chew my head off and spit out the beard.

So I got to the jeep and hopped in the front. The ranger came over and said “Hey what are you doing?? You come up here on the back!” With the lions that close I didn’t really want to be on the back of a pickup exposed to the elements, but he had a gun, and he assured me that not once have the lions ever attacked a tourist in this particular park, so I obliged and hopped up with him.

We drove less than a minute and came across three large male lions, resting right beside the road on a small little mound. The mound was about the same height as the trailer I was in, so we were perfectly level with them. The pickup stopped beside them, and one of the lions got up… I was like SHIT!!! … but he just walked off, not very comfortable with the sound of the engine I suppose. The other two stuck around and relaxed as I observed them – David Attenborough shtyle – and took a few photos. They looked so gentle and cuddly and relaxed, but anytime I made a sudden move, to change the camera angle for example, they would turn to look at me, ears pricked and eyes wide open… a killer look. For any cat owners reading, it reminded me of this exactly – imagine your cat relaxing on the couch, and you suddenly start scratching the cushion beside it, or dangle a shoe lace or something, the cat would turn to predator mode. So every time I shuffled around a bit, the lions would suddenly become more interested in me. We stuck around for about 15 minutes just watching them. Mission complete. I got me a lion! Three lions actually. I imagined how awesome it would be to catch them hunting, but they usually hunt at night, and night drives are much more expensive. I suppose I’ll have to settle for the Discovery Channel for that sort of stuff.

Off we went for some more driving, elephants, buffalo, antelopes… all boring at this stage, especially after seeing the spectacle of Bull Bull the alcoholic elephant terrorizing the local community. I wanted to go back to the lions but they told me that we were going to try find some giraffes. Sure why not, I’ve never seen a giraffe before. On our way around the park, I saw these white objects on a hill in the distance. I asked the ranger what they were, and he said it’s Idi Amins old hotel, Katurum Lodge. Destroyed in a wildfire after the collapse of Amins Regime, it used to be one of the poshest hotels in Uganda. About 300 rooms, swimming pool, bar, electricity, everything. Now the only thing that remains is whatever couldn’t burn in the fire, basically just walls, which were the white things I was seeing on the hill. I asked the ranger “Do you think we can get a beer in the bar there?” and he said “No, the bar was also destroyed in the fire…” Yeah, eh, have you ever heard of sarcasm? We went over to have a look. It had a ghostly feel in the morning light. It was like being on the wreck of the Titanic. (Yeah I was on the Titanic before). As I was walking around I got lost in my imagination, I could see the hotel full of rich customers, soft lighting, staff with bowties carrying trays of champagne around, classical music in the background, somebody playing the piano, big fat Idi Amin walking around greeting foreign diplomats… then I walked into a dark room with a torch only to be awoken by a huge flurry of bats flying past us to get out the door. We came across one wall where other visitors had scrawled their names with bits of burnt wood. I added “Cookie 2010” beside Baldwin, Olivier, Cole, Perry, Gemma and Louis.

We went to try and find the giraffes at their last known resting spot, but they had migrated to a different part of the park. Oh well. We finished the game drive after about two and a half hours.

Back at the park I bumped into an auld lad outside by the toilets. He was walking along the wall, barely able to hold himself up. I had an aul chat with him. Thomas was his name, being langers at 10am was his game. He had a hole in his forehead and I asked him about it, hoping for a cool war story. Instead it turned out that his brother just hit him in the head with an iron bar and busted a hole in his skull.

I went for a walk over to the super posh Apoka Safari Lodge just to find out what $400 a night gives you. It’s only a five minute walk, but before I went, one of the rangers told me to watch out for the bachelor buffalos. Bachelor buffalos are the guys who were kicked out of the herd and wander the plains alone. Since they lack the advantage of safety in numbers, anything is seen as a threat to their life and it takes very little to provoke them. I looked up the road and it was all clear, there was one bachelor buffalo but he was off in the field somewhere, so off I walked to the Apoka Lodge.

Once I got there I looked around for staff, or the reception, or anyone at all, but the place was totally silent and empty except for the the tweeting of birds and the odd warthog snorting around the place. I decided to give myself a tour of the place. It was bloody nice. The dining area was high up on a platform on stilts, covered with thatched roofing, but all the walls were open so you could see 360degrees around the park as you dined on your $400 dinner. The swimming pool was just carved straight into an outcrop of rock. The lounge had huge big fat white couches and expensive looking rugs probably imported from some mental Himalayan village. All this was open to the elements, and a nice breeze from the plains made it’s way through the room. There was also viewing tower three stories high, which gave awesome views of the park. Just as I was thinking that I had the whole place to myself, up on the tower I found an ashtray with a single stubbed out cigarette in it. Strange…. I picked it up and licked it – I deduced that it couldn’t have been there more than ten minutes. Ok I didn’t lick it but it looked pretty fresh. I was like where the hell is everybody? Maybe they were eaten by lions…. I looked in the windows of the cottages, it looked so comfortable… I checked my wallet to see if I had $400 – nah, just a few shillings. “When I win the lotto…” I said.

I eventually decided to leave, and when walking past the garage where they keep their own private game drive jeeps, a lad poked his head out from behind a generator he was fixing and said HELLO! It was the manager, not eaten by lions as I had previously thought. We chatted for a while about how fecking expensive the place was, but also how very nice it was. He told me it was worth it – for $400 a night you get all this luxury like the pool, private baths dug into the rock, all food included and cooked very professionally, as much beer and cigarettes as you can handle – he said if the customer wants, they can take a full crate of beer off to their room – game walks, game drives – one in the morning, one at night where you have the chance of seeing lions hunt – hot water, internet, amazing views, their own watering hole where the animals come to drink…. you decide if it’s worth it. I told him maybe some day I’ll be back, but right now all I need is a bed and an aul mosquita net. I say goodbye and turn to make my way back, and see a bachelor buffalo on the road, standing in the shade of a tree. I ask the manager “Ehhh I need to get back to the hostel, is it safe to walk? Look at that buffalo there…” “Yeah it’s safe”, he said “once you walk up to him he should run away.” Ok, he “should” run away… I try my luck and make my way down the road. Once I get within 30meters of him he turns and stares at me… I walk a bit closer, and he moves out from under the tree and begins to walk towards me. So I stop and slowly turn around, only to be met by…… the manager from the hotel driving down the road towards me. “Hop in” he says, “maybe this buffalo is a bit crazy! I’ll drive you back.” He revved the motor as we drove past the buffalo and he scattered off.

More beer was had that evening, courtesy of Christines off-license, located in her wardrobe. I was to leave early the following morning, so I paid all my bills and said my goodbyes to Christine, and then went off for some dreamy sleepy nighty snoozy snooze.

DAY 7 – Kidepo to Kaabong

Woke up fresh, not sure what day it was, but was excited to be making my way back to Kampala. I needed a good COLD beer, not desert temperature beer. The park vehicle dropped me off at the nearest trading center, Karenga, at about 9am. There, some guy had his own hiace bushtaxi and ferried people to Kaabong once a day. I asked what time he was leaving at and he said “we are leaving now now.” Ugandans sometimes double up words for emphasis. “Now now” means right now. But… never believe bus drivers in Africa. Add between half an hour and three hours onto whatever time anyone says. We left at about midday when the hiace finally filled up with people. Since this was the only vehicle going from Karenga to Kaabong today, anything people needed delivered to Kaabong and anywhere in between was thrown up on the roof or shoved into any free space inside. Big sacks of spuds, matresses, chickens, boxes of this that and the other. It never felt as if we were moving anywhere as the taxi was flagged down so often. We eventually got away from civilization and hit the open desert road. I was finally happy to be getting somewhere when the fecking thing broke down, in the desert. “Tut! What is wrong with this thing!” the driver complained. You know full well what’s wrong with it! It’s due a feckin’ service since 1987! It was hot. HOT. I didn’t know how long we were going to be stuck out here in the midday heat, but at least I had some fluids to keep me going – a bottle of beer that I had bought from Christine the night before. After a while of the driver poking around the engine I decided to hop out and crack open the beer. It was as hot as tea, but I didn’t care – this was an emergency, and it was either the roasting hot beer or my own piss. A friend from Kampala rang me and asked me what’s the craic how am I getting on. I told him our bushtaxi broke down in the desert, on a road that’s barely used by any traffic, but everything was ok as I had my desert-temperature beer, and there were a few chickens in the back and spuds on the roof. I told him I’d see him in Kampala but it might take me a while to get there… The driver finally got the taxi to shplutter to life an hour later and off we went.

We stopped in some tiny village to deliver some stuff or pick things up, and by now you probably know what happens when you stop in any of these rural villages – MZUNGU TIME! The taxi was surrounded by an absolute heap of people, mostly kids at the front and older people at the back. I was sitting in the front seat and they were all poking their heads in to look at what I was wearing or to check out my backpack, one of them was feeling and poking my arm as if I was some sort of scientific specimen. I decided to cause a bit of havoc… I stepped out of the taxi. It’s so crazy, it was as if I was an alien stepping out of a space ship, everybody gawking and staring and chit chatting and oh jaysusing. I found an old toy gun on the ground and asked the kids “Hey can you do this?” and spun it around my finger, cowboy style. They all had a go, the ones who could do it got a cheer, the ones who couldn’t do it got a boo and we all had a bit of a laugh. Then the inevitable happened – give me money! A middle aged man pushed his way through the group and started telling me how the Africans are starving and how I should help him etc etc. He wouldn’t feck off, and they never believe you if you say “I have no money.” So I gave him a 100shilling coin, and off he went, probably to buy some snuff. They love it here in Karamoja. Everybody carries their own little vials of the stuff around and just SHNIFF every now and then. And then the second inevitable thing that always happens happened. If you give money to one person, everybody else will want something. But I had no coins left. I only had 50,000 Shilling notes, and they weren’t getting that, so I said “I have no money” and they were like ahhhhhhh come on stop talking shite. But I kept it up. “I swear I have nothing!” and pulled a few scraps of paper out of my pocket. They still weren’t buying it, but by this time, the driver was ready to go, so I hopped in and we tore down the road. I was getting really bored of all the begging in Karamoja. Even if the children have never learned English in school, they can still say “Give me one thousand!” or one of my favorites “Give me my money!”.

There was some nice scenery on the way to Kaabong, I was back in Roadrunner territory. On some of the huge rocky outcrop/pillars, I saw Karimojong warriors just standing still, leaning on their staffs, shawls flapping in the wind, surveying the land. I don’t know how they got up to the top of some of the pillars. We drove over many dry river beds that were just basically sand. It hadn’t rained properly in this region in almost three months. Just some slight drizzle is all they got.

We finally reached Kaabong in the afternoon. I asked around if there were any trucks or vehicles going further south that day, but there were none. Next one would be the following morning at about 8am. So I took out my notebook and looked under “Kaabong” – “Blue building at end of village” it said. I got this recommendation for a lodge off some guy on an internet forum. Forgot to ask which end. West east north what? I was hungry and decided to get something to eat and ask the folks at the restaurant about a blue building. I found a place called Riverside Restaurant, which served some savage rice, potatoes, beef and beans for 3,000 shillings, about a euro. I asked them about a blue hotel somewhere, and the manager lady called some guy from the back room and said “This boy will escort you there”. Sound. That’s one great thing about Uganda, if you ask for directions, they’ll usually just walk you there. And the “boy” escorting me there was almost 40 and had three kids. Can’t remember his name but let’s call him Joe.

On the way through the village, Joe stopped to talk to some people on the street. I could tell they were Karamijong from the markings on their faces and the staffs they carried. The staffs are used to beat the cows by the way. But they weren’t “real” Karamijong, they were slightly westernized – they were wearing man united and 2pac t-shirts. Judging by the tone of the conversation, they seemed to be complaining about something, tutting and shaking their heads. Joe explained to me what they were saying. Thousands of their cows had recently been stolen – or “rustled” – by the Jie tribe. These guys we were talking to were from the Dodoth tribe. The Ugandan military has pledged to protect the livestock of the Karamijong people of all different tribes if they give up their weapons. So most of them gave up their arms, and allowed the military to watch over the cattle in protected areas known as Kraals. But somehow, the Jie tribe overpowered the military and fleeced about 3,000 cows! Since the cattle was the under the protection of the military, it was their job to get them back. So they did. With gunships. It really goes to show how well armed these Ka’jong tribes are if the military has to use gunships against them. But it musn’t have been much of a fight as only one warrior was killed and there were no military casualties. Anyways, the military retrieved 3,000 cows from the Jie, and brought them back to the Dodoth, here in Kaabong. Operation Cows Come Home. So the Dodoth guys we were talking to had just returned from the military compound where they had inspected the cattle, and guess what – the cows weren’t theirs! So now they’re really pissed. The cow is everything to the Ka’jong. All they have are mud huts and cows. Well I suppose these guys only have mud huts now. I tut and shake my head with the lads on the street. Myself and Joe bid them farewell and he shows me to the blue building – Memamo House it’s called. I checked in and went back up town to keep a promise.

Evans, the Kenyan teacher I was talking to when our bus broke down the week before on the way from Moroto to Kotido, told me to call him if I was ever in Kaabong so I can visit his school. I said I promised I would call him if I was in town, and here I was. I gave him a buzz and he met me downtown with the principal of his school, Emmanuel. They wanted to show me a new school they had under construction just on the outskirts of town, so we went for a walk. On the way, I asked about climbing the many hills and mountains that surround the town. They said absolutely do not climb them, or the “warriors will get you”. I asked if they could maybe escort me to one of the hills so I could just take a few photos and they said no, they weren’t going anywhere near those hills. Fair enough so, looks like I’m stuck in this village for the rest of the day! We eventually reached the school grounds, where two nice new well constructed buildings were almost complete, just the furnishing had to be done like the blackboards, desks etc. They were also laying a foundation for a laboratory nearby. They had taken over the project after the last director “mismanaged” funds. Then they brought me round to the staff quarters where I met Emmanuels wife and his child, I can never tell the age of babies but I’d say it was about one. He was relaxing away on his mothers lap when I sat down in front of him and gave him the shock of his life. I was the first mzungu he had ever seen, and you could tell. His eyebrows raised up and his mouth opened wide in shock. I grabbed his little hand and shook it, but he didn’t flinch, he just kept on staring at me as if I had two heads.

Afterwards we went back into town for a beer. We bumped into “Honorable” Emma, a local district judge I think. She had just been to the scene of a shooting and was on her way back home to file a report. As we were making out way through the village towards the pub, everyone was coming over to greet Evans and Emmanuel and to ask them who the hell this mzungu was. One really fat lady ran over and gave us all a big fat hug. We made it to the only bar in the village that had cold beer as they used a generator. We stuck around for a few beers and played some pool. I noticed that there were no women to be seen in the bar and asked Evans about it. “Here in Karamoja, the woman stays at home during the night. The bars are for the men. If a woman is out alone people think that she is a prostitute.” The only woman in the bar was the girl serving drinks.

After the beers, we said our goodbyes and parted ways. It’s strange having to say goodbye to such friendly people who you know you’ll never ever see again. I made my way back to the lodge and bumped into a guy just by the reception. He asked me where I was from and I told him Ireland. “IRELAND!!!” he said with joy. “I’m going to DCU next year! I was at the Irish embassy in Kampala last week and they told me everything is arranged! I can’t wait to visit your country!” I congratulated him, but advised him to bring at least 40 jackets, ten wooly hats, and some gloves. The shock of moving from roasting semi-arid Uganda to frozen Ireland could kill a man.

DAY 8 – Kaabong to Kotido

Woke up early and wandered up town to scope out the transport situation. One khat-chewing guy came over to me and asked if I was going to Kotido, I said yeah, and asked him if he knew of any transport leaving town. He brought me over to a red pickup truck and told me to get up on the back, along with other villagers and some soldiers. We waited for the pickup to fill up a bit more, then off we went at about 8am to Kotido.

I was glad to arrive in Kotido. It’s no metropolis, but at least it had a better selection of restaurants lodges and shops. It even had a newly constructed shiny bank with an ATM – which looked well out of place amongst the rickety buildings and dusty streets. I checked into a lodge called – wait for it – “Caves Inn”.

After throwing my bag into my room I went for a beer in the bar. I asked the barman about the transport situation. I needed to get south, preferably to Moroto. He said there was a bus leaving in the morning at 4am, and that was the only fecking bus out of town all day. I finished my beer and went for a walk around town. Every single village or town that I had passed through in Karamoja had at least one crazy bum, their own Seany Gull. Kotido was no exception. One drunken guy latched onto me like a parasite. He was very friendly, but I knew that he was looking for money. “I’m hungry you know, we have no food here”. Just to piss him off, I gave him a tin of fish that I had in my pocket. The last thing they want is actual food. They want money for either the local gin, or snuff. They get free food from the nearby UN bases. He was like “ehhhh, thank you but, I need some money to buy my own food you know…” I politely refused and said sorry I need money to buy food for me too, I can’t give you anything. I’d like to give everybody in town a bit of cash, but I would fuck up the “system”. I’d exacerbate the MZUNGU = FREE STUFF situation. I ducked into a shop to buy some water.

Inside I got talking to the shopkeeper, Tom I think was his name. I told him that there was a crazy homeless dude following me around and I’m going to stay in the shop for a while until he goes away. “No problem” said Tom, “You are welcome”. He sold absolutely everything in his tiny shop. I should have asked him if he had any buckfast, but I obviously wasn’t thinking straight dammit. He asked me about the price of cars in my country. Then about the price of vans, jeeps, trucks, trailers… he had his calculator on the go, tipping and tapping away. He said he needed his own transport so he could expand his business by driving to Kampala himself to pick up his own goods instead of buying them from other people who make the round trip. I was like jesus what else do you need to sell? He asked if I could help him get a car from Ireland to Uganda, and I told him the truth that I really wouldn’t know where to even start. I gave him some Irish used car websites and told him to start from there, but he told me that he didn’t know how to use the internet. He didn’t even have an email. Well there’s not even any point in having an email if you live in Kotido, as there is no internet, except for maybe in the UN bases. I told him that if he really wanted to get a car from Ireland, he needed to learn how to use them internets, and start from there. That’s all I could do for him. I got my water, and went back out to the streets.

“HELLO!” That drunkard guy was still there, waiting for me just outside the door. He started following me around again, so I gave in and gave him 100shillings. I know, I’m making it worse for the next mzungu who comes into town, but by that stage he was wrecking my head so I had to get him to leave. Off he went to probably buy some snuff.

I came across a guy sitting behind a table full of samosas, out in the open, covered in flies. I was really hungry so I bought two, but grabbed them myself from under the pile where hopefully no flies had reached. They were absolutely delish, and cheap as dirt.

I wandered around a bit more and came across a bar called Discovery Bar at the edge of town. And when I say the edge of town I really mean edge. The town just stopped and the barren countryside began. I sauntered in to find a guy setting up a board game by himself. I asked for a beer and watched the guy play the game. It looked pretty complicated… it was a wooden board with four or five rows of holes, ten holes across. And some of the holes had big seeds or peas in them. I asked him to teach me and he said “no problem, take a seat. Ok, let’s play” So from what I gather, you just pick the beans up really fast and throw them around the holes for a minute, then the barman says “I win”, then game over. I asked him what the game was called, can’t remember the Ka’jong name, but in english it means game.

After the beer I went to different bar for another beer. I could get used to this dusty little town. Any child that passed the bar and saw me came over to the door and just stared. Some of them came in and shook my hand, others asked me for money. By this stage I hadn’t spoken to a mzungu or seen one outside of an NGO jeep for so long I was wondering how I was going to readjust to Kampala. What do mzungus talk about again? What’s their culture like?!!! I finished the beer and shtumbled down towards the local market. The midday heat and the warm beer was making me fairly tipsy. I decided to buy some stuff for Christine. I got a portable radio, some batteries, and some playing cards, should keep her occupied in her outpost in the middle of nowhere. I walked around the market a bit more and popped into a shop to get a coca cola. I stood outside and sipped away, watching the market. Once you stop walking around a town and stand still, you instantly get people coming up to you to check you out. One old guy came up and started sniffing his nose and rubbing it – he didn’t speak English but I could tell that he was asking me for money for snuff. I decided feck it, I want to try this snuff stuff, so I decided to go with him. I made charades, trying to say “where is the snuff? Where?” and he grabbed me by the hand and led me to a tree where the snuff sellers were sitting under the shade. I told them “I want to buy some snuff for my friend here, how much can you give me for 100shillings?” and you actually get a lot for that price. I got the bag of snuff and poured some into my hand, then gave the remainder to the old guy. I had some of the powder in my hand and I asked the sellers how to do it. “Just SNIFF SNIFF!” The moment of truth, everybody was watching the mzungu, anxious to see what would happen. I turned around to the old guy who had the snuff in his palm and was sniffing away like no tomorrow. So I too stuck my palm up to my nose and snorted the lot, and it burned big time! They must have added some pepper or chilli or something to it. “How is it?” they asked. ‘”IT”S HOT!!!” I replied as I fanned my nose and pretended to pour the coca cola up my nostrils, which got a laugh out of the folks. The old guy thanked me for the bit of snuff and I made my way back to the town center to find another bar.

As I was walking, some crazy excited nervous guy came up to me with a battered PCB, it looked like a bit of a remote control, and started talking some crazy Ka’jong to me. I don’t know what he wanted me to do with it. Fix it? Buy it? Dunno. I went into the Botanic Hotel, where I got the good food when I was was in town the week before, and he followed me in and just stared at me as I sat down and waited for the waitress. Some guy came along and scooted him off and he made some funny noises like “Eh Eh Eh Eh!” as he ran out the door. I’d love to know what he wanted me to do with that old PCB. Maybe he was from the future and he was trying to tell me something before “they” got to him. Could the electronic device have been a flux capacitor?? Did he want me to take it and hide it somewhere?…. Maybe. At the time I didn’t care though as I was starving and I wanted another beer.
I got talking to the waitress and after dinner she invited me to her house out the back to meet her family and friends and we took some photos together. At that point I had enough experience to calculate that the Ugandans are on average 654 times more friendly than the Irish.

By now it was evening time, and my bus was leaving the following morning at 4am… I was anxious to get back to Kampala, but Kotido also had a certain charm that I liked. It was a dusty “wild east” town, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Clint Eastwood walked into the bar and shot everybody up, goats and chickens wandered around outside the shops, the odd vehicle driving through town kicking up dust which got into your beer eyes and teeth, crazy but harmless characters stumbling around the streets, friendly people, cheap food, cheap beer, cheap accommodation, comfortable weather if you stayed in the shade… there was no real touristic reason to stay in town but feckit, I decided not to get the bus in the morning….

Part III coming soon… gimme a fecking chance!