On Wednesday last week I had a call
from the Visa Application Section at the British High Commission to let me know
that my passport had arrived and was ready to collect. The woman on the phone said, “Do you know
where we are?” I said, “Yes”
unhesitatingly because I have passed the British High Commission, which has a
sign pointing to the visa section next door, several times. I said my goodbyes to the kindergarten
teachers and children, who did some lovely songs and dances to mark my
departure. Then I went back to the Grail
and had more goodbyes and good wishes. I
have made lots of new friends here and it has been hard to say goodbye. I was given a present of books by Prisca to
take back with me and also some cloth to be made into a dress by one of the
market ladies when I arrived home. They
asked a man named Kenny who works for the Grail to come in the morning to drive
me first to the British High Commission and then to catch a bus to Gulu for the
first leg of my journey.
The next morning, Kenny arrived and
we set off. Did I mention that he is
profoundly deaf and relies on sign language and writing for communication? For some reason I don’t understand he can’t
lip read at all. In the UK he would not
be allowed to drive, but here nobody bats an eyelid. It was a scary drive as traffic is totally
chaotic anyway, but adding the ingredient of someone who can’t hear cars and
bodas honking added a whole new dimension.
However, we arrived at the British High Commission in one piece and I
went inside. It took some time to get
through their very rigorous security.
Finally I got to the desk and asked for my passport. The lady at the desk told me I had come to
the wrong place. The Visa Application
Section where my passport awaited me was at a totally different place. I asked her to draw a map so I could give it
to Kenny, which she did. She said that she
sees people every day who have come to the wrong place.
I went back to the car and mimed the
lack of passport to Kenny, giving him the map.
Off we went again. We followed
the directions but couldn’t find the place.
We stopped and Kenny attempted to ask the traffic police for help. They pointed us in what turned out to be
completely the wrong direction. We
stopped and asked people several times, until at last we found someone who was
really able to help. At the time it
wasn’t funny, but looking back, I can see that it had all the hallmarks of a Mr
Bean type adventure. All the attempts at
miming to Kenny would have been very funny if we hadn’t been so desperate to
actually arrive at the visa section.
We finally made it. It was in a small back street miles from the
centre of town, in a wing of a micro-finance company building. No wonder nobody could help us. The map could easily have been done as a
joke. It bore no relation to reality at
all.
Anyway, I was given my passport,
still in its DHL envelope. The lady at
the desk asked me to check before leaving, which I did. My new passport was definitely mine. I was a bit disappointed that my old
cancelled passport wasn’t included as it has my Ugandan visa in it, but this
was not an emergency as I had taken a photocopy of the Ugandan visa before
sending off my old passport and also had the receipt from the Ugandan Border
Post. It was only later that it dawned on me that my driving licence, which
I’d sent as proof of ID, was also missing.
It will be difficult to get it sent to me now I’ve left Uganda.
Kenny took me to the bus station in
the centre of town. I wrote ‘thank you
so much’ on a piece of paper which I gave to him and mimed goodbye. I was bustled into a bus, paid my fare and
waited. And waited. And waited.
It was about one and a half hours before the bus was full and ready to
leave. In my experience in Africa, it is
extremely rare for a bus to leave before it is completely packed with people,
so this was not out of the ordinary.
Timetables? Not in a country
(continent?) without clocks.
On the way we passed the Murchison Falls and saw lots
of baboons sitting at the roadside, eating pineapples whole, skin and all. Unfortunately we were travelling fast and the
road was also bumpy, so I was unable to take pictures. We arrived at Gulu bus station after a
journey of six hours. I went straight to
my usual hotel only to find them full.
They were good about directing me to another hotel very close by, so I
was not left to panic. The new hotel was
a bit more expensive, but fortunately had a special offer on so that as well as
bed and breakfast, my dinner was included in the price. It turned out to be a much better restaurant
than the one at the other hotel, so I dined very well on the most tender goat
stew I’ve had yet. Usually meat here is
very tough.
I spent a comfortable night and left
the next morning after breakfast. The
journey back was mainly along a dirt track, but unlike previous times on this
road, there was no dust due to the rainy season being well advanced now. The road got wetter as we went, ending with a
very cautious drive through alarmingly deep muddy water shortly before reaching
the border.
Fortunately, the Ugandan border
officials were happy with the photocopy I had had the foresight to make of my
Ugandan visa in my old passport and cheerfully stamped an exit visa in my new
one. I traipsed across the border and
bought my extortionately expensive monthly visa at the South Sudanese border
post. Then I caught a boda back to
Cornerstone. School was just finishing
when I arrived. Children greeted me with
great smiles. I went to say hello to the
teachers before going to my room to unpack.
It was still only just lunch-time!
.
I had a very warm welcome from the
children at the home, who were delighted to see me. Some came to watch me unpack. I showed them the children’s books I had been
given by Prisca. They were over the
moon. I spent the rest of the day either
reading the books to them, or letting them read the books to me. They are a huge success and just right for
this particular group of children. The
stories are culturally African, with nice pictures on every page, have fairly
simple language, but are suitable for older children.
Much as I enjoyed the stay at the
Grail, it is very nice to be home again.
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