Swimming in Lake Victoria

09/25/05

I didn't wake up until 7:30am; I had some Weetabix and instant Nescafe. I browsed Saturday's newspaper (it is surreal to read about the hurricanes sitting in Africa. I care, because its my people, my country, and because it is such a clear indicator of what may be coming, but at the same time, I don't, because comparatively…)

I walked down to the lake to take a swim. I looked up and down the shore, at the people bathing, fixing their canoes, and leading their donkeys loaded with water bottles. I waded out to in the lake until the water was up to my waist, then I dove and started to swim. It felt good and I didn't stop for a long time, and when I did I looked back at shore and the people and boats and donkeys had become very small. I was breathing heavy and suddenly remembered everyone's warnings about crocodiles and hippos. I looked into the murky depths and had a distinct vision of a crocodile coming up out of the water, jaws agape. For some reason, I was rather unconcerned. I casually swam back to the shore, and when I finally found my footing again, I floated for a long time.

I am ready to get back to Kanga. We are waiting for lunch, which I'm sure will be another grand and spectacular affair. I came on this trip thinking that I would be running from aid group to PLWHA to orphan to aid group, not luxuriously relaxing on the shores of Lake Victoria, but life takes funny turns. I did get some footage, and it was nice to spend time with Mr. and Mrs. Kaundh and see this part of the country, so I'm glad that I came, although honestly, I would've rather been sleeping on a concrete floor of a hospital if it meant getting footage for the project.

The weekend was wonderful, Mrs. Kaundh was an amazing host, but I have to say, it's very nice to be home. I was greeted by a big 'karibu' ('welcome') hug from Mama Liz and a hot bucket of water (to, as Mama said, "Do one of these" and then mimed throwing water over each shoulder, which was incredibly cute.) The ride home was rough. I was in a car with Robert, Mr, and his driver. We had to make lots of 'campaign' stops, and then lost the muffler in BFE. We drove on until we saw some guys on the side of the road with an arc welder; we pulled up and got out. It took an hour plus for them to weld the thing back on. They wanted like $6 for the work, and I believe that Mr paid them $1.50, which is well and good because another ten minutes down the road the damn thing fell off again! This time the driver got out with pliers and ripped the whole exhaust system off; we drove the rest of the way with it stretched inside the cab from the front windshield to the back.

Note: Being a white guy, sitting in the back of a private car in rural areas (read: no tarmac for 100 miles) made me feel like I was the Queen of England. Half of the people we passed would wave at me, in the under 18 demographic, this jumped up to like 90% and included a lot of running after the car and shouting. I always waved back. It was silly really. The pure and unadulterated excitement on the faces of some of these children made my heart soar, and sore.

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