It is a well-known fact that Uganda has the highest consumption of alcohol in Africa along with the highest birth rate; fifty per cent of the population is under 17! Both of these stats are clearly seen on the drive from the airport into the city, with plenty of roadside bars pumping out local music and local patrons until 7am. I think it’s safe to say Kampala is a place where people know how to enjoy themselves. It didn’t take long for me to experience this as I was collected from the airport by Nigel, a Director of the engineering company that I’ll be joining for the next two years; FBW Kampala. No sooner had we made it into the city limits than a house party had been located and so after just over an hour from touching down at the dark and relatively deserted airport at Entebbe, I was sat on the porch of a new colleague with a bottle of Nile lager in one hand, my passport in the other and my bags in the car.
Thankfully after the days travel by 1am the beer supply had run dry and I was dropped at my new home for the next three months; a fairly basic room equipped with just a, surprisingly comfortable, double bed one floor below my new office in Muyenga. Although the facilities might be basic the commute was non-existent, which in a city like Kampala with some of the worst traffic in the World makes quite a difference to the first day of work. After a few hours sleep, Nigel once again collected me from the office/flat and we headed down to the jetty at the fancy Commonwealth Hotel Resort on Lake Victoria. There we climbed aboard his speedboat with his fiancé and two dogs and sped out across Murchison Bay and the Equator towards his weekend retreat on the island of Bulago, fully equipped with the essentials – plenty of beer and wine.
The Lake itself isn’t tidal, however when the wind picks up during the middle of the day the waves follow suit, however at 9.30am on the way over the water was as flat as a pond and the boat shot across the surface past a few small fishing canoes and curved into their private bay where we were met by George the incumbent security guard who, like the other 15 or so private security guards in the other houses on Bulago, calls the island his temporary home. With plenty of alcohol we went off on an island tour aboard quad bikes visiting the islands grass airstrip, local sand spit (that was being loaded into another canoe one spade at a time to be used in the construction of a new island lodge) and ended up in the pool of another English ex-war reporters' residence on the North of the island. Once again with the alcohol depleted and wind dropping we jumped aboard the boat and headed out towards Kampala with the sun setting in the West. However with just a couple of miles to go the engine cut out; in dire need of more fuel. With the light gone the frantic waving of a small red light attracted the attention of the other boat on their Sunday evening return journey to the City, skippered by a crazy Dutch man who thankfully had enough spare fuel for us. After filling up and without further troubles we were soon skimming across the dark water through the pitch black night like two drug runners, heading home.
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