Nomad's Pub

Ski Lift, Anyone?

Since returning from Rwanda, life has had all of us running frantically to keep up pace. We have too much we must do to balance with all that we want to do. That being the case, I had not managed to venture back into the city since getting back here. My time has been divided between the Makerere University campus, the office, and my room. Very thrilling…

So Monday I decided enough was enough, and rallying my fellow student Stef, went out to the city. Our destination: Café Pap. This, if I may say, is a chic little internet café with delicious food and, well, the internet. Here you can actually buy such novelties as a BLT or Club sandwich, chocolate cake and ice-cream, and even a coffee, chocolate, or fresh fruit shake! All that to say… very nice place.

Well, it being the beginning of February since I last went, I was not 100% sure just how to get there. I knew were it was, but… As it happened, we took two wrong turns and so did a bit of exploring some of the rougher parts of the city before discovering where we were in relation to where we were going. It added, oh, about an half hour extra to our trek. Oh yes… and of course, along the way perhaps the most memorable incident was a man crying out “Babe—your prince charming is here!” and gesturing fondly to himself as he smiled oh so broadly at us.

I suppose such a wandering adventure should be adventure enough for a day, but what can I say? (“Maybe it’s the music…” “Maybe it isn’t only the music…”)

Walking back, it was easy to find our way. Sight the mosque and use it as the north star. No problems there.

But if I may say, the streets of Kampala are less then pristine, and more than being less than pristine, they are less then even. And sidewalks? Who ever heard of such a thing! Occasionally there is a strip of incredibly rutted dirt running next to the road on which you may walk; and occasionally there is an actual sidewalk of concrete with spaces not covered by the many vendors and racks of clothing. Moreover, there are hoards of people everywhere all pushing and shoving and maneuvering through each other.

When we got to this one particular part beside the Old Taxi Park (which is in itself a whole story!), it happened.

I fell.

I really have no clue how I fell or what happened at all. I just remember picking myself up and finding my hands bruised and filthy, my trousers quite red with the dirt, and my right foot hurting like mad. I sat down before getting all the way up to inspect my foot and make sure it was not broken. Everyone around was calling out “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” to me, and one man even offered to clean me up (which was kindly turned down).

We began to walk again, and Stef suggested maybe we should take a matatu or call a private hire, but… I didn’t want to spend the money, and more than that—people walk around Kampala all the time; people with injuries or obviously hungry and otherwise hurting. And what would I be saying if, having taken a tumble in public, promptly called a car to pick me up and take me off? The mzungu falls so she calls a car. Huh. No, some things I just cannot justify to myself, and that belonged among them.

So we walked. It was a long walk; uphill; under the burning, early afternoon sun—about 40ish minutes, maybe? I don’t know. But it was painful.

When I got back to my room, I collapsed on my bed, then finally moved and peeled off my shoe. Oh oh. I think the shoe’s structure was the only thing that enabled me to walk that whole way, because as soon as I tried to stand barefooted, I discovered I couldn’t put the slightest bit of weight on my foot. And I tried! Moved around my room and did some things before admitting that this was more than my usual foot pains.

I got some of the girls down the hall from me, and they took one look at my foot and said I needed to go to the doctor. No no no!

But I did.

They came and got me… carried me downstairs and out to the vehicle. I don’t know what it is—a land rover, maybe? Drove me to The Surgery (a clinic) and carried me into the emergency room. No one was too happy about my having walked that whole way back…

Well, it’s not broken and it’s not amputated. But it’s not very usable right now. The doctor didn’t have much to say, just something about the arch, a joint, and a ligament—and no marathon running for a while! He gave me some painkillers and would have sent me off just like that except his nurse (holding gauze and hooks) said, “We no wrapping it Sir?” to which he replied, “Ah, yes, brilliant idea!” and so she wrapped it to my relief.

Carried back out, driven back home, carried back to bed… missed classes all day yesterday and finally was able to put a bit of weight on it today but not much. It will be a while before I’m walking very far at this point. But it improves.

Walking back that day, before falling down at the taxi park, I had just been saying it would be so nice to have a zip line attached from the hill we live on to the centre of the city. Or maybe a ski lift or so… But now; now I am convinced of the virtue of that idea…

posted by Lada @ 12:47 PM