I suppose it is inevitable that one makes connections between new places and others visited before. Kampala is different to anywhere we have been, but I can’t help seeing those earlier destinations here; the Caribbean for the hills, the vegetation the bland starchy food and the Middle East for the chaotic driving and the souk like markets.
It is twelve ‘o’ clock, I am writing this in the garden of the Hotel Kenrock as we wait to go to a ‘Cultural Event’, I can hear the very fierce, very amplified church service next door, it has been going on since at least eight this morning. Seeds are falling from a tree and clattering onto the corrugated roof of the breakfast area, great storks and cranes fly overhead,
the hotel guard with the gun is asleep in his plastic chair by the entrance, trucks drive past the road outside, boda bodas (the motorbike taxis) rush past continuously. There is a gentle breeze that brings the smell of charcoal fires, diesel fumes and heat from the rest of the city, although the temperature here is very pleasant, about 26 degrees I should think. The sky varies from overcast cloud to pale blue; it is all rather nice. Rather different to the world described in our VSO training sessions, that world we will meet later.