Monkey Business

"Don't Panic," the famous inscription on the back of The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy.
The audiobook served us well for the first few hours of our trip.



Bhamini, Liza and Dom at Lake Nyasa/Malawi



It has been a while since looking in the mirror. So, when I did that exact thing this morning, my first thought was: “Neanderthal.” A combination of a scraggy, although rather bushy beard, and wild unkempt hair that has forgotten what shampoo is, has given me an almost caveman look. No wonder children keep running away from me in horror – although I am sure I get a similar response at Holy Cross, so maybe it is just my slight maniacal grin.

The corridors of Holy Cross cannot seem further away right now as I sit on the serene shoreline of Lake Nyasa (A.K.A. Lake Malawi) in Tanzania. There is no longer that nervous anticipation of my mobile ringing with a call from maternity or casualty that has kept me on the tip of my toes for the past ten months. Now all I really need to think about is what are we going to have for dinner, will there be cold beers and don’t forget to take your malarial prophylaxis.

***

Between seeing old friends, we had an excellent time at the Ishasha
Reserve in west Uganda where we were entertained by hippos and
tree climbing lions.

Before entering back into Tanzania and after leaving Rwanda we spent a little over a week in southern Uganda. The lush green hills were as green as I remember them in 2008 (I mentioned that I was there in 2009, but I got my chronology wrong – in 2009 I was already swimming in the world of the NHS). We paid a fleeing visit to Rushere Hospital, a rural centre where I did half of my medical elective as a student in 2008. The main reason for my visit was to see Jonathan – he is a young dentist, who is eager, exceptionally bright and has an infectious dry sense of humour. He is a solid individual and I am sure that his presence for the past seven years, when it was only meant to be two, has made a lasting impact on the hospital and community. Jonathan, I salute you.

Whilst seeing Jonathan we bumped into a medical student on his elective at Rushere – much like myself four years ago. Just like I had felt then, he said that they (he was with friends) felt a little lost and overwhelmed at the hospital – there isn’t really anyone to supervise the students. Just as when I was there, the site is run on a skeleton staff of two doctors – one an alcoholic that barely leaves his house and the other, exceptionally overworked. The former has remained the same, whilst the latter changes every couple of years. How a human being can behave with such distaste is beyond me; how someone can stay in a job like that for so long? I expect they have family in high places.

***

Mitch riding the waves amongst the people en route
to the Ssese Islands.

This trip has almost turned into a mini pilgrimage – returning to see people and places that I almost worship. Of special mention is Bery’s Place. I visited Bery during one of the many long weekends that myself and friends took off whilst getting lost around Rushere on my medical elective. I was taken aback by what I saw then; my feelings remain the same now. Without going into too much detail (you can peruse his website – address at the end of this), he has set up a home on the Ssese Islands in Lake Victoria to give shelter, support, basic medical needs and a family to young girls that have been the victim of abuse – be it physical, sexual, psychological or anything else. It just so happens that the prevalence of HIV on these islands is amongst the highest in Africa. Why? Well, there are many reasons – however, I expect several strong contributors are that the population is very young, the young men make a lot of money fishing and many family units are broken or scattered. This leaves young people, especially girls, very vulnerable.

Bery and some of his family (Note Bhamini has joined
in with the fun).

Bery has given many girls a lifeline; the opportunity to do and achieve things that for most are mere hoop dreams. It doesn’t sound easy, and not everyone can be helped, despite all that is offered. I urge you to read about his foundation and contribute to the cause. If everyone did a little something like him, then I expect the world would be a better place. Of course, it is very easy for me to say that as I sit here admiring the beautiful view over Lake Malawi with a cold beer in hand.

***

Uganda was as much about revisiting a beautiful country as it was about paying homage to some exceptional people. At the end of the day, it’s the people that make a place what it is – one of the key driving forces keeping me at Holy Cross for another year. With people on my mind, we bombed it back into Tanzania to meet up with one of my best friends, Liza. Two days of solid driving down crappy roads, a very comfortable night’s sleep in a brothel (the pants on the bedroom floor, unopened condoms over the courtyard and a Madame by the name of Happy who’s guests seemed to check in and out on the same day may have given it away), one speeding ticket and an excellent Chinese dinner later (I mentioned the Chinese were building roads, so they need somewhere to eat) we eventually picked up our friend. So, three in the tent it was.

Setting up camp on the edge of Lake Nyasa

Most of our time was spent in Ruaha National Park where we slept surrounded by the roar of lions, and Lake Malawi, where I started writing this post. In the park we were the victims of crime: a troupe of hungry baboons snuck into our camp whilst we were on a safari (or game drive, if you’re South African). They emptied our spices, coffee beans and marinades all over the sand and took the precious chocolate and vegetables. Fortunately, much was salvaged and a lesson was learnt: never leave anything unattended when monkeys are around. I think we probably knew that lesson already, but something escaped us that day.

***

King and his patched up leg.

I started writing this entry in Tanzania and have finished it in Malawi. We arrived today and are perched upon the edge of a cliff, towering five hundred metres above Lake Malawi, in one of the most picturesque campsites I have ever set foot on. However, whilst in the middle of writing, Bhamini and I had our medical hands called upon. The Australian owner’s dog, called King, got bitten by a baboon. A good deal of blood later, and after a lot of pressure, the pooch stopped exsanguinating over my hands. Holy Cross has served me well: the tamponade of bleeding is our specialty.

Here’s the link for Bery’s place: http://berysplace.wordpress.com

  

Some snaps taken from our three day safari around Ruaha National Park in Tanzania: 

Ele and her crew heading for the shade of the Baobab tree.

One of my proudest moments as a "tracker" - I spotted this lioness stalking some buffalo

One just cannot get bored of their stripes

Post monkey assault - fortunately they didn't take the gin..

King of the jungle.

Who's going to be the leader of this journey?

Dom and Liza; the Amarula disappeared very fast.

Hugs.

    


"Wheely-fun"



Mr Silverback, having a little R&R just before he decides to
run into us.

 We are now halfway through our little drive around east Africa. Seven thousand five hundred kilometres later, Mitch still purrs like the day I first perched my bum on his soft greying seats. We remain malaria free, but are probably riddled with bilharzia from swimming in the irresistibly crystal clear lakes. Fortunately, we came prepared with a medical kit teeming with medicines, tinctures and voodoo dolls in readiness for such eventualities.

***

The past few days have seen us cross into Uganda, where I spent about five weeks as a medical student as part of an elective in 2009. Between my last entry and now, however, we spent a little over a week in Rwanda. Again, I was last there in 2009. I spent a weekend clubbing, adorned in glow sticks and dancing until my legs felt like jelly in Kigali. It may not have been the most informative introduction to a country, but gave me a real flavour of the people and strong desire to return. The country was all it lived up to be; right now it is possibly my favourite country on this beautiful continent. I wrote an email to a friend at the end of last week and said this about the place:

“What the people of this luscious land have been through, namely: the genocide, is unbelievable. However, the nation has come out thriving after hitting absolute rock bottom. Over a million humans slaughtered in a little over a month – absolutely unfathomable. It is so deeply moving to hear the stories of loved ones lost and the humanity that has ensued to rebuild a nation.”

Kids that give hugs.

Rwanda could be described as a nation of orphans and broken families. True as this may be, it’s people, the Rwandanese, have united with great strength and humility. We were fortunate enough to stay with Peter and his family. Peter is about my age and the cousin of a friend from home. Never have I met a more enlightened and awesome human being. I shall say no more, except to my sisters: “I think you may like him.” *wink, wink*

Seeing the mountain gorillas on the volcanic slopes of the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo)-Rwandan-Ugandan border was without doubt one of the most magical and exhilarating experiences that I have ever encountered. But, you shall just have to do it yourself (and fork out the massive fee for the privilege) to understand what I mean. So, rather than write on and on about it, all I shall say is: “Go.” Don’t get me wrong, oh the gorillas were good, they were excellent, they were more than excellent; those super furry balls of fluff were splendiferous. However, they didn’t hug me (although, I have heard this isn’t an uncommon occurrence). Unabashedly, the most enchanting thing about Rwanda is how people greet: everyone gets a big hug, often on each side (like how the French greet, by throwing a kiss beside each cheek), with a warm and gentle handshake. If you know the person really well, there is a touching of the foreheads, almost akin to an Eskimo kiss. Imagine walking through a pack of twenty small school children and getting hugs from every single one of them – well that is what I did and I can say with certainty that it is truly spectacular. Fortunately, the salutations were confined to the villages as it would have made moving through Kigali, the capital, rather slow.

Myself,, Peter and his crew.

However, all this loveliness aside, there have been constant reminders of the strife that still beats in the heart of Africa. The regions that border the DRC are littered with UN (United Nations) refugee camps: a stark reminder of the plight of so many souls in the area; forced to leave their homes and live in tents for an indefinite time.

***

We are about to start the return leg back to South Africa. One month in and I have developed a rather bushy little beard – I think it is a slight improvement on the moustache I grew.

Mr Silverback spending time with the kids.

Hide and seek.

Primus - the Number 1 beer in Rwanda. It is tasty stuff.

So, lions climb trees in Uganda...