welcome to africa

First impressions

I stepped off the plane in Nairobi and took a deep breath. Whenever I travel to a new region of the world I always have this small, irrational worry that there will be some foreign pollen or dust that my body will reject and I will quickly die of a serious allergic reaction. I'm told that this is unlikely. But nonetheless it always goes through my head when I step off a plane.

Since I didn't immediately die of anaphylactic shock, I proceeded to pick up our bags. We were going to spend a night in Nairobi before flying to Kampala the next day. Marya and I were traveling with Chris, a fellow medical student from Edmonton who would be working with Marya at the hospital in Mbarara. He had never traveled to a third world country before but, surprisingly, Nairobi was relatively tame in terms of pollution, garbage and chaos. Maybe he - and I along with him - started to think this Africa thing wasn't going to too much of a culture shock.

Capital chaos

Kampala, the capital city of Uganda, certainly choked out those thoughts. Kampala was a "bustling city" on steroids. They took bustle to a whole new level. The centre of town was just a traffic jam. Cars didn't move. They just sat there. Maybe they were parked. I don't know. The streets were full of throngs of people. Music was blaring. Horns were honking. People were yelling. Loaded down with bags and guitar, we just had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other as we shuffled through the crowds from A to B.

Our main goal in Kampala was to buy a cell phone so we could phone our contact in Mbarara. I'm not sure if Kampala has figured out supply and demand yet but it seemed that there was definitely a supply-heavy market for cell phones. Every second store in the city is a cell phone shop. I have no idea how each shop turns a profit. I also have no idea where you go to buy anything else. If we had arrived in Kampala needing ANYTHING ELSE, we would be left helpless in a sea of cheap cell phones.

Chris and I each bought a phone and then the three of us shuffled through the mass of humanity to a nearby restaurant. We sat down for dinner and soon realized my cell phone had been stolen. Taken right out of my backpack pocket within ten minutes. It was my first time being pickpocketed. But, as I said, cell phones are EVERYWHERE. I feel like trying to pawn off a stolen cell phone in Kampala is like trying to pawn off a stolen doughnut in Tim Hortons.

We fell asleep that night to the pitter pattering of a mouse running around our room and thumping bass outside our window. Welcome to Africa.

the travel bug has bitten again

The Bug

For the 4th time in 6 years, I am pulling out the 60 L backpack, getting poked with needles and rummaging through a crisp new Lonely Planet travel guidebook. On the shelf in my bedroom lay the remains of previous travel guidebooks after they have been scarred, squished and soaked across the countries they describe. East Africa is the new destination and this book will hopefully get ripped and trampled across Uganda, Rwanda, Tanzania and Kenya.

My parents gave me the travel bug when they took me to India. I was 3 years old. I don't remember much, but to this day I think honey is bitter and love the smell of diesel. I have been very fortunate and lucky to see places and do things all over the world largely because of my parents willingness to let me. My mom bravely never says a peep when I explain to her (always after the fact) that I have gone and done something ridiculous, dangerous, reckless or all of the above. But I think the travel bug has gotten significantly worse in the last few years. Starting with the epic 10-country, 5-continent trip I went on with Josh in 2008, the bug has shown little regard for responsible financial planning or prudent career development. The graph below highlights the issue:

The time between each major trip appears to be getting smaller and smaller. Using the powers of extrapolation, I should be in Australia by December and Antarctica by mid-February. And from that point I'll just slowly turn into a perma-traveling hippie who sells all his possessions and devotes his life to his dreads.


How did this Africa thing happen?

After our honeymoon in Peru and Bolivia last summer, Marya and I were pretty convinced that was it for traveling for quite some time. I had just graduated and was going to be starting a real job with, like, you know, commitments and responsibilities. She was going into a grueling few years of medical school which would likely cost the equivalent of the trade deficit of a small nation. We'd be lucky to get in a road trip to Saskatoon, let alone a two month trip to frolic with zebras and leopards and elephants on the dusty plains of Africa.

But then Marya heard about this cool thing called a 'global health elective' in Mbarara, Uganda, whereby she could go work and learn in a foreign hospital and receive school credit through the University of Alberta. It sounded like a good opportunity to learn about a different culture and different medical practices as well as potentially ease some of the burden on a poorly-funded healthcare system. (Fun fact: Canada has 2.1 physicians per 1000 people. Uganda has 0.08 physicians per 1000 people. If it all scaled up equally, that means a 4 hour emergency room wait in Canada is a 4 day wait in Uganda).

Anyway, we were thinking about it and, even if she did go, it seemed unlikely that I could join her because of limited vacation days. But then I got laid off from my job after only having worked there for two months. (To be clear, it was a company-wide layoff that didn't have to do with behavioral misconduct; I just want to quell any rumors that I was fired for beating some guy up at the water cooler because he was hogging the colour printer.)

Vacation days were no longer an issue as I was free from the bondage of stability. However, I did have to figure out what exactly I would do if I joined Marya in Uganda. I couldn't just hang around in Africa while she went and saved lives. So, I did what anyone does these days: I googled 'Mbarara Uganda volunteering' and then, because I'm lazy, clicked on the first link. The only volunteer organization in Mbarara listed on that linked page is an organization called Ainembabazi Children's Project. The website looked pretty cool and, since it was the only option, I didn't have much choice. I went to the "contact" section of the website expecting an anonymous contact form to some anonymous person in some anonymous faraway place. By some serendipitous and highly unlikely chance, the organization is based out of Edmonton (and I would later find out has no affiliation with the University of Alberta). I was able to go for coffee with the president of the organization the next week. She lives just across the river.

That sealed the deal. We were going to do it. Jump in and seize the day. Carpe diem and all that stuff. Marya finalized her medical elective. I finalized my volunteering program. Flights were booked. Travel books were bought. Passports were renewed. Needles were poked.

We leave May 28th. We are excited to see what Sub-Saharan Africa has to offer; a place so often associated with war, poverty, corruption and disease. Sadly, I'm sure it has all those things, but I'm excited to see the good stuff too. I'm excited to learn from the people and gain new perspectives from a foreign culture.