Jinja
We had been
driving through the narrow marram road in the Madvhani sugar plantation for
more than 20 minutes. The only people we saw were workers clad in gumboots and
coveralls, some of them carrying machetes. The cane was tall enough to create a
canopy above the car and dense enough to prevent us from seeing beyond a half a
meter. I was convinced that every person who appeared and disappeared into the
plantation was quietly plotting our demise. I half expected to find an ambush around
each corner.
You see, I had been told stories of how the plantation owners valued their cane almost as much as human life. I did not expect it to be so easy to drive around their estates – uninvited. But there we were – wandering around like we were the owner’s children. Tutu [the munaSummer from my previous note] was ever hopeful, as usual, that we were not going to succumb to some serial killer-ish end. Yiyi was, as usual, asleep from the moment we hit Jinja road 2 hours earlier. Jess [NOT Jesca!], Tutu’s amiga de Nueva York, was sorta in-between – hopeful that we would live to see another day, but also mindful of how similar to a horror movie this trip had become.
Just when I was ready to turn around, people – normal people – appeared; women carrying babies on their backs; children running after the car; boda cyclists waiting by the road. In the middle of the plantation is a village, and in therein is our destination, Griffin Falls. It is a community-run sanctuary cradled in the heart of what is left of Mabira, Uganda’s [former] largest forest. Surrounding the falls are several trekking routes and a zip line through the forest, which Tutu and Jess were keen testing. For-2-year-old Yiyi and I wandering in the woods was more than enough excitement. Thereafter, we rewarded ourselves with the gonja we had picked up along the way and the Hibi Hibi juice I had packed [Hibiscus is the easiest juice to make!]. Aunt Tutu – ever conscious of healthy nutrition – had packed some sliced fruit. We were happy.
A trip to the east is incomplete without a visit to the Nile. The drive to Jinja was, gladly, uneventful, except for stops by the traffic police. Closer to Jinja town, I took a wrong turn. This was due to confusion over road works but also because the new bridge had come with a whole new maze of turns and roundabouts. On the first try, we ended up at the old bridge and were chased away by boda riders before turning back to the new bridge. The new bridge still has the smell and look of fresh construction. Everything is still white and clean. In addition, the lights make for a spectacular sight at night. We were not sure about security protocol so we did not take any photos there – just to be on the safe side, you know.

We crowned the day with a late lunch/early dinner at the Source of the Nile in Jinja. It was a Monday so the place was tranquil, with none of the weekend madness. We watched the sun set over the river and while Yiyi buried himself in masala chips and fried fish. I thought about how lucky we are that we get to enjoy this peacefulness in the midst of the craziness of life.
May we always be able to find the little pocket of pleasure that keeps us sane and grateful.
Yours
Yiyi and Dada
P.s. All photos
courtesy of the amazing Jess

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