Mzungu Memories

Jinja

Jinja. A mini metropolis snuggled into the heart of rugged countryside, surrounded by plains and sugar cane fields, cut in two by the Nile, overlooked by lake Victoria. Things here move a bit quicker, still at a leisurely African pace, but ever so slightly quicker none the less. Walking through main street, you are bombarded by eager shopkeepers, who rush out and try to sell you typical tourist tat, African drums that don't work, statues, bracelets, jewellery, bags, overpriced clothing. Boda boda drivers hassle you at every turn, revving their engines and shouting random prices to random destinations you have no intention of visiting.

Sat on the terrace of a little Western restaurant, nurturing the best iced latte you've ever tasted (probably due to it having been so long since having knr that you've simply forgotten what the ones back home are like), eating a sausage roll that would make a Gregg's employee cry with frustration, but is still one of the best things you've eaten since entering the country. The boda guys linger at the steps, waiting for their mzungu prey to finish their extravagant coffees and fall into the trap, being charged three times as much to get to a destination that they probably could have walked.

There's a shoe cleaner sat patiently across the road, in a mountain of dirty trainers and moccasins, steadily washing, scrubbing, drying, polishing the shoes one by one by one. He sits under an insurance company office which, in comparison to the 50 shades of grey the office blocks in London are coated in, is 50 shades of colour colour colour.

There are subtle differences, like women in ripped jeans sat front-facing on a boda. The city is crawling with mzungus, and they all have a story. They're all volunteering or interning for the government or starting their own charity. They come from all corners of the world, from different Western cultures, with different languages and customs, and yet they all find a home and a community within this small, Ugandan city. They all have a story to tell, and you can spend hours under the terrace of this cafe talking to a group of Canadian girls about their internship, or a Kenyan man about his start-up education company.

Jinja. A brief respite from Ugandan village life with its modernity and comfort. Home for a few days, but no longer, for its back to basics and business for us in our home village now.