Navigating New Paths in Uganda: From Unexpected Plans to Heartwarming Encounters
Leaving Kenya behind after an unforgettable safari, I continued my solo journey north and west, with my eyes fixed on new horizons. The thrill of the unknown lay ahead, but first, there were practical matters to handle-namely, paperwork. Ever since leaving South Africa, I’ve been navigating the labyrinth of visa fees across Africa. With two passports in my pocket-a Barbadian and a British one-I’ve been playing a delicate dance of entry fees and stamps.
Sometimes the British passport grants free access or multiple entries, while other times, the Barbadian one is 90% cheaper. As a backpacker and a tourist, I’ve learned to use whichever passport works best to get me in. So far, this little trick has saved me about $400. Whether this is strictly allowed, I’m still not sure, but I’ve only had one run-in with a guard in Zambia. He reluctantly stamped my passport at the end of his shift, muttering he never wanted to see me again as the gate swung shut behind me.
At the moment, I was using my British passport because the East African tourist visa is a flat $100 for everyone. This visa was my golden ticket, granting me access to Uganda, Kenya, and Rwanda, even though I hadn’t yet set foot in Uganda or Rwanda. My journey was unfolding one border at a time, and I was embracing the unpredictability of it all.
Shifting Plans and New Invitations
Then, in the middle of the night, last night, a curveball came my way-a friend reminded me of their invitation to visit them in Somaliland (now that I was in the northern hemisphere). This was in addition to another offer which came in last week which was to visit Iran, specifically their hometown, if I made it that far.
As often happens when you have too much time to yourself, I had already considered flying into Ethiopia because of the real risk and threat of kidnapping, which is particularly high in Oromia, Ethiopia (south of th capital) But to get there in one piece we’re assuming I’ve even navigated the Turkana and Marsabit counties in northern Kenya, where the guidance is to avoid all travel due to armed banditry and cross-border violence. Travelers are advised to avoid going within 110 km of the borders with South Sudan and Ethiopia news website said. – this is exactly what you want to see when you travllingover land between Kenya andethopia
Flying in would be the easier option, allowing for a visa on arrival. Then I had this wild idea: what if I paused my journey through Africa, headed to Iran, traveled across the country, exited in the south, and caught a boat to Dubai? From Dubai, I could cross into Saudi Arabia, travel across the country to Jeddah, and then catch a local flight to Addis Ababa in Ethiopia. This was big thinking, but it was also a big trip with many options to explore. Somaliland was already on my radar, but Iran wasn’t could i make it happen???
In the world of travel, plans are made to be broken, especially when the road calls and friends beckon. However, overland travel by bus presents its own set of challenges. Unlike flying, where visas can often be arranged on arrival, crossing borders by bus requires more preparation-visas need to be secured in advance, sometimes costing days or even weeks in an adjoining Country’s capitial city. And when you factor in traveling through a conflict zone, suddenly my “big ideas” don’t seem quite so impractical-they’re just practical considerations.
The Decision to Stay on the Bus
The previous evening, I had hopped on a bus from Kisumu with plans to get off in Jinja, Uganda, known for its proximity to the source of the Nile. But as the bus ground to a halt at 5:30 a.m., I found myself unable to brave the cold morning air. Exhausted from a sleepless night and shivering-not from the chill, but from sheer fatigue-I made a snap decision to stay on the bus. Looking back, I probably should have stayed the night in Kisumu and caught the morning bus instead. But at the bus station, a bus was ready to leave, so I jumped on, missing dinner yet again.
Soon enough, the bus rolled into the bustling Kampala bus station. Most passengers disembarked, but some of us lingered, either lost in thought or too tired to move. I was one of them, allowing myself another hour to regroup. Eventually, I realised my bags were still unattended in the chaotic station. Although the sun was rising, I knew it was time to move before my belongings became someone else’s opportunity.
Kampala greeted me with the typical hum of a city just waking up. Interested in exploring my plan I spent the day bouncing between embassies, trying to sort out the necessary paperwork for the potential next set of stops. I figured that I might as well make the most of my unexpected stop here in the capital, I kept my backpack with me and hopped onto a motor taxi, which zipped me through the bustling streets. Despite my best efforts, the day ended with little success-the bureaucracy seemed endless, and I was running out of time. Frustrated but not defeated, I decided to stick to my original plan and head back to Jinja and sleep on it. I hopped on a local minibus, this time with a clearer head and a bit more resolve.
An Unexpected Connection on the Road to Jinja
In the warm afternoon sun, the journey back to Jinja took on a different tone. I managed to snag a front seat on the bus without any extra charge-a small win that felt like a luxury for someone over six feet tall. Sitting next to me was Janaan, a construction worker from a nearby town. He struck up a conversation, curious about my background. When I mentioned I was headed to the source of the Nile, he nodded with interest, but my story of traveling the length of the river to Egypt truly captured his imagination.
Janaan was both intrigued and puzzled. “Over 30 years old, no family, no wife?” he asked, his brow furrowed. For him, the idea of traveling solo without familial ties was almost inconceivable. I explained that I had no family, no girlfriend, and that I was embracing the freedom to explore the world on my own terms. He shook his head, still trying to reconcile my reality with his own. “And God? Do you believe in God?” he inquired, shifting the conversation to deeper topics.
As we approached his stop – Lugazi-, Janaan extended an unexpected invitation: “Would you like to meet my daughter, Sia?” he asked warmly. “She’s three weeks old.” I felt honoured-he had shown me countless photos of her on the bus. I had a hostel reservation waiting in Jinja, but the spontaneity of the offer and the unexpected twist to my day made me agree without a second thought.
A Heartwarming Visit with Janaan’s Family
We got off the bus together, and I followed Janaan to his modest apartment, pausing at a small shop where he picked up some coffee and milk. As we climbed the stairs, he shared that he was one of ten children. I thought about how remarkable that was and then remembered that my great-grandfather was one of ten as well, named Thomas Thomas, living in Trethomas Village in Wales-a curious detail I didn’t get to share before we reached his door. Inside, his wife was breastfeeding their newborn, and there was little Sia. she stopped and looked up at us with wide, curious eyes.
For the next hour or so we shared stories over coffee, discussing everything from life and politics to religion. The conversation flowed naturally-a strange yet comforting connection between strangers from two very different worlds. It was a powerful reminder of the kindness that exists in the most unexpected places, a genuine act of hospitality that touched me deeply.
As I prepared to leave, Janaan gave me a heartfelt hug, thanking me for stopping by and sharing a simple cup of coffee. What a day i thought. Maybe we should just hug our way around the world with love.
God I’m tired.
