It has been said [who says these things!] a girl's first love should be her father. In that way, he would show her well she should be treated so that when one of those bu-guys shows up with a ka-fake story, she can differentiate between a hoax and genuine affection. I suspect my folks had the same ambition with our travel adventures: get us to see the world early enough that, later in life, the we will know the truth from the lies.
My parents are such cunning folk. I had just gone to a new, more expensive school. Their expenses were increasing but their humble income wasn't changing that much. Logic dictates that we should have cut down on the spending. Instead, they decided that the best way to welcome the new millennium was to go tour Europe, visit old haunts and new sights.
Daddy's high school was run by Scottish Fathers. Yes, his uniform was a quilt. I will ask for photographic evidence. Occasionally, the school had visiting teachers from various parts of the UK. One such teacher was Pat, a mathematics teacher. They kept in touch, despite the trials of time, Idi Amin, Obote 1&2, the Cold War and the usual humdrum of life. They live in a little town called Ipswich, a couple of hours out of London. I think we took the train. We must have taken the train. We never drive outside Uganda and flights within England only make sense for businessmen.
Of London itself, I remember the maze that is the subway. We were trying to get to Trafalgar Square and then to the Millennium Dome. Somewhere in there we got to ride the London Eye as well. I liked following the dots in the subway, connecting all the places together. Daddy studied in London for a little bit. He was glad to be back. The Dome was overwhelming. There were so many, strange characters, all sorts of performing artists and revellers. The millennium craze was intoxicating. People thought the world was going to end any moment, so they thought it was apt that they should get the craziness out of their system. After all, heaven is believed to be very calm while hell is just about excruciating pain. It did not seem probable that God or the devil would be interested in the insanity of humanity.
Pat and her family live(d) in a little town a wee bit out of London. They have a soccer team and all, muy importante :) . For some reason, dolphins were an important part of that trip, or maybe it was just the hotel that we were in. We collected a whole lot of dolphin figurines. It was refreshing to know that there was more to England than the grayness of London. The green and fresh air were a welcome change. I had been taught that the British came to Uganda (and Africa in general) in pursuit of land for cultivation. It gave me the impression that they lived in an over populated, unbearable land. Clearly, my history books were wrong. They do have green and Angus cows. They did not need Africa.
None the less, the British brought us education and education brought us Pat. She had the most interesting red and blue living room. It was the first time we were introduced to the idea of colour blocking. Until then, I had grown up in rooms that were either painted white or that had un-plastered brick walls. Ironically, that architecture was left behind by the English. I think that was when Mummy decided that she wanted a colourful house and then went on to ensure that the new house had a different colour for each room.
I spent a few nights in Pat's daughter's room. It was my first time on a water bed. I still wonder how people can sleep on those things. It's like the motion of the sea and it never ends! This African child was clearly too accustomed to her foam and wood - stiff, solid, immovable! [I say this now while I float away on a semi-submersible drilling platform. The sea never stops and, it seems neither does inertia. Every couple of seconds, I sway one way, then the next]. There are pictures of us playing on the floor, smiling either at the camera or at some joke. I do not remember much else.
Pat and her husband came to visit us in Kampala (or was it Entebbe) a few years after that. I remember her husband mentioning that he is an entomologist. He was very captivated by the swallowtail butterfly. It must have been Entebbe. I think we were in the gardens at the Lake Victoria Hotel. Pat had come back to her second home to see if she could help her old school set up a computer lab. As it turns out she is as good at that as she is at maths [she may be one of the reasons Ivan went on to in pursuit of that strain of logic]. Pat was saddened by the state in which her school was and the corruption, engulfed the educational system, and the apathy of the alumni. But, like the English say, she put on a brave face and hoped against hope for things to get better.
Pat and her family live(d) in a little town a wee bit out of London. They have a soccer team and all, muy importante :) . For some reason, dolphins were an important part of that trip, or maybe it was just the hotel that we were in. We collected a whole lot of dolphin figurines. It was refreshing to know that there was more to England than the grayness of London. The green and fresh air were a welcome change. I had been taught that the British came to Uganda (and Africa in general) in pursuit of land for cultivation. It gave me the impression that they lived in an over populated, unbearable land. Clearly, my history books were wrong. They do have green and Angus cows. They did not need Africa.
None the less, the British brought us education and education brought us Pat. She had the most interesting red and blue living room. It was the first time we were introduced to the idea of colour blocking. Until then, I had grown up in rooms that were either painted white or that had un-plastered brick walls. Ironically, that architecture was left behind by the English. I think that was when Mummy decided that she wanted a colourful house and then went on to ensure that the new house had a different colour for each room.
I spent a few nights in Pat's daughter's room. It was my first time on a water bed. I still wonder how people can sleep on those things. It's like the motion of the sea and it never ends! This African child was clearly too accustomed to her foam and wood - stiff, solid, immovable! [I say this now while I float away on a semi-submersible drilling platform. The sea never stops and, it seems neither does inertia. Every couple of seconds, I sway one way, then the next]. There are pictures of us playing on the floor, smiling either at the camera or at some joke. I do not remember much else.
Pat and her husband came to visit us in Kampala (or was it Entebbe) a few years after that. I remember her husband mentioning that he is an entomologist. He was very captivated by the swallowtail butterfly. It must have been Entebbe. I think we were in the gardens at the Lake Victoria Hotel. Pat had come back to her second home to see if she could help her old school set up a computer lab. As it turns out she is as good at that as she is at maths [she may be one of the reasons Ivan went on to in pursuit of that strain of logic]. Pat was saddened by the state in which her school was and the corruption, engulfed the educational system, and the apathy of the alumni. But, like the English say, she put on a brave face and hoped against hope for things to get better.
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