Hakuna Matata – it means no worries… – 5 June 2009

Days 40- 56:
Kampala / Queen Elizabeth II National Park / Kabale (Uganda)
Kigali / Musanze / Virunga Mountains (Rwanda)
Lake Bunyoni / Kampala / Jinja (Uganda again)
Eldoret / Lake Naivasha / Hell’s Gate National Park / Rift Valley / Nairobi (Kenya)

Kev in Africa #4 – Kampala to Rwanda
Kev in Africa #5 – Lake Bunyoni to Nairobi
Simba in Africa photos

There are two types of travellers:
There are those that engulf themselves in the local culture in search of life-changing experiences; they eat the native cuisine, take the local transport and even try and learn the language. Then there are those that prefer to just have fun; they experience the sights and sounds of the country but hardly remove themselves from their comfort zone.

For the first month of my trip, I’d like to think that I was the former type of tourist. I may have been living in a pretty decent house, surrounded by English speaking people, but as much as I could I tried to experience life as the locals do. Now, two weeks into my safari adventure, I am starting to experience the latter form. This is by no means an inferior type of travel; one merely views their journey from a new perspective.

On the 20th of May as I watched the Tucan truck speed past me on the Old Port Bell road I knew that a new page of my life was about to be written. With great anticipation I quickly made my way to the hotel, where I met up with my tour group – the people with whom I was about to spend the next 45 days. As a 17-year-old on a tour for ’18s to 35′ I was unsurprisingly the youngest in a collective made up of a dozen 20-somethings. While not as uncomfortable as a lunch with the Barclays, I was certainly out of my social comfort zone. Nevertheless, leaving my comfort zone was the principle reason for travelling Africa in the first place. And I presumed that this challenge would be a little easier than others bound to confront me along the way.

On just my third day on tour I had already visited a national park, the first of four. Entering Queen Elizabeth II National Park – or QE2 for short – was one of the most amazing experiences of my life; it didn’t take long for me to be convinced that the $4000-odd I was investing in this tour was worthwhile. Even before we had officially made it passed the park gates I had seen elephants, hippo, antelope, warthogs (or ‘Pumbas’ as we like to call them), buffalo and a monitor lizard.

Over the next 24 hours my voicebox was on repeat; the words “Wow!” and “Mad” continuously made it through my mouth even without realising. In the morning our chimpanzee trekking expedition was unsuccessful – unless you consider seeing one chimpanzee bum for one second a victory – however the opportunity to wander through a jungle was simply unbelievable. This adventure was shortly followed by my first ever game drive and a crater tour – where token African landscapes appeared right in front of my eyes. All this, however, was merely an entree to the main course: a cruise down the Kazinga Channel.

Boasting the world’s largest concentration of hippo, the Kazinga Channel did not disappoint; words cannot explain the sheer awe I was experiencing. Ten minutes into the journey I became conscious of the wide smile on my face as I watched hundreds of hippo and buffalo go about their daily life just metres away from our boat. With the sunset coming down on the lake and the kingfisher birds darting along the water I was in my element (not in the same sense that John Wade was “in his element” though). And this was only the start…

Before making my way into Rwanda – a country infamous for the 1994 genocides – I didn’t have great expectations. However, with ‘Superstitious’ blaring through the stereo and my head taking in fresh air out the truck window, I quickly affirmed Rwanda as the most beautiful country I had ever been to. The background of steep hills descending into dense farmland was complimented by the friendly locals in the foreground – who waved excitedly and yelled out French greetings. Potentially, the notion of a French-speaking African nation where cars drove on the ‘wrong’ side of the road could have concerned me, but I was in Africa and hence prepared for anything.

A sadistic turn of luck helped ensure that the following couple of days were used wisely. Initially my plans for the ‘Land of a Thousand Hills’ were to relax in peace, however after one of my fellow tour members incurred an injury a spare gorilla trekking permit became available for half price (still a costly AUD$430). I quickly pounced on the offer and I couldn’t have been more happy with my hasty decision.

Widely touted as being the best tourist attraction on earth, I was not disappointed. While I can’t say that the opportunity to get up close with the gorillas met the lofty expectations placed on it, I was nonetheless impressed with the experience and would strongly recommend it to others.

Being one of the rarest and most confined species of wildlife on the planet the gorillas are usually difficult to find. Our guide, however, took just 30 minutes to locate them; never have I been so excited over seeing a drop of gorilla feaces. Despite the regulations being a) don’t get closer than 7 metres to the gorillas; and b) You only get 45 minutes with them; our group spent over an hour with the family and got within centimetres of a couple of them. Not quite a life-changing experience but still pretty damn awesome.

After a stopover at the confronting, yet thought provoking, genocide memorial in Kigali – the lively and beautiful centre of Rwanda – we re-entered Uganda. Here, we spent a couple of nights beside Lake Bunyoni, a stunning collection of islands. Our time here was hardly strenuous; the extent of my activities was a cruise down the lake to a pygmy village, where a group of young children immediately attached themselves to my hand, before I joined in with the local dance. Despite over 5 years of drumming experience I still couldn’t understand the rhythm of the village music. 5 years wasted it seems…

If my first experience of Kampala was chaotic, then my sophomore visit – at night time – was absolute madness. While the markets were populated with bustling vendors and eager shoppers, the roads were filled to the brim with taxis, minibuses motorbikes, each vying for front position. Road rules were non-existent; so too were traffic lights.

Thankfully Kampala was no more than a pitstop on our way to Jinja – the extreme sports hub of east Africa. After watching a bit of bunjee jumping – where one of the brave participants forgot to pack clothes – I decided to go for a less intense activity. Surprisingly our taxi drive, where the whole lot of us squeezed into a 7 seat vehicle – forcing me to sit in the boot – was exciting, however that was perhaps a little too tame for my liking.

On the morning of my 50th day of travel I was scared as hell; whitewater rafting up some insignificant river known as the Nile awaited. To my great pleasure I did not die whilst negotiating the potentially deadly grade 5 rapids; the experience was more thrilling than frightening. Due to the competence of our rafting guide I only capsized twice. My bladder was another problem though; I’d hate to dampen this blog with a story about my toilet schedule but you try holding on for six hours whilst floating on the Nile – in the rain I might add. That is an extreme sport in itself.

With those thrills out of the way I made my way into Kenya – the land where ‘Hakuna Matata’ is a phrase, not a song. Originally I was disappointed with the country because nobody spoke like the Williams’ brothers, however the country redeemed itself at Lake Naivasha (or Naive Asha as I like to call it) where hippos like to enter the campsite as monkeys playfully jump around in the trees.

This was our base for three nights, allowing us to explore the frighteningly named Hell’s Gate National Park. Exploring the multitude of game – including zebra, giraffe, buffalo, antelope and a lot of sneaky baboons – on mountain bike was a priceless experience; I was given the freedom of coming face to face with wildlife, all at my own pace. Furthermore, the rift valley scenery was nothing short of breathtaking; even when the animals were outside my visual range I was taken away by the magical sights.

The name Hell’s Gate became more obvious after a short walk down a gorge. Venturing towards hot springs – caused by a volcano – involved challenging rock climbing and delicate balance (something I didn’t possess, hence my shoes and socks are currently drenched), however I could deal with most of it. After all, we only had to cycle 34km that day.

At present I sit in an internet cafe in Karen, a small town off the edge of Nairobi (alternatively known as Nairobbery). Tomorrow, all but four tour members depart as another two enter. New friends, new in-jokes and new experiences await, however my reputation as the group’s hungriest member and angriest pool player are likely to stay intact.

By the time I write next I will have visited Serengeti – the most famous national park in the world – Ngorongoro Crater and the exotic island of Zanzibar. This is what could certainly be the climax of my African adventure. Boy I love Africa.

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