Chris had hoped to make it back today, but he's so close to finishing the rooms, his accounts and looking after clients that it would be c-r-a-z-y for him to come back for just two days (at least that's what I told him in a very matter of fact kind of way) so he'll be back next week. When he asked if I was sure I said of course! You know in your heart it's the right thing to do, but it doesn't always stop the brave-face mask from slipping and catching you square on the chin.
So Leo and I spent his 1st Valentine's day together (except when I nipped out for a friend's birthday lunch) and then this evening we ate a take-away curry with girlfriend's whose partner's are on a raft trip in South Sudan. We were like a coven of spurned lovers and Leo loved it. This was his second late night beyond his bedtime in the past 5 months and he milked it. He wore his all in one babygro, stuffed naan bread into his mouth, rocked to music and swung from the arms of every gorgeous lady in the room.
We got home an hour ago and as I was putting clothes and toys away I received a text from Chris,
'The only consolation is in addition to my heart, a little piece of me is there with you. Love us XXXX'
I've just gone to check and our cupid is crashed out, man down in his cot. He's his daddy all over.
Happy Valentine. May love reach you all - no matter the distance.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Hot to the touch
It was early. He sat in his cot like a crumpled old man, his big blue eyes staring up at me as tears streamed down his face. He was crying, not a loud scream, but a pained whimpering. I reached for him and immediately felt the heat of his little burning body radiating through his babygro onto my hands. I had read that you’ll know the difference between a warm baby and a hot baby from touch alone and it’s absolutely true, you do. Leo’s head, chest, back, arms, knees, hands and the palms of his feet were cooking and as he lay in my arms I felt a fear rising up. I was alone, my baby was sick and the likelihood it could be malaria was high.
I rang a friend who reassured me that it would be ok and that I could carry out the malaria test on my own, but she was happy to drive over and help if I wanted her to. In the back of my mind I’ve known there would come a time when I’d have to do this. I placed the phone down, gathered the malaria testing kit from the 1st aid basket and prepared myself for having to hurt Leo in order to find out if he had malaria or not.
The following afternoon I took him to the doctor who checked his wheezing body and confirmed he had a virus. There was nothing to do but ride it out. He had been suffering with a head cold for 3 weeks previously and this seemed to be the final chapter in what was my first experience of him being horribly poorly since he was born. Worryingly the next day his back and chest were speckled with a light pink rash and having contacted the doctor, this time by phone, she said his symptoms suggested a viral rash which was really nothing to be concerned about. To finish she asked if he had an appetite and I was about to say no and put him in the car and drive straight over when he leaned across me, grabbed a samosa from my plate and placed it firmly in his mouth. The tide had turned, he was on the mend.
I rang a friend who reassured me that it would be ok and that I could carry out the malaria test on my own, but she was happy to drive over and help if I wanted her to. In the back of my mind I’ve known there would come a time when I’d have to do this. I placed the phone down, gathered the malaria testing kit from the 1st aid basket and prepared myself for having to hurt Leo in order to find out if he had malaria or not.
I stripped off his clothes and sat with him on the floor as he writhed and rolled his head. I removed the sharp pin from the packaging, swabbed his hand and pricked the tip of his ring finger. There didn’t seem enough blood so I tried again, harder, and this time a small plume of red rose to the surface. He moaned pitifully and tried to slide his sweating fingers from mine. My heart clenched. I held his bleeding finger over the larger of the two holes on the plastic control panel and squeezed. It was messy, but I managed and then dropped the buffer solution into the second hole. The next 15 minutes of waiting was agonising….
Eventually one single line appeared on the control panel window indicating a negative result. I lay slumped on the floor with my burning baby. I had the drugs ready in case it was malaria and I knew what to do had the result been positive, but thank god it wasn’t. The relief was acute but I was still frightened knowing that his little body was housing a massive fire and that I was responsible for putting it out. The fever spiked and dropped rapidly over the next 24 hours. When he wasn’t asleep I nursed him and when the time was right I slid neurofen into his bird like mouth. I did another malaria test at 4am by the light of a head torch because there wasn’t any power - this one was also negative. Our bed became his haven and I made it as cool and as comfortable underneath that mosquito net as best I could.
It is now 2 weeks since Leo was sick and he has bounced back like the atom bomb, all noisy and full of strength. I had been scared and frightened of what I would do should he became ill in the topics (especially with malaria being such a monster) but instincts kick in and you find yourself drawing on your inner resolve and turning a potentially dreadful situation completely around. Typically Chris returned 6 days later to a very happy and very healthy baby boy and I think secretly wondered what all the fuss was about….. :)
Sunday, January 22, 2012
It fits like a glove....for a hat
Like a pair of favourite gloves there's something deeply comforting about pulling on a well-worn hat.
About twelve years ago Chris and I drove to Cornwall in our old VW camper van and bummed around the beautiful coastline. It was a surprisingly hot summer and I'd packed hardly anything appropriate so whilst there I got myself a hat and a pair of shorts...I loved them equally and as is the way I still have them. On a g-o-o-d day I can squeeze into the shorts, and the hat? The hat's always sat snugly on my (scarily large) head and it would take Mother Nature at her absolute worst to get so close as to flick the brim.
Whilst looking through some photos earlier I realised that my hat's accommpanied me on all manner of adventures. As the saying goes, 'if these walls could talk'......without a shadow of a doubt the same could be said for my faded old hat and those dang swirly blue and white shorts:)
About twelve years ago Chris and I drove to Cornwall in our old VW camper van and bummed around the beautiful coastline. It was a surprisingly hot summer and I'd packed hardly anything appropriate so whilst there I got myself a hat and a pair of shorts...I loved them equally and as is the way I still have them. On a g-o-o-d day I can squeeze into the shorts, and the hat? The hat's always sat snugly on my (scarily large) head and it would take Mother Nature at her absolute worst to get so close as to flick the brim.
Whilst looking through some photos earlier I realised that my hat's accommpanied me on all manner of adventures. As the saying goes, 'if these walls could talk'......without a shadow of a doubt the same could be said for my faded old hat and those dang swirly blue and white shorts:)
On our honeymoon in Zanzibar 2004
On a trail in Uganda
In Uganda - Lake Victoria in the background
In Zambia having caught (!) this mighty Tiger fish
Travelling in our truck 2008
On the Nile in Murchison trying (and eventually succeeding) in spotting the elusive Shoebill
Taking part in a charity cycle marathon 2006 - this was taken before I set off ;)
Being taken for a swim in the Nile
By far the most exciting adventure of my life to date - my son, Leo
Thursday, January 19, 2012
When dinner tastes this good who needs a plate
What do you call a woman who eats her dinner out of the frying pan whilst standing at the stove in a pair of joggers and a knackered t-shirt?
A slovenly woman?
Correct, and scarily I am that woman
Chris has been gone way too long................................
A slovenly woman?
Correct, and scarily I am that woman
Chris has been gone way too long................................
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Never a dull moment
Leo and I have colds and it's 100% not fun. Not one bit. We're both cranky, and coupled with the fact he's crawling and bumping into everything is making it a million times worse. There's no off switch to his runny nose and it's leaking over me, my t-shirts and the furniture. 'Boo- bloody-hooo' I hear you yell, 'at least you're warm'.
Well yes, we are, but sometimes that's even worse. At least when you have a cold in a freezing climate you can snuggle down under your duvet, get cosy in a big jumper and drink delicious mugs of hot chocolate dripping with marshmallows. Here we're eating nasty biscuits by a brand called Mangi (more like Manky) and drinking tepid water.
Every cloud and all that rubbish....so a couple of things have made me smile in the last 24 hours and I thought I'd share them with you. I'm generous to a fault when I'm suffering.
Death in Africa is spoken of very differently to how we speak of it in the West. Here it's a way of life - you're born and then you die and somewhere in the middle you live your life. Peter, who we're putting through college, works at the weekends on a piece of land we have downstream of Jinja. I saw him the other day and we were chatting about families, football and school. He told me his grandmother was sick and was being looked after by his mother.
'I'm so sorry to hear that, do you know what is the cause of her sickness?'
'Errrr, no, she's just v-e-r-y old and is sick from being old, because this is what happens when you get old.'
'How old is she?'
'Old.'
Then yesterday I received a text from Peter:-
"Hi Georgie, my grandmum has finally died! Peter."
********************
Yesterday was all about the humour. A bit later I received a handwritten letter from a young woman who I've never met, but she would like a job. The letter says, word for word:-
To, THE MANAGER MARKSON HOTEL
Re: APPLICATION FOR A JOB AS A COOKER
I here by submit my application to your office for the above mentioned post. I am a ugandan by nationality, Emuganda by tribe aged 25 years. I have experience for two years because I was working some where. I will be greatfull if my request meets your kindly considaration.
Thanks
your kindly
Namato Peace
********************
What more can I say, enjoy your hot chocolate!
Well yes, we are, but sometimes that's even worse. At least when you have a cold in a freezing climate you can snuggle down under your duvet, get cosy in a big jumper and drink delicious mugs of hot chocolate dripping with marshmallows. Here we're eating nasty biscuits by a brand called Mangi (more like Manky) and drinking tepid water.
Every cloud and all that rubbish....so a couple of things have made me smile in the last 24 hours and I thought I'd share them with you. I'm generous to a fault when I'm suffering.
Death in Africa is spoken of very differently to how we speak of it in the West. Here it's a way of life - you're born and then you die and somewhere in the middle you live your life. Peter, who we're putting through college, works at the weekends on a piece of land we have downstream of Jinja. I saw him the other day and we were chatting about families, football and school. He told me his grandmother was sick and was being looked after by his mother.
'I'm so sorry to hear that, do you know what is the cause of her sickness?'
'Errrr, no, she's just v-e-r-y old and is sick from being old, because this is what happens when you get old.'
'How old is she?'
'Old.'
Then yesterday I received a text from Peter:-
"Hi Georgie, my grandmum has finally died! Peter."
********************
Yesterday was all about the humour. A bit later I received a handwritten letter from a young woman who I've never met, but she would like a job. The letter says, word for word:-
To, THE MANAGER MARKSON HOTEL
Re: APPLICATION FOR A JOB AS A COOKER
I here by submit my application to your office for the above mentioned post. I am a ugandan by nationality, Emuganda by tribe aged 25 years. I have experience for two years because I was working some where. I will be greatfull if my request meets your kindly considaration.
Thanks
your kindly
Namato Peace
********************
What more can I say, enjoy your hot chocolate!
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Christmas at Murchison River Lodge 2011
Having skidded sideways into 2012 at 140mph one would hope by now to have found the absolute obvious. The brakes.
With our sweaty heads snapped back, hair framed like a bubble of dirty candyfloss, sunglasses smeared from greasy fingers and a chunky baby strapped tightly into his car seat (his peg teeth gnashing like a turtle) we look like a feral family straight out of Mad Max. We remain foot heavy on the pedal whilst pulling a couple of wide-boy doughnuts in the murram driveway before tearing off in a cloud of dust. As we bend into January every which way there appear to be no brakes with Mel Gibson at the wheel.
***********
Our Christmas trip to Murchison was magical, priceless, special, hectic, crazy and exhausting! The car was rammed with gear - if Leo had been any bigger odds-on he'd have been in the passenger seat and I'd have been left behind. The journey north reminded me of why I love Africa. Vast skies, hot and dusty roads, windows down, cows with big horns picking at strands of bleached grass, children running alongside the car hoping for sweets or a simple wave, bicycles laden with locally grown produce, women balancing litres and litres of precious water carefully on their heads, battered cars carrying families from nowhere to somewhere and the long dirt, red, road taking you deeper and deeper into Murchison Falls National Park.
My breath evaporated out of my mouth as Chris walked me around the lodge and camp - in 18 months everything had changed beyond belief. Leo sat squarely on my hip mesmerized by the Rock Agama lizards, their orange and black scaly skin worn like a suit of armour. We wandered the campsite with the ridiculously brilliant shower and toilet block, and dipped beneath groups of spindly trees framing the grass with dappled shade. The family cottage is beautiful, with 3 more nearing completion. The furniture is created out of old railway sleepers enticing you to lie down with the intention of never, ever getting up again and the view from the veranda is of wild bush housing a plethora of birdlife. The simple yet dramatic bar and restaurant blew me right back to the car park. The vast thatched roof, made up of individual grasses slashed into small steps, hangs like a big fringe providing cooling shade and respite from the glaring ball of sun high above.
I kissed Chris for a long time and didn't cry. Instead I stood full of pride and drunk in the incredible view out across the river Nile and over the wild green lands of Murchison Falls National Park. Africa at her finest.
Those precious hours now float like a dream around my head, because the following 7 days saw us race about like unfit athletes, huffing and puffing in the heat, as we prepared the lodge for guests and visitors from near and far. We rearranged furniture, chopped thorny branches from eye level, hung electric blue parking signs, fitted a solar heater, placed old animal skulls in strategic places, strung mosquito nets the size of circus tents on sanded poles, text home to find out the cooking time for a 4.8kg turkey (!) screwed decorative gourds to walls, put candles in old wine bottles, hunted down missing lanterns and sat with local staff to discuss the arrival times of guests, bed linen, rubbish collection, laundry, stocking the bar, roasting potatoes and to make sure there was always enough beer.
David, the proud young barman/waiter told me in one heart stopping sentence, 'I am trying my level best and I wont let you down'.
Most nights we fell into bed in the manager's house by midnight, with a sleeping Leo spaced out in his cot beside us. And most nights he woke at 3am. In this instance I would haul him from under mosquito nets into our bed so his crying wouldn't, 'wake the guests or have them think there's a wild animal in the camp Georgie!' This was easy enough until the night a bat flew in through the opened door and clung to the net right next to my HEAD. There was no mistaking the wild noise I made as I screeched at Chris to, 'fucking well do something!!!' Leo took to the bush like Harrison Ford to Indiana Jones. He roared his approval to everyone and relished in playing with the Christmas present wrapping paper over any toys, except for a plastic water bottle or my dirty flip flops. He cut a top tooth with little fuss. He developed a love of dodgy sausages and in the afternoons sat happily in a cooling bucket of water though by early evening showed his complete disapproval at having to be manhandled into a baby gro.
We had guests from Christmas Day to New Years Day and a smattering have stayed since. We served, cooked, talked, laughed and made a note of all the things we still need to do. As you can imagine the list is endless and Chris left this morning with more building materials to try and finish the family cottages with. I'm being hounded to get the website online and it's coming (albeit slowly) but in the meantime to promote what we're doing and to give guests and agents an idea of the accommodation and location I've created a Murchison River Lodge Facebook Page. I'd love for you to have a look.
***********
And that, thank god, is us embracing 2012.........full on, sun battered and knackered. I wish you a belated Happy New Year and yes, since you ask, my name is Tina Turner and I'm off to Thunder Dome.
With our sweaty heads snapped back, hair framed like a bubble of dirty candyfloss, sunglasses smeared from greasy fingers and a chunky baby strapped tightly into his car seat (his peg teeth gnashing like a turtle) we look like a feral family straight out of Mad Max. We remain foot heavy on the pedal whilst pulling a couple of wide-boy doughnuts in the murram driveway before tearing off in a cloud of dust. As we bend into January every which way there appear to be no brakes with Mel Gibson at the wheel.
***********
Our Christmas trip to Murchison was magical, priceless, special, hectic, crazy and exhausting! The car was rammed with gear - if Leo had been any bigger odds-on he'd have been in the passenger seat and I'd have been left behind. The journey north reminded me of why I love Africa. Vast skies, hot and dusty roads, windows down, cows with big horns picking at strands of bleached grass, children running alongside the car hoping for sweets or a simple wave, bicycles laden with locally grown produce, women balancing litres and litres of precious water carefully on their heads, battered cars carrying families from nowhere to somewhere and the long dirt, red, road taking you deeper and deeper into Murchison Falls National Park.
My breath evaporated out of my mouth as Chris walked me around the lodge and camp - in 18 months everything had changed beyond belief. Leo sat squarely on my hip mesmerized by the Rock Agama lizards, their orange and black scaly skin worn like a suit of armour. We wandered the campsite with the ridiculously brilliant shower and toilet block, and dipped beneath groups of spindly trees framing the grass with dappled shade. The family cottage is beautiful, with 3 more nearing completion. The furniture is created out of old railway sleepers enticing you to lie down with the intention of never, ever getting up again and the view from the veranda is of wild bush housing a plethora of birdlife. The simple yet dramatic bar and restaurant blew me right back to the car park. The vast thatched roof, made up of individual grasses slashed into small steps, hangs like a big fringe providing cooling shade and respite from the glaring ball of sun high above.
I kissed Chris for a long time and didn't cry. Instead I stood full of pride and drunk in the incredible view out across the river Nile and over the wild green lands of Murchison Falls National Park. Africa at her finest.
Those precious hours now float like a dream around my head, because the following 7 days saw us race about like unfit athletes, huffing and puffing in the heat, as we prepared the lodge for guests and visitors from near and far. We rearranged furniture, chopped thorny branches from eye level, hung electric blue parking signs, fitted a solar heater, placed old animal skulls in strategic places, strung mosquito nets the size of circus tents on sanded poles, text home to find out the cooking time for a 4.8kg turkey (!) screwed decorative gourds to walls, put candles in old wine bottles, hunted down missing lanterns and sat with local staff to discuss the arrival times of guests, bed linen, rubbish collection, laundry, stocking the bar, roasting potatoes and to make sure there was always enough beer.
David, the proud young barman/waiter told me in one heart stopping sentence, 'I am trying my level best and I wont let you down'.
Most nights we fell into bed in the manager's house by midnight, with a sleeping Leo spaced out in his cot beside us. And most nights he woke at 3am. In this instance I would haul him from under mosquito nets into our bed so his crying wouldn't, 'wake the guests or have them think there's a wild animal in the camp Georgie!' This was easy enough until the night a bat flew in through the opened door and clung to the net right next to my HEAD. There was no mistaking the wild noise I made as I screeched at Chris to, 'fucking well do something!!!' Leo took to the bush like Harrison Ford to Indiana Jones. He roared his approval to everyone and relished in playing with the Christmas present wrapping paper over any toys, except for a plastic water bottle or my dirty flip flops. He cut a top tooth with little fuss. He developed a love of dodgy sausages and in the afternoons sat happily in a cooling bucket of water though by early evening showed his complete disapproval at having to be manhandled into a baby gro.
We had guests from Christmas Day to New Years Day and a smattering have stayed since. We served, cooked, talked, laughed and made a note of all the things we still need to do. As you can imagine the list is endless and Chris left this morning with more building materials to try and finish the family cottages with. I'm being hounded to get the website online and it's coming (albeit slowly) but in the meantime to promote what we're doing and to give guests and agents an idea of the accommodation and location I've created a Murchison River Lodge Facebook Page. I'd love for you to have a look.
***********
And that, thank god, is us embracing 2012.........full on, sun battered and knackered. I wish you a belated Happy New Year and yes, since you ask, my name is Tina Turner and I'm off to Thunder Dome.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Completing the puzzle
The curtains move gently with the breeze in Leo’s bedroom. It’s
a small but beautiful space and I can’t stop myself from walking in and moving
things around a little. It makes me smile
that he has a room of his own, but equally I’m aware of how grown up it all
suddenly seems. The walls and floor are newly
painted and a large white mosquito net hangs gently from its wooden frame like
a whisper. The transition from our bed
to his cot happened last month when we were in the UK
The rising sun spreads her silky fingers of warmth across
the garden and over the exotic flowers, streaking everything in a rich glow. The sky is already blue with the odd dot of
white cloud bobbing like a balloon against the backdrop. Leo is sleeping, rolled onto his side with
his toes resting on soft cuddly toys, the little tips poking through the bars
of his cot. My eyes prick with tears as
I watch him, and holding my breath I move carefully backwards as the big world continues
to spin her morning magic outside the window.
My baby, my big baby is approaching 9 months old and I continue to feel
a growing love like no other as I cradle the moments of his being. I pinch myself that he’s here, our precious
pot of gold.
The rest of the house is starting to fizz with the energy
involved in packing for our safari north.
We’re heading to a part of the country where it can get so hot you can
fry an egg on the bonnet of your car and a large hat is not enough – ouch! Chris was due back this afternoon but has
rung to say he’s up to his knees in plumbing so wont make it home until
tomorrow. We’ll load during the night
and head off first thing Friday morning with mosquito nets, bedding, food
supplies, lanterns and decorated gourds – the final additions for the
lodge. He’s carefully prepared a room for
us in Murchison where we will spend our 1st Christmas together as a family,
overlooking the Nile . From the high bank we’ll seek out hippos
floating in the water and capture elephants on camera as they wander to the
edge to drink.
It’s been nearly 20 months since I was there and I can’t
wait. It feels like the beginning of a
new phase and in a way I suppose it is, we’ve been waiting for this moment a long
time and finally our two big dreams, Leo and Murchison River Lodge, are due to
meet. We anticipate a big roar of
approval from the lion and for Chris and I?
it will be like putting the final piece of the giant puzzle tightly into
place.
We’ll be without internet access for a while so Merry
Christmas and Happy Holidays one and all X
(Mary, I’ll be sure to pack the sensible footwear for
elephant running)!
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Naughty or nice? Give me bad as hell
Having become a mother I now appreciate the fact that most people have an opinion about what you’re doing when it comes to raising your child. Whether they’re a parent themselves or a casual spectator the comments come forth - some are truly lovely, some full of experience, others err on the wrong side of not.
A friend casually took a bottle of my expressed liquid gold from the fridge and was about to give it to Leo because I was on the phone and she thought he was hungry. Another suggested I ‘wasn’t going to be one of those mothers’ when I stopped her from relentlessly feeding Leo a piece of steak at 4 months old. There’s also the odd comment about his clothing and him being too warm, and is he doing A, B or C yet.
Speaking with a friend on the phone the other day she asked whether I was feeling broody due to several couples recently announcing their pregnancy news. Broody? No, because I’m wrapped up in nurturing Leo, but a part of me sometimes wonders whether we will ever find ourselves conceiving naturally again or if he will have a sibling to grow up with. I don’t know what the future holds, but having waited so long for our baby boy to arrive we’re strong enough and focused enough to give him a great life regardless of the outcome.
She randomly ploughed on and asked if I’d read or heard about a recent article by the NCT (National Childbirth Trust) which I hadn’t (and I have no need to). Apparently it suggests couples who have one child and fail to get pregnant through IVF (or similar) with a second are far more distraught than those who fail to conceive at all. I stared hard into the phone, ‘WTF. WHY ON EARTH ARE WE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION? I know women who are distraught regardless! And the thing is you’re a mother who falls pregnant easily, you also know my history and you know if I were to become pregnant ever again (probably through medical intervention) the odds are my womb will rupture and both my baby and I could die.’
But I didn’t say that because I didn’t want to offend her with my pissed off tone, so instead I mumbled something about catching up soon and then spent the rest of the day growling. Sometimes I wish I could let rip with both barrels when someone says something that’s insensitive, wrong and rude and if Father Christmas wants to know if I’ve been naughty or nice well I’ve been nice, but there are those days when I wish to high heaven I could be bad as h.e.l.l.
Friday, December 16, 2011
M25 pit stop
It's now six days since we landed and Chris and I remain in awe of our first class passenger - he was literally born to travel which can't be said for his mother. Early last Saturday morning as we hurtled towards Heathrow around the M25 I needed to go the loo so badly I nearly fainted. I finally managed to persuade Pod (my stepfather) to pull off at the next junction which he was initially against (with much huffing and puffing) as with only 20 miles left couldn't I just wait? NO I COULD NOT.
I think what finally changed his mind was my face turning red from lack of oxygen so he yanked the steering wheel and we found a road leading into a dark and dingy lane. I clambered from the car, wet wipes in hand, and darted to the nearest bush. This particular spot was a fly tip and the area littered to the beaming full moon and back with rubbish. It was so awful I mentally held everything in and instead weed like a racehorse.....right next to a plastic kettle.….
When it comes to needing a pit stop, quite literally, I'm your girl.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The lodge in progress
Chris has just been back in Jinja and emailed a few photos of how the lodge in Murchison is progressing - it's looking incredible. He's up against the 'in time for Christmas' clock, but it's all looking good and I reckon he'll do it unless there's a horrendous storm that washes the mud roads away or the place gets trashed by hippos...it's extreme, but extreme is always a possibility up there.
The bar/restaurant viewed from the river Nile
Bar viewed from the firepit
Bar terrace
Family cottage - still to be painted and furnished
Monday, December 5, 2011
Daddy Is My Hero
The 3 weeks Leo and I have been in England the phone calls between Chris and I have been hit and miss. He's often unable to get a mobile signal in the bush unless he's standing like a flamingo on a termite hill and when eventually one tiny bar appears on that little screen and the call connects we shout like crazy people at one another and then the line drops out. BAH! It's frustrating, but it's ok as we'll see each other in 5 days time when he collects Leo and I from Entebbe airport.
In the meantime I've been emailing him photos of Leo who is changing by the minute. On Saturday morning he revealed 2 spiky bottom teeth, he's becoming more determined to shuffle his 10.9kg body across the floor and his hair...well, it's more wispy than ever :) The two photos below tell daddy like it is and the last one shows him wearing Chris's old Afghan Pakol hat. It's a hat from way back when he used to drive and guide tours through the Middle East and into Pakistan and India. It holds fond memories for us both and it seems Leo enjoys the scratchy woolly feel of it against his little pip.
Like father, like son.
In the meantime I've been emailing him photos of Leo who is changing by the minute. On Saturday morning he revealed 2 spiky bottom teeth, he's becoming more determined to shuffle his 10.9kg body across the floor and his hair...well, it's more wispy than ever :) The two photos below tell daddy like it is and the last one shows him wearing Chris's old Afghan Pakol hat. It's a hat from way back when he used to drive and guide tours through the Middle East and into Pakistan and India. It holds fond memories for us both and it seems Leo enjoys the scratchy woolly feel of it against his little pip.
Like father, like son.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
HOWLING with laughter!
If you have a dog, know someone with a dog, grew up with a dog, have no interest in dogs.....
Dog or no dog this short clip of a dog chasing a herd of deer in Richmond Park (London) who in turn is being chased by his owner is absolutely worth watching!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GRSbr0EYYU&feature=youtu.be&noredirect=1
Dog or no dog this short clip of a dog chasing a herd of deer in Richmond Park (London) who in turn is being chased by his owner is absolutely worth watching!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GRSbr0EYYU&feature=youtu.be&noredirect=1
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Our Boys
Today was a special day, one that has been a long time coming and one that enveloped my heart with sunshine and warmth.
My great friend Fi drove down from London to visit Leo and I with her baby son, Ru. I hugged her hard and touched the cheek of her beautiful angel, he smiled a gummy smile in return. Our boys reached out for one another as they twisted and turned on the sitting room floor. Leo grabbed Ru's arm, Ru grabbed a toy. Ru squealed, Leo grunted. We are excited about the lives they will lead, the adventures they will have and the absolute mischief they will cause together.
Through the laughter we spoke gently of the loss of our first beloved babies, Ella and Innes. When the lights went out, when darkness fell and when the sky closed in we understood each other's pain - words were no longer necessary. We supported one another when the whisper of a new life began to flutter inside our broken bodies and when celebrating such a miracle seemed impossible.
Chris and I were honoured to introduce Leo to Fi and her husband Rich when he was 6 weeks old....to meet Ru today completed the circle.
My great friend Fi drove down from London to visit Leo and I with her baby son, Ru. I hugged her hard and touched the cheek of her beautiful angel, he smiled a gummy smile in return. Our boys reached out for one another as they twisted and turned on the sitting room floor. Leo grabbed Ru's arm, Ru grabbed a toy. Ru squealed, Leo grunted. We are excited about the lives they will lead, the adventures they will have and the absolute mischief they will cause together.
Through the laughter we spoke gently of the loss of our first beloved babies, Ella and Innes. When the lights went out, when darkness fell and when the sky closed in we understood each other's pain - words were no longer necessary. We supported one another when the whisper of a new life began to flutter inside our broken bodies and when celebrating such a miracle seemed impossible.
Chris and I were honoured to introduce Leo to Fi and her husband Rich when he was 6 weeks old....to meet Ru today completed the circle.
Ru, 4.5 months old & Leo who turned 8 months old today
Fi and I with 'our boys'
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Malaria or Ebola....nothing as fancy
Good god, I've had the lurgy for a week.
Last Tuesday night I crashed into bed with a headache that was shoving my right eye out of my skull. I had a temperature, threw up and gnashed my jaws for 2 hours. Was it malaria? Ever so likely. Eventually I could stand it no more and crawled across the carpeted floor to where my suitcase lay and scratched around for a malaria testing kit. It was 1am. It was also Leo's second night of being in a cot - EVER. Being sick was not on my agenda, especially when attempting the 'cry down' method of getting him to sleep through the night after co-sharing for the past 4 months. I had hoped that being away from Africa would enable me to get our baby not only to sleep in a cot, but to sleep in cot in a separate room. In my mind's painful eye this was about to backfire with bells on.
I pricked my thumb, carried out the test and lay on the floor in the semi-darkness using my phone as a torch. After 10 minutes the negative result showed. I'm not sure if I was relieved or pissed off. So the last week has seen us sniff, cough, bark and whinge at being poorly (to be honest most of those adjectives apply to me, Leo's still too young to be able to string one word together). It's a given that living in the tropics can be horribly tough on your health, especially for babies and the elderly.....OH and for anyone else who happens to be breathing in the air, but ironically returning to British shores during the winter months can be equally as dangerous - there are bugs, viruses, short dark days and everyone's wacky central heating to contend with.
Thankfully we've managed to compensate having Ebola (or it's equivalent) by seeing family (Chris's included), beautiful friends and eating my fill of custard danish pastries.
And my biggest coup of all? Leo loves his cot!
*** I've realised that there is nothing worse than parents who talk smugly of their kid/s not only liking a cot but sleeping in one to make sleep deprived parents go slightly c-r-a-z-y. Over a week ago I'd have wanted to punch me ***
Last Tuesday night I crashed into bed with a headache that was shoving my right eye out of my skull. I had a temperature, threw up and gnashed my jaws for 2 hours. Was it malaria? Ever so likely. Eventually I could stand it no more and crawled across the carpeted floor to where my suitcase lay and scratched around for a malaria testing kit. It was 1am. It was also Leo's second night of being in a cot - EVER. Being sick was not on my agenda, especially when attempting the 'cry down' method of getting him to sleep through the night after co-sharing for the past 4 months. I had hoped that being away from Africa would enable me to get our baby not only to sleep in a cot, but to sleep in cot in a separate room. In my mind's painful eye this was about to backfire with bells on.
I pricked my thumb, carried out the test and lay on the floor in the semi-darkness using my phone as a torch. After 10 minutes the negative result showed. I'm not sure if I was relieved or pissed off. So the last week has seen us sniff, cough, bark and whinge at being poorly (to be honest most of those adjectives apply to me, Leo's still too young to be able to string one word together). It's a given that living in the tropics can be horribly tough on your health, especially for babies and the elderly.....OH and for anyone else who happens to be breathing in the air, but ironically returning to British shores during the winter months can be equally as dangerous - there are bugs, viruses, short dark days and everyone's wacky central heating to contend with.
Thankfully we've managed to compensate having Ebola (or it's equivalent) by seeing family (Chris's included), beautiful friends and eating my fill of custard danish pastries.
And my biggest coup of all? Leo loves his cot!
*** I've realised that there is nothing worse than parents who talk smugly of their kid/s not only liking a cot but sleeping in one to make sleep deprived parents go slightly c-r-a-z-y. Over a week ago I'd have wanted to punch me ***
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Forget the sunnies, this is England in November
The last month or so has flown by and I've been lame at typing. No excuses apart from my mum's visited, the country's power supply is rubbish so during the evening I wear a head torch and read by candle light. Chris continues to live like Stig of the Dump in Murchison - he remains all hairy and wild having recovered from a bout of malaria - but the lodge development is close to being finished and he's breaking balls to get it done before Christmas. One of our dogs was about to cark it with sleeping sickness but she made a miraculous recovery, the chatty cat crazes my arse with his squeaking and I'm tempted to drop him from the car 10 miles away....frustratingly we know he'd find his way back. Leo and I continue to co-share the double bed (which is becoming a problem seeing that he wakes every 3 seconds to use me as a dummy) and he's growing like a heavy weight - now tipping the scales at 10.8kg. Excitedly on Tuesday night the baby and I boarded a BA flight bound for the UK - my great friend Lesley showered us with air miles and made us an offer we couldn't refuse (we love her to the moon and back). We're home for a 3 week visit and are ensconced at my parents house in Suffolk. Stupidly I'd forgotten how cold the UK can be in November and it feels like I'm about to fall over with flu, but with a glass of wine in one hand and a bowl of crisps in the other I seem to be coping brilliantly.
Hmmmmmm, sunglasses are not essential eyeware in England during November.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
October - a month to remember
As I hung wet clothes along the roped washing line I felt someone watching me. I turned and saw her standing quietly by the corner of the house. She was wearing a dark skirt and a faded blue cardigan that hung loosely from her delicate round shoulders. Her small feet were clad in plastic pink flip flops and her hair, often so carefully braided, was short and fuzzy. One hand steadied herself against the wall, the other held a man's handkerchief to her face.
My voice caught in the back of my throat as I softly said her name. She walked tentatively to the back door of our house and stood by the large steps leading into the kitchen. I held her gaze and moved slowly across the garden, my arms held open to her. Her tiny frame was rigid, but she allowed herself to be soothed, if just for a moment and I whispered into her hair that I was so, so sorry.
We sat quietly on the top step and looked out into the back yard staring at the jack fruit trees and the wasteland of a vegetable patch. Fuwe, our dog, sniffed at our bare legs and the cockerel from next door crowed restlessly. Leo sat in his bouncy chair, time slowed and the hot air crackled. She spoke carefully and slowly in English, her voice barely wavering . I remained with my hands clasped around my knees and could only imagine the horror of what she had endured.
"I went to bed with some small pain here in my stomach, so I took 2 painkillers and tried to sleep. I don't know what time it was, but I woke with a big pain. The pain, it was too much. I tried to get to the door but fell. There was blood, lots of blood and my body was pushing and my stomach was hurting. I remained on the floor and when I looked down I could see there was something, something big and red and that's when I collapsed. My younger sister was staying with me, she's seven years old and she ran to the neighbour. They managed to put me in a vehicle and a man drove me to a clinic, do you know the one? It's up on the hill. They said I slept for 3 hours. I stayed for 1 night and then went back home. But the blood, eeeeeeh, it was too much, as much as this large basin."
"How far was I? The baby, it was already 12 weeks before it came...........and like it was for you Georgie, it is just so sad."
**********************
From following Still Life 365, October is baby loss awareness month. I've been remembering Ella and friends and families from near and far who have lost precious babies like her, babies that have been taken from us far too soon. The loss of a baby doesn't discriminate and as Madrin our young Ugandan cleaner said to me, 'it is just so sad.'
Sending love and light around the globe to one and all X
My voice caught in the back of my throat as I softly said her name. She walked tentatively to the back door of our house and stood by the large steps leading into the kitchen. I held her gaze and moved slowly across the garden, my arms held open to her. Her tiny frame was rigid, but she allowed herself to be soothed, if just for a moment and I whispered into her hair that I was so, so sorry.
We sat quietly on the top step and looked out into the back yard staring at the jack fruit trees and the wasteland of a vegetable patch. Fuwe, our dog, sniffed at our bare legs and the cockerel from next door crowed restlessly. Leo sat in his bouncy chair, time slowed and the hot air crackled. She spoke carefully and slowly in English, her voice barely wavering . I remained with my hands clasped around my knees and could only imagine the horror of what she had endured.
"I went to bed with some small pain here in my stomach, so I took 2 painkillers and tried to sleep. I don't know what time it was, but I woke with a big pain. The pain, it was too much. I tried to get to the door but fell. There was blood, lots of blood and my body was pushing and my stomach was hurting. I remained on the floor and when I looked down I could see there was something, something big and red and that's when I collapsed. My younger sister was staying with me, she's seven years old and she ran to the neighbour. They managed to put me in a vehicle and a man drove me to a clinic, do you know the one? It's up on the hill. They said I slept for 3 hours. I stayed for 1 night and then went back home. But the blood, eeeeeeh, it was too much, as much as this large basin."
"How far was I? The baby, it was already 12 weeks before it came...........and like it was for you Georgie, it is just so sad."
**********************
From following Still Life 365, October is baby loss awareness month. I've been remembering Ella and friends and families from near and far who have lost precious babies like her, babies that have been taken from us far too soon. The loss of a baby doesn't discriminate and as Madrin our young Ugandan cleaner said to me, 'it is just so sad.'
Sending love and light around the globe to one and all X
Sunday, October 9, 2011
A BIG Sign
I passed a sign in the local village yesterday that says it all about living in Africa.....
ESPECIALLY when it comes to ruddy great big hairy caterpillars (as per previous post).
ESPECIALLY when it comes to ruddy great big hairy caterpillars (as per previous post).
Friday, October 7, 2011
Bigger and Scarier in Africa
Africa has a tendency for doing things just that bit bigger and scarier than anywhere else I've travelled.
Case in point - below is a photo of a hairy caterpillar that was found cruising around our garden this afternoon.
FAAAAARK 'N HELL!!!!
Case in point - below is a photo of a hairy caterpillar that was found cruising around our garden this afternoon.
FAAAAARK 'N HELL!!!!
Monday, September 26, 2011
Come Walk With Us
In the morning, before the sun gets too crazy hot, I strap Leo into his buggy and we head off for a walk around the neighbourhood. We've lived in this this part of town for nearly 8 years, before then we spent 12 mad and slightly drunken months living in a banda at a campsite overlooking the swirling eddies of the river Nile below.
Why did we move from such a sensational location? To be honest our one room accommodation (and adjacent long drop toilet) literally hung off a muddy bank. And it was after one colossal storm that saw us swinging through the front door above a huge drop off that we called it a day (our livers were to thank us too) and searched for an alternative abode in town.
The following photos give a brief insight into the area where we live. Many of the houses are lived in by large Ugandan families whose children run, laugh and play around the unkempt gardens, as do their animals. Chris, Leo and I live in our rented house with Ugandan neighbours either side and behind us. Several expats tend to reside on another side of town close to the famous Jinja Golf Course that curves down to the Source of the Nile, where cattle and goats graze on the verges with wild abandon.
Interestingly Uganda has a large Indian population. During Idi Amin's reign he ordered their expulsion and they were given 90 days to leave. When Museveni, the current president, came to power in 1986 he invited the Indians back. Many of them still retained their land and house titles which meant they could return to where they were living before. Several families live in large and ornate houses and depending on the time of day the smell of curry and incense can be caught on the wind.
We're probably 15 minutes by foot from town and there's often a constant flow of traffic going past our front gate. Chickens pick at the insects by the driveway and people wander past the high green hedge bordering the garden where the Karamojong ladies bend to collect fallen sticks and tie them in bundles before placing them on their heads. Piki Piki's (local motorbike taxi's) putt up and down the road. Stray dogs encourage late night barking and Leo and I are usually awake to hear the Islamic call to prayer at 5am.....that's when I crash my head back into the pillows and dream of more sleep! Local hotels often have weekend discos but on the whole mid week entertainment is thankfully kept to a minimum.
In the late afternoon we may go for a second walk, taking a slightly longer route. Some of the roads are pot holed and there aren't any pavements. The askari's (night watchmen) pass us on their way to work, nodding a greeting and waving at Leo. Children fall out of school around this time and shriek and squeal at the 'big white baby' and we may stop at the dukas (local shops) to buy popcorn or bananas.
And if it's raining? Hmmm, we're fair weather walkers in this house and the rain in the tropics falls so heavily we take the soft option.............and stay in.
Why did we move from such a sensational location? To be honest our one room accommodation (and adjacent long drop toilet) literally hung off a muddy bank. And it was after one colossal storm that saw us swinging through the front door above a huge drop off that we called it a day (our livers were to thank us too) and searched for an alternative abode in town.
The following photos give a brief insight into the area where we live. Many of the houses are lived in by large Ugandan families whose children run, laugh and play around the unkempt gardens, as do their animals. Chris, Leo and I live in our rented house with Ugandan neighbours either side and behind us. Several expats tend to reside on another side of town close to the famous Jinja Golf Course that curves down to the Source of the Nile, where cattle and goats graze on the verges with wild abandon.
Interestingly Uganda has a large Indian population. During Idi Amin's reign he ordered their expulsion and they were given 90 days to leave. When Museveni, the current president, came to power in 1986 he invited the Indians back. Many of them still retained their land and house titles which meant they could return to where they were living before. Several families live in large and ornate houses and depending on the time of day the smell of curry and incense can be caught on the wind.
We're probably 15 minutes by foot from town and there's often a constant flow of traffic going past our front gate. Chickens pick at the insects by the driveway and people wander past the high green hedge bordering the garden where the Karamojong ladies bend to collect fallen sticks and tie them in bundles before placing them on their heads. Piki Piki's (local motorbike taxi's) putt up and down the road. Stray dogs encourage late night barking and Leo and I are usually awake to hear the Islamic call to prayer at 5am.....that's when I crash my head back into the pillows and dream of more sleep! Local hotels often have weekend discos but on the whole mid week entertainment is thankfully kept to a minimum.
In the late afternoon we may go for a second walk, taking a slightly longer route. Some of the roads are pot holed and there aren't any pavements. The askari's (night watchmen) pass us on their way to work, nodding a greeting and waving at Leo. Children fall out of school around this time and shriek and squeal at the 'big white baby' and we may stop at the dukas (local shops) to buy popcorn or bananas.
And if it's raining? Hmmm, we're fair weather walkers in this house and the rain in the tropics falls so heavily we take the soft option.............and stay in.
Getting ready to roll....
Swinging a left out of our drive
A Pakistani family live in this wonderful house which is currently being painted
One of local high schools in the area
The lady sitting beneath the tree is making chapatis, she also serves sweet tea
The bright blue container sells fruit, vegetables and household items, ie little bags of washing powder
Many of the houses in the area are of this style
The roadside 'dukas' where we get popcorn - you can also get a haircut should you wish
A pretty good stretch of road without a single pothole
The sign says it all
During the Second World War Jinja was the Uganda Centre for the King's African Rifles. The Jinja War Cemetary contains 1 burial for the First World War and 178 buriels and commemorations of the Second World War. The cemetary is situated on the road behind our house.
One of the headstones in memory of the fallen
Through the gate in our driveway looking out across the road
Home
Thanks for joining us ;)
Saturday, September 24, 2011
A wobble
Chris came back for two days and has gone again.
Leo adored seeing him, I loved having him around and we fell into being a family with such ease that I bite my lip when I remember what our life was like before. The days away from each other are difficult now we have a baby (we always knew they would be and we were prepared) but this week in particular I've struggled with having to wave goodbye.
I only have to look at Leo and am overwhelmed by this surge of love for him, but sometimes I feel completely out of my depth at the enormous responsibility involved in taking care of him on my own. He is so precious, so little and so dependant on me that I still find myself gazing at him in disbelief. And just sometimes the absolute fear of loosing him, having lost before, strikes firmly at my heart.
To make it harder I'm missing my family and friends more than usual. I crave their advice, help and knowledge in helping me to charter these unknown baby waters. I hold dear their humour, their wit and their stories via email and skype at how difficult, yet magical, parenthood really is and their safe and loving reassurances that we're doing ok over here.
In light of the above I messaged a dear friend last night and explained that I was having a wobble. I told her Chris was away and that I've been experiencing huge happiness and waves of sadness coupled with the fear of loosing Leo like we lost Ella. She understands better than anyone having suffered a tragic loss of her own before having a baby boy only recently. As such her reply about our babies filled my soul and made me cry as I held onto Leo tightly.
'I truly know how you feel and although I know how lucky we are, there are times I don't trust that he (her son) wont be taken away. And when your husband isn't around to make you feel secure and tell you it'll be ok, it's hard to shake the bad thoughts. But we will be ok and the boys came into our lives at the right times and to help us heal so they must be here to stay.'
Tomorrow is another day, and with it comes renewed strength and for that I am always grateful.
Leo adored seeing him, I loved having him around and we fell into being a family with such ease that I bite my lip when I remember what our life was like before. The days away from each other are difficult now we have a baby (we always knew they would be and we were prepared) but this week in particular I've struggled with having to wave goodbye.
I only have to look at Leo and am overwhelmed by this surge of love for him, but sometimes I feel completely out of my depth at the enormous responsibility involved in taking care of him on my own. He is so precious, so little and so dependant on me that I still find myself gazing at him in disbelief. And just sometimes the absolute fear of loosing him, having lost before, strikes firmly at my heart.
To make it harder I'm missing my family and friends more than usual. I crave their advice, help and knowledge in helping me to charter these unknown baby waters. I hold dear their humour, their wit and their stories via email and skype at how difficult, yet magical, parenthood really is and their safe and loving reassurances that we're doing ok over here.
In light of the above I messaged a dear friend last night and explained that I was having a wobble. I told her Chris was away and that I've been experiencing huge happiness and waves of sadness coupled with the fear of loosing Leo like we lost Ella. She understands better than anyone having suffered a tragic loss of her own before having a baby boy only recently. As such her reply about our babies filled my soul and made me cry as I held onto Leo tightly.
'I truly know how you feel and although I know how lucky we are, there are times I don't trust that he (her son) wont be taken away. And when your husband isn't around to make you feel secure and tell you it'll be ok, it's hard to shake the bad thoughts. But we will be ok and the boys came into our lives at the right times and to help us heal so they must be here to stay.'
Tomorrow is another day, and with it comes renewed strength and for that I am always grateful.
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