Hello Blogger Site.........WTF you playing at?!
I logged in earlier and was hoodwinked into changing the layout of my blog. You too hey? So I faffed around for far too long and this is the new look I'm sporting. Like a scratchy jumper I'm not sure I'm fully comfortable with it, but as my mother would say when I was younger, 'you'll grow to like it.' She also happened to be dead wrong about me and coffee.
Nervously I tip-toed around and tried a couple of the Dynamic View templates but they seemed too tumblr-esq and began to give me a headache. I've chosen Awesome Inc rather than a Watermark, Simple, Ethereal or Travel design. Who knew there was so much choice on Blogger to distract you with on a cool Saturday night in the tropics.
It's not a simple transition. With these new changes being cast I've lost the main sunset photo I took whilst in Zambia a few years ago. The title text is too long for the image and I haven't been able to tweak it right. My clever friend Bobby who created the template (amongst other great things) for Murchison in 20 minutes because he had some spare time on his hands would have fixed it in seconds. How I wish my brain and hands worked that way. I blame it all on Leo.
So as the ball sits in my court I'm going to ponder the lack of photo and contemplate the colours I've chosen. Like a wonky haircut it may just work or I might have to grab a pair of sharp scissors and tidy it up a bit. Anyone else out there changing their blog format successfully? And if you've managed to sort out the photo bit (or know how to change it without shoving your head in the screen) please do let me know.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Happy Birthday Leo
Leo is 1 year old today!!
I have a head full of words but just not enough time in which to write them because you're having a nap and we're busy getting things ready for your big day. And tomorrow there will be even more celebrations with friends aplenty and an incredible cake.
WOW, you are loved and cherished by so many - the joy and happiness your arrival has brought to others is immeasurable......tears have already fallen when I think about the honour and pride I feel at being your mother. You are the shining star in our lives.
Happy Birthday to our baby boy, we absolutely love and adore you XxX
I have a head full of words but just not enough time in which to write them because you're having a nap and we're busy getting things ready for your big day. And tomorrow there will be even more celebrations with friends aplenty and an incredible cake.
WOW, you are loved and cherished by so many - the joy and happiness your arrival has brought to others is immeasurable......tears have already fallen when I think about the honour and pride I feel at being your mother. You are the shining star in our lives.
Happy Birthday to our baby boy, we absolutely love and adore you XxX
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
When love is brutally lost and gently gained
I see her dancing in the heat haze that shimmers on top of the jagged tarmac road. She's there sometimes when Leo's chubby finger's reach out to grab at a toy I imagine is held tightly in her small yet slender hand. When evening closes down around us she rides in on the Night Time Jasmine that seeps through the open windows and fills the room with its intoxicating scent. It's then that I breathe her in. In the mornings as we roll around in bed with Leo I picture her giggling and tugging at her brother's nappy, which he currently loathes to have changed. She makes him laugh and gurgle the beautiful laugh that lives inside every young baby like a series of perfect bubbles.
Ella, Leo's older sister, would be 3 and a half years old.
Baby Footprints Caught In Time
****************
Only very occasionally now do I get swiped by an emotion that rocks the foundations upon which I stand. The walls begin to crumble and the floor cracks and sways. But I'm quick these days, quicker than I ever was before and I can usually harness the feeling of sadness or anger before it gets to do any lasting damage. And for that I thank time and for what came with it, a slip of hope. When we were reeling from the raw loss of Ella and I shouted at Chris to tell me how he appeared to be, 'sort of coping' (as I was raging against every minute of every day) he said with a look of sorrow, 'time doesn't heal George, you just learn over time to live with the pain'.
In the beginning, when your body is being smashed by a chain against every pillar in every land there is nothing anyone can say or do to stop the heavy tears from falling like oil and the searing pain from blistering your heart. As you scream for your precious baby l.i.f.e seems utterly worthless. The complete sadness, emptiness and hopelessness I battled with sliced my spine like a butcher's knife from my scalp to my heel. The hole of despair I dropped into was deep and dark. I didn't see it at first, but thankfully for us both Chris was right. It took a crippling amount of time but slowly I began to ride my blown-to-pieces heart alongside that of a life I was picking my way through, and after months of anguish and hurt a tiny pocket of hope appeared on the horizon.
****************
Leo Phoenix will turn one year old on Friday 30th March 2012. One whole year ago Chris was preparing to leave Uganda for England and I was there waiting for him like a large ship laden down with the most precious of cargo. Our beautiful Leo roared into our lives at 14:20 on Wednesday 30th March 2011 and he has embraced the world at full tilt since. We are in absolute awe of him. I am not the woman I was before I lost my first child and the small wisp of life that followed just months after her, but I am now settled into the familiar skin that Leo likes to lick and rub and the frame he swings off. I still carry my own private heartache and not a day goes by when I don't think of my precious daughter, but I smile a hell of a lot more now and love even harder.
My precious son who tumbles under the bright African sky has taught me that.
Ella, Leo's older sister, would be 3 and a half years old.
Baby Footprints Caught In Time
Ella's were taken by the hospital on the night she was born at 26 weeks and Leo's 2 months after he arrived (swinging from me in a sling) when I had his soles painted orange and pressed onto a tile
****************
Only very occasionally now do I get swiped by an emotion that rocks the foundations upon which I stand. The walls begin to crumble and the floor cracks and sways. But I'm quick these days, quicker than I ever was before and I can usually harness the feeling of sadness or anger before it gets to do any lasting damage. And for that I thank time and for what came with it, a slip of hope. When we were reeling from the raw loss of Ella and I shouted at Chris to tell me how he appeared to be, 'sort of coping' (as I was raging against every minute of every day) he said with a look of sorrow, 'time doesn't heal George, you just learn over time to live with the pain'.
In the beginning, when your body is being smashed by a chain against every pillar in every land there is nothing anyone can say or do to stop the heavy tears from falling like oil and the searing pain from blistering your heart. As you scream for your precious baby l.i.f.e seems utterly worthless. The complete sadness, emptiness and hopelessness I battled with sliced my spine like a butcher's knife from my scalp to my heel. The hole of despair I dropped into was deep and dark. I didn't see it at first, but thankfully for us both Chris was right. It took a crippling amount of time but slowly I began to ride my blown-to-pieces heart alongside that of a life I was picking my way through, and after months of anguish and hurt a tiny pocket of hope appeared on the horizon.
****************
Leo Phoenix will turn one year old on Friday 30th March 2012. One whole year ago Chris was preparing to leave Uganda for England and I was there waiting for him like a large ship laden down with the most precious of cargo. Our beautiful Leo roared into our lives at 14:20 on Wednesday 30th March 2011 and he has embraced the world at full tilt since. We are in absolute awe of him. I am not the woman I was before I lost my first child and the small wisp of life that followed just months after her, but I am now settled into the familiar skin that Leo likes to lick and rub and the frame he swings off. I still carry my own private heartache and not a day goes by when I don't think of my precious daughter, but I smile a hell of a lot more now and love even harder.
My precious son who tumbles under the bright African sky has taught me that.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Samosa blow out
I've discovered a multitude of factors can often hinder when it comes to preparing a nourishing and healthy meal for you baby, time being one of them.
The other day I swung into the Indian run fuel station to get diesel and popped into the shop to buy a couple of their large and freshly made vegetable samosas. Ten minutes later and back at home I bit the corner off one and spooned out the potato, carrot and green bean filling and fed it to Leo for his lunch.
He's munched on a samosa before, but this time he filled his cheeks happily before chowing it down like sweet nectar. I moved on to the next one and he did the same so I let him gnaw on the pastry. He was as happy as a clam. Ten hours later I woke to hear him wailing in his cot. I waited, hoping he'd fall back to sleep. He didn't. By the light of my head torch (because the power was off) I opened the door to his room and had the air blown out of me by a wall of stench.
I beamed down into his cot to be met by a visual that has haunted me since. He had emptied hell into his nappy which in turn had escaped up and out of his babygro. I momentarily froze before getting down to the business of cleaning his filthy little body and cot. When you live in a malaria zone there's no such luxury as taking your time, you have to think fast and move like lightning - neither of which I'm good at, especially gone 11:30pm.
He struggled, he screamed and at one point I'm convinced he tried to bite my nose. Eventually I calmed him down and after an hour gently put him back to bed. At 6:30am the same War Cry pierced my ears, shattering my sleep. The power was back and as I raced into his room it was as though someone had hit replay, except for the fact I was one step ahead of myself. This time I turned on the shower and dunked him in his plastic baby bath.
Leo's poor little (hmmmm, you've seen the photos from the previous post ;) tummy quickly recovered and he was back on form right in time for breakfast. Based on that awful night I'm avoiding giving him anything other than porridge until he's at least 12 years of age.
If you have a baby/toddler food story that you wish to share, or would like to advise me on what I must avoid based on your own experience please let me know. I'm absolutely all ears and no, in case you're wondering I haven't visited that particular fuel station since. Gulp.
The other day I swung into the Indian run fuel station to get diesel and popped into the shop to buy a couple of their large and freshly made vegetable samosas. Ten minutes later and back at home I bit the corner off one and spooned out the potato, carrot and green bean filling and fed it to Leo for his lunch.
He's munched on a samosa before, but this time he filled his cheeks happily before chowing it down like sweet nectar. I moved on to the next one and he did the same so I let him gnaw on the pastry. He was as happy as a clam. Ten hours later I woke to hear him wailing in his cot. I waited, hoping he'd fall back to sleep. He didn't. By the light of my head torch (because the power was off) I opened the door to his room and had the air blown out of me by a wall of stench.
I beamed down into his cot to be met by a visual that has haunted me since. He had emptied hell into his nappy which in turn had escaped up and out of his babygro. I momentarily froze before getting down to the business of cleaning his filthy little body and cot. When you live in a malaria zone there's no such luxury as taking your time, you have to think fast and move like lightning - neither of which I'm good at, especially gone 11:30pm.
He struggled, he screamed and at one point I'm convinced he tried to bite my nose. Eventually I calmed him down and after an hour gently put him back to bed. At 6:30am the same War Cry pierced my ears, shattering my sleep. The power was back and as I raced into his room it was as though someone had hit replay, except for the fact I was one step ahead of myself. This time I turned on the shower and dunked him in his plastic baby bath.
Leo's poor little (hmmmm, you've seen the photos from the previous post ;) tummy quickly recovered and he was back on form right in time for breakfast. Based on that awful night I'm avoiding giving him anything other than porridge until he's at least 12 years of age.
If you have a baby/toddler food story that you wish to share, or would like to advise me on what I must avoid based on your own experience please let me know. I'm absolutely all ears and no, in case you're wondering I haven't visited that particular fuel station since. Gulp.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
KONY2012......update
So here's the thing, our ropey internet remains unable to play the KONY2012 documentary. On Tuesday I left the YouTube link to download and after 5hrs it had still only managed to eat into 12 of 30 minutes of film. I was frustrated but not surprised, this is how things roll over here. I hit replay and was left with a static stop-start-stop screening. After 10 long minutes I had to admit defeat and switch it off.
Invisible Children have created a social media phenomenon. From what I saw the editing is slick and the visuals appeal to a young and techno savvy generation. With more than a staggering 100 million views it goes without saying that KONY2012 has become the most viral video of all time. More people than I would ever have thought possible are now aware of one of the most brutal rebel groups in Africa.
The critics have been out with their knives whilst the supporters are flying the flag for the huge awareness the campaign has generated. As the saying goes, 'there is no such thing as bad publicity except your own obituary.' However I do believe with what has been said by many, that Invisible Children have oversimplified a complicated geopolitical struggle. From reading articles on the debate they also failed to criticise the Ugandan Government and lets not forget, as many of my friends have discussed, Uganda now has oil which throws a barrow load of questions up into the air - is the US involvement a smokescreen for bigger things?
It's one thing to talk about KONY2012 globally, but what about the local people on the ground? Out of interest I chatted with our Ugandan cleaner Madrin and asked if she had heard anyone talking about Joseph Kony on the radio or in the paper? She looked at me oddly and said 'eh no, what has happened?' I told her about the film and her response was a shrug of the shoulders followed by, 'but why? Uganda is safe now.'
I asked Huzo our young Ugandan gardener what he'd heard on the streets or in the clubs and he told me he hadn't heard anything and anyway at the weekend he had been with friends watching the Manchester United game. Joshua our Ugandan night watchman was confused - I don't think he's ever seen a computer let alone YouTube. He rattled on about how the LRA were no longer here, that Ugandan's are proud people and no one likes to live in the past.
Invisible Children's documentary remains a hot topic and whether it achieves its goal of having Kony arrested and tried by the International Criminal Court before the end of 2012 remains to be seen. On the flip side here is something absolutely worth watching, The Thing That Happend. It's a beautiful piece of storytelling that highlights how hopeful the people in the north of Uganda are - this is one film (after a while of waiting on a poor internet) I have been able to watch and for that I am thankful.
Invisible Children have created a social media phenomenon. From what I saw the editing is slick and the visuals appeal to a young and techno savvy generation. With more than a staggering 100 million views it goes without saying that KONY2012 has become the most viral video of all time. More people than I would ever have thought possible are now aware of one of the most brutal rebel groups in Africa.
The critics have been out with their knives whilst the supporters are flying the flag for the huge awareness the campaign has generated. As the saying goes, 'there is no such thing as bad publicity except your own obituary.' However I do believe with what has been said by many, that Invisible Children have oversimplified a complicated geopolitical struggle. From reading articles on the debate they also failed to criticise the Ugandan Government and lets not forget, as many of my friends have discussed, Uganda now has oil which throws a barrow load of questions up into the air - is the US involvement a smokescreen for bigger things?
It's one thing to talk about KONY2012 globally, but what about the local people on the ground? Out of interest I chatted with our Ugandan cleaner Madrin and asked if she had heard anyone talking about Joseph Kony on the radio or in the paper? She looked at me oddly and said 'eh no, what has happened?' I told her about the film and her response was a shrug of the shoulders followed by, 'but why? Uganda is safe now.'
I asked Huzo our young Ugandan gardener what he'd heard on the streets or in the clubs and he told me he hadn't heard anything and anyway at the weekend he had been with friends watching the Manchester United game. Joshua our Ugandan night watchman was confused - I don't think he's ever seen a computer let alone YouTube. He rattled on about how the LRA were no longer here, that Ugandan's are proud people and no one likes to live in the past.
Invisible Children's documentary remains a hot topic and whether it achieves its goal of having Kony arrested and tried by the International Criminal Court before the end of 2012 remains to be seen. On the flip side here is something absolutely worth watching, The Thing That Happend. It's a beautiful piece of storytelling that highlights how hopeful the people in the north of Uganda are - this is one film (after a while of waiting on a poor internet) I have been able to watch and for that I am thankful.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
KONY2012......
*I published this late last night unaware that it was the incomplete version. I have since edited and re-posted and remain hopeful that our internet provider enables me to watch the movie before the week is out*
Before I lived in Uganda I had never heard of Joseph Kony and I wasn't aware of the LRA (Lord's Resistance Army). Once we settled here we read and spoke with people who educated us about an army that had been rampaging in northern Uganda for over 17 years. The LRA started out trying to achieve autonomy for the Acholi tribal region, but over the course of time ended up victimising, enslaving and murdering the very people they were trying to help. Their ideology was loosely based on an interpretation of the 10 Commandments which came to twist violently from 'thou shalt not fornicate' to, 'thou shalt abduct, rape and sexually enslave school girls at whim.'
This week the KONY2012 documentary exploded across the internet via Facebook and Twitter and has been watched by over 60 million people and still the number of hits is rising. The film made by Invisible Children has brought huge focus on to Uganda with international celebrities and President Obama placing their support behind the viral campaign. This is a campaign that in the word's of its makers aims to make Joseph Kony (leader of the LRA) 'famous, not to celebrate him, but to raise support for his arrest and set a precedent for international justice.'
I haven't been able to watch the 30 minute documentary beyond the first 3 minutes due to our dreadful internet connection. I tried downloading it (something that takes about 2 hrs) so I could replay it later in the day but so far it hasn't worked. Instead I've updated myself by reading Blogger's posts, viewer's comments, articles from the BBC website and followed links from one web page to another. All have differed greatly and significantly in opinion. There are those who support the campaign to bring Kony down and those who feel that Invisible Children have oversimplified a complicated geopolitical struggle.
A dvd sits on our bookcase called 'Discover The Unseen'. It was given to us some years ago by our friend Maddy who crossed paths with the three American guys from Invisible Children in 2003. She was working in Gulu, a town in northern Uganda that at night became a refuge for children escaping the terror being unleashed on their communities by the LRA. These children were known as the Night Commuters and at night thousands of them would leave their homes in the bush and walk for miles to the nearest town. Verandas, shop doorways, side streets, school classrooms and taxi parks became a temporary refuge as they fled the abduction, sexual abuse and physical attacks on their villages by the rebels.
Maddy worked with groups of Night Commuters during 2002-03 and used art and compassion to help bring many of these broken children back from the brink. She assisted the directors from Invisible Children with footage for 'Discover The Unseen' giving them access to areas that would have been otherwise impossible for them to film and enabled stark interviews with several young children. What was supposed to be a one night pit stop in Gulu ended up being the creative back bone behind Invisible Children's film making. A charity was born and with it a story about Uganda's northern children was told.
The film was powerful and emotionally charged. It slammed home the atrocities of a violent war that was happening in a corner of the African Continent that many people in the West knew very little about. However the ending was a visual that didn't sit comfortably. A colourful map symbolised a pretty and happy village, a safe community that would grow out of the funds donated by you when you hosted your student party and got friends to dig deep. They anticipated raising $US800,000 in 5 months, but it was vague, too vague and didn't explain how such vast sums of money would be used and to what affect.
Fast forward to 2012. Since 2006 most LRA groups have moved out of Uganda and relocated to South Sudan, Democratic Republic of the Congo and Central African Republic where they continue to kill, rape and abduct. Peace talks with the LRA to end the violence have failed, most notably in Juba in 2008 when Kony refused to sign the Juba peace accords. So where does that leave Uganda's Kony victims now? Post conflict the people of the north are recovering. Children are going to school, people have moved out of the IDP camps, are tending their crops and communities are healing. The work by local organisations and charities on the ground to rehabilitate families and children is significant and proves that Uganda and her people are really able to help themselves without the interference of the West.
Earlier today I spoke on the phone with Maddy about KONY2012. She also hasn't seen it (she too lives in Uganda with poor internet) but has discussed with friends to gauge an opinion. Maddy is one of the most passionate and opinionated women I know and to disagree with her is to poke a stick into a hornet's nest. She spoke of 'Discover The Unseen' and how we still know very little about where the money donated by the charity was ever spent and of course what will the millions of dollars from this recent campaign go towards? We discussed how Lonely Planet voted Uganda the # 1 tourist destination of 2012 and now? Plus instead of focusing on Uganda she wanted to know why the hell these guys weren't taking their cameras deep into the jungles of DRC to film the horrific atrocities being carried out by the LRA there?
In the very recent words of Victor Ochen, director of African Youth Initiative Network, 'Campaigning on killing one man and that’s the end is not enough. To me even a bullet isn’t good enough for Kony, killing him alone will not be enough. There are many people who are caught up in this war. Every war has its own victims. We should be looking at ways to support victims not just in Uganda but all other countries affected. As far as I know Invisible Children are invisible on the ground and in communities. They have good access to international media but they have no connection with the community they claim to represent.'
I may be sliding off the KONY2012 scale because I'm still to watch the documentary (and I will when the internet allows) but I've witnessed in touching distance a woman and child in Kampala with their lips and ears hacked off and I'm living here in Uganda in the eye of a media storm surrounded by people with a voice. Often in the West we interfere above and beyond what is wanted by the people on the ground, but there are always two sides to any international debate. For example look at how the West interfered with Afghanistan and Iraq and as Syria screams for outside help to stop the mindless killings the West sits on the sidelines.
So what is right, what is wrong? It's a complex question, but I agree that Joseph Kony needs to be brought to justice and made accountable for the horrendous atrocities that he and his army have committed over the years. But does Uganda or indeed Africa need the help of a negative social media campaign created by a Western charity to do that? No, I don't think so. As before, the people of the north have already shown that with courage and stability they can independently rebuild their own lives plus that of their communities.
What you need to know right now is that peace currently reigns in Uganda and long may it continue.
Before I lived in Uganda I had never heard of Joseph Kony and I wasn't aware of the LRA (Lord's Resistance Army). Once we settled here we read and spoke with people who educated us about an army that had been rampaging in northern Uganda for over 17 years. The LRA started out trying to achieve autonomy for the Acholi tribal region, but over the course of time ended up victimising, enslaving and murdering the very people they were trying to help. Their ideology was loosely based on an interpretation of the 10 Commandments which came to twist violently from 'thou shalt not fornicate' to, 'thou shalt abduct, rape and sexually enslave school girls at whim.'
This week the KONY2012 documentary exploded across the internet via Facebook and Twitter and has been watched by over 60 million people and still the number of hits is rising. The film made by Invisible Children has brought huge focus on to Uganda with international celebrities and President Obama placing their support behind the viral campaign. This is a campaign that in the word's of its makers aims to make Joseph Kony (leader of the LRA) 'famous, not to celebrate him, but to raise support for his arrest and set a precedent for international justice.'
I haven't been able to watch the 30 minute documentary beyond the first 3 minutes due to our dreadful internet connection. I tried downloading it (something that takes about 2 hrs) so I could replay it later in the day but so far it hasn't worked. Instead I've updated myself by reading Blogger's posts, viewer's comments, articles from the BBC website and followed links from one web page to another. All have differed greatly and significantly in opinion. There are those who support the campaign to bring Kony down and those who feel that Invisible Children have oversimplified a complicated geopolitical struggle.
A dvd sits on our bookcase called 'Discover The Unseen'. It was given to us some years ago by our friend Maddy who crossed paths with the three American guys from Invisible Children in 2003. She was working in Gulu, a town in northern Uganda that at night became a refuge for children escaping the terror being unleashed on their communities by the LRA. These children were known as the Night Commuters and at night thousands of them would leave their homes in the bush and walk for miles to the nearest town. Verandas, shop doorways, side streets, school classrooms and taxi parks became a temporary refuge as they fled the abduction, sexual abuse and physical attacks on their villages by the rebels.
Maddy worked with groups of Night Commuters during 2002-03 and used art and compassion to help bring many of these broken children back from the brink. She assisted the directors from Invisible Children with footage for 'Discover The Unseen' giving them access to areas that would have been otherwise impossible for them to film and enabled stark interviews with several young children. What was supposed to be a one night pit stop in Gulu ended up being the creative back bone behind Invisible Children's film making. A charity was born and with it a story about Uganda's northern children was told.
The film was powerful and emotionally charged. It slammed home the atrocities of a violent war that was happening in a corner of the African Continent that many people in the West knew very little about. However the ending was a visual that didn't sit comfortably. A colourful map symbolised a pretty and happy village, a safe community that would grow out of the funds donated by you when you hosted your student party and got friends to dig deep. They anticipated raising $US800,000 in 5 months, but it was vague, too vague and didn't explain how such vast sums of money would be used and to what affect.
Fast forward to 2012. Since 2006 most LRA groups have moved out of Uganda and relocated to South Sudan, Democratic Republic of the Congo and Central African Republic where they continue to kill, rape and abduct. Peace talks with the LRA to end the violence have failed, most notably in Juba in 2008 when Kony refused to sign the Juba peace accords. So where does that leave Uganda's Kony victims now? Post conflict the people of the north are recovering. Children are going to school, people have moved out of the IDP camps, are tending their crops and communities are healing. The work by local organisations and charities on the ground to rehabilitate families and children is significant and proves that Uganda and her people are really able to help themselves without the interference of the West.
Earlier today I spoke on the phone with Maddy about KONY2012. She also hasn't seen it (she too lives in Uganda with poor internet) but has discussed with friends to gauge an opinion. Maddy is one of the most passionate and opinionated women I know and to disagree with her is to poke a stick into a hornet's nest. She spoke of 'Discover The Unseen' and how we still know very little about where the money donated by the charity was ever spent and of course what will the millions of dollars from this recent campaign go towards? We discussed how Lonely Planet voted Uganda the # 1 tourist destination of 2012 and now? Plus instead of focusing on Uganda she wanted to know why the hell these guys weren't taking their cameras deep into the jungles of DRC to film the horrific atrocities being carried out by the LRA there?
In the very recent words of Victor Ochen, director of African Youth Initiative Network, 'Campaigning on killing one man and that’s the end is not enough. To me even a bullet isn’t good enough for Kony, killing him alone will not be enough. There are many people who are caught up in this war. Every war has its own victims. We should be looking at ways to support victims not just in Uganda but all other countries affected. As far as I know Invisible Children are invisible on the ground and in communities. They have good access to international media but they have no connection with the community they claim to represent.'
I may be sliding off the KONY2012 scale because I'm still to watch the documentary (and I will when the internet allows) but I've witnessed in touching distance a woman and child in Kampala with their lips and ears hacked off and I'm living here in Uganda in the eye of a media storm surrounded by people with a voice. Often in the West we interfere above and beyond what is wanted by the people on the ground, but there are always two sides to any international debate. For example look at how the West interfered with Afghanistan and Iraq and as Syria screams for outside help to stop the mindless killings the West sits on the sidelines.
So what is right, what is wrong? It's a complex question, but I agree that Joseph Kony needs to be brought to justice and made accountable for the horrendous atrocities that he and his army have committed over the years. But does Uganda or indeed Africa need the help of a negative social media campaign created by a Western charity to do that? No, I don't think so. As before, the people of the north have already shown that with courage and stability they can independently rebuild their own lives plus that of their communities.
What you need to know right now is that peace currently reigns in Uganda and long may it continue.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
A pig wearing flippers
My mum has been staying with us for the past week. It's been heavenly, though coupled with an 11 month old baby gnawing my legs off it's been chaos too.
Chris is hosting the annual Murchison Falls Fishing Competition at the lodge (largest Nile Perch caught was a massive 75kg) so mum, Leo and I have played in the sunshine, eaten avocados, drunk tea, put the world to rights and I've had a delicious night out with the girls.
She left for Entebbe airport this evening as a wild storm roared in off Lake Victoria. Leo and I huddled in the porch waving and shouting goodbye as the taxi sloshed it's way down the road like a small boat on high seas. The house feels empty with her gone and I know Leo will want to waddle into the spare room in the morning (hanging off my fingers like a baby chimp) trying to seek her out.
Earlier in the day, before the storm broke, we spent the morning at our piece of land on the River Nile planting trees and generally sweating like tourists in the hot and humid heat. On the short drive back to Jinja town we passed this guy on a moped carrying something on the back of it. In the words of my mother, 'whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat the hell is that?? It looks like a giant pig wearing flippers.'
Shockingly it's a great big fish with it's head chopped off. Proof that you don't need to sit in a boat for hours in Murchison to catch 'the big one!'
Chris is hosting the annual Murchison Falls Fishing Competition at the lodge (largest Nile Perch caught was a massive 75kg) so mum, Leo and I have played in the sunshine, eaten avocados, drunk tea, put the world to rights and I've had a delicious night out with the girls.
She left for Entebbe airport this evening as a wild storm roared in off Lake Victoria. Leo and I huddled in the porch waving and shouting goodbye as the taxi sloshed it's way down the road like a small boat on high seas. The house feels empty with her gone and I know Leo will want to waddle into the spare room in the morning (hanging off my fingers like a baby chimp) trying to seek her out.
Earlier in the day, before the storm broke, we spent the morning at our piece of land on the River Nile planting trees and generally sweating like tourists in the hot and humid heat. On the short drive back to Jinja town we passed this guy on a moped carrying something on the back of it. In the words of my mother, 'whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat the hell is that?? It looks like a giant pig wearing flippers.'
Shockingly it's a great big fish with it's head chopped off. Proof that you don't need to sit in a boat for hours in Murchison to catch 'the big one!'
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Heart You
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.
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.
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)