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Uganda: Sese Islands, Lake Victoria
Author: Lee Ridley - 1993
It was the middle of November and we'd made our way
over to Bukasa, one of the Sese Islands in the Ugandan quarter of
Lake Victoria. There was only one place to stay: Agnes's guesthouse
at the top of the hill, just up from the jetty where the ferry comes
in twice a week. The house was once a grand affair, set in beautiful
gardens looking north out across the vast lake. But that was in
times gone by. Now it's a ransacked shell of a building with no
electricity or running water since Amin's and Obote's troops took
everything, including the generator back in the 70s.
The house was dark, damp and full with other guests, so we pitched
our small tent in the garden whilst around us sunbirds flitted among
the bushes and White Faced Vervet Monkeys chattered in the trees.
Because there was no running water, our only way of showering was
to make a 1 ½ hour trek through the forest everyday to a
small waterfall tucked away down the other end of the island. It
was rather cold and invigorating, which wasn't helped at all by
the fact that there was little or no direct sunlight getting down
to us amongst the trees, but it was clean and helped pass the time.
On the second day we returned to the house to find Agnes tending
to a young girl who had burned herself the night before. Her parents,
who lived up country and were so desperately poor they couldn't
afford to look after her, had sent the girl to Bukasa. She had relatives
on Bukasa but they were also poor and couldn't offer the girl a
bed to sleep in. The previous night she had slept outside by the
fire and had unwittingly rolled over in her sleep and into the hot
embers. The burns to the top of her thigh were quite serious and
so her relatives had sent her down to Agnes's where there was a
better chance she would find a western traveller who could supply
medication. We helped clean her up and gave her antiseptic swabs
and bandages. We didn't see her again after that. I'm sure she would
have recovered quickly enough but no doubt the scars would have
been severe and permanent.
Lack of foresight on my part meant that I didn't have enough money
on me to last more than a few days on Bukasa. I had two choices:
move on before the money ran out or take the next boat back to Kampala
and visit the bank. I decided on the latter, but there was another
problem. Although the ferry was leaving Bukasa for Kampala the very
next morning (Tuesday), it didn't return until two days later (Thursday)
and I'd rather get back to Tracey the same day if possible. I had,
however, read about another way of getting back to Bukasa.
Every day, at around 4:30pm, fisherman from the Sese Islands would
depart from the lakeside market at Entebbe, near Kampala, and set
out in their motorised canoes for their respective homesteads. There
was a faint possibility that if the ferry could get me to Port Bell,
Kampala, quickly enough on Tuesday, and I could get to the bank,
get my money and catch a taxi to Entebbe in time, I might be able
to blag my way onto one of these canoes and get back to Bukasa the
same evening.
The ferry left at 9am and took five hours to get to Port Bell.
I kicked around on deck for most of that time reading or sleeping.
Things in Kampala went pretty much to plan, until I was ready to
catch a taxi down to the lakeside marketplace. The time was about
4pm and I reckoned we were about half an hour's drive away. But
because I couldn't pronounce the name of the village correctly,
my taxi driver cheerfully set off in the wrong direction and took
me to some shanty town area of Kampala that was nowhere near the
water's edge. By the time the error was realised it was 4:20pm and
I began to seriously doubt that I would make it in time to catch
the departing fishermen.
When we finally made it to the correct place it was almost 5pm
and, as I sprinted down the slipway towards the water, a local fellow
called me over to ask if he could help. I explained that I needed
to get to Bukasa and that I was hoping to find someone who was heading
out there. He pointed to three men who had already pushed their
boat 50 yards out into the water and were preparing to climb in.
They heard the sound of voices from the slipway and saw me wading
out to join them.
The boat was of the long, narrow canoe-like design, and about 30'
long. It had a 20hp outboard that kept cutting out and was stacked
to the brim with cases of fresh fish. I made myself comfortable
in between a couple of cases and settled in for a memorable ride.
Lake Victoria is more like an inland sea than a lake, and the only
sight of land was that which we were leaving behind. As the swell
picked up I shrunk down in between the cases in order to avoid the
worst of the spray, marvelling at the guy with the outboard who
had no navigational aids such as a compass or charts, but knew exactly
which way to steer. It must have been about 7pm when it grew dark
and, as we motored through the inky blackness, way off to the west
(my right) I could see flashes of lightning illuminating the cloudy
sky. I pondered over how deep the water was and what kind of undiscovered
creatures lived down there. I wondered if I'd be able to swim to
safety if anything drastic happened.
After what seemed an age I spotted lights twinkling far away ahead
of us. When we eventually made it to the shores of Bukasa I found
Tracey waiting for me by the Jetty. The time was 9pm. I had been
gone for exactly 12 hours.
Author: Lee Ridley
Email: editor@fourcornersexplorer.co.uk
http://www.fourcornersexplorer.co.uk
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