On and Around Lake Victoria

We’re taking a couple of days off in Kampala in the hope of meeting our host Justus. He is on a trip to Rwanda and is sure that he’ll get back in time to greet us.

While we wait his house manager Grace takes good care of us. She does all the things we should be doing – cleaning our bikes and filthy shoes, cooking us dinner and making us fresh juice, doing our laundry and bathing the harder-to-clean items in bleach. But not even that can get the stains out anymore. We trip over ourselves to thank her, blurting out “oh, you shouldn’t” at every new kindness.

After two days of sleeping in and lounging around his house Justus is still at large. So, we say our goodbyes to Grace and Puppy (the adorable dog) and make our way to Entebbe where we’re hoping to catch a ferry to Bugala Island on Lake Victoria. We’ve both gotten haircuts to mark the occasion.

The ferry procedures are somewhat confusing. Lots of people strutting around asserting their importance in managing the would-be passengers. Yet it’s unclear who is actually working for the ferry company. We splurge on first class tickets (probably the only time in our life).

Two very assertive people have taken it upon themselves to help us onto the boat. One insists on pushing Ben’s bike, the other grabs Lina’s hand and leads her to the almost empty 1st class area. They then ask for money for their kindness in “reserving the seat and pushing the bike”.

Things like these are only occasional annoyances but suffice to make us feel bad for quite some time. It’s not a great feeling to be seen as a walking purse and it makes us apprehensive of going through Burundi – one of the poorest countries in the world with a reputation for aggressive begging.

But the lake breeze sweeps thoughts like these aside as we take front row seats on the upper deck (after bribing another person who, turns out, doesn’t work there). We pass the 4 hours of ferrying by chatting to a prison guard (not a profession you encounter every day) and comparing Lake Victoria to the North Sea. The view is strikingly similar.

On the island we find ourselves the first run-down “beach resort” available, pitch the tent next to the lake and quickly retreat inside to escape the mosquitoes. The thunderstorm in the early hours gives Lina the biggest scare so far on this trip. But even though the last lightning bolt arrives simultaneously with the thunder we remain unharmed.

Cycling on the island is great. The road is a mixture of dirt and sand (called murram) which remains cycleable even when wet. We enjoy the views of the lake and marvel at the size of the palm oil plantations covering almost the entire island. Though of course a monoculture, there are still other plants growing around and birds and insects abound. We’ve definitely seen worse kinds of plantations.

We spend the last night on the island in another lakeside resort that boasts of a tranquil beach, pretty birds lined up on shore and the largest colony of big spiders (about palm size) we’ve ever seen. The camp is also overrun by safari ants. To top it all off we are given a special treat for dinner: A huge fish head.

The next day we take another ferry back to the mainland and say ciao to Lake Victoria. Though it’s a dominating feature of three countries we pass through, we won’t be seeing it again. After a really wet cycle (where we feel chilly for the first time) we are glad for a night with a roof over our head and a chance to dry out the soaking wet tent.

Often the guest houses are a bit hit and miss with regards to cleanliness and level of noise. They usually cost around 7.50€. But today Lina found a hidden gem down some suspicious alleyway. It is almost certainly a brothel. Though a real bargain at 2.50€ per night we aren’t quite ready for that experience. But never say never.