Life in Moroto

Moroto is a fascinating place that is really far away. It takes a good 8 hours to get to the capital city and maybe 4 hours to get to the nearest decent sized city. What I love the most about this place is the mountain the town is nestled up against. It’s called Mount Moroto and it’s splendid. Every day I gaze at it. I’ve always found Africa to be a breathtakingly beautiful place and Moroto is no exception. It reminds me of Livingstone, Zambia. It’s a dirty, small town with not a whole lot going for it but I still love it. It has one main road that goes through it with a few small shops and restaurants and one gas station. You can walk to everything and nothing is really far away.

Dave (the other intern) and I have been trying to run after work when we can. We take a great (short) route that gives us an amazing view of the mountain and since it’s late afternoon/early evening, the setting sun lights up the mountain. Contrasty, rainy season clouds add the icing to the cake. I haven’t even taken pictures yet but it makes the pain of running well worth it. Sometimes little kids join us and like to run behind us. Dave and I take turns scaring the life out of them by turning around, yelling and running after them. The faces those kids make is memorable and I swear their eyes get twice as big as normal.

Ding Dong is our office dog and she loves belly rubs. She gives me a great excuse to take a break and get outside to play with “my” dog.

Weekends are filled with English Premier Soccer and I recently joined an SP fantasy league. I’m no good at it, but it’s been really fun. It’s nice to be able to watch United regularly again and they look pretty good.

I feel like a little princess when I craw into my mosquito-netted bed. It feels like a Disney movie with the canopy bed with the fancy drape thingies. I’m hoping not to contract malaria while I am here though the mosquito population is plentiful.

As great of a place as Moroto is, there are a few, well let’s call them, inconveniences. Electricity only runs from 7pm to about midnight. Generators are constantly running and I am getting high of the fumes right now as I type (exaggeration, I’m totally sober). Because it’s such a small town, commodities are limited to whatever comes in from the bigger towns. Trucks get stuck along the way. Last week the whole town ran out of fuel. Everyone was scrounging. No fuel, no power, no business (for us). MoMo, my bakery and supply of fresh bread, wasn’t baking all week because I assume, she couldn’t get supplies like flour. Also prices are a bit high. A small jar of peanut butter will cost you $5, no thanks. So, we just try to plan accordingly. Vehicles are always going to Kampala and coming back so we are trying to find ways to get supplies. I just got a sweat pair of soccer cleats sent up from Kampala.

We have a few finches around our guesthouse and they like to wake me up by tapping their beaks on the reflective windows making a lovely sound that resonates through the whole room.

I’m finding myself fading out of the honeymoon stage where everything is just wonderful and nothing can go wrong. I’m still very patient and I know how things work in Africa, but things aren’t as rosey as they may have once been. Communications breakdowns are a bit frustrating, though at times pretty funny. I was buying some cookies from a shop and I asked, “Are they nice?” Local English lingo for “do they taste good?” Instead of responding, she reached up to another shelf and brought down a different box of cookies. They were called “NICE” biscuits. I couldn’t help but laugh at my own ignorance because I had no clue there was a “NICE” brand of cookies. Note to self.

It takes a really long time to do anything here. I’ve adapted very well already and I am somewhat prepared for this reality, but at times I still find it annoying. I went to WFP to pick up some chemicals for our farms and it took close to an hour. They even knew we were coming to pick them up. I went to my contact, who then sent me to the warehouse manager, who sent me with 2 laborers to pick them and load them. How long does it take to move 20 small boxes? Apparently forever. Then I needed to track down the warehouse manager again to sign for the goods but he wasn’t around so we though we’d just leave. Then he appears out of nowhere and has to prepare the paperwork. Logical and rational thought would have had the paperwork prepared before I had even arrived, knowing nothing was going to change and knowing they were expecting me. I just pick them up, sign and leave. Done. Well that’s just not how things work around here and I am having to adapt once again. This story sounds like a complaint but I want it to be said more as an observation and to account for how things are done around here.

All of that to say, I really like Moroto, inconveniences and all.