so they said they'd take us.

in this post i return to my previously established dump of photos from uganda.

little happened in moroto. kosma died, my emotions overloaded, and i got to be a bit withdrawn.

i took a picture of stephen that he will never like, but it's true to life because the mosquito net on our (shared) twin bed was indeed pink.



we rode comfortably (slowly) in the back of a lorry between moroto and kotido.



A dusty corner. unfamiliar sights. a small market. kotido is a prosperous town in central (north-central?) karamoja. most of the cattle markets are there. a lot of commodities that can't be found elsewhere in karamoja can be found in kotido. but we never would have been able to imagine where.

'will there be transport to kaabong?'

'maybe. you wait here. maybe one hour.'

he didn't really know if anything was going to run or when it would run. when traveling in karamoja, you just wait and pray.

a small pickup on a little bit of a lift. extended cab, short bed. two benches were bolted down in the bed--back to back, facing out. 10,000 each (about $4), and stephen and i were back to back toward the cab.

the sky communicated with us. first it just made subtle threats--that cloud over there sure is dark! then it puffed up its chest a little bit as the darkness loomed in front of us. it began to speak in slow, calm rolls of thunder about 20 minutes into the (presumably three hour) drive.

the road wound through sparsely inhabited countryside. a mountain loomed ahead--it had interactions with the looming clouds. potholes and gullies pocked the road. with the storm at a distance, we consistently exceeded 100kph (60mph).

each bump threatened to throw us from the truck. my knuckles went white on the seat of the bench--all i could find to hold onto. the storm had warned us fairly, and began to get physical. huge rain drops stung as they flew over the cab and struck us. we sped up, sometimes reaching 125kph (75mph).

after 80 minutes, we pulled into the sunshine of kaabong. we had survived, and it felt that we had done little more than that.







we sipped cumin-flavored tea while waiting for terrill at a restaurant. the next night, well-fed, we hiked on a hill.

and we saw a lake

Here i briefly break from that silly Ugandan journey and continue the short hike around Lower Cascade Lake with the other beerfolk.

Dirt

i could hardly have taken fewer pictures in Moroto.

Moroto, land of dust and smoke.

'Choqol', i heard. he didn't speak much English.

'Is choqol for eating?'

only a mzungu would eat charcoal, i'm sure he thought.

our guide--seven or eight years old.

a short hike up Lia Valley, the most beautiful experience of the summer.

my camera batteries were dead. it was fitting.

Moroto, land of dust and smoke.

Lia Valley, where even 30 or 40 years ago you could find folks who remembered the So language.

aisa gao kaabong eatuk. gaonokolog.

it's a long bus ride from mbale to moroto; mbale sunrise, lake kyoga (or bisina, i suppose) at noon, and the world darkens as you wind between iriri and napak.

my stomach sank between iriri and napak. looming heights transcend today/this as well shall pass/etc.

karamoja.

moroto.

losike.

ellis.



















we want to be people
dirty romantics
and loved
dirt romance
squeezed
time money hope
we're people
you said people
sand and coconut flesh and a few
drops of blood
we want to be people
you said soon
soon said
soon done came
they came and
we were glad
we want
dirt romantics
and to be people
loved
words mass time
we're people
cautious, still, and young
still young
so old

Mbale: we passed them

Here are some photos from Uganda that i haven't put up anywhere yet (as far as i know).

Most of them were taken within a span of 34 minutes. The last one was taken the next morning.

We (i) were (was) tired of being Entebbe/Kampala. We caught a ride to Mbale, in order to make less time on a bus the next day.

Also, we wanted to eat Indian food in Mbale.

These are people we passed while leaving the taxi park.