Up-country.

Mechanic's shop in Zigot. Needless to say, he didn't have the part we needed.

I met some guys from an American NGO who invited me to drive up-country with them. They were visiting schools in rural districts to pay school fees for kids they sponsored. Without hesitation, I agreed. I really wanted to see what life was like outside of Kampala.

We sped along the red dirt roads passing and vegetable stands every couple of minutes. Jackfruit, mangoes, tomatoes, green bananas, papayas, green beans and cassava lined the stalls. The colors were bursting. We stopped at one stall to take photos and a young man shouted something at me in Lugandan, prompting the girls at the stall to burst out laughing. The Ugandan I was with translated for me. "Muzungu, have you brought me some bread?" he was playfully shouting at me.

About an hour into our journey, our ancient Toyota van slowed to a pathetic crawl and we had to stop to check her out. Zigot was the closest village, and fortunately there was a working mechanic in town (see picture). Unfortunately, he didn’t have a spare compressor belt to replace our dead one.

So we puttered along at about 10 k/hour to the next city, Mityana. I spent two hours touring the city (essentially a series of little shops), chatting to the owner of the local bookshop and politely avoiding the fried meat that was being served for lunch. I considered ordering the "Sand Witches" from the menu, but decided against it in the end.

After ol’ Toyota was brought back to life we hit the road again and in about an hour we reached Kassanda, where we visited Nkoba primary school. The kids were out in hoards. They don’t often see white people, so they gather around you in a state of shock and confusion. They loved having their photo taken and got a real kick looking at the image on the screen. That occupied almost a full hour of my time at the school.

We stopped next at a secondary school, where I found two little boys hanging around the entrance. They were the children of a staff member, I was told. “Muzungu!” they screamed when they were nearly blinded by the sight of my pasty-white skin. I happened to have two toy racecars in my pocket, which I handed over to them. They screamed with excitement and we raced the cars around on the red dirt roads for a while before I was dragged away by our driver. Back to Kampala, he told me.