Feel like I've Been Hit by a Truck

I mentioned early on that driving here is a little different than driving at home. One aspect of that is that people will come up to a corner or the end of a driveway really fast and kind of nose out into the road. I finally stopped panicking when I saw it, trusting that they would stop. Well, the Tuesday before Christmas, Dustin was driving me into the Embassy, and a big blue Pepsi delivery truck came down a steeply sloped parking lot as we were going by. And it slammed into the passenger door of our car, scraped along it as we moved forward, and kept going into the ditch on the other side of the street. Apparently the parking brake failed and no one had put rocks behind the wheels (a common practice here); the driver wasn't even in it.

(there used to be a side mirror and the door used to open)

That wasn't really how we wanted to start Christmas, but we have a lot to be grateful for. First of course, that our car is a tank; my neck was a little sore for a few days (the doctor ruled out a fracture or head injury) but otherwise we're totally fine. I'm pretty shaken thinking about how my old Civic would have handled that (not well, is my guess). Second, that it was so unambiguously not our fault, so no angry mobs to worry about; the bystanders just wanted to help. Third, that we got amazing support from the Embassy. I called the Marines at Post One right away; they made sure we were safe and sent a local security guard and Ugandan investigators. The Marine called back twice, once with an update and once to make sure we were ok. It helped that we were 200 meters from the Embassy, but the guard and investigators were there within 10 minutes and the motor pool supervisor soon after that. The investigators handled the police (we didn't even have to go give a statement, just write one and send it in the next day), and motor pool took charge of our car.

We found out afterward that the police impounded the truck once the owner took responsibility. Motor pool took our car to two garages they use and trust to get the mandatory two repair estimates, which they brought to the owner. He paid the lower one, motor pool took the car to the garage and paid, and we signed a form saying we were satisfied so the police could release the truck. We're hoping to get an idea of when we'll get the car back this week.

The last thing we have to be grateful for is that one of my coworkers lent us their second car. We're trying not to make any frivolous trips, but it's really reassuring to know that we can go where we need to, and it's been so helpful with all my appointments.

So a week later, Dustin went back to the Embassy to pick up mail. There was a big blue Pepsi delivery truck in that same lot....but someone had parked another truck perpendicular to it in case it rolled again.

A Relaxing Safari; or, why I haven't blogged in months

 On Thursday, November 11, we arrived at a highly recommended lodge at Lake Mburo National Park, one of the closest safari parks to Kampala, looking forward to a weekend of relaxing, taking pictures of animals, walking, and biking around the park. We went on a night safari drive, figuring that the lodge would get a lot more crowded on Friday (we were correct), then had dinner, and planned to do the mountain bike safari the next morning.

Friday morning I fell off an elephant* and landed hard on my wrist. Dustin grabbed the ibuprofen, but we realized the first aid kit was in the backpack we hadn't brought and (luckily) the trauma kit wasn't going to do any good. So we went to the office and I asked for Tylenol, some ice, and an ace wrap, figuring it was a bad sprain- not my first sprained wrist, but definitely the worst. In the office, they had a first aid kit but it turns out not a lot of training, so they gave me some faux-tylenol and found some ice, and someone went to get some wood from the stables (seriously) to make a splint. In the meantime, the massage therapist put some yellow ointment on my skin and went to town and assured me that it wasn't broken because he couldn't feel any bones out of place. That hurt about as much as you'd guess. They ended up putting two sticks of wood against my arm and wrapping a very sad ace wrap around the whole thing, and giving me a sling. At this point I texted the health unit back at the Embassy; the doctor there said it could very well be broken, but the nearest hospital was an hour and a half away over terrible bumpy roads and I wasn't likely to do any more damage by waiting, so as long as I could handle the pain there was no reason to come home, but to please for the love of God not leave my arm splinted with the two sticks right against my skin.

So we stayed. Every staff member at the lodge stopped by to tell me they were sure I'd be fine tomorrow, and the assistant manager said she hoped we wouldn't let this ruin our vacation. Mountain biking was out, and game drives were out, since I'd need to brace myself on the roads and the bumping would be painful. But a walk should be safe, we thought, especially since I was pretty sure I wouldn't be going to yoga for a while and it's not like we can walk in Kampala. So Saturday morning, just after sunrise, we set out down the hill toward the park. Five minutes later, I stepped on a rock in the dirt road, rolled my ankle, and fell. Luckily, I was wearing the sling, so I didn't land on my wrist again; just scraped up my knee and my ankle felt a little weird. But I was wearing good boots and roll my ankles all the time, so we kept going. It was a fun walk, we saw a bunch of zebras, various antelope, and baby warthogs, plus hippo tracks (but luckily no hippos). But the further we went, the more my ankle hurt. And it hurt more throughout the day, to the point where I almost couldn't walk on it at all. By the time I realized I absolutely could not handle the pain, it was too late to head home- we'd never get there before dark. So I dealt with it, but we left pretty early Sunday morning. At each meal, every staff member working stopped by our table to ask if I was fine now, which was not at all infuriating.

I guess the universe decided I'd suffered enough, or I'd just pinched a nerve or something, but by Monday morning my ankle felt like a mild sprain. My wrist was not better, though. Monday morning I saw the doctor at the Embassy, who gave me a referral for x-rays, so we waited three+ hours at the hospital to get the x-rays done, then brought them back to the Embassy. Fracture. Got a temporary splint and a referral to an orthopedist. 

Medical appointments are not exactly a thing here in Uganda, so the doctor would see patients from 11 to 1 in the order in which you sign up. We got there at 10, eventually saw the doctor, waited forever for a treatment room, and eventually got a cast, finally leaving at 2:30. Luckily, it was my left wrist and I'm right handed, but I spent the next six weeks trying to type one handed, not driving, having someone come to the house to wash and dry my hair, and sticking various long, thin, objects inside the cast to try to manage the itching (the eraser end of a pencil Molly gave me years ago saved my sanity). I got the cast off on Tuesday and have had two of ten prescribed physical therapy appointments since. It hurts pretty much every time I move it, but I can do a lot more already (like typing) so I do know it's working. The fracture isn't completely healed, though, so I don't know when I'll be able to put enough weight on it for yoga. 

*And by fell off an elephant, I mean stepped off a bathmat and slipped on a floor made slippery by spray from the open-air shower.

Good news and bad news

 The good news is that we did not die from the sour cream. The bad news, which I suspect is a surprise to no one but me, is that MTN did not show up to install our fiber internet on Friday. We're complaining to customer service but no real response yet.

The code is more what you'd call guidelines than actual rules: Driving in Uganda

 Before we got here, the part I was most worried about--more than diseases, more than moving the cat halfway across the world, more than our stuff getting lost or destroyed--was driving. I was lucky enough to have a day of driving training before we left, which covered stuff like swerving, braking really fast, and driving backward to get out of a dangerous situation, but it did not cover driving on the other side or traffic.

And yeah, the first few times out were pretty rough. Constantly turning on the wipers instead of the turn signal, occasionally driving on the wrong side of the road (especially after turning), getting stuck at intersections without being able to get a break in traffic. The worst part was after my Civic, our car is huge and I just didn't know where the other side of it was...especially since it was the wrong side. More than once, I was driving and Dustin had to go "Too close too close too close TOO CLOSE!!!!" (he was correct, I hit someone's mirror once. It was fine.)

There are not very many traffic lights in Kampala (and fewer outside).* Most intersections are kind of a free-for-all; there might be a "give way" sign that is invariably ignored. Our social sponsor described it as like water in that once it's flowing it keeps flowing, but if you can find a break you can make it flow another direction. It's a better analogy in real life than it sounds written. So you nose out; if you can tailgate someone else doing the same thing so much the better (but you have to really tailgate so no one else gets in there). If someone is turning left, great - they'll cover you in one direction. Drive down the wrong side for a few seconds if you need to until there's a break you can get into (hopefully no one is coming?). 

Speaking of driving on the wrong side, we do a lot of it. On purpose. Someone driving slower than you'd like? Just jump to the other side to pass. Person randomly stopped? Jump over to get around. Too many pedestrians, not enough shoulder? Big pothole? Same thing. People even add a third lane sometimes, often when there does not seem to be room for it. Sometimes this gets kind of terrifying, especially outside Kampala where you can go a bit faster.  When we bought this SUV, someone who had been here before said it was good because it was big enough to drive over a median. Apparently a u-turn is sometimes a good idea if you hit a traffic jam (those do not move). We did it for the first time when someone guiding cars through a construction zone left us on the wrong side.

That braking practice in the driving class has come in handy. There are tons of potholes and speed bumps, and people without SUVs tend to take them all verrrrrry slowly. (side note: I've seen a pothole back up traffic for a mile or more.) People also turn out in front of you with no warning, boda-bodas (motorcycles/mopeds, more on those in a separate entry) are all over the place, and people will just decide that the gap in front of you is where they're going to cross the street. 

The mitigating factor for all of this is that everything happens very slowly. The speed limit inside Kampala (or any town, I think), is 50 km/hour, which is 31 mph. Mostly you don't even go that fast. It's kind of surreal to see a daring pass happening and realize they're going 25. You can stop pretty fast when you're going that slow, so it's ok to dive into any gap and trust that people will stop/slow down for you. 

*When traffic gets heavy, traffic police take the place of the lights and control other tricky intersections. They lengthen the cycles a lot; I think this is because so many people run lights when they turn that decreasing the number of changes decreases the inefficiency? But it's pretty maddening when you were early for a meeting and eight minutes of sitting later you're no longer early. Dustin was convinced they make traffic worse, but then someone told me that was a common misconception, so one Friday afternoon the head of the police got tired of it and benched all the traffic officers. Apparently everything was significantly worse.

Things might be moving?

 WE HAVE A DATE FOR FIBER INSTALLATION. October 8, next Friday. Who knows if it will happen, but this is the first specific date someone has scheduled with us.

AND apparently our freight shipment has been "green-lighted for shipment." I don't know how long we're actually talking to get our stuff on a plane, get it down here (the fastest part, I assume), clear customs, and get delivered to us.

If we get our stuff before we get Internet, I'm either going to laugh or cry. Or both. Probably both.

Where's the Pringles Cantenna or: Our Millennial Quest for Wifi

When we got our housing assignment, we asked the person currently living in it about the internet situation. She said she had routers for two wireless companies (Smile and Africell) and that given the location of the house, on the side of a hill, they were both terrible. So when Sean, our social sponsor, a logistics guy, asked if we would be interested in having fiber installed, we said yes, absolutely! The good news was that Simba, the company he had and thought was great, could install here. The bad news was that we couldn't start the process until we got here. So we get here, and Sean gave me the Whatsapp number to officially request fiber installation. They said yes sure, 7-10 days.

We wait. We're using the mi-fi the Embassy lent us when we got here, buying MTN data by the gig, in cash, and I'm hotspotting my Embassy-provided local iPhone for work. It's not a great solution but 7-10 days isn't that long, right?

Well, after two weeks we're annoyed. At Sean's advice I check in with Simba. They say I'm on the list so just be patient.

Ten days later we've refilled the mi-fi and Dustin has a local phone that he's put a bunch of data on (by the gig, in cash). I check in again. Just wait, they say. You're on the list. When are they coming, I ask. Within the week.

Ten days after that, I send another message. They ask for my name and a local contact number, which I give them. I ask when someone will come. 7-10 days. But I've already been waiting four weeks. Oh but now you're registered. I wasn't registered before? No. But you promise that someone will be here in 7-10 days? Yes.

It's been a week. This morning we emailed every other fiber company who might be in the neighborhood (there are three), and whoever shows up is the one we're going with.

Title reference