Kisenyi

We wake up safely, spared from the jaws of the marauding hippos. Today, we’re moving across the park to Lake Edward and staying at another fishing village- Kisenyi.

We head slowly across the plains, eyes peeled for animals, but we don’t see much, and we arrive at Kisenyi in the late afternoon. Our campsite for the night turns out to be a construction site, with half-built lodges and toilets in the middle of a field. Our host, Peter, rapturously receives us. He’s a big guy, and with his powerful, booming voice he explains that the site is only half built because they ran out of money. They therefore only have three half-built rooms, a half-built reception/dining area, and a half-built toilet block. Our Dutch friend Bas questions the wisdom of half-building everything, rather than fully building one block at a time.

Peter tells us that tonight they’ll build a big fire, and promises us that herds of elephants will visit, and we might even catch a glimpse of lions and cheetahs.

We tell him that we want to head into the village for some food, and he insists on escorting us, even though the village is about 50 metres away. He leads us down a back alley to some plastic tables and chairs and asks a cook for some beans and chapati. It’s delicious, and we wolf it down. To be fair, we wouldn’t have found this place without Peter’s help. He then leads us to a fruit and veg shop, where we buy some oranges and fruit that we have never seen before or since. Peter then asks the shopkeeper for his orange, at which the old lady reluctantly hands him one. It’s a little like Peter imagines himself as a mafia boss, lording over the village. Finally, we grab some beers from a bottle shop. Unlike the rest of Uganda, where you are offered hot or cold beers, here they only have hot or slightly cooler. We opt for the slightly cooler ones, still wondering why hot beers are a thing in equatorial Uganda.

At sunset, we head to the lake in an attempt to watch the hippos emerge onto land. We spot a group offshore, but they stay submerged until well after nightfall. We are joined however, by a gang of children- far more frightening than any herd of hippos. The ringleader, who must be about 12, puts on his deepest voice and ominously growls “Give me your money. You don’t want to give me your blood.”

Despite their pleads for our money, cameras, sweets and shoes, we are able to enjoy the sun setting across the lake, behind the mountain range which lies in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

After tea, we settle around the fire, nervously awaiting the arrival of the promised menagerie of elephants, hippos, and cheetahs. Unfortunately, the most we get is distant grunts from hippos. Slightly disappointed, we bed down for the night.Read more