Butiaba

The latest book I've finished is Cormac McCarthy's The Road, and its incredible. Its like reading a horrible nightmare, but its so well written you don't want to stop. I've read some really good books on this trip, and this is definitly one of the best. Cormac McCarthy is the author of No Country for Old Men, which the movie based on the book just won the best picture oscar. When I got the chance to exchange one of the books I've read for it, I was really excited, and the book did not let me down.

Yesterday I went to a small fishing village on Lake Albert called Butiaba. Someone told me Ernest Hemingway crashed a plane there, but I haven't tried to verify that, so that may be completely inaccurate. I was told it was a really pretty village, and I wanted to see more of Lake Albert and the rift valley one last time. The road down from the valley escarpment down to the lake is very impressive, and when you get to the valley floor there are a gazillion baboons running around. The time in the village was nice, I just walked around the beach, had lunch, and had tons of kids come up and try to jump on me. Not the most exciting of destinations, but I enjoyed seeing one of the rift valley lakes for a final time. I put a few pictures in the Murchison Falls album, so if you click on that link the last few pictures in the album will be from yesterday. They're nothing special, just to kind of show what the area is like.

Whether its been on hikes or strolls in Malawi, Zambia, Tanzania, Rwanda, or here in Uganda the kids have always been the best part. The landscapes are breathtaking, but when you have a four year old just walk out of his house, and take your hand to walk with you along the footpaths its the highlight of the hike. Soon after one kid joins you a larger group always comes curious to see what this mzungu is up to. Some poke at your skin, most just try to grab on to your hand somewhere, and its quite charming. Eventually some adult comes to get them, but it can take a couple of kilometers some times.

These walks have been my favorite thing in Africa, and going between villages on their footpaths is as interesting and beautiful as the national parks I've visited. I love walking through the small farms of banana, coffee, beans, yams, maize(although I hate that they eat so much maize in Africa), peas, sorghum, millet, mangos, etc... You can often hear women singing in their homes, and a few times I've even come across some drumming sessions going on. It's not all idealic, though. Several times in the morning I've gone into a small pub to get some water only to see several men quite drunk. You rarely see men working in the fields, it almost always the women and children. I'm sure health problems are rampant, but I cant' get a good feel for this just walking through. Still, these walks have been the highlight of my trip, and you don't have to pay any national park fee to do it.

Today is my last full day in Africa, and tomorrow I'll be off to the airport in Entebbe for my evening flight. On the way I'm going to try to see the old airport where the Israeli hostage rescue took place in 1976. From what I understand its closed off to the public, but I've heard of people being able to talk their way into a small peek.

As for the blog...my folks keep asking me to do a one final entry returning to Israel, and I suppose I will. The blog has been one of my favorite things about the trip, and the response has been incredible. I want to thank Shara for this, because without her nagging me, there would be no blog. While this blog will end with that final entry, I do intend to start another blog, on a different subject. I plan to start a blog where I'll post links to articles and other information on the horrific situation in the eastern DRC. I'm doing it for my benefit, but anyone that would like can check back periodically can read any of the articles if they like. I guess I'll try to set up at least the site name before the last blog entry, and I'll post the link on the this blog. Well, hope everyone's doing well and have fun.

tchau, Ben