Kampala and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Getaway

It all began when we decided to leave our home in the bush of Northern Uganda and take a little trip to Kampala. After 6 hours in the vehicle, my husband took our three wired-from-travel kiddos for a quick swim in the little pool at our Airbnb. We had just arrived and I enjoyed a few minutes of peace before they returned. Unfortunately, our 4 year old took on a mouthful of water and threw it back up. Then my eldest son began to shout, saying there was a dead rat at the bottom of the pool.

This was the start of our terrible, horrible, no good, very bad getaway.

Well, as it turned out the dead rat was actually a water logged leaf. The panic in my chest at the thought of my daughter gulping down dead rat water loosened vaguely, but I can't seem to get that image out of my head. We won’t be going back to the kiddie pool anytime soon.

We were excited to order in from Pizza Hut because it tastes like “home”, but Jumia wasn’t working and our order for a meter long pizza was cancelled 4 times. My husband gave up and drove to pick up KFC. When he returned a delivery guy called saying he had a Pizza Hut order to drop off. We feared we would receive 4 meters of pizza, but thankfully it was only one. The pizza was cold.

I’m thinking we should have just stayed at home.

At one in the morning, we were awoken by our oldest saying his brother just threw up in bed. (More puke? You’ve got to be kidding me.) We stripped the bed and cleaned him up. Little sister was tapping and kicking her brothers in the back and no one slept well that night.

In the morning, a new day full of possibilities quickly twirled down the drain as I caught a glance of my husband still sitting in our vehicle. He had left 45 minutes earlier to run some errands. I called him and he told me that our “new” 30 year old vehicle wouldn’t start. He was still waiting for a mechanic to come. 

I was almost quite certain that this was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad getaway.

At the hour and 30 minute mark, the children shouted that the mechanic was there, as they ignored my pleas for us to finish some homeschooling while we waited. It was not happening so I just gave up and put a movie on. The vehicle was fixed and my husband finally left. He called 10 minutes later saying the vehicle wouldn’t start again. We spent the rest of the day streaming movies and shows because I told the kids they didn’t need to pack any toys for the trip. We wouldn’t have any time to play with toys. I regretted that decision. 

I tried to sit outside on the balcony to enjoy the scenery but as soon as I sat down the weed whacker started up again and I had to go back inside because it was deafening loud. Finally, 6 hours later, my husband returned with a working vehicle and nothing else accomplished. We were more than ready to catch the new Minions movie at the mall. It’s a 6-hour drive from the nearest movie theater and we don’t get to Kampala much. The kids were ecstatic and the day would be saved!

But then our friend, who had already been waiting at the mall for 4 hours, no longer wanted to see the movie. The kids were disappointed but I gave them “the look” and they managed to pull it together. We enjoyed a lovely dinner catching up and eating hamburgers, fried fish and a Philly cheesesteak. My husband and I decided to make a detour before heading to the Airbnb and get the biggest brownie Sunday known to man. We couldn’t wait to hype the kids up on sugar right before bed and make some good memories on this little Kampala getaway.

Maybe we could save this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad getaway.

We demolished every morsel and headed home. As I went to give goodnight kisses, my kids scared me with an ugly chicken mask they had bought with their dad while I was busy shopping. I am not a fan of being scared by ugly chicken masks. Or a fan being scared at all.

At around 10:30pm we heard noise from the bedroom, to find our son throwing up again, but this time smack dab in the center of the shared bed. Puke was all over his little sisters legs. She just sat there, eyes wide but not saying a word. I cleaned her up, stripped the bed (again) and my husband washed the sheets. Why on earth did we let him choose fish for dinner and encourage an impromptu chocolate ice cream party before bed? 

This was not what I had in mind and I was ready to move back to North America. 

The next morning we all woke up sleepy and I stepped on something sticky on the floor. There was a trail of sticky liquid drips from when my husband took the sheets to wash them in the night. When I went into the bathroom, I stepped on a huge cockroach and nearly lost my mind. I hate cockroaches and they make me want to puke. Then my middle child was waiting to scare me with the chicken mask outside the door and I accidentally smacked him right in the chicken face. I felt terrible and also really annoyed that the chicken mask was still making me jump. They never stopped trying to scare me the entire time. 

This was surely was turning out to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad vacay. 

We decided our priority was to see a movie and skipped other errands for the sake of family fun. On the way, we did manage to buy a lawn mower without much hassle, but as we went to pick up the printer, we were pulled over by the police for no apparent reason. After that ordeal, my husband went in to test the printer that was ready f0r pick up and it wouldn’t work at all. I sat in the vehicle with the kids for over an hour, waiting for it to be fixed. Again.

We somehow made it to the movie after scarfing down a quick lunch and grabbing a coffee to bring in with me. But, halfway through the movie, my husband left to go lay down in the vehicle. He wasn’t feeling well and stayed there for the remainder of the show. Kampala is the place to get a haircut and I was in desperate need, so the kids and my husband drove back to the apartment so I could do some last minute shopping and lighten my hairy load.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad getaway after all. 

However, 10 minutes later we realized that I had the apartment key and the office didn’t have any other copies. So, I quickly grabbed something for breakfast, malaria meds at the pharmacy and then tried to find a motorcycle taxi (aka. boda). I had to sit side saddle as we weaved in and out of heavy traffic because I had worn a dress. I wasn’t expecting to catch a ride through the city on a motorcycle today.

Well, the boda took me to the wrong place. So, we had to back track about 10 minutes. I still sat side saddle and found myself hanging on for dear life. We finally made it and  found my family waiting outside our door. The children were grumbling about why it took me so long. My husband went straight to bed and I decided that my haircut wasn’t going to happen. I took the kids to the pool. Not the kiddie pool. To the other pool, the one without leaves that look like rats.

We made it to the pool and it was a much better experience. But, milk doesn’t sit well with me and I had downed a yummy iced mocha in the movie theater. I was suddenly in need of a bathroom. I told my kids to get out of the pool and wait for my return. To my surprise there was a bathroom close by. But, there was no toilet paper. I manage to find a few pieces of unused Kleenex smushed in my purse from when my kids were sick a few weeks back. When we returned from swimming, I walked into a flooded kitchen. Apparently, I didn’t tighten the cap on the 5L jug of drinking water in the fridge and it had been leaking out for the past hour.

This was not my kind of vacay, but no one threw up in the night so maybe this is all I can ask for.

Today was our last morning in Kampala and we decided I really did need a haircut. So, we packed up the place and I poured myself some water from the fridge. My husband reminded me to tighten the cap on the 5L jug of water and I gave him an annoyed look. He smiled and thought he was funny, but it just erked me to the core.

I was the first in line to get my haircut and figured nothing more could go wrong, so why not have someone take some scissors to my hair. The hair cut went well to my surprise (and relief). I asked to use the restroom and as I went to open the door, I was soaked by water coming from a busted pipe in the wall. I stumbled backwards into an employee passing by and mumbled something about there being a problem. Pointing to the water spraying, I looked down and saw water was leaking out into the hallway. Too bad I didn’t see that puddle of water before heading in.

I think I’m ready to go home.

Then my husband called to say they were at the restaurant waiting for our takeaway lunch. He mentioned that we had no water left (probably due to me not tightening the lid the day before) and asked if I could buy and bring a 5L jug with me. I carried it, adding it to the already overflowing bags on my arms. As I make my way through the busy parking lot, I heard a familiar voice shouting “Mom!! You forgot to change out of your pajamas!” My middle child was standing in the front of the restaurant declaring to all of Uganda that I had forgotten to get dressed in real clothes this morning. I calmly tried to explain in hushed but loud enough tones for him to hear - that they were my comfy clothes for the 6 hour ride back home. He was sure that they were my pjs and I was just not realizing it, so he continued to talk loudly about it while pointing at me. Come to think of it, I’m sure I have worn these pants and t-shirt as pajamas, so he’s not wrong. But he didn’t need to shout it so loud.

As we were leaving the city, we were waved down by another police officer and my heart sank. He leaned into the vehicle and greeted us “Welcome to Uganda!” he said. We smiled and replied that we've lived in Uganda for 6 years. He asked us where we were from and my husband responded proudly, “the USA”. The police officer exclaimed that the USA is the “greatest country in the world”. Well, I piped up and declared that I was from Canada and I disagreed with his statement. He laughed at me and waved us on.

I glanced at my husband and said that this had truly been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad getaway. And that I just wanted to move back to North America. He agreed that it had been a rough few days and then reminded me that some getaways are like this. 

Even those that happen in North America.