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[image source](https://safarijunkie.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/Jinja-day-trip-source-of-river-Nile-Uganda.jpg)
The more I thought about it, the more I thought about Simone. We sang this song with him and my other cousins and friends every time we came back from the river. We were very happy and satisfied with our rural livelihoods. But I had been separated from them. The only consolation was that it was going to be for a short period of time. I was definitely going to go back during school holidays.
Jinja was much better than any slum we had crossed. The streets were filled with people moving in different directions and doing different activities. Everyone seemed busy. They did not seem to have time to greet each other and talk to each other, they were not interested in getting to know each other and making friends. I realized that it was the nature of the people who live in the cities.
People were too numerous to know each other by name. In Acholi land, I would not get lost even if I went to five villages far from my village. People knew each other so well. Or like their pockets, as they say. People would say what family he/she comes from just by looking at the person. And every time we met someone we did not know before, we made sure they became friends. We could also find details such as the clan of the person and the clan of his mother in case they are linked in one way or another.
Friendship is very dear to Acholi land. It was better for them, the more there was friends. My grandfather had always encouraged us to make as many friends as possible. However, in the city, it was something that was not valued at all. They did not seem to value each other. The bus moved slowly through the streets of Jinja. I was fascinated by the splendor and grandeur of the buildings. The shops and markets were so big and well built.
We looked out the window, fascinated by what we saw. Cars and motorcycles were scarily crossing each other. They almost seemed to bump into each other, then they went around without any difficulty. So many cars came out of every corner of the street and went up and down the street to different destinations. After the city of Jinja, we arrived at the Nile Bridge - the longest river in the world. My father told us about it earlier and I thought it was just a long river. I did not know it was extremely big and wide. I will never forget what I felt when I saw it. What a beautiful landscape it was!
In my opinion, it was not a river. It was much bigger than what I called a river. Compared to the Achwa River in my village, the two did not deserve the same status.It was five times bigger. No, not five times. He was ten, twenty or thirty times bigger. I am not sure. The more I looked at him, the more I perceived him bigger than I had thought before. It was much bigger than I thought it would be. I saw fishermen rowing wooden boats on the river. Some of them fished while others removed some weeds from the water, my father called water hyacinth. What struck me most was that the Nile was so big to be called a river. The river in my village could be crossed on foot along some parts of the river. The bridge consisted of only two logs laid along the width of the river. People could only cross the river over the bridge. The few bike owners were carrying their bikes on their shoulders when they reached the bridge.
[image source](https://jinjacity.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/sotn1.jpg)
However, the Nile Bridge could be crossed by several cars, tractors, bikes and motorcycles at the same time. It was the largest and longest bridge I have ever seen. It is impossible to explain what I felt. At one point, I thought I was dreaming. I had seen the river that feeds all the mouths in Sudan and Egypt. We also saw the dams Nalubaale, Kiira and Owen. It was an incredible experience. I asked my father several questions. In the first place, I did not think it was a river. I doubted that because I had not seen the water flow. The water seemed motionless. I also wanted to know how a boat could move on the flowing water.
He gave me an explanation that I can not remember. Of course I did not believe it. Not long after, I started sleeping again and slept for a while. When I woke up, my father was still chatting with Daniel-Do you know examples of natural forests in Uganda? - Yes . - Give me some examples? - The forest of Mabira ... - All right, interrupted my father. We are about to enter the forest of Mabira. Still very sleepy, I listened to their conversation about the forest. Daniel had studied the forests of the country because he had two classes in front of me. I did not know anything about what they were talking about so I could not contribute to the conversation. The road led into the forest. Suddenly, I saw trees everywhere. Very large and tall trees, much larger and larger than those of our bushes and our forests at Acholi land.
There were groves stretching from the edge of the road to the invisible interior of the forest. I immediately wanted to cross the forest and discover the unknown of the forest. The atmosphere on the bus changed drastically from hot and humid to fresh and refreshing. A cool breeze ran through the bus window as we walked through the intriguing forest of Mabira. My father spoke to us again the first time he visited this forest. He explained to us the size of the forest and its importance in the formation of precipitation. He said a lot more than that ... only that I do not clearly remember everything he said. Besides, my mind was lost in fantasy from time to time. I would fantasize about the most stupid and impossible things, as long as they please me. I remember having fantasized in the middle of the forest, hunted alone and met a very large animal that I had never seen before, then I killed him and invited the whole village to share the meat. I was a regular dreamer.
The things I longed for often happened in my mind. I lived a few minutes outside the real world. It happened almost daily. Whenever I was told about something interesting or someone who was doing great things, the next thing I would do was fantasize. It happened unintentionally when I thought about that person or thing, I put me in this imagination as the hero who surpasses all these achievements. My grandmother often told me about all the great hunters and warriors from Acholiland who broke all records and surpassed all the achievements of their predecessors. I remember particularly the story of Cheswakas, probably one of the greatest hunters of Acholiland.
Grandfather told me that he hunted at night and surprised the village the next day with meat. He was very loved by his people. He had many women and children. He also owned lots of land and cattle. Every time he told us about such great people, he told us that we were able to be like them or even bigger than them. That's how I started having fantasies to go beyond all the wonderful people I had been told about. Today, I forgive myself for not being able to do what I have always fantasized and believed. I hope my grandfather will forgive me for letting him down. I know he may have seen the ability in me. Back on topic. The bus stopped at a certain point and we all went down to relieve ourselves and eat. My father bought us fried chicken and soda bottles.
By the time we arrived in Kampala city, I was extremely exhausted. We disembarked from the bus and removed our bags. We then embarked in a taxi that took us to Kololo - a suburb of the city of Kampala where our uncle lived. His name was Gilbert. He was much younger than my father but the smartest in the family. He was a lecturer at Kyambogo University where he taught food and nutrition students. With his wife, they were a rich and generous couple. Most people liked him because of his generosity. Every time he came back to the village, he had something to give everyone. He gave them money, shoes, second-hand clothes and many other things. He even paid school fees for some disadvantaged orphans. People admired him because they knew he had a great job. He was doing Roman work, as they say. For me, I particularly liked his jokes. Uncle Gilbert was the funniest person I knew at the time, and almost all of the funniest jokes I knew came from him.
I remember the days he came to my house telling us jokes and funny stories. We sat in front of my father's hut and laughed loudly.I remember when he told us about a child whose father was trying to hide from the taxman during the days when taxes on huts and guns were still in force.The father of this particular child decided to hide in the millet attic, ordering him not to reveal his fate to the tax collectors. When the tax collectors came, they told him Asked where his father was. The conversation between them went on like this. Where is your father? -He told me not to tell you where he is.-Tell us where he is right now ... otherwise we will beat you! Tax collectors have threatened. "I'm not going to tell you he's hiding in the attic....
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