Paraa Safari Lodge: The Jewel of the Nile

Perhaps it was the long energy-sapping drive from Kampala along bumpy, dusty, thirsty roads; perhaps it was my lazy bones grumbling, perhaps it was the warm reception at my final destination, I cannot tell. Only thing I can say about Paraa Safari Lodge—You had me at Hello! 

I kept looking behind me; had I been mistaken for a celebrity come for a weekend away from the hustle and bustle of Kampala? I couldn’t tell. The attendants were swooning over me with such care, I almost blushed, unused as I was to too much attention.  After hours on the road, stiff, tired, hungry, chocking with dust in my throat, in my hair on my skin, here I was, an overnight Celebrity!

The ambience is cosy and warm and grows on you like old shoes. I felt like I had lived here for years. Maybe time stood still as my bond with Paraa strengthened over the coming hours. I don’t remember whether background music played or whether that’s a construct of my flawed memory.   

Maybe it was the soothing sound of the River Nile that licked at the feet of the Lodge, I cannot tell. All I know is that whatever hand crafted the Lodge had had a good childhood. I felt at home instantly. 

The buffet was food for the gods and catered even to the palettes of the pickiest eaters. I gorged myself on exotic and traditional food. The desserts were laid out neatly on a unique table crafted to resemble a boat, complete with decks.  On the top deck were original artefacts of yesteryear.  I marvelled at the ingenuity.

The message was not lost on me; here I was in Murchison Falls National Park, one of the last frontiers of the virgin wild in Uganda, unblemished by human corruption, and before me were tools used by explorers who saw this beautiful country as it once was. Brilliance! 

In my next blog, I go take me some snaps of the beautiful wild animals. Watch this space!

CACE: gifts that keep on giving

I recently had an opportunity to further my writing career. CACE (pronounced Cha-Chay) which is the acronym for the Center for African Cultural Excellence in conjunction with the US Embassy Kampala sponsored a select 10 fledgling writers for a fully paid 1 week intensive freelance writing course and 5 weeks arduous fieldwork to utilise the skills learned.  I had to pinch myself every 2 minutes until I drew blood to remind myself that I wasn’t actually dreaming and that this was really happening. I was in 7^th Heaven. Believe it!

The varied highly accomplished Course Staff and Guest Speakers included Brian Bwesigye, Frida Nabifo, Esther Namugoji, Lydia Namubiru,Kanyango Caroline, Solomon Kayiwa,  Elise Crane, Beatrice Lamwaka, Harriet Anena and Corne Schalkwyk among others tasked with the herculean task of making men and women of us, the 10 doe-eyed virgins with baby teeth.  The goal was to give us the tools that we would need to sink our teeth in the Freelance Writing Arena and never let go.

At the end of the 6 weeks, I was published in New Vision, the largest media house in Uganda, I had used social media skills I had learned to promote Marasa Africa for which I won a 3 days trip alongside professional journalists to Murchison Falls National Park. Marasa Africa was showcasing Paraa and Chobe Safari Lodges which I found exquisite to say the least. The nature came alive, teeming with wildlife and I was torn when time came to return to Kampala.  These 6 weeks have been a turning point in my life and I will always be grateful for those great souls who made it happen.

I Killed Trayvon Martin

 

It was a dark, cold, cold night. My master’s index finger shouldn’t have ordered me out my chamber. Evil was brewing; murder was spewing bad vibes and I was the messenger sent out to execute--literary.  I shot out with a fury and punched the first thing I saw. I killed the first thing in front of me. I later learned his name---Trayvon Benjamin Martin. He was just a boy and as far as ‘buts’ go, I was but a lone bullet let out too soon, too quickly in a throes of fury. I killed Trayvon Martin. I shot him dead.

The deadness of the night should have warned me that something was wrong. The cold pavement should have tapped me on the shoulder and told me to head east, head west, head anywhere but straight through the chest of one proud brave boy, caught in the dance of death, a novice in the martial art, a babe in the woods; I tore through a terrified chest and red graffiti tattooed the cold, cold pavement in a spatter of emotion.

He was but a babe in the woods, newly weaned from his mom’s boob, with Skittles stuck between his teeth, a lazy smile arrested at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were frozen in confusion, his limbs frantic a moment too late. The poor cold pavement was unqualified in the art of comfort, he motioned to hold me back but I was too far gone, too invested in the task at hand, my ears deadened to his cries for help. I beckoned my master for help and look he did, but that’s all he did, incapacitated as a slab of concrete.  The boy was too far gone and I couldn’t back out now. I was tagged a murderer the day I was born and was only fulfilling the prophesy.

I killed Trayvon Martin, I snuffed out his life. The drumbeats that sounded fainter and fainter as the seconds ticked by welcomed him to the afterlife. I looked to my master when it was done and knew I wouldn’t be getting pats on the shoulder for a job well done.  He looked at me guiltily and his racing heart told me he was ashamed of me, my quick temper, the power of my punch, my lethal head-butt.  I was branded a murderer and Zimmerman the innocent victim. Who speaks for the boy now---who speaks for the boy?

VERVET MONKEY

Vervet Monkey. Photo by C.T Schalkwyk Photography

The Vervet Monkey is an arboreal monkey which means that it spends most of its time in the safety of the trees. Although they do venture down to the ground in search of both food and water, Vervet Monkeys rarely go further than 450 meters from the trees, which helps to protect them from predators.

They are diurnal animals spending the days foraging for food and then rest at night.

After about 5 and a half months, females give birth to a single infant which is cleaned by its mother at birth, and clings to her stomach during the first week or so. Vervet Monkey babies quickly develop strong social bonds with other monkeys and are known to begin interacting and playing with them by the time they are a month old.


Information and Photography borrowed from Premier Safaris on their FACEBOOK page. For more information, visit Marasa