It’s time to say Good-Bye.

Yes, the time is near to say good-bye to my most recent home. I must say, although it’s treated me well, I’m ready to leave and find my home in Gulu.

I had an unusually longer than expected stay at a backpackers hostel in Kampala. It’s a strange culture, the backpacker’s world—I dreamt often of the sociological studies I would do in such a place. It’s quite intriguing.

The worst part is forming a small family of other individual travelers and then slowly watching them leave, only to be the last one remaining.

Here’s a small snapshot of some from my “family” that have already left:

· Steve, American guy drilling wells in Southern Sudan. Was supposed to come down to pick up a landcruiser that was “ready” only to find out it was far from ready for him to pick up. His trip down to Kampala turned into over a week and a half of waiting and negotiating.

· Naa’ma, Israeli girl who started a small Non-Profit in her past trip to Uganda. Came back to work with the kids and start a womens group. Hard to picture her petite self in the stories she told from her jobs in the Israeli required military service.

· Tony, 60 year old British guy who started a charity in England to link to a charity here in Uganda. I was sad to see him leave as we often ate our meals together, had good chats about politics, and people watched around the hostel (and often judged backpackers rather harshly.)

· Tyson, American guy who runs his own online business where a portion of profits are donated to entrepreneurs in Uganda through Kiva. Decided to come check out the entrepreneurs himself. Came up with a new business plan of what he would do in Uganda every morning it seemed.

· Gil, 21 year old guy from Tel Aviv who called me mum because I’m so old J. One of the last to leave and I was very sad to see him go. He’s been travelling by himself for quite a while now through Africa and had some great stories that only came out in time, and as if they were no big deal (like being detained by officials in Northeastern Uganda for four days, having a cavity search there, the whole deal.)

· Lindsay and Katie, two American sisters who came to work in an orphanage and had a bit of a disheartening experience. Ended up staying at the YWAM base where I first stayed five years ago. It was wonderful having these girls here and I wish they could’ve stayed longer.

· After most of these people were gone, I’ve also spent some time with an Australian couple. The guy is 52, the lady 42 and they’re travelling Africa for 2 years by motorcycle. Not only that, they’ve already done South America for two years by motorcycle (and from their stories, it also sounds like most of South and Central Asia as well.) They’re a lovely couple, live very inexpensively, and shared their guacamole on chapati with me numerous times.

· And did I mention the German guy who also joined us who is travelling the world on his bicycle? He’s already ridden his bicycle from Germany to Uganda. 11,000 kilometers, friends. You should hear his stories about following the Nile River through Sudan. He said the Sudanese people have so far been the friendliest and most hospitable.

One more story of someone I ran into at the hostel:
A Ugandan guy was playing pool with a friend and quickly stepped in my direction and asked if my name was Dana. I said yes, he nodded, turned and took his shot.
Shoot, this guy doesn’t even look familiar in the least bit. And he could tell that I couldn’t place him.
“Who are you?” No use pretending this time, it was obvious. But I’m still embarrassed because I’m usually pretty good at at least remembering faces if not names.
“You studied at UCU last year didn’t you?”
“Yes”. But I still couldn’t remember even meeting him. “Who were you friends with, or where did I meet you.”
“Don’t worry, I only met you once. I was playing a game of pool with some friends at UCU and you walked past by yourself. I asked if you wanted to play. You said you would, but you didn’t want to embarrass me in front of my friends. From then I remembered your name and face.”
I started laughing and said yup, sounds like something I’d say. Let that be my lesson—some people have great memories and remember the ridiculous things you say.

And now it’s almost time to leave. More than anything else, the people who work at the hostel have become like family and I’ll be sad to leave them.

Tonight is an all night election party at the hostel and it should be interesting to see who actually shows and how long people stay. In case you’re curious, I’d love to tell you who the rest of the world (of which I am in right now) would like to see in the Oval Office. I’ll give you one guess . . .

The other day I saw a cardboard life size cut-out of Barack Obama on the sidewalk where people could stop and get their picture taken with him. No joke.

With my end to my time in Kampala coming quickly, my new life in Gulu will begin. And I am ready. Not ready in the prepared sense, or as if I know what to expect. I’m just ready to be there.

And I hope to have even half as good internet connection as I’ve had here so I can tell you all about it.