Moving- Part 3: A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving… In Australia

When you are born and raised in the northern hemisphere, and then move to the southern hemisphere as an adult, it’s hard to grasp the holiday spirit.  Even when I lived in Orlando, and wore shorts on Christmas Day while working at Walt Disney World, it still felt like Christmas.  Then again, it was Disney, so we had fake snow and Christmas carols playing everywhere.

Back May, before making my permanent move out here to Australia, I came out for a one week “get to know you” visit.  It was a good thing that trip went well, seeing as I had already signed a contract and quit my job.  During that trip I went to dinner at my soon-to-be-new boss’s house with his family.  His nine-year-old twins and I got along quite well, comparing recess games, favourite foods, and holiday traditions.  They have never seen snow except for in the movies, so the idea of a white Christmas was a quite appealing to them.

Last night I happened to notice that A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving was scheduled to air on television in the States.  I must confess that this was the first time I actually thought about Thanksgiving, partially because we don’t see Thanksgiving commercials or the corresponding accoutrement in the stores.  But probably also due to the fact that as I sit here writing this blog post at 6am, it is already well above 90 degrees, hence the idea of cooking a turkey and eating pumpkin pie in traditional Thanksgiving (i.e. Church of America) fashion lacks appeal.

But I do have SOME thing- many things, actually- but ONE thing in particular to be thankful for. My Thanksgiving is being celebrated in style, in my new house, surrounded by my belongings…. wait for it…. that arrived… from the States!  That’s right folks, hell hath frozen over and my ship has come in!

Last week around 2pm my apartment looked like this:

By 3pm, my apartment looked like this:

But, here’s the best part of the story.  Back in February when I accepted this job I started watching everything I could on youtube about Australia.  I ran across this television series called Border Security: Australia’s Front Line.  And, let me tell you, the front line takes their jobs seriously.  But in all honesty, I can understand their tenacity.  Australia is very isolated and has an incredibly delicate environment.  By being vigilant about what comes into the country, they have avoided many of the diseases which have proven deleterious in other parts of the world.

For instance, if you typically fly with snacks, make sure you eat your beef jerky before you arrive otherwise it will be confiscated due to fear of foot and mouth disease.  I know, I know, it’s a processed food and can’t possibly spread that disease, but as I said the Australians are cautious, to the point of being almost paranoid.  If you plan to come here for diving, leave your wetsuit at home.  They don’t want to risk you bringing in any parasites that might be harmful to the wildlife here.  When I climbed Kilimanjaro two years ago, my Australian “buddies” gave their hiking boots to our guides and porters because they said they would be confiscated due to the concern there might be a trace of dirt on them once they got home.  They said they might as well give them to someone who could use them rather than having them confiscated and destroyed.

Well, having watched Border Security, read lots and talked to friends about what I could “get away with”, I was worried that my bike, golf clubs and wooden giraffe from Africa might meet their demise in Australian Customs.  But it turns out flattery will get you everywhere.  I wrote the Customs officials little love notes and put them all over my belongings.  And they even wrote me back.  Here is the note I put on my golf clubs.  And as you can see, they responded by welcoming me to Australia:

As I’ve said before, I LOVE coming back into the U.S. after being gone for a long time because the Customs officials always say, “Welcome home!” after stamping my passport.  But, after my recent experience successfully receiving my things, I think the Australian Customs Department may be my new bestie- at least on this side of the (other) pond.

What to do (and not do) When In… Botswana

Since I returned to the United States in September, I took a new position as the Fulbright Grant Administrator at Texas Tech.  Over the past six months I’ve been busy helping professors write their grant applications, and more recently, I’ve been assisting Fulbright fellowship award winners to prepare for their sabbaticals in their host countries.

Just last week I was speaking to the woman who received a Fulbright grant to Botswana.  We spent over an hour on Skype discussing how to get a research permit, what to expect when it comes to trying to obtain a residency visa or when you go to the doctor’s office for a check-up, how not to get deported, the importance of the headlamp, dating, mating and shopping for real estate, and high-end designer duds at the Dead Muzungu Market (it’s not Louis Vuitton, but it IS an experience).

In addition to aspiring Fulbrighters recognizing my wealth of knowledge about travel in Africa, The Economist recently commissioned me to write an article for inclusion in their lifestyle and culture magazine, Intelligent Life.  Take a look at my article, which recounts what to do (and not do) when visiting Botswana.  If you understand each of these statements it means you read the corresponding blog posts, so thank you for your attention!  Enjoy:

http://moreintelligentlife.com/content/places/kelly-phelan/when-botswana

“Welcome Home!”

I love those two little words.  Any time I am travelling overseas that is what I look forward to hearing when I return.  I’ve looked forward to hearing those two words for the past twelve months.  Last week I flew back to Washington, D.C. where I heard those two little words from Officer Baker at Passport Control.  I practically jumped over the desk and hugged him.  That is my favorite part about coming home, hearing the Passport Control Officer tell me, “Welcome Home!”

Let me back track a little bit about my trip.  The flight from Johannesburg to Frankfurt was horrific, dreadful, abysmal, practically the worst plane ride of my life.  I will NEVER, and I mean NEVER fly Lufthansa EVER again.  First of all, there was no good entertainment- the movies were horrible.  Case in point: On a 12 hour flight you would expect there to be at least one recent (as in filmed sometime in the past decade) movie.  Nope, not one.  I watched the pilot episode of 90210.  I was 10 when that was first aired- no really, I looked it up to be sure.  And the food was equally disappointing.  Bad food + bad movies= unhappy Kelly.

In Frankfurt I was fortunate enough to locate free wifi so I Skyped with my friend Shaun (a TTU alum) who, upon hearing my dilemma about the bad onboard entertainment, recommended several new Bravo TV shows for me to gorge myself on.  And yes, in the last five days since I’ve been back I have watched all Ladies of London and Real Housewives of the OC episodes in the current season.

As I was sitting at my gate in Frankfurt waiting for my flight to board I noticed two things, well, three things: 1. There are so many WHITE PEOPLE HERE!, 2. Wow, so many tattoos.  I haven’t seen any of those in… forever.  Twelve months to be exact. And 3. Why is everyone cursing?  There are other, more creative words you could use to get your point across.  Let me get you a thesaurus or maybe just a dictionary.

The three observations from the Frankfurt airport did come as a shock to me because all three have been largely absent from my life in Africa.  I know I’ve mentioned before that there have been many times where I haven’t seen any other white people for days or even weeks on end.  I have to admit that I’m perfectly fine with that because it does give me a better appreciation for what it must be like to be a minority.  But the other two observations (the tattoos and the cursing) were both subconsciously missing while I was in Africa and I didn’t realize it until I experienced them again for the first time.

First of all, the tattoos.  People in Africa do not get tattoos (or piercings for that matter). At least, not the kind of tattoos and piercings in what we consider the traditional sense.  Many African tribes practice scarification where they actually cut individuals with a small razor blade in order to draw blood, resulting in a scar.  Scarification may be done to celebrate a military victory, coming of age or marriage, among many other things.  Scarification is practiced most frequently in rural areas in West Africa and Ethiopia.  In case you are unsure what I am talking about here are a few pictures:

Same thing goes for piercings.  In the U.S. the most common piercings are likely the ears, with nose and navel also relatively common.  In Africa you seldom if ever see a professional man, or any urban male with a piercing.  Women often have their ears pierced, but not multiple holes like in the U.S.  However, many of the tribes use piercings to signal social status or tribal affiliation.  Here is a Mursi woman from Ethiopia with large holes in her earlobes and lips:

With regard to my third observation, cursing, that was something I learned about quickly when I was in Africa.  And I have to say that is one lesson I wish I could teach my American students.  None of my students would ever dream of using foul language in front of me or directed towards me because they wouldn’t want to suffer the consequences.  But it isn’t uncommon for me to round a corner of one of the buildings on campus back home and hear someone exclaim, “G* D* Son of a B*! This is horsesh*t! Who the F* does that Mother F*er think he is?!... Blah, Blah, Blah,” you get the picture.  In Africa that is absolutely unacceptable.  If you are caught cursing you will likely be reported to the police constable and taken to jail.  NO JOKE!

The 10 hour Frankfurt to DC flight was equally dreadful, but at least at the end of the ride there were two positives:  1. I got to watch the “Welcome to America” video over and over again about 20 times while waiting in line at Passport Control.  After about the 10^th time of watching the video I realized why it seemed vaguely familiar: The soundtrack to the video was the same song used at the (Walt Disney World) EPCOT Center Illuminations/Fireworks show.  This meant two of my favorite things: Disney and America; had teamed up to welcome me home.  Now if only Disney and America could team up and start offering Fastpasses at Passport Control I would REALLY be in love. And 2. Officer Baker said those two magic words to me, “Welcome Home!”

P.S.- My luggage made it!  I think the curse has been lifted (knock on wood).

Dr. Phelan: Illegal Alien Extraordinaire

If you read my blog last week you are aware that I have a residence permit which expires on May 31^st, however, I don’t have a plane ticket departing Botswana for a little while.  This means that two days from now I will be considered in the country illegally and I can technically be deported.  I will have become an illegal alien!

In all honesty, I am the best illegal alien a country could ever ask for.  I’m not looking for employment.  I’m not a refugee asking for a hand out.  I have plenty of money to spend.  I’ve paid all my bills.  I worked FOR FREE!  And I know that I am most definitely leaving… I’m just leaving slightly later than initially planned.  By the way, I’m actually not leaving later than planned.  The real problem here is that my residence permit had the wrong end date from the beginning- it was supposed to be valid through the end of June.  I brought this to the attention of the university back in October when I originally got the permit and the problem was never corrected.  So in reality I’m not leaving later than planned, I’m leaving on time and the permit was issued incorrectly. Nevertheless, I am the one who is considered at fault, meaning I am about to become an illegal alien and people with that status are generally looked down upon.  As I was contemplating my upcoming illegal status I was reminded of another experience not too long ago with illegal aliens:

Back in November I made an unexpected trip to Ethiopia when my flight to Rwanda was cancelled.  This was the trip where my perpetually lost luggage went rogue and spent six weeks in purgatory.  Part of the reason for the chaos of the Ethiopian airport during my ill-fated 24-hour layover may have been due to a mass illegal alien roundup.

Unemployment is a problem throughout Africa.  In many countries unemployment is as high as 50%, with Zimbabwe believed to have the highest rate with over 80% of the population unemployed.  Not surprisingly, many people cross borders, taking up residence in foreign countries illegally in order to obtain some sort of employment and standard of living.  Ethiopia is no exception to this rule.  Thousands of Ethiopians cannot obtain travel documents or papers, but they take the chance and WALK to Djibouti and then get on a ship bound for Saudi Arabia. Once in Saudi Arabia they secure under the table, illegal employment. But it turns out too many of them have been trying this method and there are now too many illegal migrant workers from Ethiopia in Saudi Arabia.  Since the Saudi Arabian economy can’t handle the massive influx anymore it has created a problem with homelessness and petty theft which is overburdening the Kingdom’s resources.  In short, Saudi Arabia doesn’t want them.

When I arrived in Ethiopia it was mass chaos at the airport.  Reason being because Saudi Arabia rounded up over 23,000 Ethiopians who were in the country illegally, put them on planes, and flew them back to Ethiopia.  When the planes landed Ethiopia was unwilling to accept the passengers because none of them had any legal documents.  So the Saudi planes dumped the passengers and their luggage on the tarmac and took off!  You could actually see the chaos from the terminal.  There is a huge field directly behind the Ethiopian airport where the passengers and their luggage were camped out because the customs officials didn’t know how to handle the situation.  By the time I arrived this situation had already been compounding for almost a week.  In the end I didn’t stick around to see what happened with Ethiopia’s repatriated citizens.  I did stop in Ethiopia for a few days last month and the temporary refugee camp which had been set up adjacent to the runway back in November had been dismantled.  I also saw newspaper reports stating Saudi Arabia had plans to return as many as 80,000 Ethiopian citizens, so it will be a considerable ongoing project.

Though I am about to be considered an illegal alien I don’t believe Botswana will go to such extreme measures to forcibly remove me from the country and give me a free ride home.  But after some of the challenges I’ve had during my stay here and the stress resulting from my immigration/residence permit drama I’m starting to feel a little homesick and wouldn’t mind a quick departure.  When I do get back to the U.S. at the end of the summer I may just jump across the desk and hug the passport control officer than stamps me back into the country.

The Terminal 2: Coming Soon

In 2004 Tom Hanks starred in the movie, The Terminal.  Tom Hanks’ character, Viktor Navorski, arrives in New York’s JFK Airport only to be denied admission to the U.S. because during his flight his fictional home country of Krakozhia broke into a civil war, making his passport invalid.  He is not permitted to enter the U.S., but he can’t return home either because he doesn’t have a legal passport which prohibits him from boarding a plane. The movie details Viktor’s nine month stay in the JFK airport.  The movie is loosely based on a similar predicament of Mehran Karimi Nasseri, an Iranian refugee who lived in Paris’ Charles de Gaulle Airport for 17 years.  (Yes, 17 years, that is not a typo).  I mention this because there is a possibility I may become Viktor Navorski very soon.

Back in October I wrote a blog post rejoicing about the fact I had finally obtained my Botswana Residence Permit, thus avoiding deportation for the time being.  Well, deportation is looking more and more likely every day now.

My residence permit expires one week from today, May 31^st.  I am currently out of the country with a plane ticket to reenter Botswana on May 31^st.  Even though I have 30 days left on my tourist visa I am told I cannot reenter Botswana as a tourist because my status has changed to a resident.  (Apparently once you become a resident you can’t become a tourist again.) However, in order to remain a legal resident I must get a permit extension.  I have been working for weeks now to get all the appropriate paperwork for the extension and still don’t have it.  And if you have been following my blog for any amount of time, you are aware that expediency is an unknown concept here, so reiterating the fact that I need something done now now doesn’t really help.  The challenge is that I don’t have the paperwork I need and even once I get the paperwork it still must be taken to the Immigration Office, which will likely take their time processing and approving it.  Queue a miracle here please!

Last night I was explaining my predicament to a friend back in the U.S. and as I was detailing my situation I realized how ridiculous this whole scenario truly is.  I have all my paperwork in order with the exception of a letter from UB stating that they support the extension of my residence permit.  Here’s a very abridged version showcasing the unwillingness of anyone to take responsibility and make a decision:

• Over a month ago I spoke to Person Number 1 at UB and told him I needed a letter. No1 agreed to write the letter. (I should have known immediately that something would go terribly wrong as nothing ever happens here that easily).

• After weeks of contacting No1 asking about the status of my letter I finally get an email from No1 telling me he is on vacation and forgot to write the letter.  No1 tells me to contact No2.

• I email No2 explaining my predicament, tell No2 than No1 agreed to write the letter but forgot, so now No2 is supposed to write the letter.

• After several days of not hearing from No2 I get CC’ed on an email from No2 to No3.

• No3 says he doesn’t know anything and refuses to write the letter.  No3 recommends No2 talks to No4.

• I get CC’ed on an email from No2 to No4.

• No4 emails me asking about the letter.

• I respond to No4 telling her No1 was supposed to write the letter but forgot and now No2 is supposed to write the letter.  I give No4 the information No2 is supposed to put in the letter.

• No4 emails No2 (and CC’s me) to say she (No4) refuses to write the letter because No1 already agreed to do it.

• No2 emails me back to state she (No2) cannot write the letter and I should speak directly to No4 and ask her to write the letter. (Please refer back to the previous point in which No4 emails No2 and refuses to write the letter).

Here’s the part that kills me: UB wants me to stay for an additional year to provide FREE LABOR as a Fulbright Scholar!!!  I can’t stay (for another week, far less a whole extra year) if you won’t give me a letter in order to remain in the country legally!

A month or so back I wrote about the arrogance of UB and how they are their own worst enemy.  I think this little letter fiasco is just another example of how if Africa wants to progress it needs to learn how to be proactive and take some amount of responsibility in formulating its own success.

In the meantime the jury is still out regarding my fate.  My dad is scheduled to arrive in a few weeks.  I know he can enter Botswana as a tourist visa.  Unfortunately he may also be vacationing alone and packing up my house in Gabs if I am living in limbo at the airport customs office like Viktor Navorski.  I’ll keep you posted.

Summer Break Starts Today

Since Botswana is located in the southern hemisphere we are in the midst of summer right now.  It’s strange to Skype with friends and family back in the U.S. who mention ice storms and snow days while I am lathering myself with sunscreen and sweating through every last inch of clothing on my body before noon.  Last week the U.S. Embassy sent me north and put me up in a hotel for two nights.  It was the first time I slept in air conditioning since I arrived here.  It was heaven.

While the hot weather may be a little less than ideal at times, I am very happy to announce that summer break officially starts for me today!  Actually, it really began yesterday, but no need to be overly precise.  I am free and clear until classes begin again on January 20^th.  I plan to take advantage of having the next few weeks off by travelling around Africa, writing blog posts and experiencing the sorts of things that make people want to invite me to dinner, “This is Kelly.  You should be friends.  Ask her about the time her elephant died in Las Vegas/she met Leonard di Caprio/she was arrested for walking with intent to cause a car accident.”

Speaking of interesting stories, I was scheduled to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro this week.  No, really, I was.  However, while I was in Uganda last month tracking gorillas I got sick and it took nearly three weeks for it to clear up.  I went to my doctor who ran some tests and told me my oxygen capacity was significantly lower than normal and too low for a good climb right now.  He recommended I postpone my climb for a couple of months to give me time to build back up my cardio endurance.  So, I will not be summiting Kilimanjaro on Christmas day after all.  Oh well.

But I am still taking full advantage of summer break.  On Sunday I flew from Gaborone to Johannesburg and on to Windhoek, Namibia.  Since Nelson Mandela’s funeral was the same day I was travelling I was afraid going through South Africa would be terrible, but it was only slightly more chaotic than usual.  I will be here in Namibia for the next two weeks.  I was supposed to be visiting my big house but less than 48 hours after I arrived we ended it.  Instead I am hanging out in Windhoek for the next two days, then I will be going on a 10 day tour around the country, so at least I will make the most of my time here.  After Namibia I go on to Mozambique for about a week, and then Johannesburg for a few days before returning home to Botswana.

Here is what I will NOT be doing this summer break:

My 24 Hour Unintentional Visit to Ethiopia

After my visit to Uganda I was supposed to go to Rwanda for a few days to teach at the Rwanda University Tourism College.  Despite all the best laid plans, This Is Africa, and my plans quickly went to hell in a hand basket.  The Kampala to Kigali flight was only 40 minutes, so even though it was a night flight I figured I would arrive in enough time to actually get some sleep in my hotel.  Far from it.

The flight departed promptly at 12:30am Sunday morning.  At about 1am the pilot announced we would be landing very soon, “There is a little mist over the Kigali airport, but it shouldn’t affect our landing.”  Not five minutes later the pilot informed us the mist had become too thick and we would have to circle the airport for a bit.  After an hour of circling the pilot informed us we were running low in fuel and had to return to Kampala.

We arrived back in Kampala right around 3am to find the Kigali airport was “closed” until dawn.  (Important background information: After dropping half the passengers in Kigali the plane was supposed to continue on to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.) After sitting on the tarmac in Kampala for two hours, the pilot made the call that he would take everyone to Addis and then those of us who were supposed to go to Kigali could catch a direct flight later that day.

At 7:45am we arrived in Addis where NO ONE gave us any information or made any effort to help us.  We weren’t supposed to be in Ethiopia, so we couldn’t go through Immigration.  So we were stuck in limbo, like Tom Hanks in The Terminal.  The 40 or so of us Kigali passengers stuck together, but no one would give us any definitive answers.  Apparently the answer to everything is, “You have to speak to a supervisor.”  Funny, we NEVER found a supervisor.

Around 8:30am after being left alone at the departure gate, despite none of us having boarding passes, one lone gate clerk appeared and told us he only had about 25 seats on the flight.  That caused the expected outburst of anger from the crowd.  At this point I realized I probably would not be going to Rwanda.  And at this point I really didn’t want to; I just wanted to go home.  I have to say Ethiopia has the worst hospitality of any country I’ve visited. After more than 40 countries, that is a pretty harsh criticism coming from me, particularly because I tend to be a pretty level headed and understanding traveler; it takes a lot to get me bent out of shape.

After watching the chaos of one gate clerk trying to issue 25 tickets to 40 angry people I decided to leave and figure out another alternative.  At this point I learned Addis does not have iron-clad security which most airports attempt to claim.  I walked out through the security gates, without getting a visa or entry stamp.  Then walked through an “Employees only” door because I thought it might lead me back onto the tarmac, which, thankfully, it did.  I thought at this point I should be getting myself arrested (which I figured would be helpful because then someone would HAVE to help me) since I was a civilian walking across the tarmac underneath the parked airplanes and around all the fuel trucks.  Somehow NO ONE saw this as a red flag!

I went to the Ethiopian Airlines Arrivals and Transfers Desk where I was ignored until the one desk clerk finally told me she’s not helping people; I needed to get in the next line. “This line?  The line where everyone is standing, yet there is no one at this desk to help anyone? Oh, great, thanks for letting me know I should be in THIS line.”

After about twenty minutes I arrived at the front of the line because the deaf Chinese family of 7 in front of me decided they had wasted enough time and gave up.  Shortly after, another desk clerk appeared to assist customers!  YAY!  I explained the fact I couldn’t get on the Kigali flight because they didn’t have enough seats for all of us.  I asked her to just send me home to Gaborone.  Thirty minutes later I finally got a new ticket, leaving this morning to Johannesburg and continuing on to Gaborone in the afternoon.  This meant I had to spend last night in Addis.

I spent the next hour getting through Immigration, followed by harassing the baggage claim attendants.  Apparently, they scan the barcodes on the bags as they put them on the planes.  But, they do NOT scan those barcodes as they are off loaded.  So, they couldn’t tell me whether my luggage had been removed from the plane or where it was, in this or ANY country.  I’m thinking I will never see that bag again, which is particularly disappointing because the hiking boots for my Kilimanjaro climb in less than a month are in there.  If I don’t get the bag soon I need to buy some new boots immediately so I can start breaking them in.

My lack of confidence that my luggage will ever surface emanates from my time spent in the baggage area yesterday. Imagine a baggage claim area with 8 conveyor belts.  All conveyor belts are continuously moving with luggage, but every square inch of flooring between the belts; you know, where people normally stand and watch the belts in hopes of finding their luggage?; every square inch of floor space is filled with unclaimed luggage.  So passengers are literately climbing over mountains of luggage looking for their bags, while also hoping it might fall off a conveyor belt.  I watched this scene for about an hour while Blen, the baggage claim lady, who I told I would tip $100 if she found my luggage, manually searched for my bag.  In the end she couldn’t find it.

I couldn’t take it anymore. After three hours in the Kampala airport, 8 hours on the plane going from Kampala to Kigali to Kampala to Addis, and then another 5 hours in the Addis airport trying to get things sorted out, I left for my hotel.  I was too exhausted from the travel and lack of sleep, and my nerves were completely shot from the stress that I didn’t even play tourist.  Normally when I get “stuck” in a new city I will at least make an effort to see something, anything.  Not this time.  I checked into my hotel, took a nap, watched some tv and then went back to bed until my flight this morning.  And my two flights today were wonderful.  I’m always happy to get back to the Gaborone airport.  I’m happy it’s my home airport because it’s probably the easiest airport I’ve ever been through.  And I’ve never been so happy to be back as I was this afternoon.

“Welcome to Uganda, everyone is very excited to have you here!”

I arrived in Uganda safe and sound this evening. My flight from Joburg to Entebbe International Airport, the only international airport in the country, was about an hour and a half late, but I made it nonetheless. I started to worry a bit while waiting for my luggage as my bag was the VERY LAST off the plane, but the good thing was by the time I exited the airport the crowd had dispersed.

It is interesting to travel through Africa and see the different airports. Some are practically brand new with all the bells, whistles and technology you can imagine. Others are little more than wooden shacks where everything is done by hand. The Victoria Falls International Airport which hosts the #1 tourist attraction in Sub-Saharan Africa leaves a lot to be desired. There they don’t have carts or baggage carousels, so they use a lot of baggage handlers to move all the luggage manually from the planes to the teeny-tiny arrivals hall (about the size of my parents’ living room) where travelers wait to attack the second they see a bag they think is theirs. I would rate Uganda’s airport as one of the better ones in Africa.

The guide, Tobas (I think ?), who is taking me on my weekend getaway met me at the airport and delivered me to my hotel for the evening. Tomorrow he will be driving me and my new friend, Catherine, whom I have yet to meet face-to-face, 10 hours into the Bwindi Impenetrable Rain Forest to go trekking for gorillas.

On the ride from the airport to my hotel Tobas told me, “Welcome to Uganda, everyone is very excited to have you here!” Everyone? Really? I’m guessing “everyone” is excited to have me here because the small fortune I paid for this excursion is giving a nice boost to the local economy. But, it turns out, his greeting was genuine. He continued on to explain, “I understand when you get back from the gorilla trekking you will be teaching at Makerere University. They are very excited about that.”

Generally when I travel I try to visit other universities with hospitality and tourism programs. I figure it gives me the opportunity to see how other programs work, potentially form relationships for study abroad programs and recruit graduate students who might be looking to come to the U.S. And since I like to reciprocate when someone agrees to host me, I always offer to guest lecture if they are interested. When I was in Kenya in September I spent a day at the University of Nairobi and taught a class there.

But I was surprised Tobas knew about my guest lecturing at Makerere because I hadn’t told anyone at the safari company about it. I was put in touch with someone at Makerere by the professor with whom I co-teach at UB. We emailed back and forth several times and I agreed to do a one hour lecture on the American tourist market in Africa. Shortly after we set a day and time, he emailed me back and told me there was a lot of interest in my visit; he was hoping I could spend a second, full day, doing more lectures to larger groups. I was surprised there was “so much interest” but I enjoy visiting other schools, so I was happy to do it. Upon hearing that Tobas was aware of this arrangement I guess there must be “interest.”

So, how did Tobas learn about my upcoming visit to Makerere? It turns out the owner of the safari company is a tourism professor there. And due to the relationship between the professor, the safari company and the Ugandan Tour Operators Association, my visit it advertised as a public lecture. I certainly don’t mind, but I guess it does put a little pressure on me. Of course, I could look at it from the opposite perspective; I wanted to make sure I had some tourism experiences here in Uganda before I spoke. So if I was the professor/safari company owner I would definitely want to make sure the American visitor had a good experience.

Regardless, Tobas seems to be a good guy; I think I am in good hands. If nothing else “everyone is very excited” that I’m here, so it sounds like this will be a great trip.