So here I am, back in the luxury of my hotel in entebbe. I can't believe how quickly my month in Kyaka II has gone by. Even the staff at base camp were convinced I had only been there two weeks- it really has flown by.

This first leg of my journey was the part which I thought I would find the most trying and I'll admit that I was dreading. However now that my flight to Kenya is inevitably approaching, I would happily spend another few weeks here. I have even learnt to abide by "African time" which basically involves adding atleast half an hour to whatever time you have been told because everyone is late for eeeverything. What I'm going to miss most is the people; the kids at the school, the teachers, the base camp staff and even the local refugees that say hello and give me a big pearly-white smile every morning. There are, however, some aspects which I am not quite so sorry to leave behind.... For example I'm not going to miss sharing my wash room with the various creatures that decide to wander in... And it is fair to say I am looking forward to having a proper toilet and shower and alternatives to rice and beans at (almost) every lunch...

Unfortunately about half way through my stay, I annoyingly lost about a week and a half to sickness. I became really ill, eventually recovered, then within 48 hours was ill again (typical!) the latter time it was food poisoning from the sugar cane I was given and the first we are still not entirely sure what the cause was... Thankfully it wasn't malaria which is what they originally thought. And of course I had to get sick on the week of the much anticipated geography trip on which I was supposed to travel to Entebbe, Jinja and Kamapala taking in various landmarks such as the source of the Nile and a sugar factory. So instead of going on the trip, I was bedridden- you can imagine how much I was "loving life".

Despite the several days I lost to sickness I have still had the most amazing time. On 23rd, the headmaster authorised the day off school and organised a big truck so everyone could go and support the netball and football teams which were competing in the district tournament. You'll hopefully be able to see from the photos (which I will put up asap I promise!) the vehicle which we travelled in... I'm fairly certain the cattle-like manner in which they were packed would not have met the health and safety regulations the St G's Saturday morning hockey busses had to abide by...! The netball team I had been coaching after school emerged victorious (the most outstanding result being 15-1!) and are going on to compete in the regional competitions next week. The kids came back completely elated and at one point their Swahili chants at the end of one of the games were for "Madame Jess-ca" and I found my hands being swept up into the air by various members of the team. It was such a rewarding day; not just for me but for the kids who had played so well and supported so valiantly, despite the various jeers from the other schools directed at them for being refugees. I could not be prouder of them and it really does feel special to leave the school on such a high- it is fair to say that their district results have given the students such a huge morale boost.

I spent one of my weekends in Fort Portal, a lovely little town about 2 hours from Kyaka. Our journey there was quite an experience... We were informed that it was our "lucky day" as there was a vehicle from base camp going directly to fort portal which therefore meant we evaded the sweaty, crowded bus. Our "lucky" vehicle turned out to be an ambulance rushing a woman in labour to the hospital in fort portal. So, encouraged by the few words of comfort from Lilian (who has been working in Kyaka for 2 years with Right To Play) which went along the lines of "oh yeah twice I've had a woman give birth on my way to fort portal" (it is totally normal for base camp staff to hitch a lift with an ambulance, by the way), I, along with the six others who were also headed to fort portal, squeezed into the back of the ambulance where we sat, wedged on a bench, facing this poor lady who was lying on a stretcher. Thankfully, however, she didn't give birth, for I was in the crucial position, and those who know me well know what I'm like with blood! Despite the journey we had a really relaxing weekend. We stayed in a lovely guesthouse which was run by a completely eccentric but thoroughly lovely older lady called Fiobe who would describe everything with an exclamation of "how wonderful!" and insisted that we have sausage WITH our pineapple at breakfast.

Kyaka II (pronounced chaka) works in the way that the organisations help the refugees meet their basic requirements whilst encouraging them to try and reestablish a relatively independent livelihood. The settlement itself doesn't feel like a "refugee camp", it more resembles clusters of rural villages linked by a dirt track at the heart of which is the base camp where I stay and the offices are based. The settlement is run by the coordination of a few organisations, some governmental and others NGOs (OPM, UNHCR, giz, NRC... Etc). Refugees arrive at the reception centre in Swe Swe where some can be for several months depending how long it takes for them to gain "refugee status". I haven't actually been to the reception centre but one of the ladies doing Phd research out here has done a few workshops out there and says it is literally just a big tent (which leaks). It is lacking bedding among other basic amenities and it doesn't even have separate compartments for women and children. When this is compared to the store which is a properly built iron structure, you wonder who is in charge of making the decisions to allow your equipment to be kept under better, more secure conditions than the people the settlement itself is for. The base camp staff are so passionate about ameliorating the conditions for these people but they are hindered by the regulations and policies implemented by the head offices of the various organisations which are based however many hundreds of miles away. The main feeling of the staff who I've spoken to, the commandant and the head of giz in particular, simply feel frustrated.

I don't feel I can ask the kids what their histories are, but the headmaster's secretary tells me the majority of them are orphans and every now and again they tell me a story which hints at the nature of their lives. For example, one day one of the girls I teach pointed out a man who had just walked past us and then went on to say that one day when she was getting water he said that he was going back to get a knife to kill her. When I asked her what she did she simply said "I ran". Every so often I see a child with protruding ribs and bloated belly and more frequently I see children all dirty with ragged clothing draped around their bony frames. On my walk to school in the morning I quite often see one little boy who's skeleton just seems to hang wrongly which causes his angular limbs to stick out awkwardly. It's little things like that that are witnessed on a daily basis here that remind you just what these people have and are still going through. It makes me think that they should resent me for being a "Mzungu", coming from a comfortable background in a developed nation. Where I'm sure some do, everyone who I have come across don't; everyone is unfalteringly warm and welcoming and wherever I go people greet me with smiles and calls of "Hello! How are you!", the little boy I spoke about earlier in particular always greets me with a "good morning madame" accompanied by a big smile. It really is very difficult to be unhappy here; everyone's seemingly permanent smiles are contagious!

So now I am going to go for the dip in the pool I have been looking forward to since my tediously lengthy wait in Nairobi airport on my way to Uganda. I fly to Kenya tomorrow where I will meet my cousin Georgina to spend two weeks' work experience at Sabuk Lodge which is north of Nairobi. We are expecting to be helping out in the community and in the local school, meeting the traditional tribe with which the lodge works and maybe even go on safari...! There's lots to look forward to. 'till next time... JHJ