Lake Victoria

There is something alluring about the vast expanse of water that forms Lake Victoria. And if there is anything I still remember from my days at prep school about the lake, is that, it has a catchment area of 184,000 km2 and is also known as Victoria Nyanza (also known as Ukerewe, The Eye of the Rhino, Nalubaale, Sango, or Lolwe) and is the largest tropical lake in the world.

And so this tale starts somewhere in 1999 when along with My Boys we found ourselves on Sesse Island for the Easter weekend. Then, getting to Sesse was a three hour drive to Masaka, then onto a very unreliable ferry for the crossing.

It was a very satisfying weekend, a sojourn in which we made merry but like all good vacations, the trip has to come to an end. But Host and seeing that we were having blast, let us stay on for an extra day. His Manager was also very kind to point out that we needn’t return to Kampala by the unreliable ferry but by boat through Entebbe.

And when he pointed out the boat, we saw it moored in the far distance amongst a flotilla of canoes and with more than enough hyacinth round it. From where we stood, the boat looked grand that we were consumed by thoughts of chasing scantily clad nubile girls plucked from one of the adjacent islands and drinking champagne on the trip to Entebbe.

Early the following morning, Manager knocked on our cabins – at 5:45am to alert us of the impending departure of the boat. However, when I looked into the distance, the boat was still moored amongst the canoes, the hyacinth had yet to be cleared and the scantily clad girls plucked from the adjacent island were nowhere in sight.

Then Manager dropped the bomb shell. ‘Our boat’ was a relic that had died many years ago and the boat he was talking about was a canoe that was waiting for us at the peer. And indeed looking towards the peer was the canoe. After some consultation – which did not include anything about safety like life jackets, we clambered aboard. The canoe was empty save for Captain, First Mate and Fat Mama.

A cheer went up when Captain steered the canoe to one of the islands! Here come the nubile’s! And there were nubile but not the dark skinned sexy and voluptuous natives, but a horde of tall, blonde, blue eyed German and Swedish girls who had also spent the weekend on one of the islands.

To say that they were a delight to look at was an understatement. “Ooh la la” is all we could say as we drooled. There was an Inga, a Gretchen, an Olga but it was Beatrice who dazzled and had more than an ounce of sex appeal on her.

By now the sun had began to blaze. In the beginning it was warranted for there was a spiteful cold blowing over the lake but once it heated up, all hell broke loose for Swedish and German girls simply took it in their stride and started stripping down to their bikini tops and bottoms.

Obviously with that, there was an element of musical chairs to be played out in the canoe. My Boys scampered to sit next to them and those who scampered with speed got the best crop. I being at the far end of the canoe and cut off by charcoal and fish was stuck. I sat there looking across at them as they began to enjoy and sample the delights of the Swedish and German girls.

Of course I sulked so I just sat back looked ahead and there was nothing but lake as it was to the left and right and in the rear, the lake we left behind. And with no birds flying overhead, it did suggest that land was not nearby. The canoe was silent. Fat Mamma looked passive. Fisherman was expressionless while Passengers looked terrified save for My Boys and Swedish and German Nubiles were having a blast.

At this point, First Mate passed round Kimbo and paint containers (to empty the boat) for moments later, we hit rough waters where the waves swelled up to a double story building in height. The canoe was now rocking violently and taking on water almost like we were sitting at the bottom of Karuma Falls.

But all was not lost. As the journey continued, Beatrice was saw it fit to change location and sit next to me. And when she did, My Boys were not happy for obvious reasons – she was the best looking and coincidentally the only one who had not stripped down – something we were all waiting for.

We talked and the more she talked and drank beer, the more she began to loosen up and with that, she started to strip down. But arrgh, arrgh, arrgh! When she stripped down to her bikini, her nubile body was not a nubile body and one to salivate at. Her armpits were full of hair and ‘down there’ no attempt had been made to shave round the bikini line. Like elephant grass, hair spouted out of the sides of her microscopic bikini bottom and her legs – the amount of hair on her legs – wow, but it was mob!

If it was not bad enough having to look at arrgh, arrgh, arrgh hairy but beautiful Beatrice sitting next to me for the eight hours of a harrowing canoe ride, we finally spotted Kitooro landing site.

As we docked, thieves descended upon the canoe like vultures to a carcass grabbing and yanking at everything they could get their hands on. And there is no escape either for the water at Kitooro is swimming in human faeces and whatever other filth that has been dumped into it.

For the next couple of days, I smelt like fish. If it was not fish, I smelt like charcoal, if not charcoal, dare I say I smelt like those human bits that were floating in the water by the landing site – I arrgh, yuck and puke at the thought! And worse, I had to wrap my body round hairy Beatrice to protect her from the thieves. And if you know what it feels like, just go to Game or Uchumi and hug any of the carpets they have hanging up for sale!