Dag 38 Lake Bunyonyi - pygmy ekspidisie - paarl to pyramids
March 30, 2015 by kobuspietersen 0 Comments
Ons vertrek vroegoggend met een van die locals op soek na die pygmy wat in die berge bly. Ons ry met een van hul bote, so 10m lank, baie nou en kan seker so 20 mense neem, 15 hp enjin. Maandae en Vrydae is markdag, daar is nie paaie langs die meer nie en almal kom met die bote na ‘n plek naby ons kamp om hul produkte te verkoop en te koop. Na ‘n uur se ry op ‘n doodstil meer tussen die berge begin ons klim. Die local gids het gese dis net ‘n halfuur se gelyk paadjie, maar ‘n Ugandese gelyk paadjie is soos om Tafelberg te klim. Ons sweet en gly teen die bult uit, local kindertjies trek en stoot en so kom ons bo. Die pygmy kom groet en dans hul welkom dans en toe ‘n tradisionele dans. Hulle is klein maar nie soos ons gedink het nie – miskien die kinderdae flieks van n Muzungu ( wit man in Afrika ) wat in n swart pot sit en kook wat ons verwar het. Ons loer in by hul skooltjie en die kleintjies sit en leer van vierkante en driehoeke en sing ook trots vir ons n mooi liedjie. Gly bult af terug tot in die boot en toe weer ‘n uur op die meer en toe vir n lekker SA brunch deur die vrouens, toe pass die oues uit in die tente en slaap.
Klim was te kwaai.
We set out early morning, accompanied by one of the locals to look for the pygmy who live in the mountains. We travel on one of their boats: about 10 m long, very narrow, powered by a 15 hp engine and able to carry about 20 people at a time. Monday and Friday is market day. There are no roads next to the lake and everyone travel by boat to a spot near our camp to sell and buy their produce. After an hours travel on a smooth and quiet lake we start to climb.
The local guide said the climb was a gentle climb of half an hour on a level road, but in Uganda a small level road is like climbing Table Mountain. We sweat and slip and slide up-hill; local kids push and pull and so we reach the top.
The pygmies greet us and we are entertained with their welcome dance and then a traditional dance. They are small, but not as small as we thought; maybe we were mislead by the movies from our childhood where a muzungu (a white man in Africa) is sitting in a cooking pot, stewing.
We visit their school where the children are learning about squares and triangles, and they entertain us with a nice little song. Sliding back to the boat, another hour on the lake followed by a hearty SA brunch prepared by the women and so the elderly pass out in their tents and sleep.
The climb took its toll: it was too steep.
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