Chez Mac!

Having followed her blog for years with grudging and jealous admiration, I took my Ms Mac fandom to a new level by brazenly inviting myself and my entourage to Chateau Mac for lunch as part of our trip. Had I known beforehand that CM is on top of a mountain, I might have suggested a restaurant rather than struggle up it with a 1okg sack of Gloria-shaped potatoes on my back wheel.

The welcome, the impeccably-behaved boys (Happy birthday, Ewan, 10 today), the piles of lasagne and many other lovely touches made it all worth it. And we discussed the alt fn keys and numbers lock! Food, chat and geekiness - what's not to like?

Switzercycle tours, no 2: part 1

Before we leave at the end of August, one of our aims is to take in all the Swiss lakes by bike. So far we've done Neuchatel; this weekend we went to Lake Zurich. As an experiment, we thought we'd give Schlaf im Stroh a go. Schlaf im Stroh = you sleep in the straw in somebody's barn. That's right. Straw. Blanket. Sleeping bag. Mouse-sized pillow. Night night.

(Lucky Gloria got business class.)

Here's how it went:

2145 Everyone in bed. Emma already fast asleep, after nervously reassuring her that the "doggie's not allowed in." Straw is surprisingly warm and comfy.
2200 Swtizergent fast asleep. Switzerfriend Megan fast asleep. Lizzie wide awake cursing herself for accepting after-dinner coffee offer.
2300 L still wide awake, still unwilling only guest at all night caffeine party.
0000 L freezes in horror as cat and kitten make themselves comfortable at her feet. L imagines worse case scenario: cat jumps on G or E's face and claws at their eyes. L shuts both cats in farmhouse. (L makes alot of noise and gets scratched.) Repeat.
0215 L bored of suffering alone, wakes up Switzergent to complain "I can't sleep."
0230 Cats back on straw.

2145-0600
Cow bells go TING! TING! TING! TING! TING!
Horse next door goes NEIGH! STAMP, STAMP! NEIGH!
Flies and mosquitoes go BUZZ! HUMMM! BUZZY HUM!
0530 Milking machine goes WHIRRRR! WHIRRRR!

If there's a next time, I am getting the best earplugs money can buy.

Part two: why we're going to Uganda

I hope my last post was reassuring - or a bit more reassuring anyway - that we won't be recklessly endangering either ourselves or our children. I accept, though, that it is nonetheless a big change. I also accept that if not as risky as it sounds, it is still more risky than an office job in a UK town. The other question people have asked is - why? Why leave a perfectly comfortable, functioning country where 8 year old children walk alone to school?

This is not a very easy question to answer, but here goes. Firstly: selfish reasons. We broadly fit the description 'adventurous types'. (Only 'broadly', because we like camping, but not bungee jumping.) Essentially, we are a pair of old hippies who like nipping off somewhere by bike with just a spare pair of underpants and a toothbrush. 'Comfortable' and 'functioning' are OK, but also, well, a bit dull. So it is with Switzerland; it's a place I have taken to my heart and will be sad to leave, but I never thought for a moment I could stay here forever, for the above reason.

More selfish reasons. Our quality of life will probably improve in Kampala. No more cramped apartment for one. We'll be able to buy more for our money; although we have never lacked anything here, we have to be a bit careful. Our children will get an excellent pre-school education. I have no desire to go back to the UK to fight tooth and nail for a nursery place. And didn't it recently top a poll for Most Unhappy Places to Be a Child?

Other -hopefully- less selfish reasons. There is a lot of need. There is a valid debate going on about whether it's the responsibility of rich Westerners or governments to meet the need. Meanwhile (and forgive me for being a bit emotive here, but it's a simple fact) do you leave people to die? The good news about Uganda is that peace is breaking out up North. There is optimism that people will be able to return to their villages, plant crops and get on with life. Then we will be out of a job, and that is a good thing. That is the point.

Another reason: God's call. (I know not everyone will get this; I am not preaching here, just explaining our motives as honestly as possible.) I haven't had a booming voice or a gilt-edged contract from heaven. But I get upset when I watch DVDs about the night commuters. I get excited when I hear people's Africa stories. I can be finishing a perfect three-course meal by the lake, with the silhouette of the Alps marking the evening sky..and I'm haunted by the millions of children in other countries who will never make it to my age, let alone enjoy such luxury. And I'm bothered by this verse: "anyone who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins." (James 4:17) We've prayed about this and thought about this for months; and it feels like the right thing to do.

Sorry if any of the above has offended you.

Time to go.

Some background: part one

Since we let the world know about our Uganda plans, a few people have raised concerns about our going. In my last post, I felt a bit uneasy re-reading the sentence about my children getting tropical disease, when I know there are people reading this (family included) who would be horrified at my flippancy. I think their horror comes from a desire to love and protect us, which I appreciate. So it's only fair to explain a little bit more about what we'll be doing and why we're going in the first place.

What we will be doing? Let me start with the Switzergent. He'll be managing all the Medair programmes in Northern Uganda. In short - very short, you can read more here if you are interested in the context - Northern Uganda is plagued by displacement, violent conflict and poverty. There are refugee camps holding tens of thousands of people who have fled their villages due to these problems. Medair provides water and sanitation and primary health care to the people in these camps. Switzergent will spend 3 weeks out of 4 in Kampala, but for 1 week per month he'll be visiting the camps. Travelling in and around Northern Uganda is dangerous, a fact I am not going to try and gloss over. But it has improved in the last year.

What will I be doing? Pretty much what I'm doing here. 90 per cent of the time I will be changing nappies, reading stories, doing laundry, paying bills, picking things off the floor and trying not to shout. And dodging insects. The other 10 per cent - I'm guessing -I will be doing church-related stuff and some writing. I am not allowed near Northern Uganda, both by Medair and by my conscience. It's a risk I will not take with young children.

What will Kampala be like? I've never been there, but I'm assured by lots of people that it's a modern, pleasant capital city. It's pretty safe to move around, although the driving is a bit reckless. There is broad political stability. There is running water, electricity, shops, restaurants, and the internet (not sure about broadband.) There are occasional power cuts when water levels in Lake Victoria are low.

Where will we live? I've seen a picture of our future house and it looks -well, palatial. We will have a spare bedroom (that's a hint: take it) and my predecessor (hello Sally) has planted a vegetable garden. We will be able to pay someone to help with the kids, cook and clean. If anything I feel embarrassed and a bit uncomfortable by the neo-colonial luxury that awaits us.

And as for tropical disease, Lake Victoria is notorious for bilharzia so I won't be taking Em and Glo for a paddle any time soon. But -and I'm not 100 per cent about this - apparently Kampala is not a malarial area.

I hope you share my view now that it's actually not that risky. If you were thinking aid work was all about throwing oral rehydration sachets from helicopters being shot at by rebels - sorry to disappoint. Or come and see for yourself (second hint. I really mean it.)

Not gidding u

We really are going to Uganda. We are going at the end of the year. So there is still time to worry about it, and I am getting quite a good head start.

What is at the top of my worry list? It's not 'can I 'do' Africa?' This would be a reasonable worry; I have never been there, and moving there to live with 2 small girls when I don't tan and hate insects is a big deal. As I say; a reasonable worry. But it's not number one. Will my kids be happy and settle in and not succumb to tropical disease? Maybe. Maybe not. I'm worried about that too, but it's not number one.

This week's top worry spot is currently taken by this: given we can't take them all home, how am I going to get rid of at least half Emma's toys without breaking her heart? Do I a) start getting rid of them by stealth, whittling them down over the forthcoming weeks til only the monkey and a few bits of lego remain? She's not stupid. She'd twig. And it feels like lying. Or do I b) explain to her about moving, we can't take all the toys etc, wouldn't it be nice to give some - ok, half - of them away to the kids without any toys? She wouldn't get it. She'd cry. They're her toys. (I'm also rather taken aback by how attached I am to some of them, even if 90% of them are just old plastic tat.)

She says she's looking forward to Uganda. When we go, Emma says, we must 'put our coats on' and 'not have bare bottoms.'

Lilian passed on this meme to me, so here goes:

Name five things you love about your new country:
1. Nice scenery.
2. Chocolate, obv, though I make an exception for Cadbury's creme egg
3. Perfectly functioning infrastructure
4. Perfectly functioning car sharing scheme that has left us no need for our own motor
5. People generally very polite and civil to each other

Name three things that annoy you about your new country:
1. The Swiss have no idea what to do at roundabouts.
("Do I give way to the right? Hang on, that car is there already. Should I wait a bit? Let me finish this piece of cheese. OK, I'm going, I'm going...I'm off now! Oops, sorry cyclist! Why is she swearing at me in English?")
2. There is no cash back at supermarkets. (Trivial this one, but annoying nonetheless.)
3. People generally very reserved, shy and hard to get to know.

Name one thing I would miss about my new country:
1. All my friends. And miss them I will, because we are leaving Switzerland and going
here.

I am tagging Blogzambique, Ms Mac and Gin and Teutonic on this one.

Here is the evidence!

Thank you Laura, still a Welsh girl if not in Leeds? Thank you Lopus&Howie, up Pompey. Thank you, Auntie Caroline, and a top auntie you are. Thank you Marie P, school chum AND world-famous author. Thank you, Jukesy, keeping the crims out. Thank you, Muzzie xxxxxx. Thank you, Kaddy, my Tooting Belle. Thank you, Katri, good friend en Suisse. Thank you, Shiona, the Scottish support (house going through?) Thank you, Pedros, all blond 6'4'' of you. Thank you Helen all the way from Oz. Thank you Becca, all the way from Moz! Thank you, Moobs, marathon hero. Thank you, BBH: dearest chum. Thank you, Emma D, ex-pat pal. Thank you globe-trotting, ex UCH Clare. Thank you, Sylv, glad you like the blog. Merci, everyone at Chapelle de Villard - not that you'll read this, but you know anyway. Merci, mums in the park. Thank you, my parents-in-law. Thank you Ina, Susan, Martyn, Anna and Pete for looking after E&G - they find me very dull in comparison. Thank you bro, sis, sarah, lilian and a.n. other for your encouragement. Thank you everyone at Medair.

Thank you to my amazing, wonderful Switzergent, for the support, the patience, the plasters...even though I hate you for running it in 1hr 45. (You're fit.) Thank you God for a body that works, a nice day, a good crowd and wonderful generosity from so many people. Thank you from everyone involved in the Medair Congo programme.

That was a bit like the Oscar's wasn't it?

Consider the running story officially over - normal service resumes from now.

(I might just post that happy dance just for the heck of it.)