Love of animals here and abroad

Earlier on this year, I wrote about the love of animals here in the United Kingdom. Indeed we have just bought a cat at my house. The other night she graced us with a dead field mouse she had killed from the farm behind our home.

I must say that I had to persuade my neighbour to come and help me remove the dead rodent. Dogs are the most loved animals to my observation.  I, on many occasions have to be out of my house ridiculously early to go to work and the number of people out taking their dogs for that early walk is amazing although personally I would rather be in my bed than take a dog for a walk.

Growing up in Uganda, I was lucky to have extensive grounds around my childhood home. My parents bought me a goat when I was about 5 and before long, I had a huge heard. Whenever I went back home for holidays, I would spend hours grazing them. They absolutely understood me and so did I. I spent long lazy hot African afternoons out in the bush, sometimes miles away from home with them.

The difference was that as I took them out grazing, I was making sure they were fat enough for the slaughter.My wife and I met in Uganda. She was aware from the very fast day about my goats.

In fact many people in the villages around knew about me and my goats. When she came to visit my family, I suspect that she was delighted to see that I had a soft spot for animals. She had a Labrador back at home and a couple of cats.

Probably goats were not her ideal kind of pet but at least she was happy that I had them. We spent hours together as well herding them which was a very different but exciting experience for her. After all, this was the kind of thing that she would have been seeing on television back at home.  Here she was with her boyfriend looking after goats in the African wilderness!

The horror however when she found out one Sunday lunch time that the pot of meat boiling on the fire was one of the goats was too much.And therein lays the subtle difference between pets in the UK and Uganda. Dogs are mainly used as guard dogs. In instances where they are not the type to guard, they are ignored generally. One of my friends also called Arthur told me of a story of how he once went for a drink with friends. One of them had a dog which followed him to the pub. And when I speak of "The Pub" in an African village, it may well be a large tree where men usually congregate after dark and drink from the same pot of warm millet beer.

As it is very dark, one has to be careful of ones surroundings. You could have all kinds of creepy crawlies about like snakes of safari ants! But on this particular humid night, Arthur and company were having a quiet drink discussing the problems of the world (usually how the harvest season is going and which well is dry).

The friend with the dog started lashing out at it wanting it to go back home. A fight nearly broke out between Arthur and the man. Arthurs' irritation was that this man was picking on the only mammal in the group that did not expect any kind of return for his affections. It was not even expecting a sip of that millet beer! After a few tense moments, the man realised what a good friend that dog was.

When I arrived on The Isle of Man, the farm I was visiting had a dog called Koko. I can hardly remember her breed. All I remember was that she was spectacularly stupid!!!  Jimmy had spent years trying to toilet train her to no avail.  She was like no other dog. But she was such a loving dog. Koko and I struck a special relationship as soon as I arrived at the farm. I quickly realised that I was going to have long days to myself without much human interaction if Jimmy and his partner Nadine were to be working away.

So, I was told of the fetching game. Koko and I quickly found a stick and went to the fields where we spent hours me throwing this (soggy) stick and him fetching it. She also enjoyed having a dip in the stream at the bottom of the fields. Koko and I were to become inseparable for the following weeks as I spent time with her.

However, much as I became aware of her as the family pet, albeit a stupid one, I still at kept a distance from her respectful of the fact that she was still only an animal. I hated her barking which was only instinct. Once on a rare evening out I was startled and very uncomfortable when she came bounding and barking wildly at the car when we returned.

I was very sad when I left her after my visit and learnt later on that she had sadly passed away.When I left for home Koko was to stay on my mind for a while. I realised what a friend dogs can be to whoever owns them and I thought that when I returned to my country I would treat dogs with a different understanding. It never happened.

As soon as I stepped off that plane, I was back home. And that meant returning to the ways that I was used to. Dogs were used for guarding premises. It was great visiting this country for the first time and in many ways prepared me for when I finally moved here. My father always told me that experience is a personal thing. I learnt about other people's ways but so did they about mine.

I was fascinated about the number of historical sites around the country like Stonehenge, Salisbury Cathedral and Old Serum. We do not have buildings that old in Uganda. But most of all, I was happy for the friends I made all of whom I am still in touch with to this day.  

Speaking the Queen's English

This afternoon I went for a bus ride with my youngest who just loves them. He is at the age where his vocabulary is coming on rather well and he is always chattering away saying whatever comes to his mind.


The questions keep coming fast. “Daddy what is that?” and “ Daddy what is this?” It must be a fascinating time for him.


At long last he can attempt to express himself. It's always good like that until he warns you with seconds to spare that he needs to go! The panic! Kids do not appreciate the usual “wait a minute” or “We are nearly there. Just hold on”.


If they want to go, they want to go. However, amidst all the fun of being on this huge bus, I found myself correcting his pronunciation of certain words. It was rather embarrassing but I just kept on doing it despite the fact that I do have a heavy African accent.


Accents within the UK are one of the things that always surprise people who visit this shores for the first time.


At school, I was taught how words were pronounced. My teachers who happened to be Church Missionary Society people from England never let an inch on enunciating!


If one were to be caught pronouncing “cat” as “cut”, a few cuts of the old cane would grace one's backside! I still fail in that department though and on many occasions I muddle my “hearts” and “hurts”.


My friends have learnt not to ask which word I meant to say. They listen to the whole sentence. But the belief, and it was so in my case, was that everyone in the UK spoke like the Queen. As was the belief that every one was Christian and went to church.



I spent a week in Winchester after my arrival here in the summer of 1995. Winchester is quite middle class. Or at least the areas I was in were. And there spoken English was distinctly very posh. I found that I understood it rather well.


Anywhere I went within the city, I was not worried about not understanding the people. In fact its probably they who never understood what I was saying. Nevertheless, it probably never occurred to me that people could have spoken differently.


I was placed on a train at London's Euston train station by my host Harold on the Monday after I arrived. I had never seen such a huge station.


He made sure that I was not to get lost by alerting some station staff that I needed a train to Lancaster where I was to change to a smaller train to Heysham for the ferry to Douglas. At Euston, I heard my first cockney.


I thought they were foreign just like me. I had a few pounds on me and I went to buy a newspaper to read on the journey. The poor lady at the kiosk and I were completely lost.


I could not understand what she was saying and looking back neither was she understanding what I was saying. A few minutes later, I got my newspaper but she must have headed home after that encounter.



On the train, I sat by an Asian man. We got engaged in conversation especially about Idi Amin and the way he expelled the Indians from Uganda in 1972. He was ever so keen to hear what Uganda was like.


From what I gathered, he had relatives who were affected by the expulsion. I talked to this man expecting him to speak with a very heavy Indian accent. He didn't. He spoke perfect English. All my theories were being turned on the head now


On arrival at Douglas, I was met by the family with whom I was going to stay with for the following three weeks.


There was an awkward silence when we met as they were caught by surprise that I could actually speak English. The relief! I suppose that they had spent the previous month when they knew that I was going to stay with them agonising on how communication was going to be.



The Isle of Man is an idyllic place. Given half the chance I could move there and cut off all contact with the outside world. It's a place that one can completely relax.


I was lucky that the family that I was with lived in a large rambling farm house with extensive grounds. I spent many hours by the stream that ran at the bottom of the farm with the family dog called Koko.


Jimmy and Nad my hosts did a lot of things for the community other than running the farm. They ran meals on wheels and helped other people by taking them around the island.


However, the fact that they were nearly always at home meant that so many other people who were retired treated their home as a tea house. Every morning a group would arrive and sit in the garden drinking tea and generally chatting. Jimmy and Nad hardly noticed them at times.


I, however, joined in at times to listen to their stories and after a while, I was surprised by the way I was picking up the island accent. Gone was my insistence on using the pronoun “my” to replacing it with “me”. As in “me car”.


It was funny that in a few days my African accent was slowly being erased by this accent I was getting bombarded with on the island.



Of course now I have reverted to my heavy African accent. My home town in the UK is Bristol and we do have a lovely accent in that region. Its a friendly one. But even after living there for a long time, I failed to take on the accent.


Living near Stoke now, I do double up in the occasional “ay up!”. Its the most appropriate salutation in certain situations and its usage is so varied. The beauty of the United Kingdom is that much as I was used to the many languages that are spoken in my country of origin Uganda, the different accents, be it Cockney, Estuarine, Liverpudlian or Stoke make it all so exciting when one visits other areas of the country.


In Uganda 70 miles from my home I am literally a foreigner in my country as I may not be able to speak the local dialect. In the UK, apart from Welsh and Scottish languages, bring it on! Its all English!

All change

It's been a while since I last wrote on this website. A lot has been happening.
I have just joined The University of Staffordshire to study for a Masters in Journalism.

It is an exciting time for me although at the same time worrying. Having a young family and working full time at the same time, one wonders whether there will be any spare time.

As I was writing the last time, in response to many questions about my first experiences in the UK when I first arrived on these shores, a lot of things were new to me. Looking back now and seeing how I have adjusted is amazing.

In some cases I would say that my attitude life compared to 1995 is almost unrecognisable. Of course that goes with one getting older and having a family.

Summer 1995 was the time when the last Tory Government was facing difficulties and all the indications were that at the next elections they were going out.

To me as an outsider, I could see the difficulties that John Major faced against a young charismatic Tony Blair.

Having said that, my political awareness came to maturity during the Thatcher years. Combining that with my view of African politics, where incumbents are difficult to dislodge from power, I was thinking that as the Tory government had been in power for that long, it would weather the storm.

Also, my view of Britain through the British people that I had met back in Uganda was by a large part structured to recognise the Tory party as the natural government of power.

This view was shaped by the many British that I met in Uganda. They were not necessarily Tory. The fact is that a lot of them were white middle class people.

My teachers at boarding school in Uganda were the type that one may have seen in up market public schools in the UK.

I therefore formed the conclusion, albeit prematurely, that all people in the UK were white middle class. And with that I thought that as the Tory party was being associated with that class of society, it was by default the natural party of the people.

The above rather twisted view about Britain and British politics was also further complicated by the strengths of Margaret Thatcher who is by the way still held in very high esteem in African countries.

Her departure from Downing street had never been fully explained to me but I thought that Major was her anointed successor.

Now to see him being hounded by the likes of John Redwood was very surprising. I remember that announcement from the Downing Street garden when he asked his detractors within the party to “put up or shut up”.

I watched it from the lounge at Lawn End (name of the Winchester home I was at) on a rather muggy hot summers' day.

It showed me the difference between Western style governments and African style governments especially Uganda. Leaders in Africa, and there is a long list, do not take lightly to being challenged. And such a pronouncement would be regarded as weak.

I have had to explain to many of my friends here in the UK how democracy works in many parts of Africa. There is what some call “benevolent dictatorship”.

I know it sounds wrong here in the UK and especially in Stoke but in many African countries where “strong men” exist, they do actually have support in their countries.

An example in Uganda which I think I can speak with some residual authority. We do have Yoweri Museveni as the President.

He would not survive a whole term were he to be a ruler in the west. But in Uganda, he has been since 1986. The reason is that he has correctly realised that the majority of the population are peasants.

He has therefore made them rely on his presence for their security after the turbulent years of Amin and Obote.

We, the educated urbanites who are constantly voicing our displeasure at his rule are the minority.

And there are those amongst our group who have been elevated to a relative position of comfort.

Middle class values so to speak who are very much in support of him because they feel that their wealth has been created under his watch. So for them its the devil that they know.

Therefore with such views on the way politics is run at home, my mind was in turmoil as to what was happening.

I was of the view that the Tory party was receiving such shabby treatment from the media, the public and many of its members of public. The Tory party to me at the time defined what Britain was. Whether that view was correct is yet another matter.

After the political differences came the way that days are spent here in the UK. The way that a “normal” day is arranged is different in the UK with families having breakfast which consist of sweet tea and maybe a slice of buttered bread or plantain boiled in a tomato source.

Lunch comes in the middle of the day and it is a meal. Then a remnant of high British society is the tea in the afternoon.

Yes, its a cup of tea with cake or sliced bread with butter! This is usually had at about 1600 to 1700 hours. And then later at about 2100 hours to 2200 hours, families will have supper or dinner.

People do not have a cup of tea just because one has had a kettle boiled. Cups of tea are really heavy with full fat milk and loads of sugar. It's a meal in itself.

So when I was confronted with having “tea” as a meal, that completely threw me. And the time too was just wrong.

We were having our “tea” at the right time but I had a plate of food in front of me! I wondered what we were going to do for the rest of the evening.

To make matters even more confusing, Diane asked me whether I wanted a cup of “tea” later.

Was she meaning tea as I knew it or was this something else. My father had told me that if I was not sure of anything, the best way was to politely decline it. So I politely declined her Cup of tea. However, I went and made myself one. I must have offended her greatly.


Then there is the issue of washing ones body. Despite that fact that my family had a bath tub at home, and I had seen people having baths on television, the act of one actually sitting in the water I found difficult to do.

My concern was that I was sitting in my own dirt then having to wash my face.

Sub-Saharan Africa is very hot and in many places dusty. The dust and the heat get into everything. It governs one's pace of life.

When one goes about doing their daily chores, one finds that they get dirty very quickly. This red dust or mud in the rainy season gets the feet really dirty. So, the practice is to wash from top to bottom.

The lack of showers however means that many people will resort to using large bowls otherwise known as basins where they will scoop the water out to wash themselves.

It's a very economical way of using water as well as the average wash could use less than ten litres of water. I was however confronted with a huge bath of steaming water all nicely filled with the best foam bath.

I first washed my face in it then lowered myself in the water. I just could not do it the way that everyone does it. Also the fact that many people wash from basins, having a wash does not take that long. So it must have been a surprise to my hosts when I walked out of the bathroom in less than five minutes. I was yet to learn the joys of having a good old soak!