The water of life of Lake Albert

Having had a couple of good talks with the local citizens of Kigorobya, we finally find the ten kilometre path that leads to Kibiro. Kibiro is a small village situated on the eastern shore of Lake Albert. It's known by a couple of people for its hot spring and salt pans.
We descend over a path that gets more narrow the further we get, in the midst of screaming villagers and small children, that carry heavy jerrycans filled with water. After six kilometres the path gets rocky with some steeper parts. Another kilometre further we see the path going down in an impossible angle. By now we're walking, breaks fully squeezed, doubting very much whether Kibiro is nice enough for such an adventure. Staying upright with the bicycle is very difficult, even though we're on foot, and we don't succeed all the time. Halfway the final three kilometres we overtake a man who slides down on feet and bum. His glassy eyes betray a visit to a bar that lasted a bit too long. Then we're surprised by a herd of cows and bulls. They're surprised as well, according to their nervous behaviour. Very carefully we pass the herd and manage not to get impaled on their horns, that are almost one metre long on either side and have very sharp points.

In the final kilometre we see a green strip of land lying at the blue lake. On the other side of the lake the Blue Mountains of the Democratic Republic of Congo (the former Zaire) are visible. Kibiro consists out of dozens of mud huts, most of them with a reed roof. We scramble and slide down and refuse to think of how we're ever going to leave this place again. Exhausted we arrive in the village where we are welcomed by dozens of children, dressed in rags and barefoot. An elderly man refers us to the chairman of the village's local council, which is something like the village-elder or chief. One of his duties is to receive guests, organise tours and accommodation if necessary. The children run ahead of us criss-cross over dozens of goat-tracks to lead us to our host. His hut turns out to be somewhat bigger than the average hut. His daughter speaks some English, seats us on a reed bench and tells us she has sent for her father. In the meantime some forty giggling and staring children have gathered around us. We stick out our hand; the most courageous dare to shake it, most of them stay at a safe distance and watch those white ghosts with fear in their eyes. The daughter shows us the village's guestbook, in which we write our names. Riffling through the pages we see that Kibiro has been visited by white people just once or twice a year the last years.

After having waited patiently for over an hour it starts growing dusk and still there is not a chairman in sight. We decide to put up our tent and have a bite to eat instead of waiting any longer. Today's long trip not only caused us to be very tired, but we're starving as well. The grass field at the lake turns out to be a perfect spot to put up our tent and after having eaten some soup we return to the chairman's house, as promised. Again we wait over an hour, the only persons we get to see are the daughter and two sons of the mysterious chairman. Like usual most questions we ask stay unanswered and the fate of the host stays unknown to us. We do find out that Kibiro doesn't dispose over electricity, water and telephone. It's completely isolated from the rest of the world, the only entrance-road is the impassable path we've descended. The habitants provide in their livelihood by fishing, salt-making and small scale cattle-breeding. All other products have to be fetched by foot from the village ten kilometres further over the hills. It staggers belief that a life like this is possible in 2003. When we ask why they don't improve the path, they answer that it's not their responsibility but the government's. We suspect that it will take a long time before that wish comes true, having seen that even the main roads are often in a bad condition.

Lake Albert and Kibiro turn out to be very relaxing. It's a long time ago that our sleep hasn't been disturbed by disco, music and people slamming doors and talking loud. For our breakfast with coffee and tea we depend on the water out of the lake right in front of us. All kinds of things float in it, now we don't mention the invisible bilharzia-worm. We pour the water through a fine sieve and boil it for five minutes. Carefully we taste the brew, after having made coffee and tea of it. Undoubtedly this guarantees nothing, but it tastes delicious. We pretend its made from well water and enjoy our breakfast.
The village contains two tiny shops, from the outside not recognisable as such. The main products are soap, toothpaste, rice and flour. Instead of bread we manage to buy 'mandaz': tiny fried balls of flour that are quite nutritious. Vegetables and fruit are not to be seen anywhere, people don't grow it and they don't carry it down from the village over the hills.

In the morning we're pleasantly surprised by the visit of the secretary of the local council. He doesn't explain anything about the mysterious chairman but offers to show us the hot spring and the salt pans.
Apart from the fish that's been pulled out of the lake, salt is the only product the villagers have they can actually sell. At the salt pans the elderly women shove the salt-containing earth into large metal sieves. They pour water over the earth, which takes the salt along and drips into the big metal pans under the sieves. After a while the metal pans are taken to their huts and heated. This causes the water to evaporate and the salt stays behind. The salt is put in little bags and sold on the market in Kigorobya. When you know that the salt costs near to nothing here, the income is just a drop in the ocean.
In the afternoon we spot seven kinds of birds we've never seen before, among which the Beautiful Sunbird and the African Pygmy Kingfisher. The latter is a tiny kind of kingfisher that is a feast for our eyes with it seven different colours.
After having been looked at and having looked at the different 'sites' we promise the secretary a roadmap of Uganda. For a lot of Ugandans it's incredible to believe that their whole village fits on such a tiny piece of paper. Having to believe that the rest of the country is on it as well, is pushing it too far. Our map draws just as much attention as we do, and our petrol stove.

Two nights of great sleep at the shore of this huge lake makes us feel we're capable of getting us and our bicycles over those terrible hills and the horrific path again. We're leaving Kibiro, six litres of boiled Lake Albert-water in our bottles. We still feel very well after drinking the water for two days now, although the hot gasses we cause tell us differently. We've never met the so-called chairman, but we don't regret it. It has been a special experience to visit Kibiro, even though it's difficult to understand everything we see and hear. Our background is very different, culture- and socialisation-wise.

It takes us over three hours to bridge the first three kilometres. Together we push one bicycle, then the other a few hundreds metres up the steep rocky hill. Men with a few small fish tied to a stick and women with children on their backs while balancing a basket filled with salt on their heads pass us barefoot on their ten kilometre way to the market in Kigorobya. Completely exhausted and streaming with perspiration we return to civilisation, somewhat dazed by our 'island-experience', but with a nice feeling in stomach and intestines.

Good drinking water, Lake Albert!