Traveling is often a journey of discovery, adventure, and anticipation. Yet, the most cherished journeys lead us back home. This was the case when I embarked on a holiday visit to Kampala. It was a long-awaited trip filled with excitement and nostalgia.
Abidjan: A Second Home
After getting employment in Abidjan, Côte d’Ivoire’s economic capital became a second home for me. I spent several months living and working in this dynamic city, forging friendships and creating lasting memories. Leaving Abidjan for a holiday was a temporary departure. It allowed me to revisit my roots in Uganda and savor the familiar charms of a place I had come to love.
My time in Abidjan had been an extraordinary chapter in my life. It was my first experience living abroad, a journey that began in July 2019. I vividly remember the mixture of excitement and trepidation as I set foot on Ivorian soil for the first time. The city’s beauty and diversity quickly captivated my heart.
It had been months since my departure from Kampala. I made the difficult decision to leave behind the vibrant streets of Kampala and head for Abidjan. When you leave East Africa, it is never for life! The months were filled with anticipation and reflection as I longed to reconnect with my family, culture, and traditions. These were integral to my identity.
One striking difference I experienced was the change in weather. Abidjan’s tropical climate is known for its high humidity and sweltering heat. The air was often thick with moisture. The humidity levels could be challenging, especially during the rainy season. While it had its unique charm, it also reminded me of the contrasting weather conditions I was about to enjoy during my holiday in Kampala.
Kampala, The Holiday Beckons
As the calendar turned, the time was right for a holiday visit to Kampala. It was an opportunity to rekindle bonds with family and friends. I savored the flavors of home-cooked meals and immersed myself in my homeland’s vibrant traditions. The excitement was palpable as I booked my flight and prepared for the journey.
Arriving in Kampala was heartwarming. The contrast in weather made it more delightful. The familiar sights, sounds, and scents of my hometown welcomed me back with open arms. Reuniting with family and friends brought tears of joy. Every corner of the city echoed with cherished memories.
Pearl of Africa
Kampala, often referred to as the “Pearl of Africa,” boasts a moderate tropical highland climate. During my holiday visit, I reveled in the beautiful weather—a mix of warmth and coolness. This was a stark departure from the humidity of Abidjan. The air was refreshingly crisp, and the skies were often adorned with fluffy white clouds. It was the kind of weather that invited long hours outdoors. I explored the city’s parks, gardens, and scenic vistas.
One of the joys of returning home is appreciating the little things that make a place special. Whether it was watching the sunset over Lake Victoria, enjoying the vibrant colors of the local markets, or rekindling friendships that had stood the test of time, each experience was a testament to Kampala’s enduring charm. My holiday visit to Kampala reminded me of the importance of reconnecting with roots and cherishing bonds of family and friendship. It was a pause in the constant rhythm of life. Again, a moment to reflect on the journey I had embarked upon months back. A chance to appreciate the experiences that shaped me.
As the days passed, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the opportunity. Though it later disappeared, sometimes down the potholes and into the dusty streets! Nonetheless, it was a holiday filled with laughter, love, and the realization that home holds a unique space in our hearts.
A Reminder of the Lonely Days: COVID Travel Restrictions
Amidst the joy of my holiday, there was a somber undertone—a reminder of the turbulent times that kept me apart from Kampala. It was a time of loneliness and sadness, brought by the COVID-19 pandemic and its travel restrictions.
In the early days of the pandemic, travel came to a standstill. Borders closed, flights grounded, and the world retreated into isolation. During this period, I planned to return to Kampala but found myself stranded in Abidjan. The separation from loved ones and uncertainty of the times cast a shadow over my days. Abidjan never really closed down compared to Kampala. Public places like bars and restaurants closed, but people still filled the highways. We resorted to working from home, sogenannte, teletravail. Once, I embarked on a journey to pick some things from the office. I was surprised to find the highways full of traffic.
However, as the world adapted to the new reality, travel restrictions eased. With caution and hope, I seized the opportunity to reunite with my family in Kampala. The joyful embrace of loved ones upon my return was a stark contrast to the solitude I experienced during the lockdown. It was a long wait, for Kampala took its time to open up!
The Silent Graves of Time
Amidst the joy of my holiday, there was a solemn undercurrent—a reminder of the passage of time and the silent graves that bore witness to it. I couldn’t help but notice the physical reminders of those who had passed during my absence.
Returning to your hometown after an extended time away can be poignant. This is especially true when you notice the physical reminders of those who have passed away. The presence of graves can be a powerful symbol of the passage of time and the impact of loss on a community. Whenever you are away, some people will not wait for you to come back. Such a sad reality. The graves remind us of the inexorable march of time. They are markers of lives lived and stories told in your absence. It’s a testament to the fact that life continues to unfold even when we are not present to witness it.
Each grave represents an individual whose presence was meaningful to the community. They may have been friends, neighbors, or acquaintances, but their absence is keenly felt by those who knew them. The shared experience of grief binds the community together in a unique way. They remember and honor those who have passed.
Time to Reflect
Seeing the graves of those who have passed while you were away can prompt deep introspection. It’s a moment to reflect on the impermanence of life, the importance of cherishing the time we have with loved ones, and the legacy we leave behind. It’s also a reminder of the need to stay connected with our communities and loved ones, even when we are far away.
During my time away from Kampala, a profound loss struck my family. My father, a pillar of strength and a source of wisdom, passed away during the second wave of the COVID-19 pandemic. His absence left a void that could never be filled, and the grief that engulfed our family was immeasurable.
My father’s passing was a painful reminder of the pandemic’s indiscriminate nature, which affected countless families worldwide. It starkly illustrated the challenges and hardships many faced during those difficult times. Despite being physically absent, his presence was felt in every corner of our home, in the memories we shared, and in the lessons he imparted.
As I stood by my father’s grave, I felt a profound sense of responsibility to carry forward his legacy of love, resilience, and unwavering support for family. His memory served as a guiding light, reminding me of the values he instilled in me and the importance of cherishing every moment with loved ones.
Returning to your hometown after an extended period away is a poignant journey, filled with a tapestry of emotions. It’s a celebration of homecoming, a reunion with cherished traditions, and a reconnection with the people who shape our lives. It’s also a reminder of the passage of time, the impact of loss, and the resilience of the human spirit.
Good Byes
As I boarded the flight back to Abidjan, I carried the warmth of my Ugandan holiday, the love of my family, and the knowledge that home is not just a place on the map; it’s a feeling in the heart. My return to Abidjan was not an end but a continuation of my adventure. It’s a reminder that the world is vast and diverse. Each place we call home enriches our story uniquely. As I stepped off the plane back in Abidjan, I noticed the familiar humidity in the air. It was a comforting reminder that I was back in my second home once again. Here too are friends that I had left behind but wouldn’t find.
Visit the Blog for more articles like one on coming to Abidjan my second home
One Response