And the journey begins...

Well, what a strange couple of days! My trip started, as every good trip does, with momentary blind panic. I realised, while still several thousand feet up in the sky somewhere above Africa, that I didn't have any cash with me. And that there was no cash machine in the airport. And that I needed £30 to buy a visa from the immigration people when I landed. Bummer. After calmly considering every possible option, I decided against Plan A (potential refusal of entry to Uganda and deportation back to the UK) and opted for Plan B (total embarrassment and a shameless begging campaign). I carefully eyed up all those sitting within begging distance. The guys in front of me looked rich but potentially a bit tight. The people in front and to the left looked a bit foreign. There were two girls to my immediate left but they looked a bit 12. The guy in the seat next to me was deaf (like, ACTUALLY). So, that was it. I had to opt for a father/daughter couple sat behind me. They looked nice enough. I sat for ages carefully rehearsing my “I'm ever so sorry to bother you” speech and, when we landed, I plucked up the courage to deliver it. I'm not sure whether it was the sheepish look of utter humiliation or the careful execution of such an eloquent speech that won it for me, but they duly handed over the cash. I wasn't sure how I was going to pay them back,but I decided to worry about that later. For the time being they were my new best friends. And my new friendship paid off. By the time we had collected our bags, they had left the money to me as a donation to KISS. Result!

After landing I came straight (or as straight as anything ever is in Africa) to Kasambya. I decided not to stay in the place where I was going to stay as there wasn't really much of a door on it and I thought that that might prove to be a slight inconvenience. So I'm temporarily based at the parish while a door is fashioned for my new room. I went to visit the door in progress today. It's being built by a welder in town and is HEFTY and green and comes with a matching HEFTY green window. I've also commissioned some shelves from a carpenter who I happened upon (at around the same time as a small child happened upon me and did a poo by feet). The shelves are going to be a bit taller than a table and a bit less wide than the length of a bed. Who needs feet and inches?! I look forward to the finished product – can't wait to unpack!

I'm sat writing this in bed with the mother of all thunderstorms bashing around above me. More immediately above me are a host of uninvited mice and bats. They are squeaking and nibbling and, every so often, weeing through the gaps in the ceiling. Forget about mosquito nets having anything to do with mosquito protection. My net is there to allow me to lay towels over it to soak up any unwanted moisture from above. Not cool. Luckily there is no ceiling in my new room, so at least nothing can live in it!

I met a gorgeous family this morning. Julius and I had gone to visit a few people who KISS is supporting when we were introduced to a couple outside a makeshift church in the village. The father was sat bashing the dents out of old pieces of metal and Mum was sat on an old school bench playing with her daughter. It soon became apparent that the girl had quite severe brain damage. But what was more apparent was the affection that the girl's parents had for her. The girl, Sylvia, was so full of cuddles and smiles and it was just so incredibly uplifting to see those hugs and smiles being returned to her by her parents. I think it is fair to say that there is still a huge taboo surrounding mental illness, particularly in rural Uganda, and it would not be uncommon to find a child with such profound difficulties treated with disdain and hidden from view. The parents had tried sending the girl to school, but to no avail as no one could ensure that she would stay put. But they were desperate for her to be able to interact with other children. Julius and I suggested that she could come and join in with KISS activities if she wanted to – and her parents were thrilled. I'm thrilled too – if her presence touches the children we support as deeply as it has already touched me, I've no doubt the kid will move mountains – she's gorgeous!