I made my last trip within the region early this week and I hope I'm done travelling for the year.
But I feel Christmas came early for me, if inadvertently, when I retreated to Kampala after a week-long sojourn in Kabale in southwest Uganda. And in keeping with the spirit of the season, I will share the generosity of strangers that prologued my Christmas cheer.
First off, Ugandan immigration is about the only place in the whole wide world that allows me into the country without ever asking what I'm doing in their country. After all, they know I couldn't have left my country if I didn't have a clear reason for a trip there. It's that sort of pettiness that irritates me about other countries and it affirms Uganda's broad-mindedness.
Last week was no different and returning from a gruelling nine-hour road trip, with a day-long detour in Mbarara for a friend's wedding, was a highlight.
In Mbarara, I encountered men and women I have known over the past few years, many of them my students. One Ugandan buddy reckoned I knew more people than he did in that locality. If he needed help in Mbarara, he smiled, he'd come to me.
"But this is not Kampala, but Mbarara, deep in rural Uganda," he reminded wryly. Mbarara is some 300 kilometres west of Kampala.
So, upon return to Kampala, I checked into Fairway Hotel, whose placard announced it was built during Pope Paul VI's first African visit in 1969.
"I had a brother named Peter," a front-office attendant named Richard announced. Turned out the brother died early, while still in his 30s.
But this, as I came to know within hours, wasn't small talk with hotel staff who want to make you feel at home. My request for a late checkout because I had a late flight was swiftly granted. I could stay for free until 4.30pm.
Richard was at the front-desk when I left. "When will you visit us again?" he asked. "Very soon," I responded. It's a promise I intend to keep.
