800 AFRICA SPEAKS 



informed me that unless we hustled to Butiaba, we 

 should fail to make connections with the boat on Lake 

 Albert. Not wishing to be delayed, within an hour's 

 time we had eaten lunch, packed the trucks, and were 

 on our way, only to find, after all this haste, that the 

 ferry which crossed this arm of Lake Victoria did not 

 run until two o'clock in the afternoon. 



While waiting, I watched a gang of B Uganda shift- 

 ing a heavy wooden crate to the tune of a weird chant, 

 and some others loading two-hundred-pound sacks of 

 grain into a scow. These heavy bags were placed on 

 the back of the shoulders, standing on end, and then 

 the laborers would run with them. Nothing puny 

 about the Bugandal Near by a negro follower of 

 Mohammed, with his face to Mecca, was saying his 

 midday prayers, his constant bowing disturbing some 

 little yeUow and blue birds that were building nests 

 in a tree which grew near the edge of the lake. What a 

 place of color and romance — seminaked B Uganda, a 

 robed Mohammedan, brightly colored birds flying 

 over blue waters, and beyond, riding at anchor, a 

 modern lake steamer, the "Clement Hill"! 



The ferry arrived, the two trucks were loaded 

 aboard, and we started across the httle bay which 

 forms the extreme northern end of Victoria Nyanza. 

 The boat sped along at the exorbitant rate of two 

 knots per week; in fact, it moved so slowly I was 

 unable to tell for sure in which direction we were 

 going, but after a peaceful voyage, the opposite shore 

 was reached and we hurried toward Kampala. 



Entebbe is the British seat of government, while 

 Kampala is the native capital of Uganda, beautifully 

 situated among green hills and flower gardens, a place 



