2 weeks down, 6 to go. Feels like I've been here forever.

The past week has been overwhelmingly frustrating - due to the appalling state of Ugandan bureaucracy; obtaining a passport application took the best part of 6 days. We've been to the British Council so many times I'm now friends with the security guard there ("I'm sure you know your way to the consular's office, miss"). Thankfully, my passport application is now complete and we can move on.

We spent a lot of time in Kampala this week with all our visits to banks and post offices and obviously the Counil. Thus far, I'm not keen on the capital; for me, it undermines the opinion I've built of the country and its peope. Like any thriving city, it is impersonal and busy - the latter being an understatement; it is more terrifyingly manic and rather intimidating. Intimidating due to the surprising police presence; everywhere, with guns and batons and trucks. Any supermarket or bank we entered we were frisked and our bags searched; quite a contrast to our local 'supermarket' in Lutete. The roads in the city are totally unstructured, lacking ANY system whatsoever - it's not just cars; but taxis (so many taxis), boda-bodas (another 'taxi', in the form of definitely unsafe motorbikes) and people, who are apparently fearless of any oncming vehicle. Crossing the road in itself takes about 20 minutes for us English (charlie you would liteally s*** yourself at the sight of the roads here). It is equally difficult to walk across the pavement without falling down a 6-foot pothole or stepping on a child or walking on someone's livlihood (fruit stalls are often set up on the floor, and frequent the pavement as much as people). Walking is made even harder by the constant construction work- everywhere you look in Kampala something is being built. Yet, there is room for improvement in every building; it all appears so make-shift and badly built, which, in turn, is how any new buildings will appear. It is so frustrating to accept that this is the furthest extent to the civilisation here. Yet this decay is disgustingly juxtaposed by the random array of plush hotels and high-rise buildings (which is where the westerners hang, w***ers). Speaking of white people, that's another thing which makes Kampala slightly more stressful - "MZUNGU" (white person) is shouted at us so often it feels like we're celebrities. We've only seen about 4 mzungus during our whole time here, all in Kampala, and always looking like the lame tourists I hate (I definitely look like them though, with my millets-day backpack and suncream at the ready).

Driving away from the city in a packed minibus/taxi, it is amazing how quickly that slight sense of wealth and security fades into poverty, destruction and dirt. The main roads mostly remain concrete, but the sides are purely dirt/dust/sand. The houses become less and less stable; corregated iron dominating the building material, along with an array of anything else (mud, sticks, sometimes bricks). Children are absolutely everywhere; mostly washing or sitting, but a lot of the time they just seem to be wandering. However, despite this poverty-stricken way of life which reveals itself away from the city, it is here that you witness the real life of Africa. Utterly natural and self-sufficient.

We were lucky enough to witness some real African politics during one of our stressful visits into town (I was so unsubtle trying to hide my excitement; will defiitely be emailing my old politics teacher). Election season has just passed, but local elections are still being held. So when I say we witnessed real African politics, I mean we saw a ribboned-off area in the middle of a fruit market, in which people were voting. The transparency of their democracy may be a little too transparent (well, at least when it comes to voting) - with no secrey to the vote at all, and an open bucket in which the votes were placed. The voters were sitting next to each other and openly conversing whilst placing their vote; African democracy has a while to go.

We only managed to get to Jolly Mercy on Friday; only the third time we've been there in our time here, which seems crazy. We've been assigned 2 classes each - P2 and P6 for me (year 2 and year 6) - of which we are responsible for any English-teaching initivates and reading programmes. This is definitely essential but for us, not our absolute priority. The classrooms of P3 and P4 are in seriously bad condition; they are basically wooden sheds. We plan to completely renovate these classrooms however we can, which we'll be starting next week.

Although we adore the school and look forward to educating the children, our real priority while we are here is CALM's outreach programme; which is the foundation for their work. It is easy to forget while at school where all these children come from, because their happiness and eagerness completely eradicates the possibilty they could ever be anything but - a very naive thought. It was seeing the situation of one family which sickened us more than anything else we've seen so far; a family of 7 living in barely humane conditions, with a wooden frame acting as a bed being their only furniture. They literally have nothing. Nothing at all; a situation we could never attempt to understand.

Witnessing the sheer desperation of these families made me feel so impossibly helpless; honestly the most frustrated and sick I have ever felt. It is insanely difficult to accept that we cannot help all these people - it makes me resent all I have and the life I have been so disgustingly accustomed to living at home. Yet this urgent necessity acts as an implicit determination to make forcible change, and act on the resources we have to make any difference we can. It is unfortunately impossible to fulfil the task at hand off our own backs - in order to implement any immediate change fundraising is necessary; please see our campaign website:

http://www.charitygiving.co.uk/josh-hannah-philippa

I'm sure anyone reading this has already been bombarded by links via facebook or email, so I don't need to elaborate further on it. Anyone who has already donated, you are amazing and we love you. I don't think I've ever been more motivated by anything (not even the king blues). I've never been more certain that this is what I'm meant to be doing.

Miss you all, but don't miss England. On arriving here, James welcomed us by saying "Africa has been waiting for you" - now I can fully appreciate that actually, I have been waiting for Africa.

Stay in touch.

Big love

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