A Day at the Fair

My expectations for the national Jinja Agricultural Fair were way off mark… I was expecting something tame, an interesting but unexciting meeting of scientific researchers and rural farmers. A decade back, the town of Jinja (better known as ‘the Source of the Nile’) used to be booming with industry and excitement. Now most of the industries have gone bust. I guess I expected the fair to be a reflection of the town. Instead, I was confronted with a strange mixture of American carnival, European beer festival, industrial seed fair, and African market.



The grounds were huge… There were actual demonstrations of fishery projects, gardens, and maize and tobacco fields. Giant pigs were penned nearby solar dryers, while participants showed off their improved mushroom cultivation techniques.



Yet you could walk for long distances with out seeing any of this! It was like Owino Market picked up and transplanted itself on top of the fair for the week. There were kapati and goat makomo sellers, scantily clad women lounging around pool tables, drunk old men, trinket vendors, large groups of military casually strolling with AKs slung over their shoulders and children everywhere… While some people came for Longe 5 Hybrid Maize Seeds, others obviously came for the spectacle.


Midway through the day, the sky opened with vehemence… Everyone rushed for shelter. Mine was ill chosen. I did not properly assess the burlap bag roof of the food vendor where approximately 30 of us took refuge. Within 15 minutes, large repositories of water starting forming above. Portions of the roof starting sinking dangerously… It was only time before it would come tumbling down!


With sticks, people tried to direct these growing repositories of water off the roof. This was only sometimes successful. An angry old man who was earlier drenched by kids from the neighboring restaurant trying to shift their own water laughed heartily and excitedly shouted ‘It is balance!” when the ceiling above them came crashing down. Everyone got very wet.


When the rain stopped, the party began. Beer companies competed for muddy fans, blasting music with gyrating dancers (including men dressed in drag) from large stages. Vendors walked around the audience holding bottles of local firewater while shouting “top-up your airtime”. It was clearly time to make an exit before things got out of hand. After meeting our farmers, most of who must have been as surprised as me, we quickly headed out of Jinja.