The Road to UNAA (Uganda North America Association) Convention 2006
Sep 01, 2006
<b>Tuesday, August 29, 2006, 9:00 p.m.</b><br><br>I am writing this at the Hawthorn Suite Hotel, Syracuse, New York State, USA. <br>We arrived in Syracuse a little over one hour ago after a four hour drive from Toronto. The destination is UNAA 2006 Convention in New York City. From here, we wil
Tuesday, August 29, 2006, 9:00 p.m.
I am writing this at the Hawthorn Suite Hotel, Syracuse, New York State, USA.
We arrived in Syracuse a little over one hour ago after a four hour drive from Toronto. The destination is UNAA 2006 Convention in New York City. From here, we will first detour to Danbury, Connecticut, located just north of New York City, spending Wednesday night with relatives. Thursday will find as at the Convention venue at the Marriott Hotel, Brooklyn Bridge.
We left Toronto at exactly 3:40 p.m. this afternoon, snaking our way through heavy afternoon rush hour traffic. Once we got on the 407—billed the world’s first automatic toll highway—we set a fast pace, averaging 140 km per hour. Of course, as always when I am putting the pedal to the metal, I am careful not to be pulled over by the highway patrol for over-speeding. We reached the American border at the Lewiston Bridge in Niagara within an hour and a bit, and luckily there were few cars crossing to the Land of the Free and Brave. The US Custom officer was abrupt, asking for our passports, which I quickly handed over to him. He spat out the questions—How are the people in the car related?
“We are a familyâ€, was the answer
“Where are you going?â€
New York City
Why?
For the UNAA Convention
What is a UNAA convention?
Uganda North America Association
“What is your role there?â€
“A journalist and presenterâ€.
What do you do in Canada?
“I am a school administrator at Divine Mercy Catholic School, with the York Catholic District School Boardâ€, I answered rather tersely, giving more information without waiting for the question. That got the officer rather peeved off. He spoke in the phone, and turned, handed us back our passports and said, “You may proceedâ€. I did not think that was the end of the matter, and I was right. As I pulled into the US, another Custom Officer stepped gently in front of the van and directed as to pull to the side. There were six or seven other custom officers, waiting, white rubber gloves in hands. The young man was very professional and soft spoken. He asked whether we have any food in the car.
None, I answered without thinking, and added, “Last time I was here, my food was stolenâ€. I was referring to my trip last month from Uganda via New York John F. Kennedy Airport where my oddii (peanut and simsim butter prepared by my family in Uganda) was taken from my bag, and the bags delayed for three days. I have lodged an official complaint with the US Transportation Safety Authority, a branch of the Homeland Security (That’s another story I will tell you soon).
The young officer asked all to step out of the van. We did. Then the six of them went to work, turning everything carefully, and working very quickly. The search yielded two oranges and two bananas. The young officer, still maintaining a very cool professional demeanor came and presented the evidence—I thought you said you had no food. My wife quickly volunteered that she had packed the contraband without my knowledge, and had forgotten about it.
But those fruits are from America anyway, I said, wondering what the big deal was.
The oranges are from South Africa, replied the officer, calmly. Indeed he was right. Canada imports South African oranges, and has been doing so since the collapse of apartheid in the early 1990s. But America is wary about importing any fruit for fear of spreading fruit bugs, especially the Mediterranean fruit fly which has devastated US fruit industry in the past. The Mediterranean fly attacks more than 260 different fruits, flowers, vegetables, and nuts and is one of the most destructive pests on the planet. Over the past 25 years, California has spent more than half a billion dollar fighting the pesky creature. Meanwhile, an outbreak of Mediterranean fly in 1997 in Florida's Tampa Bay region lasted nine months and cost $25 million to bring under control.
I apologized to the officer. He was cool about it. No problem—the two oranges went into a large garbage can with a tightly covered lid. The banana was okay because it was exported to Canada by Chiquita Brands International which is an American company with fruit plantations in Honduras, Costa Rica, Panama, Colombia and other central and Latin American countries. As we re-entered the vehicle, I lightheartedly asked the Custom Officer if Americans do not eat food from other countries—it was meant as a joke. He answered seriously—We only eat American food.
We said goodbye, and rolled off toward the I-90 highway.
The rest of the journey was uneventful, and in spite of the slight delay at the border, we still made the 436 kilometers in exactly four hours, arriving here at 7:40 p.m. on the nose.
We are going to eat at a nearby restaurant called Pastabilities—a lot of fine Italian pasta, I understand.
Well, bye for now.
Opiyo.oloya@sympatico.ca
I am writing this at the Hawthorn Suite Hotel, Syracuse, New York State, USA.
We arrived in Syracuse a little over one hour ago after a four hour drive from Toronto. The destination is UNAA 2006 Convention in New York City. From here, we will first detour to Danbury, Connecticut, located just north of New York City, spending Wednesday night with relatives. Thursday will find as at the Convention venue at the Marriott Hotel, Brooklyn Bridge.
We left Toronto at exactly 3:40 p.m. this afternoon, snaking our way through heavy afternoon rush hour traffic. Once we got on the 407—billed the world’s first automatic toll highway—we set a fast pace, averaging 140 km per hour. Of course, as always when I am putting the pedal to the metal, I am careful not to be pulled over by the highway patrol for over-speeding. We reached the American border at the Lewiston Bridge in Niagara within an hour and a bit, and luckily there were few cars crossing to the Land of the Free and Brave. The US Custom officer was abrupt, asking for our passports, which I quickly handed over to him. He spat out the questions—How are the people in the car related?
“We are a familyâ€, was the answer
“Where are you going?â€
New York City
Why?
For the UNAA Convention
What is a UNAA convention?
Uganda North America Association
“What is your role there?â€
“A journalist and presenterâ€.
What do you do in Canada?
“I am a school administrator at Divine Mercy Catholic School, with the York Catholic District School Boardâ€, I answered rather tersely, giving more information without waiting for the question. That got the officer rather peeved off. He spoke in the phone, and turned, handed us back our passports and said, “You may proceedâ€. I did not think that was the end of the matter, and I was right. As I pulled into the US, another Custom Officer stepped gently in front of the van and directed as to pull to the side. There were six or seven other custom officers, waiting, white rubber gloves in hands. The young man was very professional and soft spoken. He asked whether we have any food in the car.
None, I answered without thinking, and added, “Last time I was here, my food was stolenâ€. I was referring to my trip last month from Uganda via New York John F. Kennedy Airport where my oddii (peanut and simsim butter prepared by my family in Uganda) was taken from my bag, and the bags delayed for three days. I have lodged an official complaint with the US Transportation Safety Authority, a branch of the Homeland Security (That’s another story I will tell you soon).
The young officer asked all to step out of the van. We did. Then the six of them went to work, turning everything carefully, and working very quickly. The search yielded two oranges and two bananas. The young officer, still maintaining a very cool professional demeanor came and presented the evidence—I thought you said you had no food. My wife quickly volunteered that she had packed the contraband without my knowledge, and had forgotten about it.
But those fruits are from America anyway, I said, wondering what the big deal was.
The oranges are from South Africa, replied the officer, calmly. Indeed he was right. Canada imports South African oranges, and has been doing so since the collapse of apartheid in the early 1990s. But America is wary about importing any fruit for fear of spreading fruit bugs, especially the Mediterranean fruit fly which has devastated US fruit industry in the past. The Mediterranean fly attacks more than 260 different fruits, flowers, vegetables, and nuts and is one of the most destructive pests on the planet. Over the past 25 years, California has spent more than half a billion dollar fighting the pesky creature. Meanwhile, an outbreak of Mediterranean fly in 1997 in Florida's Tampa Bay region lasted nine months and cost $25 million to bring under control.
I apologized to the officer. He was cool about it. No problem—the two oranges went into a large garbage can with a tightly covered lid. The banana was okay because it was exported to Canada by Chiquita Brands International which is an American company with fruit plantations in Honduras, Costa Rica, Panama, Colombia and other central and Latin American countries. As we re-entered the vehicle, I lightheartedly asked the Custom Officer if Americans do not eat food from other countries—it was meant as a joke. He answered seriously—We only eat American food.
We said goodbye, and rolled off toward the I-90 highway.
The rest of the journey was uneventful, and in spite of the slight delay at the border, we still made the 436 kilometers in exactly four hours, arriving here at 7:40 p.m. on the nose.
We are going to eat at a nearby restaurant called Pastabilities—a lot of fine Italian pasta, I understand.
Well, bye for now.
Opiyo.oloya@sympatico.ca