We stood linked arm in arm on the lush green pitch at Lugogo, singing along to the taped recording of 'Ireland's Call'. Ahead of us was a game against, essentially, the Uganda national side and my emotions were mixed.

Naturally, I would give my all for my team, London Irish A2's, but I also felt my heart being pulled towards the Ugandan side watching us sing, many of whom I had played with, coached and even drank a few bottles of Bell's with.

The match was hard. We were an experienced side, made up mainly of guys who had played a lot of rugby, often at a high level; captains of Irish and English clubs, ex-Irish schoolboys and the like. Most of us now in our thirties and with families, unable to give the commitment required to keep playing at that standard, we played for London Irish A 2's, a social side.

We did not look like much - a lot of beer bellies and balding heads - but we had been underestimated by many a team in the past; 'Ah, look at that lot there, we will take them easy' was something often overheard from the opposition as we straggled in, late, for games around London. But we did not lose many games. There was a hard core of experience, real rugby skills and the determination that had taken many of our players to a high level in the past.

On the other hand, we had been enjoying Ugandan hospitality since we had arrived in Kampala almost a week previously, we were unaccustomed to the heat, we had already had an inkling of what Ugandan players could do in our first match - and the players facing us looked frighteningly fit, athletic and powerful. And very determined. We were nervous.

But, of course, we felt that in some small way we were representing Ireland, something that no Irish player does lightly. We had been working up to this moment for several months, had put in extra training and were determined to win. As we sang 'Ireland's Call', many of us had butterflies in out stomachs. This was a big game and we wanted to get stuck in.

The match turned out largely as expected, in terms of style. We had strong, experienced forwards and a couple of tough half-backs; we were not going to be playing any fancy stuff. Particularly as we knew that, although we had some good backs, Uganda would have the advantages of greater speed and fitness if the game opened up. So we stuck the ball up our jumpers, kicked for territory and defended as if our lives depended on it. Uganda would run the ball from anywhere and any mistakes on our part would be punished severely. We kicked, we charged, we tackled, we kicked, we charged, we tackled. It was not pretty. And it was exhausting. How we held on at the end, I do not know. Two of our players had to get treatment for dehydration.

All of us were dead on our feet. But we had won, just, 12-11. What a game Uganda had given us, a Uganda which had, in rugby terms, hardly existed when I arrived in Kampala only 7 years previously. They were superb on the ball, beautiful hands and oh, so fast. We won because we had much more experience and, I guess, superior basic skills in ball winning and retention, kicking and turning over possession.

That night was a traditional rugby night, plenty of beers, comradeship, singing and warm words. I, of course, already knew and loved Uganda and its people. But I know that all of my fellow-tourists went home with incredible memories; all of them, without exception, said that it was the best tour that they had ever been on. And the memories! Here are some of them;

- the Captain giving an impassioned team talk in the changing room before the game, only to stop in mid-sentence as he saw a rather skinny arm sneak through the window, with a microphone!

- Al's Bar; sitting on the thatched roof as the sun was coming up, gazing at the seven hills of Kampala. Diving off the balcony at Al's bar into the crowd below.

- Murchison Falls National Park: Returning through Kampala in the Coca-Cola bus with the team sitting on the roof singing songs to the bewildered crowds on the street; 'Eh, what are these crazy Muzungus doing?!!'

- the concert on the first night - real Ugandan music and dancing
- Waragi!
- lorry loads of 10 year olds practicing. Great talent, appreciative of the kit we had managed to get together to hand over.

I asked the Captain of that touring side, Gary Bownes, for any comments that he would like to make and he wrote the following;

*The tour was a roller coaster of experiences from start to finish. But, just to prove how small the world really is, one of the first things I spotted when entering the Kampala RFC clubhouse was the shield of the last touring side to visit Uganda. It was Queens University, Belfast, whose President at that time was....none other than my father in law!

One of the highlights for me was the coaching clinic we held for the local kids. I remember some of these kids travelled standing up for hours on the back of trucks just to get to the rugby club where it was being held. Most were barefoot and in rags. We had launched an appeal back in the UK for unwanted sports kit and so were able to hand this out. It was a humbling
experience.* *Hopefully some of those kids are now representing Uganda!
*
*On the playing side we did well against a strong Kampala side, winning 32-21 in a highly competitive match. A few days later we were rather more fortunate to scrape a 12-11 victory against a select Uganda XV, with the hosts finishing extremely well in the closing stages. The tour of a lifetime.
Gary Bownes
Captain London Irish A2's 1995

*
For me, of course, this was a home-coming of sorts. I had had the good fortune to have spent 2 1/2 years in Uganda, from early 1989. Uganda was then coming back again, back from the dark days and it was a place which, whilst still damaged and scarred, was full of hope for the future. Ugandan rugby was in much the same state, of course. Uganda had been a powerhouse of East African rugby in the '60s and for a few years after that.

But little of the infrastructure remained and few players. But there was something. Above all, there was a small group of players determined to play. There were the ex-pats of course, bankers, diplomats, aid workers and businessmen. Real characters, some of them. Remember Fred Dale, the banker still playing second row at almost 50 years old – and looking older? Matt Nutter, Paul Volrath, Ian Walker, Liam Girvan and Abbey Kassam. Old Fred (Cockeril) who helped so much with the fund-raising, the renovation of the clubhouse and so much of the thankless work that needs to be done.

On the Ugandan side, there was a core of players who had played abroad, in the UK or Kenya and others who had managed to play in Uganda. Others who had come from other sports. There was the classy Kasasa, the boxer Charles Kizza, John Kiwanuka, a peerless wing-forward, Martin Kasasira, Edward
Kitaka, JB Kasajja, Arthur Mugweri, Phares Kasozi and Paul Lubega. Apologies to those whose names I have forgotten after so many years!

I had always played rugby and on arrival in Uganda became involved. It was great fun, challenging and fulfilling to see the progress made. I helped out with coaching and ended up as captain of the Heathens and the joint, Ugandan side that we put together for a game against Rwanda and tours to Nairobi to take part in the Blackrock Tournament.

That tour was one of the highlights of my rugby career. We were no-hopers in East African terms. We scraped together enough money to take a team down there, made up from the largely ex-pat Heathens and Ugandan Kobs, the Heathens making up most of the forwards and the Kobs most of the backs.

I cannot recall now the scores or who we played against. I can recall the fierce sense of pride in that group of players. We never took a backward step in a game. Ugandan or ex-pat, I think that we were aware that we were at an important moment for Ugandan rugby; after so many years when Uganda was regarded with pity, if not horror, we had something to prove. And I think, to be fair, that many of the rugby fraternity there wanted us to do well.

We did prove something. We proved that Ugandans could play rugby, that from the ashes there was enough determination and skill to build a new Ugandan rugby community. We also proved that the ex-pats and Ugandans could forge a common identity, despite the fierce rivalry between the Heathens and Kobs.

Now, of course, Ugandan rugby has nothing to prove to anybody. I have followed the results of the national side over the years, whenever I could, and have felt a great glow of pride in seeing some of the results that have been achieved. To have played a small part in the early days of that renaissance is one of the proudest achievements in my rugby career.

I hope that I have my memories right - there was a lot of socialising going on at the time as well - but would welcome any corrections or stories from others who were there at that time.

Good luck for the future
Gery Juleff (gjuleff@hotmail.com)