The city is mighty crowded and that is quite apart from the fact that it seems to be the only song that plays on Bosco’s radio. I keep wondering what station he listens to because clearly they need some help. It almost feels like ‘No air’ plays every after two songs. Bosco is our helper by the way.
There are days I have wanted to just fly home and hide, just to get away from the city madness. There are people every where, then the vehicles, motorcycles (bodas) and dust seem to take the rest of the unoccupied space.
Once I came home and rushed straight to my room, hoping that I could have some peace and quiet but just as I was about to sigh "aaaaah finally!!" the loudest mosquito I ever heard came buzzing around. Oh boy!! One can not even sit still because the mosquitoes will have a field day, probably getting drunk on my blood.
I have been around town a little bit but it looks like some habits crept in on me while in Philly and shaking them off takes a conscious effort. I learned over time to mind my own business, walking through the streets of Philly. There was hardly a chance to stop and greet any one, or smile and acknowledge other people, no body seemed to have time for that. So I learned to have a straight face.
I get back home and man! Even in the taxi- this lady sits next to me and says “hello”. I first looked to see if I knew her but clearly I didn’t, so there was a pause there before I responded.
Life in Kampala goes on hold if things are not preceded with a greeting. I was trying to get a motorcycle ride (boda) the other day but the guy would not barge before we exchanged a greeting. Now in Philly, the few times I tried to greet people it just seemed like I was wasting their time. “Good Morning?”, “good afternoon?” “good …?” - who cares?, just get right to the point and tell me what you want.
Meanwhile another interesting experience - I walked into a café to check mail but either the lady just didn’t like me or something. I stood in front of her for close to a minute before she acknowledged my presence. Then with what seemed like a great effort she told me what it cost and with a heavy hand pointed to the computer that was available. Boy! Had I forgotten our people or what? Any way life goes on.
Checking mail in an internet café is tougher than getting a tooth removed, either it takes for ever to open the pages or the mouse is acting up or something.
I have decided to sneak into the worldbank once in a while to do what I have to do.
We took the bus to Soroti to visit my parents. I thought I would take photos and journal just as I had done in Philly. That was absolutely silly of me, how could I forget that Ugandans are not too thrilled with cameras?! so I nearly got roughed up, seriously.
I was supposed to have greeted the men, told them I was going to take a picture of the bus for leisure or whatever and then allow them to pose for the photo or get out of the way.
It was nice to see mom and dad again; they haven’t changed much which I guess is a good thing. Mich woke up early each morning to go to the farm with grandpa and then spent the rest of his day chasing or being chased by a rooster. By the way I’m not kidding; there was a real strange rooster that was in the habit of chasing small people. It would watch you pass then come running after you with its feathers spread out, now that can be scary more so if you are closer to the ground. Mich had to be saved twice for the crazy rooster and he ended up walking around with a stick for his own protection. He asked grandpa why he had such a nasty chicken and to cut the long story short we had some awesome chicken stew the night before we traveled back to Kampala.
