A Fish is still a Fish

I have been back in Uganda just over a month now. I have settled in, well as much as can be expected considering my hotel confinement. I remain hopeless that our house will somehow be complete soon, though we are technically supposed to move on Monday. The Hotel Pan Afric is my Roma Hotel now – I know everybody and they are accustomed to my habits. Anne and I have decided to become the adopted aunties of one of the worker’s little girl – Subra. All this translates to is spoiling her in whatever way we can. I am used to my monotonous rotating meals of veggie curry, fish filet (pronounced fil-ette), chapattis and rice (I’ve proclaimed myself a semi-vegetarian). I carry my Peter Pan peanut butter with me, but missing my Quaker Oatmeal – an oversight in the packing process. I am beginning to wonder if I have an avocado abuse problem (Avocados Anonymous?), as I find it goes with everything: on my chapatti, with beans, in a plate of pasta, in stew, on its own…

There have been some spectacular storms these past few days – one so powerful that it awoke me last night. I lay wide-eyed awake, wondering if perhaps the world was ending. My colleague mistook the lightening for gun shots and got up to assess the situation. That’s just the rainy season for you.

For the first time, I took the initiative to take a car for myself today. There is something liberating about not depending on other people for getting around, but then again, I soon retired the car to get on my feet again – not to mention fear of knocking out a boda boda cyclist. This evening I went for a jog around much of Lira after teasing the hotel guard that should I not return, she would have to come fight the rebels to secure my release. I come to expect the reactions, but what I wouldn’t give to have an undercover camera, as the experience is no less than comic. Here were the reactions tonight: “WONDERFUL!” “Yes, you are exercising!” As I went along, the humidity began to get to me and found it harder to spit out my greetings to everybody I passed by. I did my best to encourage some to join me, but they all giggled as they shied away. I ran up until I found myself passing by one of the municipal IDP camps, dodged down an unknown road where I was passed by a mzee (old man) with a funny cowboy hat on a bicycle. I continued down unknown roads when I spotted a young woman in a flashy purple dress who appeared to know where she was going. I decided to follow and struck up a conversation, inquiring where I might get a flashy purple dress for myself. She led me right through the middle of yet another IDP camp, where some children screamed in horror as I bowed down to greet the elders, “Cop n’go?” I began to question my decision to follow the young woman, Judith, as we were approaching a little stream I would have to cross on a board – but she assured me to have no fear and to simply follow her. We parted ways at the strange carnival that had come care of some southern American “crusaders” who came to “save” Ugandans. No offense, but I think the good people of Lira were more interested in the free entertainment.

No matter my mode of transport, people seem to find my activities amusing. I take joy in laughing right back. When a boda boda cyclist demands that I give him a thousand shillings, I turn quite serious, demanding that it is I in fact who require the thousand shillings from him. When kids come running at me with “MONU HIII! MONU BYEEEE!” I stop dead in my tracks, wave my arms crazily and yell BYYEEE right back.

As I’ve said before, I continue to live and breathe work, though I manage to include those few things that somehow keep me sane. My work is coming along and I’ve learned to just dive blindly in to whatever tasks are set before me. I am getting a crash course in project management 101, as I am used to being Miss Independent Researcher.

So I am simply marching on! No big plans for the immediate future – just to accomplish some tangible tasks related to my job. German Steffi #1 is supposed to come visit me in Lira next weekend, which I eagerly await. Otherwise, I still have Gulu on my mind and know I will be put to shame if I don’t show my face.