Sketching a Twisty Path on the Globe

As an internet addict now of sorts, I feel driven to plant myself in this seat even though my brain feels a little coated with dust, dizzied by traffic, depleted from navigating everyday activities.

I just returned from a cultural dance show, second I’ve seen here in Kampala. I’m mesmerized by the drumming and the amazing sounds that can come from vocal cords. And the dancing is fantastic! I would almost call it the amazing art of butt worship. Every style of costume and dance highlights the ample behind with chunks of fur, grass skirts, scarves, and a strongly arched back. Oh if only this could catch on in America, women could happily flush the Weight Watchers for good and join in the proud ass-shaking!

Yesterday I spent the day in Nsambya Babies’ Home where they take in abandoned infants, some with injuries or HIV. There are 20+ kids there now ranging from a few months to 3+ years. After a couple cuties looked at me with an earnest “sou sou!” I finally caught on that it wasn’t a sweet attempt at saying my name, but instead meant “I’m going to pee in the next 15 seconds.” As a diaper-less environment, I can suffice to say that I don’t think I’ll wear that skirt again this trip. : ) The ladies there take great care of these kids, but my heart still hurts from what I saw–nearly all of them coughing and with sticky noses, tight hugs that didn’t stop and tears when it had to, toddlers fighting over an empty plastic bottle, the amazing independence in which tiny kids went through their routines. Sigh. If I were a better person, I would have already adopted at least 10 kids this trip.

I have to admit that right now I’m feeling…..a little drained dealing with the cultural, racial, social aspects of being here on my own the past few days. As much as I am grateful for things that take me outside my comfort zone and force me to rethink my point of view, the Amsterdam airport also seems like an unreal haven ahead of me. But in the interest of becoming a better-immersed visitor, I now have a single black braided hair extension, have had a brief lesson in how to shake my ass African style, and have mangaged not to fall off riding side-saddle on a boda boda (motorbike taxi). : )

Tomorrow: Happy Independence Day Uganda! I am being taken to Entebbe to see the beaches on Lake Victoria, visit the zoo, and get a full patterned manicure/pedicure with my sweet companion and guide. [She tried to talk me into a full head of braided extensions. Should I do it? ; ) ]

Sula bulunji–

BWINDI VS. KAMPALA
After a 10+ hour drive, deeply rutted roads, and full views of banana trees only lightly sprinkled with villages, I knew that I was really OUT THERE when I arrived in the dark at Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. [It’s on the border with Congo and Rwanda for goodness sake!] I took the lantern outside my “banda” (round, concrete floor, thatched roof) and proceeded to use it for going through bags, journal, and the trail to the pit latrines–my mini flashlight serving as support crew. The next morning the dark was more difficult though as I prepared for my gorilla trek, lantern extinguished, only the dim glow of the flashlight. That night I once again managed to arrive at my banda in the dark and found myself patting the bed for my flashlight, even trying to use the little blue glow from my alarm clock. Frustrated, I asked the guard outside if he had an extra lantern; I couldn’t find my flashlight. “Mmmm? No light?” he asks and accompanies me in. As I reach to ask for his lantern, he reaches for the wall….and flips a switch. Bright light fills my banda. Electricity in the jungle?!? Why does this shock me so much? Here, back in Kampala–city of how many million?–electric power is a rare prize. [When I arrived at this internet cafe I was told: “Wait a bit, I turn on the generator.”] It’s a treat if I go to bed with camera battery charging and a fan blowing on me kindly. However, it’s a given that I will then wake up in muggy stillness and fumble my way to the shower, trying to determine toothpaste from hair gel.

THE EQUATOR
At the Ugandan equator sits 3 yellow basins with white paint markings. For a small fee of $5 ($10 if you want the “offical” certificate) a somber “scientist” will place water and 2 white flowers into the basins. Guess what? Water really DOES flow backward south of the equator, even if “south” is only 15 feet away! And, right ON the equator, the flower was flushed unceremoniously straight down the middle. And I thought it was all a ruse! Even more surprising? Fifty feet away you can buy the BEST iced mocha in the world.

VISUAL TRICKS?
The other night I walked toward my homely hostel after dinner in the lavish Mweya Lodge in Queen Elizabeth Park. After passing the lodge’s gate, I got a little spooked in the dark, jumping when the bushes moved next to me, CERTAIN that it was a lion. “Silly Cindy,” I assured myself. “Just because you are in Africa doesn’t mean wild animals roam the streets!” Calmed, I continued, wondering how far my hostel was anyway. Up ahead in my path I see a HUGE dark form. Squinted, tilted my head, blinked. Still there. Bravery gone, I scamper back to the gate and beg an escort. When the shape was no longer there, I was sure I had some type of heat-induced lunacy. Then the guard sniffed a few times and flashed his light off the path: “There.” A hippo–giant, grunting, grazing. Apparently he’s the greatest threat to humans in the park. I felt justified and continued on to bed, where I heard its obscene snorting, farting, belching all night. Moral: pride isn’t worth being eaten by a hippo.

STEREOTYPES
On the long drive back into Kampala yesterday, I noticed a tape sticking out of the radio. “Music?” I ask my 20-30 something Ugandan guide. “I love music! You can put it in.” “Really?” he asks and begins rewinding. I settle back into my seat, ready to be washed over with sounds of drumming, hip hop or reggae–all of which I had heard on the East Africa music videos. Sounds familiar, I strain, lean in. “Who is it?” I ask. “You know him? It’s country–Kenny Rogers.” Laughing to myself, I listen to 5 hours of Kenny replayed realizing that, faced with the constant assumption of the exorbitantly rich “mzungu” (white face), I had created a few stereotypes of my own.

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Well, unfortunate reason for the extra time (our bus driver hit a bicycle; I was white-knuckled for good reason I guess!), but it means I've tackled my picture problem! Impatience and ignorance--I gave up on sticking pictures on this ... [Continue reading this entry]

Flying, landing, driving in the dark lent to opening Uganda yesterday morning. Fat cranes bending tiny branches, baby siamese bananas for breakfast, perfect tomato pyramids in markets by the side of the road.... Uganda--uh, central? Africa--is where my dad does some ... [Continue reading this entry]