Back in the game!

I didn’t blog last week to give you guys a break from the sound of my typing and me a break from making up stories about Uganda… I mean recounting stories. Anyway, trying to work out what to write this week makes me realise it was a bad idea.

For help, I reread my journal entries from the past fortnight and was quickly aware of all the great times I’ve been having. Driving has been a recurrent feature of the past fortnight. I wrote on Facebook about an amazing drive I went on last Tuesday (14^th). I reckon it’ll stay among the highlights of the trip. The road was wonderfully interesting with outrageous incline, slippery shingle but most of all with panoramic views of the village area stretching out to the long plains. Chuck in some fun bumping around over potholes and squelching around in mud, it’s fair to say I had a great day. Initially, driving here was great for the experience and also because I knew I could deploy it at will as a story in the future when confronted with any pothole. Now that I’m getting more used to the motorbikes and taxi’s style of driving (dangerous is a fair and polite description) and am learning which potholes I can dodge, which I can overcome and which ones will be painful, it’s great times. Indeed, I’ve just gotten back from doing half of the driving to and fro Kampala to drop off Stella at university.

Life here has been changing quite a lot recently. Joanna and Nuulu, two girls on placement here from New Hope, Kasana, finished their placement a week and a bit ago; Stella just started a 16 week semester at university; and the Dr was away in Kampala for 3 days and leaves for the UK in two weeks so life has changed and will change quite a bit over the next little bit. However, I’ve also spent more time with some of the Jenga guys over the past few weeks, eating their wonderful Western cakes and telling bad English jokes (the great one about hating the darkness the other day). I say Jenga guys, this is misleading on two fronts. Firstly, Jenga is currently wholly deficient in male workers. Apparently, they’re sending out two lads for some good man time which will be cool. Secondly, not all of them work for Jenga. Most relevant for story-telling is that one works for Lulwanda Children’s Home (she’s Texan as are loads of muzungos who work out here). Last Thursday, they were taking the orphans swimming as it was their holidays. However, they only had one swimmer. Needless to say, I made the sacrifice and swapped a day in the office for one jumping into pools and teaching small children to swim. This story has a sad ending though: serious sunburn. After my previous crowing about not being sunburnt, I managed to brutalise my shoulders on Thursday (yes Mum, I did put on sun tan lotion. Yes Mum, I even re-applied! Yes Mum, it was factor 50!). The red has been splendid for several days and I’ve come close to some little blisters that would maximise sympathy but unfortunately they’ve faded away since.

The issue of doing work with the Children’s Home is the renewed pressure it puts on time and work things. Re-reading journal entries, I can definitely feel a shift toward settling in the current role and the decline in initial enthusiasm that comes with. I have made some stunning spreadsheets over the past fortnight (one for monitoring drugs stock and ordering new drugs and one for salaries and tax), but I’m having to re-examine my motivations as the work moves away from fire-fighting toward general running. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing though and it’s good to weigh up why and what I to do and be involved in. There’s [quick break to turn on the generator] definitely lots of things I can do toward my goal of being completely surplus to requirement by the end of May but I still don’t yet completely know what normal life will come to look like in Mbale.

That said, I realise I haven’t said much about what normal life currently looks like here. Work is 8-5 so I generally get up around 7 for my breakfast of two weetabix with milk from a pan with the cream floating on top. After my 7 minute walk to work and 5 minutes of opening padlocks, an array of jobs keeps my busy until on of us in the office picks up cups of tea for everyone around 11 (Ugandans also have ‘escort’ which can be bread or the like but those weetabix are still going by 11). Lunch is around 2-3 (scandal, I know) and it on a rotation. Wednesday is the only meal I’m not ken on. I growing to really enjoy the other Ugandan food, particularly when it’s accompanied by beef or chicken but I guess that’s cheating. I usually wander back a bit after 5 and evenings vary wildly from work to play and combinations of the two. Weekends also tend to vary, but I am increasingly opting for something relaxing on the Saturday. Last Saturday I went swimming and collected ingredients for baking; this Saturday I went to an introduction which is a traditional wedding which was long but very good. Saturday is egg and chips for lunch which is always delightful. On Sundays I either go the Deliverance Church or out to the villages with the Dr. Yesterday I went with the Dr and Rev on a wonderful visit down a classic non-road and visited this brilliant local church. It was brilliant to be back in touch with rural, charming Uganda now that town-Uganda has become familiar and has its moments of frustration.

I’m still very much enjoying updates from home, if slightly perturbed by the explosion of romance since I left. I mean, I know you guys are missing me, but there are surely other ways of taking solace!

One other thing I should mention: I’ve gotten myself a delightful Ugandan haircut whilst watching the Man U Arsenal game live. It’s just a shame that most of you will never see it...(unless some people come on an impromptu trip).