Thursday, 4.25pm, the sky was dark and the birds were beginning to chirrup again following the rain. Miss Norton sat at her writing desk pondering the next line plodding away on a mini-laptop (courtesy of work, thanks very much) wondering when the power would switch back on so she could continue with Hustle series 5...
In sickness and in health
Illness Uganda-style part 1 has been and gone, and the 'infection' which plagued my poor digestive system appears to be have been led-away by handy antiboitics. Hoorah, victory for health! But not without a cost - oh yes, I'd say at least 4 lbs and 6 packets of yoghurt were among those lost. Alas, life goes on. Packets of yoghurt - yes - because it comes in a small bag, which one cuts at the corner, pokes an extra-long straw in and sips away. It is the most wonderful snack. Otherwise, I find almost daily that my kitchen really does not have anything too appetising in it. There are good elements, like chocolate milk, but nothing that would make a nice meal. Cue: Dennis and Karen next door and their frequent dinner-provision for their poor, helpless British neighbour.
YOU can do it
I think anyone would have a good shot at surviving in Kampala. If you need a taste of home, there are plenty of white-people places to go and foods to eat, conveniently provided at cost by Uchumi supermarket in the mini-America mall of Garden City. One can buy marmite, nutella, cheese (rarely found elsewhere), Nescafe decaf coffee (at an extortionate price, quite rightly) and washing up liquid which doesn't feel like oil.
The key to exploring a new culture is remembering that countless other human beings, not so different, live and survive within the ‘weirdness’ now attacking your senses. Uganda has 32 million people not unlike you or I who manage here - the UK way of living is not the only way or the 'right' way. God forgive our Westernising.
Back to food, Ugandan cuisine really is incredibly tasty and very inexpensive, and I would recommend sampling the flavours. Ugandans eat a LOT of carbohydrates, and a meal is often 3-4 piled up on a plate covered in some sort of sauce to assist swallowing. For a pricey 25p, one can purchase a bowl full of rice, posho (maize meal), potatoes and matoke (plantains) smothered in groundnut sauce (kinda purple satay). If one wants to live like a native, one can and it's cheap. It's the constant battle of a missionary - wanting to live like a local, experiencing life through their eyes whilst also knowing that as a Brit, occasionally one does enjoy a taste of home. Where is the balance? I dunno. I know that my infrequent 'meal out' (which I deserve, right?) costs the same amount of money that a family would spend in a week on food. Hmmmph, this is so hard!
Taxi for … um … 18?
So... I will end this pointless post with a typical image of Kampala. Picture with me: clambering onto a 15-seater minibus, finding the middle seat on the back row and sinking into it thankful for a space. Then surveying the state of the matatu - some are tatty, old, sweaty and the chairs are rickety. Today, I was delighted with a much newer model, where the ceiling was high enough to ride the bumps without a head-smacking, and the fabric (although unattractive) was not dirty and sweat-hardened. Enjoyable. The matatu to town can take 2-3 routes: today it went the main road way; early in the morning it goes through a muddy slum which is my daily reminder of why I'm here.
It's a God-given eyeful!
And there is NO less dignity as a slum-dweller than as a king - both are made in God's image, for a purpose, with likes and dislikes, with skills and weaknesses. Awesome. And all people offer us the opportunity to serve Christ, for he accepts the kindness of people offered to 'brothers and sisters'. What a life!
Miss Norton looked up from the page, dissatisfied for her heart was filled with so much more and yet she felt unable to express it all on paper. 'Oh well', she sighed, 'there's always tomorrow.'
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