One day and I am already behind with the English version of the account… Not that you missed much. This will hopefully get easier on Monday when I get connection to the University wireless, but we’ll see. The old trick of writing at night and uploading in the morning will have to be enough most of the time. Hopefully the night difference gives me quite an advantage there.
The trip was long, as expected. The first impression left a few words bouncing in my head: hospitality, mud, green, horn, left.
Hospitality. If those who welcomed me are even average in this country, these people are the very definition of hospitality. They picked me up from the airport, opened the door of their house, trusted me to hold their family, made me feel safe, warm, in company, and not only gave me snacks for the next part of the trip but they also arranged a chaperone, who took the same long (and I mean time and energy consuming, not so much the distance after what I had done the days before) bus trip to get to Ishaka.
Mud. When I arrived to Kampala it was pouring. It’s rains season and the unpaved roads (most of them) seemed streams more than streets and left me thinking that Africa is made of clay…
Green. It might be just the season, but the whole place is covered of green, everything is green! That which is not made of mud, of course.
Horn. The intrepid bus driver used a very musical horn to let the world know that the chance of a few miles of good road was not going to go unnoticed. Somehow it worked and the traffic seemed to open. I have learned now that each bus has its own typical horn and that people recognize them by it.
Left. Here they drive on the left, although that seems just too generous of a description after seeing them in action…
I am alive and healthy and already participating in the classes. Tomorrow we have to collect flies! Good old times that were not always easy: those little ones love to be ready to hatch when you are ready to have a nice weekend.
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