So here I am, it's 12:22 and now officially August 19 2008, and I can't sleep. Propped with my pillows and balancing my torch on the bed in front of me I am crouched over writing this. Somehow, it seems a little to familiar... My mind is so filled with visions of Africa and in the dark I am back there. I see the familiar faces and the "homey" smells. In my minds eye I am walking that dusty red dirt path through the flats. It's early morning and some of the smog hasn't yet lifted from over the city as I look out over it from my hill. Even the soft pad of my sneakered feet seems to echo as I pick my way across the blocks of pavement and the yawning chasms of potholes etched by rain and unfilled by the sands of time. From inside the flats I can smell breakfast wafting out reminding me that for want of sleep I opted to forgo mine this morning. I can hear the buzz of activity awakening from inside the flats and outside a matron sits in patient guard over her charcoal stove and millet porridge atop it. 'It shall be cooked right if I have anything to do with it," her look seems to say as she adjusts her squatted position to frown deeper into the pot and give it a swift swish with her paddle.
Oop, watch your step there! Someone has already been busy this morning with laundry, and wash water is creating a soapy film over the sidewalk here. Sidestep that piece of garbage and jump the drainage ditch... there, now your feet are safe again... for the time being.
Above me on the road I can hear the buzz of bodabodas (motorcycles for hire) and the occasional beep as they warn pedestrians of the holy terrors that they intend on being today. Its a long walk up that hill and I almost give the driver "the eyebrow" (that says I want a ride), but remember that I have no shillings in my pocket but that 20,000 bill and my fare for the taxi ride, so I will have to foot it. And anyway, its not that far to town and the exercise is good for me (what I tried to convince myself every day that I walked this hill). And of course by town, I really mean the Middle East (no, not what you are thinking of... but it is "middle-eastern" of somewhere, I suppose Kampala). There it looms, just beyond the red gates and brick walls of my favorite building in Bugos. I live in the flats, but that dear church is my "home". Rarely can I venture within its courtyards and not meet family in residence. And even when no one appears to be around and I can curl up with my knees and thoughts with my back to the cold concrete walls... I still feel surrounded. (But that is by God's love. Why does He feel so close? I don't know, but I love it!) Basking in His peace on that front stoop is perhaps one of the most glorious feelings ever! But today I am busy, so I trot on by the church smiling at the passersby and walking unbelievably fast for a Ugandan; but what my skin does not bely, my gait is only too happy to prove; my transformation is not yet complete!
I start to round the corner and already I can tell a difference in pace. The shops are starting to come alive. Bodabodas and taxis are moving everywhere vying for business and offering a trip to town. "Will it be old park or new park today?" (sounds more like olpok and nnpok) -"New park to city square." I get out after I finally understand their jingle - thats my taxi. I crawl in and climb to the near back seat. In front of me I flip up the seat for the next embarkee. It will take a while for the taxi to fill up, so I settle back and look out the window, (after finagling it open of course!) The Middle East is indeed picking up the pace and the shops along its fushia colored facade are being opened as we speak. Above the shops I see the open windows of the cafe that I have come to love. Oh, not a food cafe - internet! Which reminds me that I need to e-mail the folk tonight when I get back. 2000 shillings should buy me an hour of pleasure, or if I drag a friend along: 30 min and a pleasant walk home!
"With a chug and a tug, and a merry little toot..." (not to mention a slight grinding of gears!)... the taxi van is off to town. To get to downtown, (which is where I am headed in case you have no clue), from Bugos, one has to drive through a bit of the industrial area. The roads are pretty good here (in fact one of them just got repaired, which is incredible!) and the taxi careens along at speeds which really ought not be legal! Smells of smoke, hot metal, and I-know-not-what from the slaughter house and other factories smack me in the face through the open window. But I dare not close it and be subjected to the stale taxi benches and B.O. which permeate the inside of the taxi. Saying a quick thank you prayer that rain is not necessitating that experience by forcing the glass closed, for today anyway. Anyway the smells change quickly enough because of the speed at which we are traveling!
Now we have reached the roundabout (did I forget to point out my living room set in the window of the furniture factory as we passed?) Yep, there are the Mirinda Jeeps keeping guard over the crazy car merry-go-round. Only have to hit one side of the roundabout on this round, so we squeeze through easy enough, and its on down the road for us. Now through the stoplight (or traffic cop if power is out) and past the Nissan dealership on the corner. Now the buildings start to heighten and pretty soon they rise a good 3 stories on either side at least. Flashing past them I read and laugh (inwardly) at the signs. This one has a ridiculous catch phrase and that one advertises some obviously ripped-off name from the U.S. On my left I see the park moving into view (well, I call it a park, but really its only a green). There is the peddler with his his little push cart filled with hot "pandora" (think doughnuts, and I fully realize that's not really what they are called). My stop is coming up soon. Here it is - "Masou" "Stage" warns the conductor that I want off. (Unless of course I want to haul off and hit him in the head, which is always an option! Saw it happen, kid you not!) I quickly pay - 700 shillings into town, and jump out of my seat, displacing those in front of me as I do so. Disembarked and once again alone I carefully stow my bag in an optimally protected position and start off down the street! Today I am not in too much of a hurry so I take time to smile and wave (beauty queen style) at several "mzungu" commenters. (Oh, yes, I enjoy being the "moviestar" some days!) All the way down the street I hold my head high and portray a false confidence (to make me look and feel less vulnerable). Its kinda fun actually!
Dart between bodabodas and taxis and make it to the other side of the street. Now I am in front of Nando's which is a cool place (and they have a really good Philly steak sandwich!) but not the destination for today's venture. On up the hill I climb to the side street. Usually dodge in and out of a jumble of crazily parked cars and there it is - Cafe Pap. I can already see my party waiting under the outdoor canopy shaded by spreading leaves.
Today, I think, will be a good day... maybe only one proposal and 6 comments on the African braids. I think I'll take the bodaboda home so I'll have time to go visit some of my very best friends in the flats. Who knows, maybe I'll even catch some of the "football" match and cheer on my team!
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