This was an email that I sent to my friends Shawn and Seema. Then I was like, "blog it". To fill-in, I moved from a volunteer house to a great family whose daughter happened to work in the building that I had classes in my entire undergrad and grad school. Small little world we've got goin' on these days. More about my new place....
Just down a 20' path from their kitchen is a nice little river. It's more secluded in these parts. The dogs have a new friend, Phil "you can call me Siraj" Lesh. He was attacked with a machete some time back, so he's got a crook in his neck. He's also not used to human affection. He likes it, but he doesn't quite get it. Like an awkward 14 year old learning how to make out.
They have an adorable 2-yr old grand daughter that they just rescued from a horribly malnourished state. Now she's laughing her ass off and playing around all day. She's my kind of kid. Sitting on the concrete floor with tons of action, other kids, dogs, hot coals, knives... and she just sits there chill as hell drinking her tea or eating her beans. She's developing motor skills and trying to speak some language that's half Lumasaba and half gobbly-guk. She called me "daddy" like 5 times yesterday. It was ridiculous. I was like "shut the fuck up, kid. who taught you to say that? is this a scam?" Too young and innocent to scam, but it's just easy for kids to say. But damn was it cute. I'm teaching her "Mikey". Whatever, she stays this cute, she's at least earned herself school fees. She just put on shoes for the first time yesterday and she's refusing to take them off. They're white velcro sneakers that are too big for her.
At my new place, I finally have my own room for the first time since I moved to Bududa with a private bathing room (room with a drain so I can bucket bathe). Lantern-lit makes for a great ambiance every night. I just got some $15 speakers for my mp3 player in Kampala so I've got a sweet little setup. They bring me hot boiled water (usually murky) to bathe, which works well with the tunes and lantern. Compare this to a house full of loud white people where I only get a break from them on some weekends. I'm finally in Africa and at peace.
Local food every night. Fresh piri piri peppers (little red hot ones) picked from their garden. Wild mushrooms that don't make you trip, chicken that were running away from my dogs two hours before, and even fish once from the neighbor's fish farm. Milk tea in the morning and milk tea after my evening bath. Not bad
Dad is a retired literature teacher who's stout, jolly, liberal, sharp-witted and lots of other great things. We usually slam a couple of brews every night. I just ponied up for a case. Mom takes in kids like it's her job and she's getting tired, but still keeps a smile on her face. She has a couple of young ladies helping here out who also have their kids around. Cute kids. Lots of 'em coming and going. Their teenage sons are really cool, too. Desi brings us beer and fresh chili pepper branches, so who can argue with that? John asked if wrestling was real and told me I take "mexican showers". I was like "how the hell do you know that phrase?" He was like "I don't get it. I've heard it before. Why do they say that?" I explained as nicely as possible.
I must add that I have my own room - yes - but ceiling? no. the other room in this building has a bunch of kids sleeping in there, led by Tumwa, my twenty-five year old Mugisu brother with down syndrome. There's NO audio privacy. Singing and chattering away in Lumasabba last thing at night and first thing in the morning. Late nights are usually quiet with an occasional baby crying or Tumwa yelling "MIKE! MIKE! How are you?" It hasn't gotten old YET, but I've only been here a few weeks. They're actually good alarm clocks along with the roosters.
The new place is about a ten minute motorcycle ride away from my old place on a dry, sunny road and a close to impassable 30-minute ride on a wet dark road. It's the rainy season, so the former doesn't really happen. The roads are being re-"dirted" and the rains are heavy so it's literally been like a swamp some days. The motorcycle drivers are being good sports, sometimes barefoot with their pants rolled up to their knees, laughing their asses off. Not a maniacal laugh, but just fun. Last week, I found myself up on a mountain to avoid the road - on a footpath on a motorcycle at night with no headlight, but a blinker sporadically and dimly lighting the way down the muddy path in between the fields. That one was the craziest. I go home before dark now and use matatus when they're around and going down the swamp segment.
The people of Kiholo (the old village) have been ridiculously supportive of me coming back with a few house offers coming every day. It's heartwarming, but it's starting to be too many offers. I'm going to stop actually looking at the places. Those who aren't offering up their houses are certainly in my grill about coming back, too. Even with their support, and despite the transportation challenges, I'm loving my Zaale family that I'm with now.
Need to bathe... It was nice to write about my new life. I don't know if my old living situation wasn't worth writing about or if it didn't permit me the time... How about having a sweet netbook with a 4-hour battery and google offline with an easily portable modem in the village?
This was to you guys, but I definitely need to put this on my blog. Thanks for giving me a reason to write it out
Selassie know
