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Published: August 5th 2007
The Tigrinya Alphabet
Over 300 characters...cool.They say that when a muzun-gal travels alone (especially in places like Africa and South America), that they will have....problems. People will hassle them more, hit on them, etc. Women, travel with a friend(s).
But what I have never heard is that when a muzun-GUY goes about alone, things can get....interesting. Not bad, per say, but interesting.
Here's the story.
Location: BACK IN KAMPALA, BABY!!!! WOOOHOOO!!!!
Time: around 1300 hrs
Characters: Kevin, some random guys and a VERY random girl
The plot:
I arrived in Kampala on Thursday night and headed up to the Baha'i House of Worship (hereafter referred to as "the Temple"...but its not really a temple, its just shorter like that) where I am staying. No, not IN the Temple, but in a guest house on the property. Two minutes out the front door and I'm THERE. Awesome.
Friday morning I get up, shower (with hot water!!! WOOHOOO!!!), eat "breakfast" (a bun and a cup of water doesn't count, but its what I had), but on my nice shirt (yup, thats a singular. I have A nice shirt. Welcome to Africa), and head up to the Temple. A little while there and I
Repairs on the Fly
A noise is heard, a broken part is found, removed, welded and replaced and we are on our way again. I hate buses. head back down to the house and change out of my precious nice shirt. Off to the city I go (the Temple is a little bit in the boonies).
This is where it gets interesting. I arrive in town, but the bus doesn't actually go to the Old Taxi Park, my central spot from which I can get pretty much anywhere I want. Also, since Jacintha took her Lonely Planet guide on Eastern Africa back to Canada with her (what in the bloody world do you need with it there, huh????), I have no map and no hints as to how to navigate. OK, whatever...I ask someone how to get to the Old Taxi Park. In keeping with my Ugandan experiences so far, the person I ask wants money to tell me. Grrrrr. Moving on. I eventually find someone who looks rich enough to not ask for money, and get my directions. I arrive at the Old Park and start making my way to the Steers (kinda like McD's, but South African and better), at the back of which is an internet cafe (and FOOD!!!). On the way, I am approached by a random guy (not too uncommon, usually they
The Temple at Night
I wasn't able to get a photo like this last time. want you to use their taxi or give them $$$) who greets me politely (also not uncommon...Ugandans are nuts but very polite). I say hi and keep moving, he follows me....something here is different...my hand moves (VERY voluntarily) to grab my camera to make sure my baby don't get kidnapped. Mr. Random asks me how I am, I say "good, I don't need a ride, thank you", thinking (or hoping) that he is a stubborn taxi/boda boda driver. Keep hoping Kevin...keep hoping.
Mr. Random then asks me if I want something. He uses a slang word for the item which I don't catch so I reply "huh??". He repeats the question, using a new slang (I caught enough to know it had changed)....something is funky here. Once more..."huh???".
Kevin, you are dumb. Whatever it is, you don't want it so just say "no".
Mr. Random decides that I need it spelled out for me and says (rather audibly too): "I have weed!"
Ooooh!!! Now I get it. He thinks I am looking for a "high-flying" time.
Smart Kevin finally gains control of the brain and says "No way", and walks away.
Mr. Random drops off to target someone else.
It
The House
It doesn't look big, but it is bigger than the Anderson's house in Kigali. gets more interesting, though.
Before I even make it to the Steers I have Mr. Random #2 approach me and greet me. By this time I am a little more wary of what some of these guys sell, but I am not going to paint them all with the same brush THAT fast. So I respond to the greeting and try to navigate between the crowds and vehicles faster. Mr. Random #2 matches my pace. Great...here we go again. Same old song and dance, he offers something using slang, Kevin shakes is up by saying "no", but Mr. R2 keeps asking. Apparently it always takes a few tries to get rid of them. In the end it turn out that he is selling prescription drugs. Say WHAT??? I didn't think that they got all sophisticated like that here. Oh well. A few more "NOOOO!!!!"s and Mr. R2 leaves.
Internet cafe-ing goes well, food is good, then I head off to the National Theatre, behind which is an Artist Village where I can buy...art!!!
And once again, I am approached by a random person who is offering something using slang (three times in fewer hours...I am getting weirded out here!). One small difference. Random person #3 is a Ms. Random. And what could she be selling, hmm??? Hand lotion? No, that comes later. Random articles of clothing? No, her hands are empty. hmmmm....what could it be?
*sexy, flirty voice* "Hi! Do you want to have a good time?"
OH DAMN!!!! Kampala has pulled out ALL the stops! Two types of drug dealers and a prostitute in two and a half hours!
Smart Kevin and Dumb Kevin quickly reach a consensus and the feet obey without hesitation. RUN!!!!!
But once I've escaped the Randoms and am in a place of relatively likelihood of receiving such offers (I fell in line behind a cop), I had to laugh at it all. Crazy, crazy Ugandans. Not that that stuff doesn't exist in Calgary and everywhere else, but its just the first time that I have been offered so many fun things in so little time.
So I make it to the artists village without any problems, then to a nearby Shoprite (the supermarket of English-speaking Africa). It is INSIDE the Shoprite that the next....interesting...thing happens. Not as bad as the others, though.
I am perusing the isles, wishing that I could afford the stuff I was looking at (and feeling rather
connected with the people on the streets), when an young female employee stops me and starts what I originally think is just a regular sales-pitch. Then I notice that her coworker (also young and female) is looking away, covering her mouth and laughing, and a few clues in the first employees behavior brings me to the realization that Young Employee #2 (looking away) DARED Young Employee #1 to do this. Ah ha! Interesting.
More interesting is what she is trying to get me to buy. Hand lotion. In a small pink bottle with a picture of a sexy muzun-gal on it. Definitely a product for the ladies, which I guess is half the dare.
I politely tell the young lady that I don't need OR want said product, and I certainly don't want to pay 2000 shillings (~1USD) for a 75ml bottle.
"Ok, ok. Take it to make my day."
Say WHAAAAAAAT????
To make...her...day??? What does this mean??? Is this more than a dare??? And why are they all targeting ME????
(The answer to the last one is because I am a young, sexy, handsome stud. With a beard. Take THAT!!!!) Hahaha!!!
In the end, after a few repetitions of the "make my day" bit (Clint Eastwood, Where Art Thou?), I take the stupid bottle of hand lotion, walk down the next isle over and drop the bottle in a bin of mops. Someone is going to get a "lustrous, soft and moisturized" mop!
At this point I decide that I REALLY don't want to have to deal with more weird, random and very loony people (The Loony Tugandans), so I get my butt back to the Old Taxi Park as fast as my legs will carry me (which isn't very fast when going through large crowds and dodging insane Loony Tu drivers) and head back to the Temple.
Thank God for the peaceful, calm atmosphere of the Temple and its surrounding grounds. No drug dealers (of any sort), no prostitutes, Clint E. wannabees, and no Crazy Christians (yes, there are Christians, but not the crazy kind...I will explain shortly).
When I arrived back at my little house (which is actually bigger than the Anderson's house in Kigali!), I found the front door padlocked (the only way of closing it securely) and a short note from my travel buddy Irene saying that she was up at the Grounds Director's house. OK.
So I head up to the Director's house and find a small crowd of people inside, all animatedly discussing various topics (mostly religious though...there's something about living and working at a House of Worship that makes you feel religious). I sit down and quickly join the discussion, as it is about something that I find a bit entertaining. They were discussing stories about Crazy Christians. I write it like that to make sure that all Christian readers know that I am NOT saying anything about Christians or Christianity in general, but am merely discussing some interesting individuals who happen to be Christians. Yes, I am covering my butt. No, I am not ashamed. Moving on.
The Director was telling how he visited some churches a while ago (I think he said he visited 19 or 20 of them), and was describing some of the things he saw/learned.
The first thing to be mentioned is that churches here are not (all) like churches in Canada, the US, etc. Some churches here are privately owned, built on someones property as a personal investment. Mr. Director calls these "Vegetable Churches". He says "some people plant vegetables in their back yard to make some money, these people have planted churches!"
One of the churches he saw had no roof. Another fell down not too long after he was there (a few months or so), killing 40 people. Another one was closed down after police found out that the "priest" who ran the church was using a complex doohickey to give people electric shocks when he touched them, knocking them over through "the Power of Jesus". This probably lead to many injuries and addled brains. Trust me, an electric shock to your head powerful enough to knock you off your feet can't be good for your brain. Another "church" is an old market that someone bought, cleaned up, painted a few Biblical scenes on the walls and started inviting people in. OK, nothing that odd, just making use of what he could find. The only service, however, is the local Christian TV station, which the people could watch at home for free.
The stories go on like this for a while. The worst, however, is a story of a "priest" who invited a large congregation into his church, locked all the doors and then set the building on fire. I don't know how many people died, but no one made it out. I also don't know if the "priest" died in the fire or if he was outside the church when he set it on fire.
That story was a bit of a downer on our discussion, but the rest of the evening went well. The Director and his family are Ethiopian, and they had taught me a bit about the Tigrinya alphabet that morning when they had me over for breakfast. They also have a friend staying with them who is from Eritrea (east of Ethiopia which is east of Uganda). Their friend made us Eritrean tea, which is AMAZING. Mrs. Director made Ugandan coffee, which is STRONG. I didn't sleep last night.
This morning I spent the whole morning (from 8am when the Temple is opened to 12pm) in the Temple, alone except for about 15 minutes when Irene came in. I left the Temple with such a strong sense of calm that I didn't even blink or run when I was again offered some "fun" stuff upon my arrival in town. This time it was illicit drugs (again) and home brewed alcohol. Even if I wasn't a Baha'i (who don't drink alcohol), I wouldn't drink that stuff. There is a fine art to brewing alcohol properly, folks. Most home-breweries wouldn't know this art if it danced a hornpipe on their head while screaming blue murder. If you don't brew the ingredients right you end up with a BEvERage containing ethanol ("good" alcohol) and methanol ("bad" alcohol, the stuff that is used in antifreeze, solvents and fuels, and will make you go blind or just plain kill you if you drink too much). Just a little tip to all my fellow travelers or anybody in general: NEVER drink home brew, especially in Africa. You never know what is was made with and what's in it (ethyl vs. methyl alcohols).
Well, I'm done pontificating about alcohols.
I am now going to get up and walk out of the internet cafe (at the back of the Steers, again). You will find out in my next blog entry what fun things I get offered.
Safe Journeys
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Jess
non-member comment
Reasons for a flashback
Hey Baby Bro! I think I know why you were accosted by so many people with illicit things: Your physical apperance. The last time I checked you had a semi-beard that makes you look... um... iffy. That is all I will pontificate on that topic! It sounds like you are getting lost less on this trip to Uganda! That is good! Maybe not having the Lonely Traveller's Guide is a good thing. It seemed to lead you astray last time. Keep up the blogging!