A Taste of the Western World

Calvin is 5kg. I visited him today, taking off half a day at the clinic and travelling into the city. He was pushing up with his legs and looking all around him, smiling more than I had seen before.

“He is one of the best babies,” one was saying.

He gives little trouble and makes a lot of happy sounds these days. I picked him up from where he was lying down, and took him out for a some sunshine. His ears perked towards each car, and person walking by, head turning to see the events around him. Then he settled down, laying his tiny brown hand on mine. I am going to miss him.

Following the visit, Sarah and I left for dinner at Acachia mall. Sarah and I have a couple things in common. We are both keen on someone going by the name of“Brad”, (Bradford and Bradley, to be specific), and we both were missing foods from our culture. As a true American, Sarah b-lined for the pizza menu. I longing for the raw culture of home, swiped at the first salads. It has been almost five weeks since I have eaten an actual salad, so I was beyond willing to skip out on the octopus special of the night. And when it came, it was not cabbage or grass or matoke leaves, it was salad - beautiful green lettuce leaves with sliced, glazed pears, roasted and sugared cashews, topped with crumbled blue cheese. If I were meant to give up all of home in coming here, I know have cheated five weeks in.

For an hour, the atmosphere almost swept me back to the Western World. Acachia mall attracts visitors, where I would see someone of my color tone more often than the usual rare sighting. Previously, whenever seeing someone who looked like a Westerner, I wanted to say:

“Hey! Why are you here?! Mission work? Business? What organization? You work for a company? Say “hi” to my family if you get back first!” It was always exciting.

At Acacia, there were more than a few Caucasians – enough to think that we are not alone here.

Approaching 9pm, we headed with Musana back to the Village. It is an hour drive from Kampala City, wherein we hit traffic. (There is really no explanation or questioning “why” anymore). At that time, I was once again reminded that we were definitely back in step with culture. Walking between the cars were men holding, anything and everything for sale, after 9pm. Perhaps some soccer balls for your game tonight? Maybe a bath towel if you are getting nervous and hot in the traffic? How about some peppers and tomatoes for a midnight supper? Perhaps some dead grasshoppers in a large, clear container, in case you wanted a little snack on your way home. Musana locked the doors from the front to wane off further the intimate solicitors, and not feeling incredibly needy at the moment, we carried on back to Suubi Village.

Jon left today :( This was our family dinner the night before