Acclimatization

Trip was smooth, but it's looong - that stop in Kigali is unfortunate. After stopping there, the plane goes on to Entebbe and then back to Brussels; I was toying with the idea of hiding somewhere and going back with it, but I pulled myself together and got off. Arriving in Entebbe is starting to feel quite... habitual, but this time there was a new addition - because of ebola there were extra precautions with forms and a 'health check' (i.e. they aimed a little thingy to your forehead to check the temperature, which of course made me a little paranoid because it was quite hot in there). I had booked a seat on the new "airport shuttle" which sounded like a terrific addition to Uganda travel; a bit too good to be true it turned out because when I got out it had already left. Well, it was good in theory. Actually they followed up to check if I had gotten on, and apparently they had waited for me but had been off showing other people to the bus. Had this been Sweden, I had written a snippy reply, but honestly, any attempts at making everyday things smoother and make an effort to get feedback should be applauded.

Kampala is its usual self. It's always good for random oddities, though. Last night I wanted to go out and buy some water before bed and everything around seemed closed. Eventually I passed a bank, with a guard sitting outside with his big rifle; he asked me where I was going by myself and long story short he ran up the road to buy me a bottle of water. I opposed, saying he's working, but he thought it was ok because there's one more guard. Totally redundant, I guess he reasoned. It was an expensive bottle of water because I gave him the change; I appreciate random acts of kindness. This morning I slept late until I was woken up by loud chanting accompanied by some sort of bells coming from god knows where. Sunday service related no doubt, but it sounded like it hall happened in the hotel corridors. Then again, Ugandan walls tend to be for visual privacy, not so much auditory, so maybe there's a church a couple of blocks away...

Walking back to my bunker of a hotel room, I passed an intoxicated homeless man sitting on the sidewalk. I smiled, as you do because what the hell are you supposed to do, yet he decided to throw a pen at me. I gave him a dirty look but didn't think it was a good idea to discuss his unwarranted pen violence at that particular time and place. Him having to get up to pick up the pen was punishment enough. The next man I passed picked up a conversation that I first thought was just one of those random conversations you have here but then it turned out to be a plea for money to feed his four starving children. The pen man fresh in memory (in fact just a few meters away and approaching) combined with a nagging feeling that there wasn't much truth to this story, I put on my cold face, declined, and went home feeling like shit which you have to allow yourself to do sometimes. It doesn't help these men or any potential children, and sure - I could go around handing out shillings to every needy person I come across (that would cut my trip rather short) and it happens that I do. But generally, I tell myself that that is simply not my role. I participate in a system which contributes to some these fates, and what I can do is using my modest abilities to question and counter it. To these men, I'm just another rich white girl who probably doesn't give a crap about why I'm in my position and they're in theirs, and in any case would probably rather I just hand them some money, I get that. Which is why these experiences are so, well, shitty.

Monday has mostly been spent standing in line at the bank and at the phone shop, which I expected hence the extra day in Kampala. Other than the slowness I've managed to arrange everything I needed to, fairly smoothly, except for the wonderful moment when I dropped a million shillings (in 20,000 USh bills) all over the bank floor. Although if you're gonna do that, a bank guarded by three rifled men is the right place I guess.