How Will I Ever

Get to Heaven Now?

Rain is coming down and delaying my plans for heading Cineplex to rot my brain with whichever film is showing this afternoon. I actually have no idea what is showing, but I’m tired of sitting at home. After the disaster that was Valhalla Rising, by brain is refusing to allow me to read anything as it detoxes. I’ve watched as many DVDs on my laptop as I can handle for now. I’d bake something, one of my favorite pastimes, but I’m sans oven right now—a problem I hope to resolve in the very near future. (I’ll just get fat. It’s the one vice left when you’re dead meat.) I’ve got to get out and mingle with living, breathing people.

But it’s raining…so I’m back on my sofa, laptop in my, well…lap, feet propped on the coffee table, thinking about how much I like the Dixie Chicks.

It took me awhile to become Chicks fan. I always disliked country music. It was always on the radio at Grandma’s house. Before I knew what being car sick was, I thought the reason for my nausea during road trips was the twang of the steel guitar featured in my cousins’ musical selections as we traversed the hills of northern Alabama. I gained an appreciation for the Chicks’ music after the release of their second album, Fly (not really their second because they had independent releases before Natalie, but their second major-label release). The song Sin Wagon struck a chord with me, and it tore down the long-standing I-hate-country-music barrier I’d built to protect myself from some really bad music. (“Feed Jake. He’s been a good dog…” Are you kidding me? Yuck!)

Anyway, I just got a copy of the DVD, Shut Up and Sing, a documentary about the Dixie Chicks’ career since Natalie Maines, the groups lead singer, said, “Just so you know, we’re ashamed that the President of the United States is from Texas,” during a show in London in 2003. The reaction and backlash in America was tremendous and outrageous. Comments such as: “I believe in freedom of speech. Just don’t do it in public” ensued and the girls’ music was banned from the radio basically everywhere that played country music. How did such a simple comment from a small entertainer in a relatively small venue to a relatively small crowd in London capture so much media attention in the U.S.? Why did such a simple comment from a small entertainer in a relatively small venue to a relatively small crowd in London capture the President of the United States of America’s attention and lead him to make a lame-ass comment about it during a primetime interview with Tom Brokaw when there was (is) a war going on?

Natalie’s response to the lame-ass comment? “You’re a dumb f@$*. You are a dumb f@$*.”

You gotta love her! Unless, that is, Natalie is the reason you were late for prom because you were bumped from your hair appointment because she was a walk-in and your stylist gave her preference. Then you don’t gotta love her. Sorry, C, but can’t we just let the past go?

Why did such a simple comment from a small entertainer in a relatively small venue to a relatively small crowd in London inspire the making of a documentary film? I guess it was the reaction of the American public that inspired the documentary. In the words of Luther Campbell of 2 Live Crew, “The First Amendment gave me freedom of speech. What are you sayin’? It didn’t include me?” Someone said something, playfully, not in favor of the President, and the reaction in America was tremendous and outrageous. Death threats were even made! The reaction to the Chicks’ comment and how the Chicks’ dealt with the reaction makes an interesting story. Plus, it inspired some excellent music.

Excellent music. It was the documentary, Shut Up and Sing, that inspired me purchase my first Dixie Chicks’ album. I bought Taking the Long Way from iTunes two days ago, and I’m loving it. Lubbock or Leave It really gets me moving and makes me think of Nicole and her, “and I did,” comment and giggle a little.


Temptation's strong (Salvation's gone).
I'm on my way to hell's half acre.
How will I ever?
How will I ever get to heaven now?

Oh, well. The rain has stopped. I guess it’s off to Garden City to rot my brain.

p.s.

I watched the Grammy Awards this past February at Copa Cabana in Naalya. The Dixie Chicks’ pretty much swept the awards. Most of the people I was with watching the awards were unfamiliar with the Dixie Chicks and their music and were outraged that they beat Mary J. Blige. I tried to explain the significance of the Chicks winning, but they just didn’t get it.

Quantify?

So I had to get up early this morning and race over to one of the international schools around Kampala. One of my students was going for an admissions interview, and he needed a current school report form. The school where I work has only early years and primary departments, so after Year 6, the children must transfer schools. Our headteacher is out of the country, so the parents requested that I complete the form. It was painless enough until I got to number 7:


How can one quantify another person's academic potential? Especially an 11-year-old. Academic potential... I didn't know how to answer that question; it just didn't seem fair. I could discuss at length how this child performed in the past, what his current strenghts and challenges are and what I think he needs for future success; however, this child's talent and ability are much more complex than a number between one and ten. After consulting with a few trusted individuals, each quite talented in the realm of bullshit, we came up with a number. I still don't feel good about it, but an answer for each question was required. He needs to get into school, so I played their game. Sellout?

If you feel like you need a good smile today, just watch.


Mika - Lollipop lyrics

Thanx, B

I am a Harry Potter fan. I’ve read all the books, the first five twice. I was asked last week if I was a kid because I told a friend that I was going to see the new Harry Potter flick, Order of the Phoenix. Then I asked him if he’d ever read any of the books, and his obvious answer was, “No.” If he’d read any of the books, he’d understand why someone grown could enjoy the Potter series.

At first, I was a reluctant Potter reader. I was at university when Potter mania took over in the States. I resisted picking up one of the books until after The Goblet of Fire came out in the summer of 2000. It’s my friend, Lucy, who led me into temptation. I’d just graduated and was working for the summer at the university before packing up and heading off for Germany. Lucy and several of our friends were very excited about the arrival of the new book in the series. I didn’t get the enthusiasm, so Lucy loaned me a copy of The Sorcerer’s Stone (The Philosopher’s Stone outside of the US). I read it and wasn’t overly impressed, but I then knew what the invisibility cloak was; however, I still didn’t understand why Lucy would sometimes insist that Hillary and I pretended we were under it with her, carrying a dragon’s egg when we had to climb the stairs in the student union.

Things didn’t go as planned in Germany, and I ended up with a lot more time on my hands than expected. I spend a lot of time during August of 2000 in a bookstore in Dresden killing time, browsing the English titles they had in stock. Harry Potter 1-4 were included. I eventually purchased The Chamber of Secrets, and that was the book that ignited my imagination and transformed me into a Potter fan.

Maybe my opening statement was a bit too broad. I’m a fan of the Harry Potter books, but the films have left a different taste in my mouth. I slept through the first film…twice. The second one was not very good: to much of an action film. I hesitated going to see the third one, Prisoner of Azkaban because I’d been disappointed with the film adaptations to that point, and Prisoner is my favorite of all the books. I ended up seeing it with my mother while visiting home in the summer of 2004, and I really liked it. I really, really, really disliked the fourth one, especially the part when Harry begins the underwater task in the lake and makes the out-of-water leap. The unnecessarily long dragon chase bored me.

Order of the Phoenix. What’s the verdict? I really enjoyed it. I think it is the best one so far. I have no complaints to make about it. The franchise has once again redeemed itself in my eyes; they did an excellent job adapting the book to the screen. I really liked how the film spent more time on the story and characters than on eye-candy special effects. Don't get me wrong, Phoenix is also a visual delight. I loved the colors of the film. I didn’t understand why they had all the witches flying so low over the river in London if they were trying to be inconspicuous, but that flight gave aesthetic pleasure. Yes, Harry was very whiny in this film, but he was super-whiny in the book.

In other book news, I finally finished that Cussler piece of crap. It went from bad to worse to absolutely awful. I’ve got to be more careful when picking books. I told a friend that I was reading a horrible Clive Cussler book. He was like, “No. Cussler’s books are good.” Why does he have such a good reputation? Maybe he’s written some gems, but I would find that hard to believe, and I’m not going to research that possibility. Valhalla Rising went on and on. The way it ended was so unnecessary and ridiculous I was pissed that I wasted so much time reading it. If someone can sue for this, can I sue the author and publisher of this book for how aggravated I am about the time I lost and will never get back from reading this stinker?

Sip 'n Snip

Holly's been robbed. That is what I thought when I first saw the sign for Shad'z Hair Pub.


My best friend Holly had two passions: looking good and sipping cocktails. Before she lost her ability to dream, she used to talk about opening a salon where her clients could come in, order a martini, cosmopolitan or margarita and have all of their beauty needs met. Holly mastered the art of tending bar during her stint as starving college student. ("As God Is My Witness, I'll never be hungry again!") She then enrolled in a cosmetology program at a nearby vo-tech. Holly'z cocktail salon was almost a reality, and then the dream died.

The sign for Shad'z resurrected memories of conversations with Holly before marriage, before children, before getting stuck in the muck of the status quo... and accepting it. I was, at first, impressed with the creativity of the concept of a pub/barbar shop in Bugolobi. Upon further inspection, hope of getting a bad hair cut and not even caring because of inebriation was extinguished because Shad'z Hair Pub is a complete misnomer. There is no bar or tavern connected to it. (Wouldn't it be gross if they discovered a way to brew hair trimmings, made a beverage from it and served it at a hair pub? Almost as as gross and ill conceived as Kelly's beer float idea.)



Holly's the idea person. We at one time daydreamed of opening a laundry mat as a money laundering front for a mafia-type organization whose members only wore Armani suits and drove red Cadillac's.


Small town dream!

4 Deep


It would be a shame to let this photo go to waste, stored away in the archives of my iPhoto. It was snapped last month at Katch the Sun in Bugolobi (my home away from home). The occasion was my friend, and sometimes wannabe scandalous lover, Lynne’s birthday. She was in Uganda for a few weeks working on a film. Coincidentally, our friend and former colleague, Meera, was also in Uganda doing research for her degree. Lynne, Meera and I met as Peace Corps Volunteers in Uganda a few years back. Since leaving Uganda in mid-2005, each of us has eventually made our way back for one reason or another. I came back first, and I suspect it was my gravitational force that pulled them back. Or maybe it was Conche. Conche was our APCD (Associate Peace Corps Director, a.k.a. our direct supervisor) for the better part of our service. Among other things, she dropped off care packages of cheese, apples and chocolate to the ends of the earth and always answered her phone by asking, “Are you OK?”

Books, Boobs and Candy

The problem with reading good, well-written books is that it makes it extremely frustrating to read books that are bad and poorly written. I’m about a hundred and forty pages deep into one of the worst books I’ve read in a very long time. I wish I could be more like my friend Cristy who can put a bad book down after only 10 pages. I’m a glutton for punishment and force myself through any book I begin—no matter the cost. All because a book is deemed a classic does not mean that it is good. It took me three attempts to get through the tragedy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (my least favourite book ever). Why are kids in America always forced to read that Nathaniel Hawthorne bore: The Scarlet Letter?

The train wreck I am on this week is Valhalla Rising by Clive Cussler. The book’s cover credits him as being the “Grandmaster of Adventure.” Cussler came highly recommended by my friend, Nicole, who also recommended two amazing books, The Egypt Game and From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. These two books, while written for young readers, have become two of my favourites and have prized positions on my bookshelf. Maybe I just picked a Cussler bomb. Everyone is entitled to a bad day. Right? I’m working hard to finish this book by Friday. Anyone who wants it after that can have it free of charge. Gotta get the stink out of my house.

Granted, I’m only 140 pages into the book. There are still 400 pages remaining for the author to redeem himself. I deserve a good story after all of the good ol’ boy banter and cliché expressions I’ve had to endure so far. The worst yet:

(Referring to a mysterious briefcase)

‘You say that after all that, it was empty?’

‘As a bank vault after Butch Cassidy rode out of town.’

I’m not getting my hopes up too high. I waited 600 pages for something interesting to happen in John Grisham’s The Chamber, and it never did.

I have a sweet tooth for pop candy, and the fodder doesn’t get any sweeter than when it comes from Candy herself. I admit that I’ve been intrigued by the open letters that Candy Spelling (wife of the late Aaron and mother of Tori) has been posting on the internet at TMZ.com to Paris Hilton, Joe Francis, and Britney Spears. It is just a bit bizarre. Well, another member of the Spelling family snatched a headline today as well as my attention. The afore mentioned, Tori Spelling, 90210’s Donna and star of Trick, is now an ordained minister. You can’t make this stuff up! She received her ordination last week online and will soon get her certificate in the mail. He reason for joining the ministry was to perform weddings at her bed and breakfast, Chateau La Rue, in California. Her first wedding was held over the weekend. She officiated a gay wedding in a state where same-sex marriage isn’t legal. Civil disobedience?

In other wedding news, my friend Celeste gets to be a bridesmaid in an upcoming wedding. I know what you’re thinking: Let’s see the hideous dress! Well here is:


She gets to don this beauty (or seriously the ugliest dress you have ever seen) in silver. Yes, folks, silver. In Celeste’s own words, “Who looks good in silver?” Not me and not you. I’d give anything to see Cel in this impossible-to-wear-a-bra-with dress. Her boobs are enormous. I’m hoping for a wardrobe malfunction that will leave her boobs hanging to her knees for everyone to see.

Celeste, bless you heart.

Quote of the day:

Now maybe people would say they'd never install a tracking device in their significant other's car. But I think that's just because they don't know how.

—Veronica Mars, Wichita Linebacker

Back from

INACTIVITY

I’ve spent the past week internet free. Yes, it is possible to do it. Yes, I felt current-events withdrawal. Yes, the first thing I did when I got back online was search for recipes for Thai green curry and cilantro pesto. Then I took a hit of Pink is the New Blog. I’m still waiting for some super-good news about Britney.

Today is the beginning of the second week of holidays from school. Teachers report back on the 23rd of August, so I’m finding myself with a lot of free time on my hands, something I’m not really used to. I know I should have planned and prepared better for the time off, but I didn’t. I have no idea what I’m going to be up to for the next month and a half.

I have a friend who decided not to renew her contract with the school and is looking for a career change. It was a big decision for her to make, and I spent much of last week supporting her in her decision: convincing her that it was a good move because she’s been talking about doing it for months; helping her to improve her CV; making contacts.

Another friend quit his job last week, and many evening hours were spent in the pub with him, listening to the grievances he has with his former place of employment. He’s a very intelligent and talented person and has already found a better job, so there is no doubt that he made the right decision. He just needed to get some of the venom out of his system so he can move on to the new job refreshed.

Seeing close friends jump ship and move on to bigger and better things has a contagious quality, but I’m staying put. For the time being, I’m content with my employment. I still find it challenging and I have no major complaints with my employer. Honestly, I don’t see myself in the classroom for much longer, maybe another year or two. When I decided on shifting to education, I wanted at least five years of teaching experience before going back to school for a graduate degree, and this year completed the fifth.


Saturday, 7th July, was the Kampala-Jinja relay organized by the Kampala Hash House Harriers. Teams of nine ran the 88 kilometers from the edge of Kampala to the Source of the Nile in Jinja. The run was divided into 17 sections, and runners ran one, two or three sections. I ran three sections for my team, the No Hopers, completing 21km in all. We began the run at 7:30am and finished about 12 hours later. It got dark on the last leg of the run and began to rain. It had been a long day, and I was not looking forward to the next 5.4 km I was assigned to run. I did my best to psyche myself up for the final section of the run and was half-way successful, but I was wearing glasses and they fogged up so I couldn’t see anything; the path also became muddy and slippery. My frustration overrode the happiness produced by the endorphins. Exhaustion+slippery, pothole-laden paths+lack of vision=powder keg. Luckily, I have a long fuse and was able to keep my frustration within. I was soooooooooo happy to cross the finish line, grab a bottle of water and eat my piece of pineapple. There was a big party for us at one of the hotels in Jinja. I tried to attend and was there for a little over an hour, but I surrendered to my exhaustion and went to bed. I hear the party got a little crazy and went on until morning. I slept and felt great when I woke up the next morning.

Just another manic Monday? Not really. It’s actually been a great day. A couple of nice SMSs from friends to say hello and thank you are simple things that can make one’s day. I also got an email this morning from a friend who had been in the States for the last year and a half. He’s back in Uganda for a little while. What a pleasant surprise! We ended up meeting and spending a great afternoon together.

My Lump

Awkward moment of the week: I was leaving my residence the other day to go running wearing my gray Champion shorts. They are made of light-weight, synthetic material that is loose and lays against my body, extremely comfortable, great for running. So I was walking down the steps of my flat into the parking lot, the wind was blowing a little, and a man walking by looked up in my face and ask, "Do you always walk with your 'batoon'?" I wasn't quite sure what he said, so I asked, "What?"

"Your 'batoon', do you always walk around with your 'batoon'?"

I got it that time; I've seen the Red Pepper enough times to understand his word choice. I was caught off-guard and taken aback by his question, and it was not one of those days where witty counter-comments, such as, "Of course, I never know when I'll need it," came easily, so I did something quite lame like make a sarcastic laughing sound and kept on walking.


Thanks for noticin' me.

4 Cel

The priceless moment of the day came in the form of a song being played by the DJ at the former location of Bamboo Nest in Bugolobi where a new joint has opened, commonly called: Old Bamboo. (No one knows the real name of the place, and the new name is quite irrelevant as far as the local patrons are concerned.)

Dawn is slowly breaking.
Our friends have all gone home.
You and I are waiting
For Santa Claus to come.

Yes, it’s June. Yes, I was in a bar. Yes, they were blasting Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton’s contribution to the Country Christmas Songs album. That, alone, is not what brought a smile to my face or caused me to laugh out loud. It was the fond memory of preparations for a very Samoan Christmas in 2005 as two Palagi women rehearsed their dance routine that would never be seen in public in their small apartment. The intricate hand motions of Samoan dance. The perfect rhythm. And of course: the lip syncing. What a shame someone got sick before church that faithful day. Maybe it was the kind way of saying: You suck! And there is no way I’m gonna let you embarrass me in from of the whole congregation.


(I love the part of the Christmas story when Santa arrives in his sleigh.)

There’s a present by the tree,
Stockings on the wall.
And knowing you’re in love with me
Is the greatest gift of all.


Ready?
OK!

How funky is your chicken?

Sunday,


but too much to do to be lazy.

My weekend so far has been full of diverse activities. I’m lovin’ it. I got an early start yesterday—beginning with a yummy, homemade pancake breakfast; and including everything thing from money transfers, photo developing, an embassy rummage sale, washing my whites—and I didn’t make it to (my own) bed (alone) until 4:30am! It was a fun night. The Uganda Cranes finally didn’t disappoint their fans and defeated the Nigerian football team, and last night was a night of celebration around Kampala. I was on Kampala Road when the supporters made their way back into town from Namboole on the back of boda-bodas tooting on their yellow plastic horns. The screech of whistles was on-going; traffic police didn’t stand a chance in the excitement. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve inherited many of my fathers preferences and dislikes. As infectious as the enthusiasm of the revellers was, the crowd and commotion made me nervous. I was the proverbial long-tailed cat, and the party downtown was my room full of rocking chairs. I quickly made it to the restaurant where some of my friends were meeting for dinner.

I had planned an early night, and was making my way home at 12, but I was intercepted on Bandali Rise by two friends I had not seen in several weeks. Of course that means I climbed into the backseat of the car and was off to Kololo and several hours more of a good time. Despite all the noise and the crowds, I really enjoyed the next four hours. Surprisingly, some good conversations were had with a few drinks and some dancing.

Sunday morning: I got up when planned. 11:30. Feeling great. I really like a good breakfast, so I try to cook at least one big one on the weekends. It’s always better when there is someone to share it with. I plan to make a good pot of soup later today. Fingers are crossed for uninterrupted electricity.

I’ve taken advantage of the early afternoon to get into a new book: A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian. When I first saw it on the shelf at Aristoc, the name drew me to it. I opened the book and read the first paragraph: Two years after my mother died, my father fell in love with a glamorous blonde Ukranian divorcee. He was eighty-four and she was thirty-six. She exploded into our lives like a fluffy pink grenade… I was hooked. Who could say ‘no’ to a book that starts off like that? I just didn’t have the 24,500 shillings to buy the book that day, so I convinced a friend that it was a must-read. She bought it, and it’s been passed on to me.

I really have so much to do that I do not want to do. I’ve go reports to write for school. I have five more to do. They are due on Friday, but I want to break my habit of procrastination, so I want to get as many finished today as I can. You can tell how much I want to get them done. I’m making this post, using my brain juices, when I could be describing how well so and so’s understands and is able to apply the conept of fair test. I’ll never finish something I don’t begin.

I hand-washed two big towels today. I'm gonna be sporting two massive forearms if I keep this up. That should be the maximum amount of work anyone is allowed to do on a Sunday.

Note: I've had issues with accessing the internet. This post is a week old. Enjoy.


Oh, Joy!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year: the end of the school year. There are both sincerity and sarcasm expressed in that statement. While it is great, and kind of a relief, that the school year is winding down (four weeks to go!), it is a crazy, crazy time. I used to compare my status to treading water—just keeping my head above the surface. Now I feel like I’m a couple of feet under, and occasionally I get to break the surface to gasp for air, but then I’m back under again for another bout: plans, supply orders, reports. Crunch time with no six-pack results.

Last week, we had a brief two-day break. I was asked to house-sit while a colleague went on holiday with her family to the Kenyan coast (lucky her). They just moved from Nakasero to Mbuya and totally traded up as far as houses are concerned. Their new house is up on the hill and has one of the most amazing views of Lake Victoria, plus there are also two swimming pools on the compound. I thought I’d spend four days there lounging around the pool catching up on some reading.


No luck

It often rains of my parade. Above is a photo of the best my view of the lake ever got during my stint as house-sitter, and it was too cold to be comfortable around the pool. There was also DSTV and internet at their house (both of which I don’t have at mine) but Mbuya has some of the worst load shedding in the area (much worse than neighbouring Bugolobi), and I felt bed having the generator switched on just for me and my recreation, so my viewing of the true Hollywood story behind Sex and the City and the amazing accomplishments and struggles of Mary-Kate and Ashley was sporadic and often interrupted before finished.

The silver lining of the cloudy weekend came in the form of a stacked washer and dryer. I’ve gotten used to washing my clothes by hand. I spent two years in Brazil too poor to employ help and then three years as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I find washing clothes a bit therapeutic—washing away the grime of the week, plus instant results. However, laundry can pile up to a monstrosity of a task, and jeans and towels are hell on the hands.

I’m in a better financial place than before, and I could employ someone to wash for me (which I am considering); however, I’ve seen too many disasters with knits. The average person hired to help out in a home can wash clothes made of woven fabric just fine, but knits are pulled, rung and stretched from here to Timbuktu. I like my t-shirts to fit. It is amazing what a little extra soap and soaking time can do: really save your knits.

My friend finally left for Vietnam last Sunday. Keeping up with my habit of correspondence, I’ve not sent her an e-mail yet. We had yet another farewell party for her on Saturday night. The food was good but there were some issues with the music and the not-so-friendly or considerate owners/management of the venue. Otherwise, I was happy.


I’m happy and I can thank myself...

Candy Everybody Wants
MySpace can be quite entertaining for a while, but the pages are all so similar that after a brief browse, one can get bored. Yes, I have a MySpace profile. I'm not going to link to it because it is old and not updated. You can track it down if you like. The joy of MySpace, however, is finding old friends and getting a kick out of the utter tackiness of their pages (remember, I said I have a page of my own).

Anytime I feeling down, or bored, I just do a search for my old high school and I know that I can count on a couple of people I once knew (and no longer have any contact with) to slap a huge grin on my face. The following are some pictures of my absolute favorite page to visit. It is a true red-neck masterpiece and makes me want to go home just to hang out and get reacquainted with a way of life I once knew. It was the only way of life I knew.


Froggin', for those who don't know, is going out the river or swamp and catching frog. That simple. Usually one uses a gig, or harpoon like device.


Just lookin' for a night in heaven, I guess. Any way she can find it.

This particular MySpace page was "pimped" more divinely than most:


And nothing shows the love of god in your heart more than the prominent display of the sparkling Confederate Naval Jack on your page.


If heaven ain't a lot like Dixie, I don't wanna go...

Oh, on a totally related topic because it involves THE WORD, Paris Hilton, appears to have found the way.

Two things I never imagined I'd see:

1. Paris holding a Bible.














2. Paris reading the Bible.

Mom,

Perhaps there's hope for me yet.

Sunscreen
Suncream for the non-North Americans out there.


Doesn't sound like a very interesting topic to blog about, I know, but it is an oh-so important one.

I was at a party last Saturday night and found myself sitting around the bonfire talking to a woman who is in Uganda from England doing some volunteer work with an NGO out in Jinja. She seemed like a great person, and she danced like a space man (woman) on the dance floor. (You make the call.) Because I'm genuinely concerned about my fellow man (or woman in this case), and I have deep appreciation for good skin (worked for it my whole life), I recommended that, unless she really wanted to turn into a piece of leather and end up like too, too many people who work on the Nile in that hot, intense Jinja sun, she could not forget to apply sunscreen or moisturize daily. Do you know how she responded to my most valuable advice? "There are more serious problems to worry about than keeping good skin." WHOA! What kind of problems is she working to solve that she cannot take 10 seconds in the morning to smear a 500 shilling coin-sized drop of cream across her face and on her neck? Come on! Even if she were to be burdened with the responsibilty of providing all the food for the whole district of Jinja, I don't think it would come to: put sunscreen on=people are going to starve. I think she's working with some Malaria prevention program. Important, yes. But you don't have to choose between distributing mosquito nets and protecting your skin. Do you think Angelina ever misses out on sunscreen or moisturizing? In the end, the melanoma you might eventually get can kill you just as dead as the falciparum. Plus, applying lotion, especially when assisted by that someone special, just feels good.


MOISTURIZE!

Defying Gravity

I really want to post something today, but my brain is just tired. Maybe if I just start trying, something worthwhile or entertaining will come out. It's the end of the year school year and everything is coming due. I've used my brain so much more in the past three weeks than I have in the past 10 months. I need to figure out how to spread things out better so things do not become so intense. Oh god! And relationships--friendships and all. It can get so complicated. Just thinking about it all makes me want to crawl into bed for a nap. I'm exhausted.

I've been having an afternoon stress-reliever with a couple of dear friends, and I feel much better. It's great the way erratic conversation combined with a shared tuna fish sandwich and drinks can lift one's feelings. God bless Zambia!

My friend just came back to work today. His sister passed away over the weekend. I haven't had too much of an opportunity to talk to him to find out the details. I've called him a couple of times, but he was busy with funeral arrangements, so our conversations were brief. I was suprised to see him come into the restaurant this afternoon, but it did brighten my afternoon. So let me rephrase my previous comment: It's great the way erratic conversation combined with a shared tuna fish sandwich, drinks and the return of a good friend can lift one's feelings. God bless Zambia and the resilience of the human spirit!

One small thing that brings sunshine to my life is Idina Menzel's new single, Defying Gravity. I just bought it from iTunes, and I have it on my Shuffle and it gives me a little extra oomph when I'm out for a run.


It's not so up-tempo, but the message is so inspiring, I just tackle those hills. Defying Gravity is a song from the Broadway musical Wicked in which Idina orginated the role of Elpahba, The Wicked Witch of the West. (For those not familiar with the greatness of Idina, she was also the orginal Maureen in Rent. Plus, she's married (or was; I'm not so up-to-date on my gossip) to Taye Diggs (who was the orginal Benny in Rent). I love the broadway version; it really gets me inspired and dancing around house. Just pop by any "cleaning day" and you'll see. I'm actually browsing iTunes as I type to pick out one of the remixes. I <3 Idina!

Maybe I'll go out tonight. Maybe I won't. I feel like I need to. It's been a while, and I feel the need to see some old friends. I'm just so, almost, broke after paying school fees. I know I mentioned it in my previous post, and I don't want to become a whiner, but it's the reality inwhich I'm living. I have about 80,000 shillings (about $47) to get me through the next eight days (inluding two days of school holiday and a weekend!), and I am really not in the mood to live life as a pauper. How life changes! When I lived in the village during the Peace Corps days, I could live off of 5,000 shillings a week. If I had 80,000 for a month, I knew I would be OK.

Is telling someone with whom you've had a little romantic involvement that you are married after you've known each other for a while, and the second party had no clue of any other involvement, a way of brushing him off or are you just coming clean and being honest or is it a not so (but possibly) funny joke? Just asking.

The New Balm of Gilead

It is amazing how well free wireless internet can heal the wounds inflicted by change and bad paint jobs. I am sitting at a table in the restaurant of the establishment I blogged about in my previous post fully connected to free internet. As if I didn’t already have an unhealthy obsession with this place. They’re never gonna get me out of here now. Oh, the damage this is going to do to my wallet. I’ve already had a cappuccino, and now I’m feeling a bit hungry and am tempted by the yummy goats meat they have roasting. I’m trying to be very cheap this week because, basically, I’m broke. I had to pay school fees for two children this month, and that took a significant chunk my funds. What one will do for love!

The goodbye party for the goddess in my life was yesterday. She’s off for Vietnam in a week. I’ve only known her for a brief period, but we really connected. I love being with her. Most of the time we spend together is sweating and panting (gonna have to find a new running partner), and it is always fun: laughing about past loves and future hopes and criteria, plotting homes for me to wreck (Only in our imaginations. I'm no home-wrecker. Purely fantasy but not so pure.), sneaking into the gym (See. Not so pure. Makes me feel a bit Jack McFarlandish.) One week to go. What can we get ourselves into this week?

Change.

A friend just told me that she didn’t think that change would bother me very much because my life is full of it. I’ve changed continents many time, changed languages, changed jobs and types of work. Change. Change. Change.

That is all true, but those changes were ok by me because those changes were caused by my decisions. I chose those changes. I was in control and made the choices. Changes that I have no control over, things that happen to me when I have no say in the matter, kind of bother me: big time.

Big change: My second home in Bugolobi, the coffee shop/restaurant/bar/internet café that I’ve blogged about so fondly in the past, has changed owners. Boo! I don’t know the new owner (and I've heard that she really nice and that I'll like her once I've had a chance to get to know her), so it’s probably not fair booing her, but I ADORE the founder and previous owner of the place. She’s leaving the continent for Asia, so someone had to take over. My problem with the change is that the new owner is making so many radical changes to my space, and I have no say in the matter. I walked in today and go sick in the stomach. Colors are changing, and they are the wrong shades to look good together. Boo! Tacky candle fixtures are up everywhere. Boo! I just found out that the library has been dismantled. Boo! The menu covers are now flimsy cloth. Boo! The place mats changed from natural materials like raffia and bamboo to…plastic. Boo! Boo! Boo! I just threw up a bit in the back of my mouth typing this.


Honey, what's that? That. What's goin' on there?



Why?

Why?

Why?

If it ain’t broke, don’t try to fix it.

I also heard that they are going to begin to broadcast football (soccer to those in the US). GASP! That would be the ultimate betrayal to those of us who go there to escape football. I go there to get into a good book or chat with friends. What’s that going to be like with people cheering a game?

I don’t want to give up so easily, so I’m trying to stick it out and see if I can adjust and get used to the changes. I know I have a tendency to freak out about changes that I have no control over. Hopefully, it's only that I'm not fond of the in-between phase, and I'll love the finished product. Hopefully...maybe.

Why'd u have to change on me?
I loved u just the way u were.
I wish that things could b the way they used 2 b.
When loved u, and u loved me.

Again?

But who's it hurting now?
Who's the one that's stuck?
Who's it torturing now
With an antique knot in his stomach?

I want to be big and let go
Of this grudge that's grown old.
All this time I've not known
How to rest this bygone.
I wanna be soft and resolved,
Clean of slate and released.

I wanna forgive for the both of us.

Flinch
I finally went out again this weekend. After sequestering myself in Bugolobi for the past four weeks, I decided it was time to make contact with the greater-Kampala, and I ventured out to meet my friend, Jen, at Cheese Bar. She was there with some friends who happened to be people I also knew (but not well) and we had a merry ol’ time. I also ran into Wasswa, a great friend of mine. Weekends used to be ours; we were always together. However, the month of April was a trying time for the both of us, so we both laid low in our respective homes. It had been four weeks since I’d last seen him. It is amazing how just seeing someone can evoke strong emotions. I was so happy to see my dear friend; an instant smile was carved on my face, and it felt so good to get and give a hug.

I repeat: it is amazing how just seeing someone can evoke strong emotions. After a couple of wonderful hours reconnecting with old friends and getting better acquainted with new ones, I get word from a friend that an old friend had just entered the bar. I never saw the old friend (nor did I need or want to), but strong feelings of pain and anger began to bubble inside. Without much explanation, I (with a huge smile plastered on my face) said good-bye to everyone at my table and took the next taxi home.


Why?


So here I am one room away from where I know youre standing.
A well-intentioned man told me you just walked in.
This man knows not of how this information has affected me,
But he knows the colour of the car I just drove away in

What are you my kin? You touch me like you are my kin.
What are you my air? you affect me like you are my air.



Saturday morning, I woke up with the memory of the previous night. I was so frustrated with myself for allowing someone to have such an influence over me. How could only the knowledge of this person being in the vicinity of me cause me to abandon my friends, and a good night, and go home? I got out of bed, got dressed, grabbed my iPod and set off on a run. I had no idea where I was going. I just needed work off my frustration. I ended up putting in a good 15k-er around Kololo then stopped by the supermarket for some fresh doughnuts. I felt like I deserved them.

My former Peace Corps colleague and friend, Lynne, just got into town. She’s here for three weeks filming an instructional video for health care workers in Africa about counseling children who are HIV positive. It’s so great having her around. We met for dinner last night at Pavement Tandoori in Kisementi. The place smelled so good when we walked in. We were joined by a few other people, many we were meeting for the first time: friends of friends. It turned into a fantastic evening of great food and even better conversation. I’m looking forward to two more weeks of good times with Lynne.

Today was the 2007 European Union-Uganda Village, a celebration of cooperation and diversity, at the Kyadondo Rugby Club in Lugogo. I was a bit reluctant to make an appearance, but I’m so glad the pro-attendance voice in my head won out. It was a really nice event. Different tribes in Uganda as well as several European Union countries had tents showcasing their culture set up around an enormous central tent housing performances. There were performances of several traditional dances from various regions of Uganda and traditional music from across Europe. Different Ugandan artists also had booths set up. I bought a couple of works by Peter Otim, a renowned Ugandan Artist. I’ve been to his gallery once, and I liked his work. I met him today and decided to pick up a couple of his tiles. He was displaying a few of his etching, which I loved. I wish I could’ve picked up a couple of those, but I didn’t come with a wallet prepared for that expense. There was tons of food from Europe and Uganda. Unfortunately, I’d just eaten a big plate of fajitas from Café PAP; I couldn’t eat another bite.

My school also had a tent. (Yay!) I have to admit that it was the busiest one there. (Yay!) Most of the other tents were not geared towards young children, and ours was: drumming, races, face painting and coloring. I didn’t have to look hard to find it. I heard that terrific drumming almost immediately after walking through the event entrance. I really love my schools involvement in community events such as this. There is a core group of teachers that loves getting involved, and they are very talented at organizing activities that children love.


Give me a beat!

Here's an excerpt from the email I received from my mother today:

We are going tomorrow to buy me a new computer. This is his old one, we bought him a new one last month. It is a Gateway with the new Vista program. It has taken him almost a month to get it set up. So much won't transfer directly to Vista.

Him is her husband, Julian. He's a high-tech kind of guy, a real computer geek. If it took him that long to get his computer set up, Vista must really be f-ed up. She was not specific about the issues Julian had, but I know that Vista has been no joyride for many who've been unfortunate to get it. Can you imagine taking a whole month to set up you personal computer?

When she goes for her new computer tomorrow, I hope it's a Mac.

Thank Babbs:

Goddess of Gorgeous

How can you make my day, my week, quiet possibly my month? You give me a big, beautiful mirror. That’s exactly what my friend did for me today.


Only a day after learning that I’ve not had a mirror in my home since the middle of February, she called me this afternoon and told me to come pick up the large looking glass. Imagine, I’ve been dressing, getting ready for nights out and all without the aid of a mirror. I’ve been relying on instinct to know if everything was in place and looked good. I’m sure I’ve goofed up a few times, but overall, I think I’ve don’t pretty well. I always got nervous after shaving, worrying I’d cut myself somewhere and didn’t know it. How embarrassing to leave home with dried blood on one’s chin! I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Isn’t the frame lovely?

Power went off about 15 minutes ago. Boo! I’m trying to finish up that Dr. Tatiana’s Sex Advice book. I’ll probably end up at Katch the Sun, my favorite local coffee shop/bar/restaurant/art gallery/internet café, in a little while because they’ll have light. I hesitate to go down there because that equates to spending money. I can already hear the cake calling my name. They just changed management at Katch the Sun. I haven’t met the woman who runs the place now. I loved the woman who ran it before, and I’m really going to miss going down there and hanging out with her in the evenings.

I took the day off from running because I hurt my ankle a little yesterday, and I wanted to give it a rest. It feels much better, so I’m going to make an effort to drag my ass out of bed in the morning at 6:00. I’ve not had a mirror around since I began running so much again. You can bet that I’m going to look at myself in the buff after I run in the morning and admire any improvements.


Mirror Mirror hanging on the wall
You don't have to tell me who's the biggest fool of all.

Burrn

My original idea for today’s blog topic was taxi part underwear. It is one of my latest obsessions, but that posting will have to wait because on my way to the taxi park to do a little research, I got a little sidetracked. I saw a ripped advertisement for Blu 3’s new CD on a post by the road and was reminded that I needed to pick up a copy, so I jumped of the taxi I was on before reaching the park in order to pop into Music Land and grab a copy. I never made it to the taxi park after that because I was close to Ban Café; it’s aromatic tractor beam pulled me in. Have you ever tried their chocolate chip-cashew nut cookies? Well, you should. A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!

Blu 3 is probably my favorite Ugandan group made up of three beautiful women: Lillian, Jackie and Cindy. Amazingly, they were put together in one of the Pop Stars contests about three years ago, and they’ve survived. I bought their first album, Hitaji, a couple of years ago, and it’s still on regular rotation on my iTunes. Every song on that album was a great pop confection, personal favorites include: Frisky, Hitaji, Tomalaako, Don’t Say, Fly Away and U Don’t Know. Basically, most of the album. I was hoping for nothing less from their sophomore album: Burrn.


The ads for Burrn describe it as “3 beautiful voices, 17 amazing songs, 1 sizzling album”. I agree. The dance songs (I <3 Katika) got me up and shaking it in my living room, and the ballads, including the mega hit in Uganda, Nsanyuka Nawe, are beautiful. The sound of this album is quite different from Hitaji, which a difficult accomplishment for any artist and highly unusual for Ugandan artists that often have a tendency to regurgitate past sounds for a guaranteed crowd pleaser (I’m not mentioning any names because maybe Chameleone might be suffering from chronic writer’s block.) Stemming from their first album and the track Hitaji, the girls have become masters of fusing English and Swahili. The Blu 3 girls took a more active role in writing songs for this album. A stand out on this album is Cindy’s creation, It’s My Life. It is in a similar vein as songs from Christina Aguilera’s Back to Basics, very old-old school, which is quiet a unique sound for a popular Ugandan artist. I love the piano. Actually, the track is very reminiscent of the remix to Baby One More Time that Britney performed at the 1999 European Video Music Awards. Plus, she sings about air time! Lovin’ it! My only complaint with the album is a general complaint that I have with most Luganda songs: the artificial, high-pitched, generic synthesized instruments. But hey, it’s what a large audience wants and enjoys. It sells. Maybe it’s just me. Steve Jean is one of Uganda’s best producers, and he’s crafted another fantastic album.

Ok, so I’ve gone on and on about artists and an album that many people reading this blog will probably never have the pleasure of listening to. Too bad for you. Just one more thought. The cover art reminds me of that of an album by a fantastic, defunct female trio in the States: Fire by Wild Orchid. Too bad, the album was never released, and Stacie Ferguson left the group, got addicted to Crystal Meth and later became Fergie of the Black Eyed Peas.




Taxi park underpants


Coming Soon!

17

Public holiday: no school. I got up at 6:00 to run 15K with Barbara, she's leaving for Vietnam at the end of the month, and I want to learn her running paths before goes. A little over 10K into it, we both got the runner's shits and had to find somewhere fast. Problem: It's was too early for most places to be open. Luckily, we were near a gas station with a public toilet. Problem 2: No toilet paper. You can tell who is a veteran runner because she carries spare TP in her pocket. I learn from the best.


Relationships have been occupying much of my thoughts lately. Sometimes I wish I were the kind of person who is fine alone and doesn’t mind how others are affected my actions. I try to pretend that I’m complete and social interactions are just bonuses. But that is complete rubbish. People are so important to me. I’m not the most social person, but being around people that I enjoy is a top priority to me. I changed career paths a few years ago, not because I did not enjoy the type of work I was doing, but because I didn’t enjoy the kind of people who were typically drawn to that type of work. However, people are so complicated that sometimes I wish I could be happy living a life of solitude. (I almost said, “I wish I could just move to some remote island and be a hermit.” Those who know me, know that I tried the island-thing once, and it didn’t work out for me; I was miserable.)

Lately I’ve felt as if I’ve traveled though a time warp and gone back about 14 years, back to high school: a miserable slice of my life. Teenagers can be so fickle; they’re trying to figure things out. Friendships are come and go. Anyway, there’s a person that I’ve been friends with since around November, a person I think is great and enjoy being around. We have never been BFFs, but we’d hang out occasionally, talk and have a great time. We always enjoyed seeing each other and always made it a point to have a conversation if we met while out. Then, out of nowhere, he began to avoid me. When we’d show up at the same party or other function, all I’d get would be a cold, “Hello,” and he’d move on. I just didn’t get it (still don’t). It was all very confusing. It totally felt like high school again, but we’re both 30-something.

This went on for well over a month. Well, a little over a week ago, we found ourselves at the same place at the same time again, and he came over to me and began chatting like we used to previously. I was a little taken aback, but happy that the icy treatment appeared to be ending. Kinda out of nowhere he says to me, “Kampala is not very big, and people like to talk a lot. You cannot let the things they say bother you or you will never leave you home again.” What! Where did that come from? And what did he mean by it? Is there some gossip going around about me that I’m not aware of? Is that why he wouldn’t talk to me for a month? It must be good then. I’d love to hear it. That’s my new mission: track down the rumor. Man, I hope it’s a good one. Maybe I get to be the school whore! I hope that’s my reputation. I’ve been the goodie-goodie my entire life. I found my brother’s myspace page a few weeks ago, and he blogged about me there and made a similar reference to me. I think he called me “perfect son” or something heinous like that. Being a whore would do wonders for my social life. Are we all a little stuck at 17?

After the strange conversation with my friend, I went home and put 17 Again by Eurythmics on repeat on my iTunes. That was totally how I was feeling.


I miss the friendship spoon.

Bugaboo


Destiny’s Child summed up my current feelings quite well when they sang, “When I first met you, you were cool, but it was game; you had me fooled.”

I’m fairly new to Kampala, here since July 2006. The dearest friends I made while in Uganda before have either left the country or are in Hoima District, which is about 3 hours away. I’m a pretty friendly person (this point might be arguable), and I enjoy the company of other people. I don’t want to pass up an opportunity to make a new friend. If we hit it off, then we’ll hang out. I can meet you today, and if you invite me to go out on the weekend, I’ll be there. No problem. However, I’m learning that there are some people out there that I’d be better off no knowing. After one fun night at Steak Out or Mateo’s, don’t start sending me text messages telling me we are now best friends. You don’t know me! I don’t know you! Aren’t we past the age of BFFs? We went out; we had fun. We could’ve continued with more fun nights out, but a person’s creepy, possessive actions can take me to the point where I don’t want to see that person again. Since I’ve begun stating the don’t dos for a successful friendship with me, let me make a list:

1) Don’t start sending me text messages after that first evening out telling me we are now best friends.
2) Don’t show up at my door at 7:00am just to say hello when you don’t live in my neighborhood.
3) Don’t continually send me text messages with pointless questions to be answered.
4) Don’t call me at random hours of the night asking to come over.
5) Don’t call me or text me with emergencies that turn out to be false to get me to call you or for you to come over to my place.
6) Don’t come to my house with gifts to prove how great a friend you are.
7) Don’t lie to me about situations in your life to gain my sympathy.
8) Don’t be rude to my other friends when you run into us while out.
9) Don’t show up at my door only seconds after I get home in the evening.
10) Don’t begin conversations with me by asking about people you’ve seen leaving my flat.

Destiny’s Child also sang, “No. No. No.”

This kind of behavior kind of freaks me out and makes me question a person's motives. Some of these actions are on the verge of stalking. I’m not at the point of feeling unsafe. I just feel quite annoyed, bugged, if you will.

You need to chill out with that mess
‘Cause you can’t keep havin’ me stressed.
‘Cause every time my phone rings
It seems to be you
And I’m prayin’ that it is someone else.

You a bugaboo, a bugaboo.

You buggin’ what? You buggin who? You buggin me. And don’t you see it ain’t cool?

Groove is in the

HEART

This is proving to be a very quiet weekend for me. I did the Kololo Run Friday afternoon with some people from school, 10K up and down Kololo Hill. I came home and passed out on the sofa around 8:30. I woke up around 10:30, took a shower and tried to watch an episode of Will & Grace on my laptop, but ended up dozing on the sofa again. I gave up and went to bed.

I was up before 7:00 Saturday morning. It was once again time for my monthly Saturday Bank Hop: going to three different banks downtown before they close at mid-day to take care of my monthly bills. It begins at Stanbic Bank, then I hop over to Standard Chartered Bank, and I finish off by the Parliament building at dfcu Bank(or as Kristen used to call it: da f*ck you bank).

I did begin a great book yesterday: Dr. Tatiana’s Sex Advice to All Creation: The Definitive Guide to the Evolutionary Biology of Sex. Don’t let the name put you off. It is quite an interesting read. The author, Olivia Judson, has taken a very complicated subject and written an excellent non-biologist-friendly book. Dr. Tatiana is a Dr. Ruth-type figure who responds to letters written to her by different creatures of the Earth, such as lions, fruit flies and fish. I’ve found myself laughing out loud at least four times since I began reading, and I’ve not even reached page 100.

I started to read the book at Katch the Sun around 5:30pm, and I did not leave the place until 11:50. (Yes, I was home by midnight. Another early night for me. However, I did stay up for a while after reaching home. I even did a load of clothes.) I wasn’t reading the entire time. After an hour or so, I was joined by my friend, Amelo. We ended up ordering dinner there. I had the roasted goat, muchomo, followed by the chocolate cake (so, so good!)

Sunday? More clothes to wash. Plus, there are floors to mop. I scrubbed to tub yesterday. I wanted to run, but my running partners stood me up... again. Maybe I’ll go for a jog tonight. There is a film festival in the city sponsored by the European Union. They are showing Life if Beautiful at 4:30 this afternoon. I think I’ll go there.

This has been a musical weekend for me. I’ve only had soundtracks playing on my iTunes: Fame, Wicked, Reefer Madness, Aida, Sideshow, and Ragtime. That movie meme I posted Friday really influenced my weekend. Drew Barrymore and musicals (some Broadway, not movie), a pretty good combination. Drew’s even done a few musicals: Babes in Toyland (with Keanu Reeves and a dubbed singing voice), Everyone Says I Love You (Can you believe I’ve never seen it?), Olive, the Other Reindeer (animated, made-for-television), and most recently, Music and Lyrics. I’ll decline to comment on her vocal ability.

My Weekends are not always this exciting. Sometimes I can even find myself in compromising situations.


Groovy!

Who knew an iPod and mini-speakers could be so much fun! !
X-TINA, you so dirrty,girrl!