1st Attempt to Post from an Internet Cafe...

My favorite recent purchase is a small Made in Japan stainless steel knife with a scalloped serrated blade and a red plastic handle, 500/= (~$0.30). It’s a slightly gawky addition to my everyday bag, but satisfyingly efficient at spreading peanut butter, trimming threads, e.t.c. e.t.c. (you have to pronounce the letters here). My favorite niche in my homestay is the largely overlooked front porch. It usually allots me 15 minutes of quiet before the little girls find me, and today I had ample time to dice an improvised salad with my knife and eat undisturbed. In contrast to the feeling of pure sunlight yesterday, the air this morning encouraged me to carry a raincoat. Gray clouds are just now meandering in announced by thunder though from my perch (which is in fact the discarded backseat of a minivan, seatbelts dangling behind) I’ve yet to see raindrops.

At mass today I was again the only white person in attendance. Every time walking around Kampala begins to feel normal, passersby calling “mzungu!” remind me that anonymity requires not only an internal feeling of ease but an external camouflage that I don’t have. But Catholic is catholic: I knew when to strain my ears to hear the homily within the priest’s accent and followed familiar prayers recited with unusual inflections. The subtleties marked the service as distinct: clapping during singing, the overhead projector standing in for song books, the seemingly optional and definitely unorchestrated communion. The most telling thing was the timing of songs at communion. After the congregation returned to their places and the remaining hosts did likewise, the choir completed a further song and a half. Fitting mass to the music, rather than timing songs to an anticipated communion length is indicative of the way time is perceived here.

There’s a fluidity in Ugandan life. To be on time to an 8 o’clock liason requires one to be there before the hour turns to 9. Lectures often run over time (only once by 90 minutes), full taxis pause to get gas or squeeze one more person into the second row, and people are patient. It’s a different approach to everyday. Less rush. Less worry. To learn that in Luganda the day starts at 7am (so 7am is the 1st hour, noon is the 6th hour, 2pm is actually 8, e.t.c) was a small surprise. No wonder time is so flexible here!

Uganda is also characterized by a presence of religion. With freedom to worship comes an expectation that everyone does practice. My Luganda class threw my teacher into a tizzy of bewilderment when we asked how to answer the question “when do you pray?” with the negative “I do not pray.” I have made numerous introductions to friends of my homestay family whose first inquiry is “are you born again?” Just as the host families vary in economic status, they differ in religious practices and have allowed our SIT group to discuss a wide range of religious practices and services. Religion isn’t handled here the way it is at home and people are more openly interested in knowing how we practice faith; it’s something we’ve all had to adapt to.