Kampala morning

OK, moving backwards (so what else is new)...from 16 July...

It’s early and still dark, the hour of cool air and quiet streets. Another Kampala morning! This will be my last one for now because the wedding is over, my loved ones have departed, and today I move to Rakai. But for one last morning I’ll make myself a cup of the Africafé that Marie brought around the day we arrived and sit on the balcony overlooking the hilly outlines of the city.

I love these Kampala mornings. Jet lag woke me at 4 am on the first few days, but the seductiveness of the pre-dawn hour is what keeps waking me up. The room that Christian led us to when we arrived a couple weeks ago is five flights up, so we’re at treetop height (and getting good exercise going up and down the stairs). The little balcony offers a nice slice of the city – hotels and corporate buildings rising up behind the trees, hillsides lit with houses, the sky lit with stars (and on the very first morning a full moon), and immediately below me a grassy courtyard and a swimming pool.

Every morning I sit here to begin the day. In the darkness, a smoggy haze hangs over the city. I listen to silence until the roosters begin to crow. At 5:30 or so, an undulating voice sounds from a loudspeaker somewhere in the distance. The Muslim call to prayer is not familiar to me but I’ve come to count on it these mornings. Often the church bell rings out simultaneously. When the barest light is entering the sky, the sounds change into birdsong. The marabou storks wake up and fly from treetop to rooftop, making their strange squawking call. On some of these mornings, the nighttime revelers return at this hour, diving into the pool as if to wake up before going to sleep. At sunrise the air changes almost imperceptibly from cool to warm. Pedestrians and bicycles will soon fill the street and the day will be underway with crazy urgency.

So begins this Monday. Carol’s internet café is terribly quiet. Before this week’s departures there must have been fifty of us here in this apartment building, and it seems I was the only one who traveled with a laptop. A daily stream of visitors dropped by to check their email and send word to loved ones back home. But now…no Hanna, no Heather, no Don, no Lisa, no Paul, no Ann… Nobody left here but me. I guess it’s time to begin the blog I’ve promised to friends and family. If you’re out there, I’m sending word and a big hug!

I’m well and happy to be here. After two weeks in Uganda, I’m sleeping soundly and drinking lots of mango juice and keeping light on my feet as I walk around Kampala (and always alert, lest I be hit by a taxi or boda boda). I’ve met hordes of Ugandan aunties and uncles, and I’ve bumped along numerous roads with new friends from here and afar. Best of all, I’ve discovered what Marie described after her first time here a couple years ago. Uganda is a warm and welcoming country, and Christian’s family and friends have room in their hearts for all of us. So, my longtime beloved ones may have returned to the states, but many new loved ones are here all around me.