Escaping by the skin of my teeth.

With all the excitement that has been in Kampala the past two months- first CHOGM now it's a few days to Christmas, you'd think that everyone would be in euphoria- ville. Some people are so immune to this stuff, that at whatever opportunity, you've got to earn the dime.
When I came in today morning, I was reliably informed that I was to be traveling on the 29th. That has taken the award for the shock of the month! I really had to wriggle myself out of this one and I successfully did! But I had alot of explaining to do!
A while ago, in a phone conversation with Himself, he asked me what I was doing on the 29th. Silly me, I fell into that pit- that bottomless pit! I thought about it, then said, "Nothing"
Then I remembered! 29th is Himself's birthday! The shoe was on the other foot, it was me who forgot this time! Now I know how horrible feels like! I think, I'll try not to harrass This Musoga, if the opportunity of forgetting my birthday arises.
If I'd travelled, and forgotten before, I surely was going to take the prize!

Otherwise,

Going traditional- NOW!

I have come to the realization, or maybe been boxed into a corner that, NOW, more than I ever thought necessary; I’ve to brush up on my local languages. If not, even start to learn them.

My three weeks in Nairobi have been relatively trouble free- except for a few language issues here and there. The house help speaks very little English and manages
to survive and I also survive because either my grandmother or my cousin Alice are in the house. So I can always ask for translations.
This time however, Alice is away at school and Jajja is elsewhere conducting business. So I’m in the house with the help alone. First course of action was to smile a lot the morning I got there, then in the afternoon I had to get to the bookshop in Sarit Centre and buy a Kiswahili phrasebook.

To diverge a bit- this bookshop makes you feel like buying all the books in it. It is so well arranged, the service is superb and Joe, my cousin swears he wants to marry the pretty Indian lady who helps you find what you are looking for! Aristoc should really send some of its staff on a spy mission to this bookstore because Aristoc sucks compared to these guys. Also, that brilliantly funny comedy show, Ze Comedy Show on EATV and another Kiswahili series Je Huu Ni Ungwana, which Joe kindly looked up for me, is helping. Apart from the rib crackers, I get to hear Kiswahili spoken the way it should- not of the Ugandan kind. I should also mention that the phrasebook is just what the doctor ordered- I’m really catching up!

For the first time in slightly over a decade, we have a live- in help at home. It was more convenient to have someone who came in twice a week to clean and wash but now with the house empty for the whole day, we need someone to stay home and help us a little.
He is from Mubende and does not speak an ounce of English. Mode of communication- Luganda. It is so amusing watching my father and I fumble to express ourselves to him and mum just loves the show! I think it’s her perfect revenge- finally! This morning for instance, I was shocked to hear the sound of running water at 3am from the kitchen. When I got to the kitchen, the only words that came to my mind were, “Ivan, essawa!” When mum investigated later on, he’d thought it was 6am and had gotten up to make breakfast!
So this weekend, I’m buying a Luganda phrasebook too!

I am Lango, from Lango and I speak Lango. This is how I manage to keep up with the identity of who I am, from where and what language I speak. The Lango is coming quite well; the words are shorter, chap- chap and a lot easier to remember. And a few of them are plagiarized from English- Buk for Book, Bach for Bus!

Moment of Panic!

On Wednesday, I was reading an article on the Bugweri parliamentary race and how it is fast degenerating into a murky family affair. Family, meaning it is finally boiling down to which clan you are from and who’s grandchild are you. One contestant, a grandfather wants his grandchild to step down for him! Eer, shouldn’t it be the other way round?
So anyways, at the end of the article which listed a few of Busoga’s clans, I realized I didn’t know This Musoga’s clan! I’m quite vocal about mine and he sometimes calls me Gwe Oyima. The SMS saved the day, he told me he was from the Leopard clan, but didn’t know the Lusoga name. Said he was going to ask Daddy about it.

Come to think of it, I don’t know what Oyima is in English, let me go find out from Dad!