Eating dust and other pleasures

Rainy season cannot happen too soon.  I left work at 1:00 for lunch, hiked the mile into town through the suffocating, ambient cloud  of dust and began the search for yogurt.  Yogurt is “not there”  at four different places.  This is different from  ”yogurt is finished” because that implies it was once there in recent history and it has run out. “ It is not there” implies that it was simply not delivered and no one has any idea of when it will be there.  Best not to get one’s hopes up.  So I landed at Coffee Hut today for a fruit plate, the cheapest thing on the menu because fruit is so plentiful here and I can get out under an hour or so.  I have 30 minutes once I’ve spent 15 walking in and 15 walking back.

As I am shoveling papaya into my mouth, a blinding, roiling  cloud of red dust starts claiming the street, compounded by another cloud  beating down in quick succession.  Even the locals stop, turn their backs to it and let it “pass.” It envelopes everything and intrudes it’s way into nostrils, eyes, ears, mouth, clothing – all layers.  Shall I go on?   This goes on for some time and I wonder if this is what the dust bowl in the 40s was like.  I’ve read that climate change will bring this back within a decade.  God, I hope not.   When I get home (Gulu home), I’ll slip my computer into yet another bag to protect it from this floating grime - known to suffocate computers as well.  Maybe that’s why that random white Mac bag was used for packing in Travis’ Christmas package.  Good thinkin’ Trav!

As the Munus here are having a hard time dealing with dry season (as are the locals actually), this morning I walked behind a beautiful carefree little girl, dressed for school in her dark blue jumper with a pink blouse, head shaved like most young girls.  Every once in a while she would break into a skip and when her exuberance could not be held in check any longer, the skip would turn into a full-blown leap.  In this manner she made her way to school with arms and legs akimbo – moving to some music in her head or just expressing the freedom that only the young know.   I found myself smiling in spite of potholes, exhaust fumes and yes – dust.  

Not everything here is encumbered with the overhead of simply being.  Everywhere you can hear long expressions of greeting:   "Apwoyo!  I coo nining?…  A coo maber. Tye maber??  Aya, aya.  Wot maber. Aya.  Apwoyo be.”    That’s a first round.  It has its own sing-song rhythm and cadence and it rather musical to listen to.  And every once-in-a-while I realize I’m understanding part of a conversation. 

Midnight – it’s a hot, still night and the smell of dust mingled with smoke hangs in the air giving me the start of a headache.  Thudding bass competes from several directions with the loudspeaker broadcasting what  - a church service?  Dogs bark stereophonically from multiple directions, mosquitoes whirr outside the net.  I can’t sleep,  This is when, if I were home, I’d get up a fix a piece of crunchy multi-grain toast,  slather it with butter, have it with an icy cold glass of milk and go back to bed.  Tonight, I’ll probably just rely on the new stash of BC powders Lizzy sent (thank you!), take another antihistimine, read some more and hope sleep takes me before morning.   Oh pleeeeaze.

The shop keeper in town has finally received a small refrigerator he ordered for me “on approval.”  I am about to succumb to spending an entire month’s PC stipend for the luxury of  a “sometimes” refrigerator and the tease of cool water and keeping food for more than 18 hours.  Were it in place now, I’d probably go stand in front of it and waste whatever cool air remained from power which went out 5 hours ago.  Aaaaah…   Now, where are those BC powders?