Hey Muzungu!

I am being terribly neglectful of the blog, and will try to remedy that now that I’m finally in my little cottage. It’s been a period of transition (again!) as I went from spending 3 months in relative luxury and surrounded by “family” – Carolyn and the folks who live in her house, to a more Spartan environment and living on my own. But as I’ve mentioned in some of my Facebook posts, being alone in the cottage is a relative term as well. I’m essentially on call 24/7 and some days are busier than others. Since people know I live here now, there’s no hesitation to come to the cottage if they need something. Even earlier this week when I was home sick with the ear infection – and the first couple of days I was really unsteady on my feet and tried to stay in bed – person after person kept coming to the door asking for one thing or another. However, I must say, that some people came just to check on me and to express their concern, and that meant a lot to me as well. I don’t think I’m in any danger of anything happening to me and people not noticing! But it was a bit disconcerting this week when I would just settle down to rest, and of course every time I moved from a laying down position to an upright position or vice versa, I would have the dizziness, and there would be someone knocking, or calling “Auntie Joyce!” through the window, anything to get my attention, and force me up again. Bless them!

But I’m gradually putting my own touch on my little cottage (still trying to furnish the living room - or lounge as they call it here- before posting photos) and settling into this routine of being up and about on the Temple grounds early each morning. In some ways it’s quieter here than it was at Carolyn’s and in other ways it’s noisier. At Carolyn’s we had free range turkeys, guinea fowl, chickens and a rooster, and they started early in the morning crowing or otherwise making noise, usually right outside my door! Here, there are roosters around but a little further away, and so I’m vaguely aware of the crowing but it’s not as loud. In the evening, just at dusk, I can hear the neighbors behind me settling in for the evening, children are playing, babies crying - the general noises of people moving about. There are also a few goats nearby that start up their baaing as they wait for their supper. Then as soon as it gets dark it’s completely quiet….at least from the households closest by. As the evening hours wear on, other noises start up, a lot of drumming going on somewhere, or the sounds of people doing some late night entertainment with music turned up loud. There are a lot of dogs scattered about and anytime there is a siren or some other random noise, they all start their baying.  So settling down to sleep can be a bit tricky sometimes.

The drumming I hear every night has been a bit of an inspiration for my writing. Sitting alone in my cottage (especially when the power is out!) and hearing the distant drumming gets my imagination going and I come up with all kinds of scenarios for what the drumming is about. So I’ve started writing a novel (mind you – I have three actual writing projects that I’m SUPPOSED to be working on!) that offers one explanation for the drumming. Not going to explain what just yet until I see where the story goes – but it’s based on something that is actually happening or has happened here that is not very savory at all but lends itself quite nicely to a mystery type novel set in Kampala. I’m having fun playing with it and seeing how the characters develop and where the story line goes.

But lest anyone worry about me being alone on this hill, the reality is that I am not. The Temple director and his wife live in another house not far from me, there is a third house – Zilpha’s House – built by Zilpha Mapp Robinson (for those of you who know who I’m talking about) where there are sometimes female guests staying, and then there is a men’s dorm next to my cottage where there are sometimes guests staying, And, there is a night watchman who monitors the property from dusk until dawn. When I first moved into the cottage, both of the night watchmen made a point of stopping by and letting me know they were around. And they really do walk around during the evening, In fact, the one time I got really scared was an evening when we didn’t have power and I could hear people walking around the cottage and flashing a flashlight. When I called out one of the windows, it turned out it was just the night watchman checking things out! So I feel really safe.

I’ve also been getting familiar with my new “neighborhood” of Kikaaya, and the neighboring area of Kisaasi. Kisaasi will be where I’ll likely do most of my food shopping – it’s just a short boda ride from the Temple and there’s a good selection of vegetable and fruit vendors. There’s a small supermarket directly across from the Temple entrance where I can stop in to pick up items that I run out of or if I want an occasional treat. Walking down Kikaaya or “Bahá’í” Road as it is stated on city maps I’m getting to see “life” up close. And of course, being the new kid on the block, I’m an endless source of curiosity and entertainment for the Ugandans in the area, especially the kids. Since they’re all living right around the Temple, they’re used to seeing all kinds of people coming through there, but there aren’t that many white non-Ugandans who live in the area and so everyone gets a kick out of seeing me. The kids get so excited when they see me coming down the road, and they call out “Hi Muzungu” or “Bye Muzungu” (and they sometimes get mixed up as to which is which – saying “Bye” when I’ve just arrived in view) when they see me, usually over and over, just so I’ll notice them and smile or wave at them. One day I got the biggest kick out of three little tykes who caught sight of me and started a little dance as they chanted “Hi Muzungu” over and over. The more I waved at them the more they did it. “Muzungu” basically means “white person.” Some of the ex-pats take offense at it and consider it a derogatory term, but I don’t – I think they use it more as a description or an expression of surprise when they see me or any white person. Most of the adults will simply say “Madam” or “Mama” or “Sister” when greeting me, it’s primarily the children who will call out Muzungu. And the way they say it adds flavor to it, especially when the kids are dancing around like those three tykes. The emphasis is on the last syllable, so they’ll call out “Hey Muh-zune-GU!”

I have great neighbors among the Bahá’ís as well – all within a short walk from where I live. Along Bahá’í Road are Boshra (a young Persian woman), Vi Gilbert (another American pioneer but who has lived in Africa for more than 40 years so doesn’t consider herself a pioneer), Wes Baker, who has been in Uganda around 15 years, and Azieb and her family. Azieb is one of the Eritrean Bahá’ís who live in Uganda. Vi and I will likely spend a lot of time together, and Wes is my singing buddy, we go to choir together and he has offered to chauffer me around when I need to go places. He’s a sweetheart. Azieb has a little shop of her own right next to the Temple grounds. Just further down the same road, a little bit more of a walk, is the Senoga family. Edith Senoga was one of the early Bahá’ís in Uganda and has served as an Auxiliary Board member. She has a wonderful family, including a daughter who was recently made a federal court judge in Uganda, and grandchildren who are quite active in the community. She has all the oral history of the early years of the Bahá’í community in Uganda that I’m going to have to get recorded soon.

So this is my life now. Not posting any photos this time, but I’m going to take my camera out one day along Bahá’í Road and just start taking pictures to give my faithful readers a pictorial view of my life here. When I have time….maybe.