Over the past week Eliza and I have made a few new friends in our community. We now have two boda drivers who we know “well” and use often. When we see them we take their bodas over anyone else’s. One day when we were walking to town one of the boda drivers drove by at a slower than normal pace to say “Hello ladies” to us then speed away. A few minuets later we saw him going the other direction, and he greeted us again. The other boda driver also said hi to us that day. Today he hid in the crowd of drivers and we did not see him until we agreed to take another boda home. He popped his head out to greet us and wave hello and goodbye with a smile on his face. His happiness at seeing us seemed genuine. Eliza and I both dislkiked that we did not take his boda, and agreed to not take another boda driver unless we were sure we could not take his.
There is a school located 10 meters from Salama Shield. Eliza and I have maintained our friendship with Kevin and Sharon, whom I have mentioned in a previous post. They wait for us to walk home at the end of the day from work, and we always stop to say even a quick hello. When either Eliza or I are sick they “pray for us” to get better, and Kevin always tells us to “send my greetings to your Ugandan mother.” We worried about Sharon for a while because often we did not see her, and when we did she talked little. This contrasted to the chatterbox she had been when we first met her. Last week though she returned too normal. She and Kevin were sick, and that lead to the hiding and running. Now they are both chatty Kathy’s, which can get tiresome, but it is worth stopping to talk.
Our older sister Bibian returned from university last week. She graduated with a degree in science and accounting, and is staying at home for about a month or so before she went to look for work. At first I worried what she would think about Eliza and I. I tried to imagine what it would feel like to come home to find two strange mzungu living in your house. Since then we have become closer. Last Thursday when Eliza and I came home late from dinner at the hotel Bibian greeted us by saying, “Well be back. I missed you both today.” We missed her too. Today I helped her with applications for work by letting her use my computer and Internet stick. We talk with her everyday about her dreams, music that she likes, and what university is like in Uganda. We asked her if she wanted to stay in Lyantonde or if she wanted to move to Kampala where she attended university. She said she wants to move to Kampala where there are more opportunities for employment. “Kampala,” she said, “also has everything you can imagine. If you imagine it, it is there, not like here. Here there is not much.” She scrunched her face when she said this. She has family in Kampala and plans to move in with them soon as she hunts for a job that will allow her to pay her own rent. She is quite sweet.
The last friend I have made recently is an adorable two and a half year old. The girl belongs to one of Agnes friends. I first met her a couple weeks ago. Her mother dropped the girl off to play with chief while she ran errands. The girl seemed scared and unsure of Eliza and I. She refused to talk to us, and stares were the only form of acknowledgement we received from her. Saturday Eliza and I came back from Mbarara the girl was at the house. She would be staying the night while her mother (a head teacher) attended an administrators conference in Mbarara. I tried to coxe her into talking to us for a bit, but she refused. I gave up and went on a run. When I got back Eliza was trying to decide how to fly to Jordan at the end of the trip so that she could meet her brother here. I went outside to be with the family. At one point Bibian tried to hand the girl to me, but she made herself a stick and slid through my arms. As she slid through she slumped into a ball segment by segment to make it difficult for me to pick her up. I stood a safe distance from her in a squat with my arms open. She refused to come. Chief, however, ran with open arms. I picked Cheif up and flipped him over my shoulder, and pranced around the yard with him like a sack of potatos. She Anges, who had disappeared while I was on my run, returned riding on a boda. By this point the sun disappeared and so had the mood. The little girl sat hidden in the dark courtyard. I knew she didn’t want to pick me up, but I didn’t want the boda to run over her as he left so I picked her up anyway. She squirmed and flailed. I left her to pout on the ground, and went inside to help set up for dinner. Picking her up seemed to do the trick though. The rest of the night she clung to me. She insisted that I pick her up. Later she, Chief, and all held hands and danced to the music on the radio. We swayed in time to the music until we went in for dinner.
The next day was more of the same. When her mother came to pick her up last night she held Eliza’s and my hands as we walked down to the main road for the mother to catch a boda. She nearly killed Eliza and I earlier while we watched her attempt to carry her overnight bag as we first left. The bag was a fairly sizable purse that just hung above the ground as she attempted to carry it. She tried to put it on as a back pack, then a shoulder bag, then slung it over one shoulder like a messenger bag. This gave her a distinct lean to one side. We were happy that Agnes carried the bag at that point in time. In a rare occurrence there were few bodas that passed by, and none that did not have a passenger on it. We waited for a while, and the little girl dragged me around in circles as we waited. After a few minuets Agnes told us, “come we go back.” Agnes still had the girls bag over her shoulder, and the girl tottered behind us. “Agnes,” Eliza asked, “is she coming with us? Is she not going with her mother?” “Eheh. She has refused to go.” Agnes started to laugh. “She refused?” Eliza asked, a stunned look on her face. “She has refused. She wants to come back.” Agnes laughed harder. Eliza and I could not believe it. There had been no crying, not fighting, no arguing. The girl refused and the two mothers accepted this as a reality. That would never happen back home. I remember begging to stay longer at a friends house many a time in my childhood, and cannot recall one time that I was allowed to stay with out profuse begging, and even then I probably went home. Tonight the girl and I played and made faces at each other over tea. Her mother went to Kampala to pick up tests for her school so she stayed the night again. Her name is Patience and she is precious. She also already knows how to boss Chief around. She will get what she wants in life, and I wish I could know her when she grows older.
