Thursday, 14 April 2011

More tales from Kampala

The jamming session at the National Theatre was great. We heard Coldplay done African style and Ugandan country and western. Kathy was also accosted by a self proclaimed Kenyan artist. His attempts to win her over included asking to buy her a beer no less than ten times, claiming that the same plastic surgeon who had operated on Dolly Parton’s boobs had also reconstructed part of his face and assuring her that the angry lady on the phone was his sister and not his wife...all to no avail, poor guy.

The next day we experienced extreme agoraphobia at the market. As people shouted ‘muzungu’ at us and tried to poke our asses we tried to make a hasty retreat. Easier said than done. Once you are in the market you sure as hell aren’t getting out anytime soon. Each turning point just led us further and further into the labyrinth. After getting more and more confused we saw a chink of light and shuffled towards it like flies flock towards the holy grail of strip lighting. It has just been raining and our shoes became covered in mud from the dirt roads around the market. Yet somehow none of the Ugandan people got muddy shoes, I just don’t know how its possible for their shoes to stay spotless when ours became so disgusting. A particularly well turned out man stopped Kathy on the street and said ‘Please, you are dirty’. Kathy replied ‘I know, we have just been to the market’ and the poor guy looked totally bewildered as he tried to fathom how one trip to the market could result in feet as dirty as that.

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