- I have noticed that foods here are often mislabeled. The other day I asked the man at the bakery what flavor the brown muffin in the case was, and he responded banana and chocolate. I said, “That sounds delicious. I’ll take one.” It was neither banana nor chocolate…just burnt. Then today I purchased a donut that was clearly labeled “chocolate doughnut.” It was definitely coconut.
I wonder if it is some sort of Muzungu marketing scheme. They think, Muzungus like chocolate, so if they label it chocolate we will buy it. Unfortunately, I have been duped every time.
- I am trying to get back into running shape while I am here. I was told before coming that running would not be possible as a woman because it is not culturally appropriate to wear shorts. However, the staff here says shorts are acceptable while “doing sports.” I do get quite a few strange looks though, as people do not exercise much here. Children often shout “Why are you running? Where are you going?” and laugh at me. Once a man on a motorbike stopped and asked, “May I assist you?” as if I was running away from something.
Running has proved much more difficult than I anticipated. The hills here are grueling and abundant. I have only gone a few times, but it is my goal to go at least a couple times a week. Every time I have run a small pack of children ends up following me at some point. They will never run beside me, though, always directly behind me. They are usually carrying their school books as well, but it makes me feel better when they tire out after a quarter mile. I don’t think the Kenyan marathon powerhouse has spread to Uganda yet.
- There is a little girl who lives next door and is at my house everyday. Her name is Anna. She gets very excited when I come home and wants to play before I even walk in the door. Sometimes she runs down the road to greet me on my way home, and she is very proud to being walking down the street holding the hand of a Muzungu. She makes me laugh because whenever I have the door to my room closed, she slides her fingers under the door and whispers “Muzungu! Muzuuuuuuuuuuuunguu…” and progressively gets louder until I respond.
- Last weekend I passed a grocery in Kampala named “Obama Supermarket.” Really?
I wonder if it is some sort of Muzungu marketing scheme. They think, Muzungus like chocolate, so if they label it chocolate we will buy it. Unfortunately, I have been duped every time.
- I am trying to get back into running shape while I am here. I was told before coming that running would not be possible as a woman because it is not culturally appropriate to wear shorts. However, the staff here says shorts are acceptable while “doing sports.” I do get quite a few strange looks though, as people do not exercise much here. Children often shout “Why are you running? Where are you going?” and laugh at me. Once a man on a motorbike stopped and asked, “May I assist you?” as if I was running away from something.
Running has proved much more difficult than I anticipated. The hills here are grueling and abundant. I have only gone a few times, but it is my goal to go at least a couple times a week. Every time I have run a small pack of children ends up following me at some point. They will never run beside me, though, always directly behind me. They are usually carrying their school books as well, but it makes me feel better when they tire out after a quarter mile. I don’t think the Kenyan marathon powerhouse has spread to Uganda yet.
- There is a little girl who lives next door and is at my house everyday. Her name is Anna. She gets very excited when I come home and wants to play before I even walk in the door. Sometimes she runs down the road to greet me on my way home, and she is very proud to being walking down the street holding the hand of a Muzungu. She makes me laugh because whenever I have the door to my room closed, she slides her fingers under the door and whispers “Muzungu! Muzuuuuuuuuuuuunguu…” and progressively gets louder until I respond.
- Last weekend I passed a grocery in Kampala named “Obama Supermarket.” Really?
Below is a picture of Anna and my one of my host brothers, Akiram. The other is of my host mother and baby brother. His name is Emma, yet he is a boy. (I have also met a girl named Edwin.)
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