I hate time zone differences. I'm still recovering from all of that. It takes at least 3 hours for my head to acknowledge every day. I was up at night talking to people on the other side of the globe. I hate that I go to bed dreaming of these conversations and wake up expecting a continuation only to find that everyone else has moved on. While I slept, life was happening! The strange thing is that according to that line that goes through London and Accra, I am a couple of hours behind. Yet, when I look around it feels like I was transferred into the future. I begin to share a story or to tell a tale, only to realize that my audience cannot relate to what I do and where I am (or what I did and where I was).
Once, in a conversation on a bus, after saying I was from Africa, the person I was speaking to points to another man and says, "He's from Nigeria. Do you know him?" The other day I was asked if there are night clubs and hang outs on Africa, if I live with animals in my back yard and if the beer in Africa tastes the same as that in the US. One other guy, in an effort to relate to me, told me a story about drug trafficking in Jamaica (after all we are all black and I should be able to relate, right?)
Then there's the archaic banking system at home that denies me access to my own cash because I do not have a credit card. I'm sitting here wondering what the word debit means. Surely, if I want to spend money I have, instead of borrowing it and then having to pay it back later, I should be allowed to make that choice, right?
I miss the fuel pump attendant at Engen, Luzira. We called him our Acholi brother. He'd rush towards the car every time he saw my mother, sister or I. He always had a quick joke and smile to share. Once, he even got me a promotional pen! :) Here, it's every man/woman for himself. You can even do your own payments for groceries at Walmart. There's no need to talk wait in line or to talk to the cashier. Everything's done by cards.
There's hand sanitizer every where, in every office, in every public bathroom. I was amused that when we were taught Basic First Aid, the first lesson was that, in an effort to save someone else, we should never endanger ourselves. If you can't save them, without risking your own life, then let them be. None of that Ubuntu stuff applies.
It's unlikely that you'll meet your neighbor while you're walking through the 'hood. Everyone drives, windows up and AC on. It's always too hot (the car needs cooling) or it's too cold (the car needs warming). The roads are so much wider than our little Kampala or Jinja Road. It takes 20 seconds to cross the "little" road outside the hotel I stayed in last week. I timed it. There are highways in town. People are in a hurry to get to wherever. The traffic jams are the same though :)
Yesterday, something in the microwave smelt like fried irish potatoes. My mouth was watering. I miss gonja. Most of my meals here are instant. It was interesting at first. Lasagne in 4 minutes. But then I remembered that I like cooking. I can't find ingredients. I saw cassava once in Walmart.
Here, it takes 21-28 days to get from drilling the surface of an oil well to the point where production can begin. I worked in the Ministry's lab in Entebbe in 2006 when we "discovered" oil and almost 7 years later, where's the oil?
Two more months and the clock winds down again.
