Since my arrival, the days have both crawled, and been a blur. At work, I feel pretty helpless. My training regimin involves a lot of sitting around, waiting for someone to be willing to help me or show me how to do something, anything. A staff member went on vacation, so her workload has been redistributed among the sales team, and I think this is part of what is stressing everyone out. Unfortunately the backlash is that I feel like no one really wants to train me, and I’m pretty useless. At least I can work on updating my blog during the middle of the workday.
The 13-hour time difference with folks back home has made it a bit difficult to connect. Really the only time I can Skype is my evenings (or occasionally before work) which is like 9-11 a.m. for people back home. And most people have jobs during that time. I am trying to pass the time alone, and not let all the solitude bother me too much. My coworker gifted me a bunch of movies on my harddrive, and I have a few books that need reading. We eat a prepared meal here during midday. It's kind of the worst. All the African staff chat and laugh and tell stories in Luganda and occasional Swahili, or other dialects, and I can't even follow what's going on. I feel like that weird kid in the cafeteria who isn't invited to sit next to everyone else.
Two nights after work this week, I ran over to the airstrip, which is this flat "grassy" area (more hard, red dirt) at the top of a hill, and there are constant “football” games going on in the afternoons. I jumped in with some African boys, seeming to be in their 20s, and played with them for a bit. The soccer here is somewhat spastic—they fly all over the bumpy, dry ground—a blur of skinny brown legs and worn-out shoes. Generally the men here play a lot of 1-touch (quick, short passing,) almost seeming to avoid taking shots on goal, even when directly in front of the goal-- which is represented by two cinder bricks placed upright about 2 feet apart. It felt good to play again, but also made me nostalgic for my pickup group back home, soft turf fields, and friendly banter. I don’t speak Luganda, the most popular tribal dialect spoken here, and it's hard to run around mute and isolated in the middle of a team sport. Even while I was playing soccer in Ecuador, I could participate in speaking Spanish commands and jokes. Here I just run around, silently, trying to anticipate the ball or will it to myself with my mind.
In the evenings, the bats begin hunting—their ultrasonic chirping actually audible--probably due to the huge mass of them flying above... The bats here don’t mess around, that was actually the primary reason I was convinced to get rabies shots—they can bite people, but without mostpeople even realizing they have been bitten. What astonishes me is their size, their shadows give clues to wingspans of up to 4 feet!
Last night I attended my first Ugandan concert. It was a mixture of female artists and styles, many sounding like African jazz fusion and fair amounts of hip-hop. The headlining lady, Nneka, is a Nigerian-based artist who has been dubbed as the "under-recognized Lauryn Hill of Africa." I am only realizing right now that I've heard the song "Heartbeats" before. Lauryn Hill or no, the $5,000 Ugandan Shilling entry price (about USD$2) for a concert was fine by me. I was just happy to have a reason to leave my room for a while. I was thereby introduced to several of the ex-pats in the area, as well as their extensive drinking skills, to which I will not even attempt to match myself.
I am becoming a "real" person here--just got a cellphone number and working plan. Although I don't understand how it works yet. I now have four contacts--three coworkers--one of which is in London. My fourth contact is my new roommate-to-be, Jen, who lives in a tiny two-bedroom apartment by the Namuwongo Market. I am moving in there this weekend, and will finally fully unpack.
Things still don't feel a whole lot easier, but I suppose I am getting better at faking it.
Pictures to come! I am lazy and going to sleep...
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