Tuesday market

There’s an amazing market every Tuesday about 45 minutes away from base camp, near where we were going to live, before we got housing in the camp. Last Tuesday, Kate and I walked to the market, after escaping a drunk old man who would not leave us alone (I got in a big argument with him about whether or not there was poverty in the US – I am learning to be more patient with people, but sometimes it drives me crazy when people won’t leave us alone because we’re white/rich… anyways). The walk to the market cuts through this open savannah that’s almost eerily nondescript. Every so often, you’ll bump into a herd of cows with gigantic white horns, usually accompanied by this completely incongruous pure white bird that’s somewhere between a duck and a swan. In the distance, we could see these tremendous purple storm clouds gathering over the mountains.

When we reached the market, a fine drizzle began to fall. Most of the vendors were pulling tarps over their wares, and we weaved through second-hand clothes and vibrant Kitanga fabrics, finding the pineapples just in time to negotiate the price down to 45 cents each and grab six of them before a wall of rain washed over us, drenching us immediately. There was nothing to do but head for cover. By the time we reached it we were already soaked to the skin, so we shrugged, said what the hell, and walked all the way back to base camp.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but Uganda is a country of mud. Gloopy, slippery, get-between-your-toes mud. We slipped along the dirt/mud roads, a pineapple in each hand, dodging puddles and begging each passing van not to splatter our already-dripping clothes. When we finally made it back, the rain was still pouring, monsoon-style, so we put down our things, took out some soap, and had a rain-shower behind the house. When we came back inside, I put on my thick, warm socks (oh my god I could not be more grateful that I brought them with me); we lit some candles for a nice rustic ambiance, and listened to the rain beat down on the tin roof.