“DJ are you ready? DJ are you ready? DJ are you ready?” [Crowds cheer. Repeat.]
Saturday evening, Kampala. A good test of acceptance: the booming shouting drumming from across the road cannot be fought, just absorbed.
* * *
Semi-surprised to be back in Uganda so soon after last time; not quite believing it until I landed, again, into the open green lakeside calm of Entebbe and was driven, again, alongside the still-under-construction highway to Kampala.
The familiarity makes much of it easy: knowing who to call for airport lifts (Godfrey), which part of the city to stay in (Kololo), how to get phone and internet credit (MTN shop in Acacia Mall). Even where to find a yoga class (just up the road, though watch out for the mosquitoes). It makes much of it less lonely, knowing there are a few people in this city who are more than contacts, maybe friends now. And yet… arriving at a new hostel, instinctively I missed the girls who’d looked after me last time at the Highway Guesthouse in Busembatia, and had to quickly spread my things around the room to stop the doubt and silence seep in around me. That familiar feeling — of adjusting to the unfamiliar — returns.
48 hours later, making plans to head southwest tomorrow feels like tearing myself away from what has now become home. Am I a little bit mad, I wonder — again?