Thought it was nice

Just finished a book called Africa Solo that my German neighbor loaned me. It was good...bout a guy who hitchhiked through the Sahara to Kenya. I find that I get a lot of travel lit passed on to me here. I guess we all read it to get ideas and sometimes use it as justification that "i can do this". Anyways, I liked what the author had to say about the continent at the end of his travels and since I am not so eloquent, I am posting his words instead of my own. In most ways his words are congruent with my feelings on this crazy, wonderful place.

"...Though I had longed to immerse myself in a world without the complications of modernity, I'd had no concept of what such a world would actually be like. Even through I had read about the sandy vegetables and rancid meat, the crowded trucks, the mud holes, the corrupt soldiers, the long sunsets, and the melodic songs, there was no possibility of conceiving it without having seen it.
I had wanted to be alone for a while, but I had not expected loneliness that was almost physically painful. I had wanted to experience new and different worlds, but I had not expected to learn what it was like to be marked as an outsider day after day, to feel at times desperate for something familiar to hold on to. I had wanted to meet some interesting people along the way, but I had not expected to find smiles and voices and brief friendships that would stand in my mind forever. Most of all, I had wanted to find art and expand my aesthetic sensibilities, but I had not expected to be touched by Africa's quiet suffering as much as its beauty...
...In the end, I had found something that I hadn't known I was looking for. I had wanted to learn new things about the world, but I had learned as much about myself as anything else. I had learned what it was like to walk alone through the world...Africa had given me much more than its colors and rhythms, its peaceful smiles and languid sunsets. It had given me a sense of reality and clarity about myself and the world around me..."

Pardon Me!

Some things are just universally appreciated. When you discover those things with your Ugandan friends, unforgettable moments are made.

Christopher had a birthday in August and so began receiving packages from home that included presents and yummy American food which he was nice enough to share. One evening, he produced a present addressed to me from his grandma wrapped in tissue paper with the words "pardon me!" written on it.

Having never met grandma, I felt special to have been included in the presents from home. I eagerly tore away the yellow tissue paper and inside found a jar of Flarp which was bursting with fart sound potential.

I hope that those of you reading this blog were lucky enough as children to experience the full spectrum of fart noises able to be produced by the combination of pink putty and a plastic jar. If not, let me summarize just a few of the farts produced by Flarp for your gastronomical distressical education:

1. the Robusto - forceful, not overpowering, with a nice rounded ending.

2. the Dog Whistle - although the rectal flute is sounded, pitch is beyond the apprehension of human ears.

3. the Jingle - light, bouncy, fun. Often accompanies merriment.

4. the Shart - Often follows a hearty meal. Can ruin your favorite drawers.

5. the Ju-art - Familiar to Peace Corps volunteers. Resonance flapping is observed with occasional liquid expulsion.

Now that you are all up to speed, I am sure you are in agreement that such a device can produce hours of entertainment. And this is exactly what it did for Christopher and I in my house. In order to share the joy, I decided it would be fun to introduce Flarp to my Ugandan neighbor children. I went over to their back porch with the Flarp and asked the youngest to please stick her hand into the pink goop. She reacted with a look of fear and refused. This was no good. I then moved on to the little boy and asked for his contribution. Being a 6 year old boy, he jumped at the chance to try something new. As the sound was produced, a glorious realization of this jar's purpose flickered in his eyes. While he experimented with some of the above-listed possibilities, the young girl's fear was eliminated and she joined in. After lots of laughter between Christopher and I and the children, the youngest decided that her parents (my landlords) also needed to get in on the action. As she called for her father, I knew I couldn't run. So, I stuck it out. When he appeared and sampled the goods, we all laughed harder. When her mother appeared, I thought, "this is the end of my credibility in this town." She watched her children and husband as a symphony of sorts was recited. After a minute or so, she too began to laugh and responded with a phrase that will forever be remembered with a smile, "Oh, it is a game that makes noise like pupu!"



The moral of the story is, children: No matter where you go, the music of the butt tuba will always be funny.