tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60741624117640952462024-02-21T07:45:36.706+03:00Ali's In WanderlandSo rested she by the Tumtum tree and stood awhile in thought..Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-3253983899824029942012-02-14T01:14:00.003+03:002012-02-15T01:20:02.267+03:00Shitting Hell<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Of recent times my walk to work has become seriously blighted, not only by parents who think its perfectly acceptable to force you to step out into the road because they and their children deserve the whole of the pavement, but by something marginally more unpleasant. To paraphrase Will from The Inbetweeners my daily journey has become a veritable dog shit minefield.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://www.blogcdn.com/lifestyle.aol.co.uk/media/2010/08/dogmessposter1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.blogcdn.com/lifestyle.aol.co.uk/media/2010/08/dogmessposter1.jpg" width="265" /></a>Now, I am old enough to remember the ‘good old days’, the times when it was not uncommon to see dogs crapping all over the place and when people were outraged by the thought of paying a fine for not cleaning up after their dogs. Our school playing field was covered in the stuff, there are some bonuses to being a girl and not being rugby tackled into poo is certainly one of them! But times have changed, people no longer baulk at no dog fouling signs and thankfully for the past 10-15 years our pavements have been relatively faeces free, until now.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I don’t know what has happened, why have people suddenly decided to revert back to faecal free for all? Is this some kind of middle class rebellion? Whilst London had their riots, middleclass Wales is hitting back by refusing to abide by simple commonsense laws and laughing in the face of £1000 fines. I could make excuses for the owners; that they are too old or too immobile that they can’t bend down to pick up the mess, but surely that’s what JML is made for! All I know is, the next time I catch someone not picking up after their dog I’m going to rub the owner’s nose in it… quite literally.</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-52836964093416478822012-01-17T01:36:00.001+03:002012-02-14T00:21:25.514+03:00One hundred and eeeeeighty<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For me, the best sporting week of the year isn’t the Six Nations finals, Wimbledon, the FA cup, it isn’t even the Olympics when it finally comes around after a 3 year hiatus. In honesty I’m not even sure if my favourite sporting event of the year can be classified as a sport*, but that does nothing to diminish the love I have for it (I am literally gutted that I have to wait until 12 months to watch the action). It is of course the Lakeside World Darts Championships.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now, when I tell people that I love darts I can immediately see the scepticism in their eyes. Their first reaction is that I surely must be taking the piss, a passtime not entirely foreign to me. But then it begins, my explanation as to why I love the darts, probably more than is socially acceptable. Firstly I love the characters, you can keep you pretty footballers with their womanising ways, faux dives and trendy haircuts I like my sports players to enter a room to their very own theme tune, to have a ludicrous nickname and be able to rival a heavily pregnant woman in the swollen belly stakes. Even the players that you think look slim initially you come to realise only appear this way due to the fact they’re standing next to a man mountain. Maybe that’s why I feel such an affiliation with darts, it’s a sport where fatties are champions.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.sportinglife.com/12/01/330/oshea-adams_2701563.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://images.sportinglife.com/12/01/330/oshea-adams_2701563.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wolfy Adams has lost and still looks that happy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not only are they larger than life in multiple ways but they play fair, in fact, the players seem to <i>like</i> each other. These men are friends. This year in the quarter finals two men played against each other, one of which had given the other a lift to the venue. Whilst in the semis Wesley Harms asked for the board to be changed because his opponent (the legendary silverback) has had too many bounce-outs. Then of course there are the wives and girlfriends, by the end of the week you could pick Ted Hankey’s mother out of a crowd and could name each of Wolfy’s kids.. and possibly even the grandkids. That’s how the Lakeside makes you feel, like your part of some darts family and it doesn’t really matter if you’re there dressed up as Red Riding Hood or at home biting your nails willing that dart to go in the double, you're still just as included.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">That's why when the Olympics come to London this year I won't be brimming with excited, I've had the climax of my sporting year in the very first week.. and it didn't run £9billion over budget. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">* Of course when you think about it darts involves competition, hand to eye coordination and lengthy periods of standing up so I’m going for a resounding yes.</span></div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-56335172915146286302012-01-08T18:45:00.004+03:002012-01-15T18:51:08.310+03:00Ali's return to Wanderland<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For weeks… well, months actually, I’ve been thinking that I need to get blogging again. Somehow though time has passed and I have failed to do the simplest of things, write something that could fill this space, this miniscule amount of cyber space just here. Huge events have happened in the past nine months – the Arab uprising, London riots, Jimmy Saville’s death, and yet here I am on an unremarkable afternoon beginning to blog again. Maybe it’s that the big global, world-changing events (no one will ever have Jim fix it for them again, and no Shane Richie pretending to be Jim is frankly not going to cut it) in life can be all a bit too overwhelming. Everyone’s talking about them and most people are saying more profound, cleverer, wittier, more informed things than you. It’s not that I don’t want to join the discussion, I very much do, it’s just there are too many thoughts for me to write coherently down in time for me to publish an entry that is still relevant. Talking about it to real life people who can fill in the blanks and prompt me with names and new ideas, that’s the best way for me. The upshot of this is that I will continue to blog in an ad hoc way, generally about my own life with some larger themes occasionally thrown in for those who feel the need to stretch the old grey matter. I’ll even try to not to leave it 6 months before I blog again, but no promises. As I’ve said before <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_2039232929">I don’t do resolutions..</a></span><a href="http://alisinwanderland.blogspot.com/2011/01/turn-over-new-leaf-not-today-thank-you.html">.</a>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-56439169158693939482011-05-16T17:30:00.000+03:002011-05-16T17:30:08.166+03:00Life Little Aspects part II<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As discussed in the first part of Life’s Little Aspects, it’s often best to put your preconceptions aside when it comes to life in East Africa as things are definitely not always as they seem.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Openess</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If there’s one thing that can be said for Ugandans as a whole, they’re honest, sometimes brutally so. I would never ask the tempting question “does my bum look big in this?” as I would probably be told not only did my bum look big, but the fabric was horrible, my hair not coiffured enough and that I was too big generally and needed to lose some weight. However, even without enticing questions don’t be surprised if people give their honest opinions without you asking for them.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Physical contact</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It is perfectly acceptable to fall asleep on a stranger’s shoulder on the bus, for two men who are friends to hold hands or indeed bump and grind in the disco and hugs and prolonged handshakes are standard. However, if you are in a couple, physical contact is to be kept to a bare minimum, no longer is hand holding acceptable and if you risk a kiss make sure it’s fleeting and away from prying eyes (otherwise you might just end up in one of Uganda’s tabloids).</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCw_cL9il1q41aNynW5-kQ8LQ8yNSEhLSf4IAkJ_3UZ0jKiBSPx11GKBI6aXdJTeSUVTz9xygygd5hTyFL93lyhL-5OvePBFObkh2uGtz_-w047pfkxlP7uUJEUxlS0f6ZTvGOfFWapOo/s1600/SNV31176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCw_cL9il1q41aNynW5-kQ8LQ8yNSEhLSf4IAkJ_3UZ0jKiBSPx11GKBI6aXdJTeSUVTz9xygygd5hTyFL93lyhL-5OvePBFObkh2uGtz_-w047pfkxlP7uUJEUxlS0f6ZTvGOfFWapOo/s320/SNV31176.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Roads</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Outside of Kampala very few roads are tarmaced in their entirety which can make long bus journeys anything from interesting to vomit inducing. Often roads are not actually wide enough for two large vehicles to pass causing one, generally the one who is a little less brave of heart, to veer off into dust lay-bys. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The nature of the red clay roads largely means that during dry weather the dust whips up and visibility is seriously affected and during wet weather the roads are constantly flooded and pot holes crop up at an alarming rate. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Restaurants </i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Forget about your image of a restaurant, most here look like people’s front rooms. They’re generally pretty small, with sofa/chairs and low tables. One of my favourite local hotels is Francis’ Joint – basically because the food is ludicrously cheap and tasty- meat and chips with cabbage/lettuce is 2500 (about 70p). Joyce, the owner, also makes a mean (and I’m convinced, slightly addictive) chilli paste that only the foolhardy would try more than a smidgen of at a time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzkR70sn4k6QoP9ieYdtYm6kmmuIwEe7LFotTsYPRFTIs9ma5KRT7U3sBjFouGPnhhSMu0iQbJLDLTxAuRMJOgpLAbhpnODkk4zW9Tc3JmrpdH8a6ZurnzWHcMldK9NzZq_pPxazY5s8/s1600/SNV30975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDzkR70sn4k6QoP9ieYdtYm6kmmuIwEe7LFotTsYPRFTIs9ma5KRT7U3sBjFouGPnhhSMu0iQbJLDLTxAuRMJOgpLAbhpnODkk4zW9Tc3JmrpdH8a6ZurnzWHcMldK9NzZq_pPxazY5s8/s400/SNV30975.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A local bar/restaurant at Rutinda</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><i>Time</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There are 3 types of time here.<br />
<b>European time</b>: this is when you say 5 minutes and you mean 5-10 minutes. You know, the normal time frame that people in the West adopt. However, depending on how long the international has been in Africa depends on how ‘African’ their European time becomes so the system isn’t always reliable..<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>African time:</b> Sooo, African time is laid back. People say “10 minutes” but what they really mean is “sometime within the hour”. Meetings never start on time, and I mean NEVER. I have waited for over an hour and a half before for someone who said they would be ‘just back’ to return, I left before they reappeared.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<b> Moses times</b>: there is a local guy here called Moses, he works on the most African time scale of all, even locals here think he’s slow... and that really is saying something! <br />
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<i>Transport </i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There are various types of transport here, some I seriously wish were adopted back in Britain as they would make a heck of a lot easier!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Boda boda Bicycles:</b> bicycles that carry passengers on a green and blue (almost uniformly those colours) cushion attached to the back of their bike. Often used for short journeys and very cheap. However, unused by me, I figure that if I’m going a short enough distance to not warrant a motorbike I can jolly well walk. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Boda boda motorbikes:</b> are the most sensible transport solution ever, perfect for getting to places quickly, travelling medium distances and taking you home after a night out. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Matatus:</b> Minibuses generally licensed to carry 14 passengers, it’s almost unheard of for them to have less than 20. Largely for moving between towns although in Kampala they are a cheap way to get around the city, although due to the endless traffic jams, not always the quickest. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Special hire:</b> the equivalent of our taxis, generally reserved for times you have a lot of luggage or a lot of people, otherwise boda boda’s are used.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Bus </b>– the cheapest way to travel long distances. The post bus is the most reliable and least likely to crash, it also sets off at a specific time meaning that you don’t have to wait around for hours slowly getting stuck to your seat by sweat whilst waiting for it to fill up. For those not wanting to leave before dawn Horizon is your best option, Gateway and Kibungo are best avoided in my opinion</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sessionista.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/washing-clothes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://sessionista.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/washing-clothes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<i>Washing</i>: One of the first lessons I learnt in Uganda is that you can never expect your feet to be clean. It doesn’t matter how much you scrub them within a matter of minutes they will be dirty again, it’s easier just to accept it. Both washing of body and clothes is done in cold water which makes the former a certainly brisk experience and the latter that little less enjoyable. I have long given up on trying to use washing powder and now prefer the incredible power of blue star soap. I’m convinced that if you left your clothes soaking in a tub of water with blue star for too long they’d just disintegrate.<br />
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<i>Weather: </i>So you think of Africa and you think of bright sunshine, especially in countries on the equator, right? Wrong. Kabale is really high up, around 2000 metres above sea level and it rains here... a lot. Of course it does get sunny too but it rains on average 6 times a week, so much for being beautifully bronzed on my return home! </div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-39491742072046861862011-05-08T16:50:00.000+03:002011-05-08T16:50:22.737+03:00A little planning goes a long way<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If there is a city that is less pedestrian friendly than Kigali I’m yet to find it. Maybe it’s because I am the daughter of not one, but two, town planners that I pay attention to such things, but I’m pretty sure that any visitor to the capital of Rwanda would find the situation a little frustrating. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Firstly, in large swathes of the city the roads only have a pavement on one side. This would perhaps be more acceptable if it was easy to cross the road. However crossing the road in Kigali is like taking your own life in your hands. There are some zebra crossings but they are not observed in the typical way, i.e. no one stops at them to allow you to cross. It’s only once you’ve started the death defying journey that cars, motorbikes and mini buses even consider slowing down for you. Then it’s only really a token effort and dawdling can in no way be encouraged. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Even in shopping centres, surely the prime place for pedestrians, there’s no real thought for those walking. Leaving involves either sidling around or limboing under barriers whilst rich Rwandans rev their engines impatiently with their scowls carefully hidden behind mirrored sunglasses.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One of the most ridiculous things I saw, unless of course I was faced with modern art and failed to recognise it (always a possibility), was a stairway that was near impossible to climb. It wasn’t that it was painted onto the side of a wall or the steps were too high. No, it was a normal staircase that led up to a door in the side of building but in front of the steps was a locked gate that without a lot of effort clambering over it, the steps were simply not surmountable.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">However, for me, the prime example of poor planning in Kigali is the roundabout at Place de l’Unite Nationale. They have built a rather nice area in the centre of this large roundabout with nicely kept lawns (who knows who is risking life and limb for that job, but surely they must be getting paid danger money), gravel paths, benches, there may even be a fountain. However, there are two immediate problems with the roundabout. Firstly I can’t be the only one who fails to see the appeal of sitting in the middle of a heavily congested road, breathing in exhaust fumes and having my ears assaulted by the blaring of horns. If however, I was the kind of person who found all that enjoyable, I still face a challenge: reaching the roundabout. To reach it you’d have to cross three lanes of traffic with no pedestrian crossing to assist you. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I can only hope that as Kigali continues to spread itself amongst Rwanda’s ‘thousand hills’ that they invest in a decent town planner. That, or at least someone with a modicum of sense!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fountain-check, trimmed grass-check, shit loads of traffic-check</td></tr>
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</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0Rwanda-1.940278 29.873887999999965-2.826667 28.857542999999964 -1.0538889999999999 30.890232999999967tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-59528828371564279282011-05-03T17:05:00.002+03:002011-05-04T21:21:17.285+03:00Pressing issues<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sometimes I am genuinely shocked by what I see in the newspapers here in Uganda. Yes, by all means report the facts but there are ways and means. Like in most countries the quality of journalism relies heavily on which paper you chose to read but even in the most ‘journalistic’ of papers, the facts are often depicted in an unnecessarily blunt or brutal way, or in an oddly casual manner even when dealing with particularly sensitive subjects</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivADCeKFUJXyONHH_N53y2YHO_OPBXtghpxCuyhy0vBSark5jFkQgcl2SWWVgUJ9eTTg1s4L9QX_nyP7IcJSRdvDa8Uz195O6MeYEIYmPDEP5CJlib2PvZlUrVQPfJUn6g6mQI2IMNgB8/s1600/political+correctness+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivADCeKFUJXyONHH_N53y2YHO_OPBXtghpxCuyhy0vBSark5jFkQgcl2SWWVgUJ9eTTg1s4L9QX_nyP7IcJSRdvDa8Uz195O6MeYEIYmPDEP5CJlib2PvZlUrVQPfJUn6g6mQI2IMNgB8/s320/political+correctness+2.JPG" width="169" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">At the lower end of the journalistic scale slang terms are used in such abandon that a) it can be nigh on impossible to read the article without a colloquial dictionary at hand and b) even matters that are actually rather serious are made to appear comical.</span> A prime example of this was the case of former NSSF boss David Chandi Jamwa. As the article shows, Jamwa was being raped in prison and yet the paper just makes a joke out of the whole situation. This is even more baffling considering that homosexuality is actually a crime here and the ‘Pepper has previously ‘revealed’ known homosexuals. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Whilst articles are dubious it’s the pictures that I find most shocking. Whereas in the British press, if a child was murdered there would most likely be a picture of said child in happier times, smiling, healthy. Not so in Uganda where no holds are bared. After the July bombings in Kampala the papers were filled with pictures of decapitated bodies, people slumped in their chairs, scenes ravaged by the bombs. The most harrowing picture was probably a before and after shot of a young girl in her early 20s. The first picture depicted a smiling, vivacious young woman. The second, a blood soaked body with essentially pulp where her head should have been. I won’t put this images here, firstly I don’t have the copyright and secondly I wouldn’t want to inflict them upon you.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvxIe9GFz4FM7TGolY0AmnPp40LifENTKB8O2LYLaoQYmzDP-qC1tuJwAXsdDm-jv8HBx41_IN9F5FmD-5syyAhSgZqxDqHF_8-sKA6GJL48IZvYmPKJqsqHz-oVXbpoTAMKS03y7MdA/s1600/breaking+news.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvxIe9GFz4FM7TGolY0AmnPp40LifENTKB8O2LYLaoQYmzDP-qC1tuJwAXsdDm-jv8HBx41_IN9F5FmD-5syyAhSgZqxDqHF_8-sKA6GJL48IZvYmPKJqsqHz-oVXbpoTAMKS03y7MdA/s320/breaking+news.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another prime example of Ugandan journalism</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I can only imagine what her family and friends must have felt at seeing such pictures splashed across the national papers. In another article about a toddler who had been kidnapped by a witch doctor and subsequently had his penis removed before being rescued, they papers printed a picture of the boy post ‘surgery’. In years to come that boy will have enough to deal with, without the knowledge that his picture appeared in the papers when he was at his most vulnerable. I don’t agree with censorship in the press, but I think there should be some kind of boundaries when it comes to harrowing images. The stories themselves should be able to paint a clear enough picture without resorting to such explicit photographs.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-31219538542314411042011-05-03T16:52:00.000+03:002011-05-03T16:52:33.154+03:00Picking the perfect pineapple<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When surviving almost solely on carbohydrates it is essential that one takes steps to prevent scurvy. The best way to do this, in my non-medical opinion, is via good old fruit and veg. A delicious tomato and avocado sandwich here, some spaghetti with vegetable sauce there and of course a pineapple party wherever and whenever the mood suits.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCf4Esim62dF1FU-YUaV36SITIAHCLAf5T8inDuB14cHONuepJ0haSwNZICjajf-8ZbM8orxUBslLaL9t2JoOtY7m2W8dVCRrBu1oD6G2xmW4bJpuo5BCj6eGVZGSKLSm7q0DLm-fxiQ/s1600/101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCf4Esim62dF1FU-YUaV36SITIAHCLAf5T8inDuB14cHONuepJ0haSwNZICjajf-8ZbM8orxUBslLaL9t2JoOtY7m2W8dVCRrBu1oD6G2xmW4bJpuo5BCj6eGVZGSKLSm7q0DLm-fxiQ/s320/101.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">slightly over-ripe but nonetheless spreading joy</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I adore pineapple, despite a nasty incident once when I ate half a one during my lunch break in work and it was so acidic that I managed to burn my lips and tongue. I can only imagine what it did to my insides… in fact I’d rather not think about it. Anyway several chapstick applications later I was fine, but that rogue pineapple had got me to thinking: one must pick their pineapple with care. There are a couple of things to consider when picking a pineapple and I’m going to take you through them (‘cause I’m nice like that).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>1. Colour.</b> The ideal colour for a juicy, sweet pineapple with a bit of a tang is light green. If you pick one that is already yellowey-orange you will find that it is super sweet, to the point of being slightly sickly and certain parts will taste slightly like nail varnish smells. Too dark a green and it will be super sharp and the texture quite firm, the flesh more white than yellow. Of course where on the light green spectrum you want your pineapple is a case of personal preference</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>2. Resonance.</b> Now this is a tricky one to explain. It involves holding the pineapple near your ear and tapping it so try to ascertain how ripe and juicy it is. However, it’s more of a trial and error situation than an exact science. You also may look a little crazy walking around your local supermarket picking up pineapples and placing them next to your ear. Start talking to yourself at the same time and the men in white coats might start arriving.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>3. Leaf pluckability</b>.If you want to avoid looking like a crazy person one of the tip top methods for looking sane but testing for ripeness is how easily the leaves can be pulled. Despite looking a bit like Heather Small’s hairdo in the late 90s fret not, pulling the pineapple’s leaves won’t hurt it, unlike if you had yanked Heather’s tresses. Instead it will let you know if the pineapple is ripe, the easier it is to remove the leave the readier the pineapple is to eat. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So there, armed with some useful tips go into the world and throw your very own pineapple party (and if these tips weren’t at all useful you can always buy the tinned variety!).</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.gfefoods.com/images/Canned%20Pineapple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.gfefoods.com/images/Canned%20Pineapple.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-65105313956931152002011-04-28T16:23:00.000+03:002011-04-28T16:23:24.763+03:00Catch it, kill it!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Today I committed mass murder. Now, before you start calling the authorities, or start referring to me as Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, or another dictator of your choice let me explain. The murder was of mosquitoes, and maybe an innocent spider or two. That I regret a little bit, but not the mosquitoes, no siree Bob. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.savingwater.co.za/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/mosquito.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://www.savingwater.co.za/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/mosquito.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The devilish blood suckers</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I suffer mercilessly at the hands (or rather the snouts) of mosquitoes and other such little biting critters. My legs look like a dot to dot puzzle and seemingly the mosquitoes have tried to give me the gift of an anklet in bites. Needless to say that the gift is seriously unwanted. The thing I find most frustrating about getting bitten is not the incessant itching that happens the moment I decide to go to bed or the potential for disease, although admittedly both are highly unpleasant, it’s the patronising tone in which others (generally white ‘worldly’ travellers) ask “Don’t you sleep in a mosquito net?” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksGd8PWXYgEn7GirHjn1IVw7yiSfp55eS25Ru-wotoPBx_F_OYwvfoz6s7c71yKUYDfZEyUAgJLtwOkK-Dkcrr3bymZMJXdPbnfF3GI1ADaxEixniFQpRJ__GcbPK51JA9NvqluGSwwk/s1600/NIWAMANYA+TERAH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhksGd8PWXYgEn7GirHjn1IVw7yiSfp55eS25Ru-wotoPBx_F_OYwvfoz6s7c71yKUYDfZEyUAgJLtwOkK-Dkcrr3bymZMJXdPbnfF3GI1ADaxEixniFQpRJ__GcbPK51JA9NvqluGSwwk/s320/NIWAMANYA+TERAH.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A girlie pink version of what I sleep in..</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well, yes I do, I’m not an idiot. I’ve also tried using DEET, the Avon bug spray, garlic, vitamin b tablets, citronella candles and mosquito coils but nothing works. The blighters are determined to get me, and so they do. It’s also a myth that the mosquitoes only really come out at dawn and dusk. There are fewer in the day but at night they are everywhere long after the moon has arisen. It seems that nowhere is sacred either, not content to feast upon arms and legs they bite the soles of my feet, underneath my toes, my bottom and most annoyingly the underside of my chin. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So yes, I may feel a bit guilty about the few innocent spiders that died at my hand today. However, whilst I was washing the dead mosquito bodies away in my bathroom, where with the use of a little DOOM I had managed to turn the white toilet seat black, I felt no remorse. I’ve had malaria once thank you very much and while it might be a dog eat dog world I’m not ready to accept that it’s a mosquito eat man one!</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-77119356596371103122011-04-26T19:19:00.000+03:002011-04-26T19:19:41.628+03:00Women's Troubles<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Let’s face it, as Tammy Wynette sang sometimes it’s hard to be a womaaaaan. I concede that it may also sometimes be hard to be a man, but frankly I have very limited experience of that and thus I will talk only about what I know. However, I think being from a liberal family in Britain I’ve actually got it pretty easy compared to the woman of the Bakiga tribe, the local people who live here in south west Uganda.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_zlMyXA2OKrB6c6ZVzMjERG5FskXzLIObysbz61Zk3aheR8pmNgu8EQpJ8Uj0C6dCKQla32pOUiBjURYGjqvWa8IQuLy_3mJQf8VlkeOatDr5zSgnGMDQbP8laQPIVZBHePEL7vJp9k/s1600/P1020738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga_zlMyXA2OKrB6c6ZVzMjERG5FskXzLIObysbz61Zk3aheR8pmNgu8EQpJ8Uj0C6dCKQla32pOUiBjURYGjqvWa8IQuLy_3mJQf8VlkeOatDr5zSgnGMDQbP8laQPIVZBHePEL7vJp9k/s400/P1020738.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the lovely Bakiga ladies, not whistling and dressed appropriately ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Having lived here for a while I find myself getting chided for things that I find completely normal, most commonly for whistling. I’m surprised I actually whistle at all seeing as at home my sister despises it and thus I thought I’d grown out of the habit. However, free of Wales it seems my knack for whistling without noticing has come back with a vengeance. This in turn leads to a lot of frowns, sideward glances and tellings off. Apparently humming, la-ing and any kind of free form scatting is perfectly acceptable but whistling is the sole reserve of men. In addition to the oh so offensive art of whistling there’s a whole host of other things that as a woman you are not supposed to do here. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Women shouldn’t eat chicken. I have received two reasons for this. Firstly I was told that if women eat chicken they grow wings and more recently I’ve been told they grow beards. Well, I’ve been happily eating chicken for the last 25 years (not continuously you understand) and I am yet to grow wings or a beard, frankly I wouldn’t mind the former… not sure about the latter though!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Traditionally, it is acceptable for men to have several partners, including multiple wives. However the idea of a woman having a couple of husbands tucked away in the village is considered completely outrageous. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Whilst ladies are allowed to travel as passengers on bicycle taxis (side saddle of course), it is not considered acceptable for them to ride bikes themselves. A friend explained that this was because bikes could potentially damage a lady’s ‘personal area’, which is of course very precious. To be honest, logic would surely suggest that it would be a man’s ‘personal area’ that was at a greater danger of damage by riding a bike…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.worldbicyclerelief.org/_images/galleries/zambia/large/9091_Taxistand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://www.worldbicyclerelief.org/_images/galleries/zambia/large/9091_Taxistand.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gents and their bikes, and not a lady in sight</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When it comes to clothes the rules are rather more restrictive when it comes to women too. They are not supposed to show their shoulders or knees and there’s a huge taboo about showing off the midriff or too much cleavage. Particularly strict locals believe that women shouldn’t wear trousers, perhaps something to do with the ‘personal area’ again, but who knows! However, having been to the clubs here I can confirm that all sense of decency is flouted in the name of entertainment. At karaoke women are there in skimpy outfits, men are dressed as ladies and there’s more than a fair amount of cleavage, thigh and stomach on show. Clearly the younger generations aren’t quite so stringent when it comes to personal decency. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thankfully as a white woman locals are much more lax in their expectations of me. I freely walk around in jeans, <span>straddle rather than side-saddle motorbikes and am as happy munching on a chicken wing as I am tucking into rice and beans. So Tammy, yes sometimes it is hard to be a woman, but seemingly it's harder for some than others... and for now I will try to keep the whistling to a minimum.</span></div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-237201285601776392011-04-19T17:45:00.000+03:002011-04-19T17:45:27.779+03:00Walking: the new controversy<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Walking from my house into town is not a long distance, it doesn’t take very long but as I’m walking there, various cyclists and motorbike drivers are offering me lifts, amazed that I am walking, you know, actually using my legs. I am met with choruses of Yamawe (Oh my God) as they realise that I am actually not in need of their services but am happy to walk. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m white that they are so amazed. Many locals were also walking along the road and they were not constantly being hounded by boda drivers and not once did I hear the exclamation of surprise aimed at them. Perhaps it’s because I’m a fatty and they simply cannot believe that I am a) able to walk b) happy to do so.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg11teTSR_9GWczKkra6ik10iZWDpO7fC625mtDH2G-L8uSYA21fwSWCiPgMBWq64J6qZCh7eR1J3qpLyaDJeqzTHA-KES6a5BOgFKtyQq5y2ZhpNnj2PiAKR_UgPWnQFm1ukgq0G0paqw/s1600/DSC_1853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg11teTSR_9GWczKkra6ik10iZWDpO7fC625mtDH2G-L8uSYA21fwSWCiPgMBWq64J6qZCh7eR1J3qpLyaDJeqzTHA-KES6a5BOgFKtyQq5y2ZhpNnj2PiAKR_UgPWnQFm1ukgq0G0paqw/s400/DSC_1853.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All kinds of alternative transport ;)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">However, I should count myself lucky that it is just boda drivers and not the police who are stopping me as I walk. In the past week Dr Kizza Besigye, leader of the opposition party, has been arrested no less than three times for something no more offensive that trying to walk to work. This is part of the Walk to Work, Walk to Pray campaign organised by the leaders of the opposition in response to ever increasing food and fuel prices. In Uganda, people are legally within their rights to protest peacefully… well in theory anyway. Besigye, Mao and various other leaders of the opposition parties have been arrested in the past week and charged with inciting violence. Frankly I’m somewhat confused as to how walking stirs up bad feeling. In fact on the first day, last Monday, that Besigye was arrested there weren’t really many members of the public around to rouse. It was only on Thursday and again yesterday when the public came out in force, supporting the Walk to Work campaign. This seems to suggest that it in fact the police and their tactics, which can at best be described as heavy handed, that are provoking such a reaction from the public.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Three people in Gulu were killed after protesting against Mao’s incarceration, Besigye himself was shot in the hand and a seven month pregnant lady was shot in the stomach causing her intestines to fall out. An innocent bystander was knocked unconscious by a baton blow to the head and there has been a liberal use of tear gas, including throwing canisters into people’s homes, schools and health centres. The police simply cannot even argue that these people were unlucky and got in the way as they sought the perpetrators, unless of course they assume that school children and newborns are about to rise up and cause chaos. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The latest statement from police is that the opposition leaders are being arrested because they did not inform police of their plans to protest and therefore are acting unlawfully. This argument falls a little flat considering it is being announced almost nightly on national television that the IPC plan to continue the Walk to Work protests every Monday and Thursday until the situation is improved. It also begs the question as to how the police know where to go and arrest Besigye, Mao and friends if they don’t know their plans.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">By preventing high profile politicians from walking to work the police themselves are surely the ones acting unlawfully. Using out of date tear gas, shooting bullets (albeit it rubber ones) and obstructing rights of way are far more likely to provoke violence and unrest amongst the public than the simple act of walking. Right now the police don’t have a leg to stand on and seemingly they’re not allowing politicians one either.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.weinformers.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Kizza-Besigye-being-arrested.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" src="http://www.weinformers.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/Kizza-Besigye-being-arrested.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture courtesy of weinformers.net</td></tr>
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</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-89122794812374448992011-04-13T17:18:00.000+03:002011-04-13T17:18:00.898+03:00You are smart!<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Now, when I think of people being smartly dressed I think of good tailoring, pencil skirts, suits, outfits suitable for a wedding, shiny shoes, coiffure-d hair. Needless to say, I am not, even in Britain with its mod cons and beauty treatments on tap, a model for smart dressing. Yet, here I am often met by the greeting ‘you are smart today’. This is made more remarkable that a good 90% of my clothes have seen considerably better days. Three of my dresses have been sewn up by my own fair hand and being the first to admit my faults, this does not mean a great job has been done. The bottoms of my jeans are now permanently stained a pale reddy-brown and after 7 months of cold showers and no visit to the hairdresser my barnet certainly leaves something to be desired. However, thanks to a diligent boyfriend my shoes do tend to be buffed and polished, so at least my feet are keeping up appearances.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWSsn_kkAWUifTYehWV4DAsgO6F88kipfgn8d_UG1pnEd9YSq3oiybEBU-hDtLd54BE2mc6yHMbwt5y4g2l2xjCD7UQLoKuJD00CUMcDxgI7T5m6gGGi0KWtprWlppCmrrwVKt_kRZmY/s1600/DSC_1441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWSsn_kkAWUifTYehWV4DAsgO6F88kipfgn8d_UG1pnEd9YSq3oiybEBU-hDtLd54BE2mc6yHMbwt5y4g2l2xjCD7UQLoKuJD00CUMcDxgI7T5m6gGGi0KWtprWlppCmrrwVKt_kRZmY/s320/DSC_1441.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">People who are actually smart</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I think perhaps the criteria for me being smart is, that occasionally, I match. By this I mean I might wear a grey t-shirt under a dress and a grey cardigan – I don’t have the ability to be anymore co-ordinated than that. My main problem is that I’m drawn to patterns and as such find my wardrobe tends to clash. If that is the criteria then people must be pretty easy to please. However I’m not sure that this is the case. Nine out of the ten people who tell me that I am smart are considerably smarter themselves, dressed in handmade kitenge outfits, ironed shirts, smart trousers and polished shoes. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">All I can surmise is that living in Kabale they see so many travellers passing through who are a bit dusty, worn looking, sweaty from the gruelling bus or matatu journeys that they are just used to white people looking a bit worse for wear. Therefore someone who has showered recently, has managed to brush their hair and at least made an attempt at wearing clean clothes just looks smart in comparison! </div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-33805990180338735962011-04-05T18:51:00.000+03:002011-04-05T18:51:47.565+03:00Ugandan - English<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://flatplanet.wikispaces.com/file/view/Dictionary.jpg/30570970/Dictionary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://flatplanet.wikispaces.com/file/view/Dictionary.jpg/30570970/Dictionary.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The official languages of Uganda are Ki-Swahili and English. However, this is very much Ugandan-English and should not be confused with English as we know it. It is also important to note that R and L are interchangeable thus pray = play, load = road etc.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>A</i> (as in apple): short and sweet, it shows surprise, is a greeting, can be used when things break/power goes off etc.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Boda boda</i>: motorbike taxis, so named because when they first started they took people to the border of Rwanda and used to shout ‘border, border’.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Eeee </i>(said ay as in say but for a prolonged time) this means yes, an agreement noise.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Fine</i>: the only accepted answer to the question ‘how are you?’. Giving another response confuses people, especially children and they will just ask the question again. Unlike in Britain, the weather is never described as fine, it is a temperament reserved exclusively for humans.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>It’s OK: </i>This phrase gets a bit tricky, rather than meaning ‘no, its ok’, here it means ‘yes, its ok’. Ie. If someone says can I get you a chair and I say it’s ok, I mean no thanks I will get one, here if I say it’s ok, someone will think I mean yes, and will go and get me one. Best avoided.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Matatu: </i>A public minibus that generally travels between towns, although in larger cities they also travel within the city boundaries. They are almost all only licensed to carry 14 passengers but expect to be sharing with up to 22 other passengers.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Mzungu: </i>A white person. People have no qualms here with making overt references to your colour and calls of mzungu mzungu should be expected daily</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Mzungu Price:</i> An inflated price reserved especially for white people and travellers, lucky old us. A bit of bartering and repeat business generally ensures that shopkeepers top with this nonsense pretty quickly. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Now now:</i> A reference to the present time. A singular now could mean any time between right now and an hour whereas now now is much more immediate.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">ie. Are we going now now or do I have time to buy some water?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Pick: </i>1. To pick your phone (to answer it)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">2. To pick someone (to go and meet them and then move to another place)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Short call: </i>The polite way to say that you need to go and urinate</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<i>Somehow:</i> <span> </span>Used when describing feelings or events ie I am somehow ok, it was somehow good etc.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Sorry, sorry, sorry</i>: It is rare to hear a solitary sorry, they generally come in blocks of three. Most commonly used when someone injures themselves/stubs their toe/falls down.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Yamawe</i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">: The local variation of oh my god, said to express surprise, shock etc even at the smallest thing (including seeing me walking down the road).</span><br />
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</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-45767084021773723742011-03-24T10:00:00.009+03:002011-03-24T10:00:14.164+03:00Getting used to it<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When people say <i>you can get used to anything</i> it’s a lie. I know it’s a lie because after 6 months of living in Uganda I still suck my breath into the back of my throat and do a little jig when I turn on the shower. It’s not that I am super happy to be getting clean once more, or indeed a leprechaun, it’s because my shower is bloody freezing. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This isn’t a rejection of namby pamby luxury features or a misguided attempt at ‘when in Rome…’ Believe me, if I could fix a hot shower I would, but the water comes straight from the ground (where seemingly the temperature is about 2 degrees) and out of my shower head. Maybe this is how all showers work, I’m no plumber, but somehow some showers have the lovely facility of heating the water before it comes into contact with my skin. We don’t even have a water storage tank that might allow the water to get a little bit heated up by the sun’s rays before it cascades out of the head.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://lifeasjosephine.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/cold-shower-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lifeasjosephine.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/cold-shower-2.jpg" /></a>There have been times when I’ve contemplated putting water in black bags to let the sun heat them, and then pouring them over myself. The trouble with that though is that the water gets that plastic-y smell. If you don’t know what I mean leave a bottle of water in the sun for a couple of hours and then have a sniff inside, you’ll see.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So the fact remains that each day I approach the shower with a slight sense of dread, some days are better than others. Chilly, misty mornings are by far the worst when your body ends up steaming because it is so hot in comparison to the water you are bathing in. Still, I’m probably helping the environment. Firstly I’m not using any power to heat the water up and secondly gone are the days of long, luxurious showers. No, no, it’s now a case of get in – wet –lather –rinse- jump out.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Of course I endure my shower, after all I understand the importance of hygiene… and frankly I don’t want to smell like an old sock that has been rubbed in cheese and left in the sun to ferment for a week. But for me, endurance is not quite the same thing as ‘getting used to it’!</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-64643889416701719872011-03-21T16:46:00.000+03:002011-03-21T16:48:13.299+03:00One Month On<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Post election violence in Kenya, Mugabe in Zimbabwe and the recent troubles in Egypt, Ivory Cost, Tunisia and Libya, we’ve all seen how things can quickly get out of hand when it comes to politics in Africa. Therefore I was somewhat nervous about being in Uganda in the lead up to elections here. But thankfully, here we are a month since Museveni was announced as President for another 5 years and all is still calm, I can only hope that things stay this way. But what is it that makes Africans so passionate about politics?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3xRN4ja8gtFLBdJ70aYP49VXaux4SFFW1n98LOWCaGgk0x6Cq96hGqpYrXgCf_3ksSMvK-a-J3O4q8qNip8nTNhaWiyARu-RIYfdixusneSXnStaPRVGk4WxbxUasAmDv9ONPlpRB60/s1600/DSC_1892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3xRN4ja8gtFLBdJ70aYP49VXaux4SFFW1n98LOWCaGgk0x6Cq96hGqpYrXgCf_3ksSMvK-a-J3O4q8qNip8nTNhaWiyARu-RIYfdixusneSXnStaPRVGk4WxbxUasAmDv9ONPlpRB60/s400/DSC_1892.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boda drivers awaiting the NRM candidate's arrival</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One of the major issues that blights African politics is the length of time that leaders are in power. In Uganda, Museveni has been in power my entire lifetime and now that he has recently been re-elected there is talk of extending term lengths from 5 to 7 years so I could be 32 by the time Uganda votes again. Whilst this does bring stability, which in the case of Uganda was essential after the regimes of Amin and Obote, it also allows for political stagnancy. Promising x,y and z when you’ve already been in power for 25 years seems almost ridiculous after all what have you been doing for all that time? This split voters into those who saw Museveni as a force for stability and opposition as potentially bringing back the issues of tribalism and those who saw Museveni as stagnant and the opposition as a change for good. Both camps were vehemently opposed to the other.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Many voters are swayed not by issues but rather by personalities. In fact many of the candidates’ stances on various issues were not entirely clear. Rather they won voters with their looks, smiles, personalities. Nearly all politicians at some point during their rallies dance along with the crowds, showing that they are one of ‘the people’. Museveni took it one step further, not content with simply dancing he released a rap song to ingratiate himself with the youth vote. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPlvwLmS1jGAIZclUbeTDPH5PYmC8ssIB4A0dlPLJcjYlpk8qKRXSdhRIn24hKqbYQsgPjGqpJNiVz4LD4z1F7T9bDHNwrXyf_U6eIFOQq8C8QgBwsrMf86kxm0y0hyhvaoNgQD8y34o/s1600/DSC_1863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPlvwLmS1jGAIZclUbeTDPH5PYmC8ssIB4A0dlPLJcjYlpk8qKRXSdhRIn24hKqbYQsgPjGqpJNiVz4LD4z1F7T9bDHNwrXyf_U6eIFOQq8C8QgBwsrMf86kxm0y0hyhvaoNgQD8y34o/s400/DSC_1863.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rallying is clearly a serious business</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">However it seems that money is the root of all voting. As one person told me “people vote for money, rarely anything else”. Boda drivers were given petrol money and other gifts (money, t shirts, bandanas) to take part in NRM rallies. In the village small sums, candles and other minor gifts were distributed. Then there’s the sheer cost of the various party campaigns. The disparity between them was for me, the most startling thing about the February 2011 elections. NRM, the ruling parry, simply blew everyone else out of the water with their campaign. Their rallies were numerous and began months before any one elses. They flew Coco Finger from Juba to Kampala just to perform for a rally and Bebe Cool another musical heavyweight was singing for the cause despite the fact that his own father, Bidani Ssali was running for the PPP. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As they say money talks, and in this case the voters answered. So it’ll be Museveni for at least another 5 years, it will be interesting to see the public reaction if he is successful in extending terms from five to seven years after all he has already done away with maximum term limits. Only time will tell the true cost of these elections, I just hope it won’t be too costly.</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-27658014379671564242011-03-16T18:14:00.000+03:002011-03-16T18:14:50.426+03:0027 by 27<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Birthday to meeee!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Today is my 25<sup>th</sup> birthday, here I am a quarter of a century and whilst I’ve done a lot of great stuff in my lifetime there are still many things (large and small) that I still want to achieve. Therefore why not give myself a bit of a kick up the backside and make a list (I love a good list) of 27 things to do before I’m 27.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Why 27? Well, firstly I have never been good at sticking to appropriate numbers for things. For example<a href="http://alisinwanderland.blogspot.com/2010/12/survivors-guide-to-volunteering-abroad.html"> this article</a> has only 8 and a half points rather than the more traditional 10. I could have gone for 30 things before I’m thirty but five years seems quite a long time, and this way if I fail to do all the 27 things before my 28<sup>th</sup> birthday I can always add three more things and give myself three more years to get everything done. Of course I could have gone for 29 things, but that’s a bit close to 30, and well, I don’t much like the number 28. So here it is a list of 27 things to do before my 27<sup>th</sup> birthday. Some are more adventurous than others and various ones will be made harder by the fact that I am currently living in Uganda. Still, I’m ready to give it a good old go… </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">1. Grow my own vegetables.. successfully</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">2. Learn how to do cryptic crosswords, subsequently complete one</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">3. Have one article published in a magazine/newspaper</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">4. Raise £1000 for charity</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">5. Host a tea party with little cakes, triangle sandwiches and proper china </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">6. Start a small shop on Etsy</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">7. Go to Malawi</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">8. Read at least one of the religious books/scriptures in its entirety</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">9. Learn how to play Mah jong, the real rather than the computer, version</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">10. Customise an item of clothing/shoes</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">11. See mountain gorillas</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">12. Be with Denis when he experiences the sea for the first time</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">13. Go to Glastonbury festival</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">14. Skip every day for a month in the hope that it may encourage me to continue the good habit.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">15. Knit a scarf</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">16. Take a sign language class</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">17. Write a letter to my childhood pen-friend in Australia whom I have not written to in over a decade, to see if I get a response from her or whoever may now live at that address.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">18. Drastically improve my Rukiga </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">19. Learn (and play) every card game in the Collins Book of Family Card Games</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">20. Get a fringe cut in (subsequently grow it out sharpish if it looks horrendous)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">21. Read the entire works of Shakespeare</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">22. Volunteer with the homeless</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">23. Have a go at riding a motorbike</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">24. Learn to cook 14 new vegetarian recipes</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">25. Attend a bhangra dance class</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">26. Spend a month writing a letter a day to someone I love.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">27. Read Milton's Paradise Lost </div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-88092152892774200042011-03-13T20:09:00.000+03:002011-03-13T20:13:40.673+03:00Life's Little Aspects: Part 1<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Forget about dictionary definitions and the blueprints in your mind, when it comes to things like food, time and housework the same rules simply don’t apply in Uganda. As it’s the small things that really make up life, let’s go through a few definitions of every day aspects of life. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<i>Animals</i><br />
When you think of Uganda most people are probably thinking lions, monkeys, giraffe, gorillas, elephants etc. Yes, these animals are of course here but they are not part of everyday life, in fact they are very much confined to the numerous national parks. <i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not many of these little critters in these here parts</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Monkeys are an exception, they can be found playing in the trees of some towns including Kampala and Jinja. However, the most exotic animals that I am in contact with here in Kabale are pigs, goats and of course, my nightly visitors- the mosquito.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Football</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Never mind the fact that we are thousands of miles away from Britain. Loyalty to the teams of the English premier league runs deep. Everyone supports a team, most commonly Manchester United or Arsenal and they will stay awake until 1am in order to catch the games. It’s one of the most common questions you get asked when people first meet you, they want to find where your football loyalties lie. I must say though, I’m pretty grateful to Manchester United and to Ryan Giggs in particular. Why? Well because when I say that I am from Wales people actually know where I’m talking about (and no, mentioning Princess Di does not have the same effect, clearly Giggs is much more celeb-worthy)!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <br />
<i>Food </i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">‘Food’ here is considered to be stews (meat, beans etc) and various kinds of carbohydrates for accompaniment: </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Irish: Boiled potatoes</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Kalo: Millet flour and water mixed until it becomes stretchy, brown and entirely unappetising.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Matooke – mashed plantain (savoury bananas)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Posho – maize flour and water ‘mingled’ until it becomes a solid starch lump, horrendous</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Rice – delicious, why would anyone ever choose posho over it?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sweet Potatoes: Not the orangey kind, but the white wiggly kind, boiled.</div> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet potatoes, matooke and devil eggplants</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Anything else is not referred to as food, but rather as snacks. This can obviously get a bit confusing when you go into restaurants (see below) and ask if they have food. They may well answer no even if they do in fact have eggs, chips, chapattis, samosa etc. As you can tell, the diet is carbohydrate heavy, thank goodness for cheap and delicious pineapples, passion fruits, avocadoes and tomatoes!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Hair:</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ladies will happily spend hours in the ‘saloon’ (and not that is not a typo here salons are known as saloons) having their own, and generally copious amounts of fake, hair braided into weird and wonderful styles. For men the only acceptable styles are those shaved close to the head. Men with long hair, or heaven forbid, dreadlocks are immediately associated with the Rastafarian culture, which socially has negative connotations (thieves, marijuana smokers etc).<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Housework: </i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Washing machines, vacuum cleaners, hot water – you never truly appreciate them until you’re in Africa and scrubbing your pants in a basin of cold water with Blue Star, a multi-purpose wonder soap. I’m not joking, I love blue star, it would probably ruin your washing machine if you shaved off some and put it in the drawer, melt the drum or something. I confess that I'm not a very good clothes washing, opting to pay a lovely lady to do most of mine for me. Anyway I could never get my whites that white again, I've come to the conclusion that locals must use witchcraft, there is no other explanation.<br />
<br />
<i>Music </i><br />
I’ve mentioned the state of music before, but really, for someone who loves music and live gigs in particular, it’s a big deal. There is some OK local music being made and I confess to have been won over by some of the more catchy Ugandan songs, particularly those of Radio and Weasel. But on the whole things are pretty bad. Alarmingly, Westlife, Celine Dion and Shania Twain are more popular here than they were in Britain in the 90s (early 00s for Westlife).<i> </i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ludicrous amounts of love for Celine</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Locals love a good soppy ballad, they also love songs with slightly questionable lyrics, I refer you to P Square’s smash hit “Do Me”. It should also be noted (so that I don’t look negatively biased) Museveni’s political rap was voted the best song of the year. I rest my case.</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-27283692537300556422011-03-09T15:57:00.000+03:002011-03-09T15:57:00.503+03:00Bibliophilia<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I think it would be fair to say that since childhood I have been a fully fledged bookworm, I love to read. By age 4 I had read every copy of Topsy and Tim books that my local library had to offer (including the ones I had specifically asked to be brought over from the central library). It’s one reason, among many others, that if I was put in the Big Brother house I would just go completely loopy. I particularly love second hand bookshops, the shelves filled with wrinkled spines and softened pages and of course the spell of the paper, I would love to bottle that smell. So here in Uganda I face a little problem, my nearest bookshop that doesn’t exclusive sell religious works and text books is an 8 hour bus journey away. Of course I brought some books with me but with a 23k luggage allowance and clothes, medicinal supplies, a few pairs of shoes, Oreos (vital to every travelling girl) and basic toiletries to bring there wasn’t too much room left. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitorZc1exnylvd-VrwowDNWQy2Qnhjn-6UlcmqpDlQ8NquHxqioddXZZQuMIMSbAO5OHIo-FCgJljJj7E0Y9lSIUka8goUGeemQCUZDAE_uAKqWab0iBYwvbiXZnsOnGI8VRQt4Pl_l_k/s1600/P1020670.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitorZc1exnylvd-VrwowDNWQy2Qnhjn-6UlcmqpDlQ8NquHxqioddXZZQuMIMSbAO5OHIo-FCgJljJj7E0Y9lSIUka8goUGeemQCUZDAE_uAKqWab0iBYwvbiXZnsOnGI8VRQt4Pl_l_k/s400/P1020670.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thankfully, there is a light under the covers. A hostel in town has a small selection of books that you can borrow free of charge. Despite the rule that you can only lend the books, and not swap one for another, there is a pretty high turn over of books and the selection is becoming increasingly multi-lingual. Also anything worth reading will be pinched within a matter of days. This means that I have to check the book shelves regularly for any new gems before they get pilfered. I have been lucky on occasion – I’ve managed to read The Road, I Dreamed of Africa and Les Miserables. However I have also been forced to read books that I would never usually pick up, namely thrillers and crime novels. For some reason the vast majority of books that are left here fit into these genres. This leads me to two possible conclusions: 1. people travelling to Uganda are on the whole lovers of crime and thriller novels 2. People travelling to Uganda bring all kinds of books but the ones that leave books behind are those who like crime/ thrillers. I guess if you’re reading a whodunit there isn’t a great deal of point in reading the book a second time other than to give yourself a smug satisfaction that you know exactly ‘whodunit’ from page one.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA8Ar9KiaLJLlipKy3EoGvVmimUC1npNdbrK4fQSgIfkjuWfXUa_YycGBJ74zrxVt2fDk3ANh7boPsQJv8pRfPJvEZWXo5vYoPAM57EVr645S78duJ3uvGoq9GfPyz2EL_yN0auQhaLO8/s1600/P1020638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA8Ar9KiaLJLlipKy3EoGvVmimUC1npNdbrK4fQSgIfkjuWfXUa_YycGBJ74zrxVt2fDk3ANh7boPsQJv8pRfPJvEZWXo5vYoPAM57EVr645S78duJ3uvGoq9GfPyz2EL_yN0auQhaLO8/s400/P1020638.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Books, books, lover-ly books</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So for now I will content myself with titles like <i>Death de Jour</i> and <i>State of Play</i> and hope that Uganda’s next batch of visitors bring some more stimulating reads. When things get really desperate I can always turn to Better World Books, a website I have just discovered. They sell first and second hand books and the best thing is that worldwide delivery is <b>free</b> and unlike so many other sites that claim to offer ‘world wide delivery’, this does actually include Uganda… it’s a good day for bookworms far from home soil. </div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-55595679006721200552011-03-05T15:54:00.000+03:002011-03-05T16:19:58.856+03:00Unwanted Attention<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Yesterday whilst sitting enjoying a mountain of meat with some friends, and, perhaps more importantly, minding my own business I was handed a note by another patron in the restaurant. This is in fact not the first letter that has been slipped over a table at me whilst both the author and I try to avoid catching each other’s eye. For me the avoidance of eye contact is simple, I try to pretend that the situation isn’t really happening and I definitely don’t want to encourage the note giver so that they begin talking to me. Similarly, whilst I read the notes (and offer them around for other people to take amusement from) I never respond to the writer, even if they bring over several… you’d think they’d get the hint after the first one wouldn’t you? For them, the lack of eye contact is probably a case of embarrassment, but then why give me a note at all? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCUCxEEafiCCTFYscPki5Flu8X1yKT_SlHqdQedafT6u2MkRcya9N3PNoGlVtZ-CFO7ZQm7fppG0CsUnIwHMAX-uKrD3jQ5GVJvt3bt8Tt10psv95DTKZ0GwN66h8U689CD7NiApzvZZg/s1600/P1020675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCUCxEEafiCCTFYscPki5Flu8X1yKT_SlHqdQedafT6u2MkRcya9N3PNoGlVtZ-CFO7ZQm7fppG0CsUnIwHMAX-uKrD3jQ5GVJvt3bt8Tt10psv95DTKZ0GwN66h8U689CD7NiApzvZZg/s320/P1020675.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original letter</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> The givers of these notes are never entirely savoury. This particular note giver was in the latter stages of middle age, had a slightly wild look about the eyes and was drinking alone… at 3 o’clock in the afternoon.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As for the note itself, well it wasn’t (thankfully) a declaration of love rather it said the following: <i>“Hullow a strong woman and a brown woman even a social woman who is always smart and very active. I am Julius who is greeting you. I am very glad to see you here. Which means I wish you a happy stay and enjoyable life in Kabale district. A strong woman, just now I am in a bad condition, assist me – 2000 shs.”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">To my knowledge I have never met, or indeed even seen, this man before. Therefore I’m not really sure how he knows that I am always smart and very active. Strong here is clearly a code word for fat and I’m not entirely sure as to why he refers to me as brown, especially considering the fact that the majority of people here can’t wait to point out the fact that I’m white with their calls of ‘mzungu, mzungu’. The request for money is cheeky, but not entirely surprising, such requests are fairly commonplace. What I was surprised at however was that after I failed to acknowledge his letter, the scribe once more sidled up to our table and handed my friend a letter. It was similar (he described him as a strong man) but rather than 2000 shillings he asked only 1000 from my local friend. I guess even in the world of begging you have to ask for mzungu price!</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-52542715861327780542011-02-27T18:51:00.000+03:002011-02-27T18:51:20.243+03:00Stop, Look and Listen<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I, like most children in the Western world, was taught from a young age about the dos and don’ts concerning safety. Mantras like <i>don’t talk to strangers, don’t play with matches, stop look and listen</i> are drilled into our skulls until following the rules became second nature. In my childhood there were cartoons and adverts targeted specifically at kids to help keep them safe. Frances the firefly was a personal favourite of mine but the ‘King of the Road’ hedgehogs certainly captured their audience. There was a time during primary school that the whole of my class would have been able to sing the advert to you word perfect, maybe even in four part harmony if you’d asked really nicely. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/uAgxZ-l5pY8/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/uAgxZ-l5pY8/0.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of the 'Staying Alive' road safety campaign</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here, however, there isn’t the same level of diligence about being careful. In truth there seems to be a bit of a disregard for being cautious. It is not uncommon to see young children, 5 or 6 years of age walking around with pangas (machetes) that are a big as my forearm. They are not carrying them in a threatening way but instead are carrying them so that they can cut wood or bamboo. In fact the biggest danger they pose is to themselves. Martin, a friend, once showed me an enormous scar on his back that he got from a panga accident as a child – he had forgotten that he had placed the knife through a length of bamboo and as he threw the bamboo over his shoulder to carry it home the panga had driven into his back.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But it’s not just knives, children tend to charcoal stoves, light paraffin lamps and play right next to, and even sometimes in the middle of, busy roads. I’ve stopped wondering where the parents of the unaccompanied children you see wandering about the town are and people are much more willing to pass their young children around to complete strangers. For example on a recent matatu ride my mother offered to hold a newborn baby while her mother got on and ended up holding it for most of the journey whilst the mother chatted away to fellow passengers.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kbinR5PkH-vlzMmLBVW7qeygPlTttrlF66Dz4VimokdJC_szYjhOUkL6mUP7ZjTjK9qKzwL3SiPqkKfMJukvmhv4k6WPwB0cfDa8j7upkRKUi65wtTRwZmcSql_M2_TeHbgcMN4pKcQ/s1600/CSC_1385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kbinR5PkH-vlzMmLBVW7qeygPlTttrlF66Dz4VimokdJC_szYjhOUkL6mUP7ZjTjK9qKzwL3SiPqkKfMJukvmhv4k6WPwB0cfDa8j7upkRKUi65wtTRwZmcSql_M2_TeHbgcMN4pKcQ/s400/CSC_1385.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Children in Stone Town, Zanzibar observing road safety beautifully</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Frankly, in Britain I think we’ve gone too far with our fear of strangers and general mistrust of the adult population. It’s ridiculous that friends can no longer look after each other’s children unless they are vetted and that in some play areas adults are not allowed, even the parents whose children are playing inside. We need to have more trust in the general population and allow children vital freedom and independence. However, letting them play on main roads and allowing children as young as 4 or 5 to be unaccompanied in town is going a little too far, especially in a country where child abduction and subsequent sacrifice is not unheard of. There must be a middle ground somewhere, I just hope when I come to have kids of my own, whether here or in Britain, I’ll have gone someway to finding it.</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-48163880849145166352011-02-15T11:37:00.000+03:002011-02-15T11:37:34.606+03:00We are sorry to announce that the 10.37 to Kalangala will be delayed by indefinite minutes<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Have you ever complained about a bus that didn’t turn up or failing to get a seat on a long distance train during peak hours? I know I have, but since living in Uganda all my quibbles regarding British public transport are forgotten. Not until you have been crammed with another 22 people in a minibus made for 14 or spent 48 hours travelling on a bus with no toilet or refreshment facilities can you truly appreciate just how good you’ve got it back home.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The first rule to public transport in East Africa is to forget about personal space. Even on the buses where you have your own seat it’s not uncommon for someone to be perched on your arm rest, another sat near (on) your feet and for a roll of mattresses/shopping bags/chickens to be jammed in the aisle next to you… and that’s luxury. In the public minibuses (matatus) more people are squished inside than you ever thought possible: legs go dead, arms are draped out of windows or around strangers’ shoulders, bodies are contorted in weird and wonderful ways and it’s not uncommon to have some chickens and even sometimes a goat share your journey with you. On a recent journey from the Ssesse Islands we fitted 12 people into an Ipsum, (including 3 people and the driver in the front) which according to its manufacturers should hold just 7. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.uganda-visit-and-travel-guide.com/images/uganda-taxi-matatu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://www.uganda-visit-and-travel-guide.com/images/uganda-taxi-matatu.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's always room for one more package/person/chicken</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> In Rwanda the situation is slightly better as their regulations are tighter and so they tend not to overcrowd their public taxis. However, this comes at a price. I recently got into a minibus at Katuna heading to Kigali, about 2 hours away. As soon as I got in I realised why the row I went to sit in was empty. The seats in front were so close to mine that in order to have been able to fit my legs in comfortably I would have had to have had them amputated around mid thigh. So whilst I think it’s great that in Rwanda they are more strict about how many people are allowed to sit in a minibus taxi, after all no-one enjoys being crammed in like sardines, if the price of having less people means that I only have enough leg room for a short child, I’m not sure which I’d prefer.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In addition to buses and minibuses there are the ridiculously useful boda-bodas (motorbike taxis). Need to get up a steep hill, travel at night, have a lot of shopping, travelling a relatively short distance? Then bodas are a god send. Seriously, I wish we had them in Britain. No more worrying about how you are going to get back from the pub/ that house party, just head to your nearest boda stage (they’re never far away) and <i>voila!</i> problem solved. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Luckily in Kabale bodas are pretty safe, there isn’t a lot of traffic and as long as you have your regular drivers you eliminate the chances of taking one at night who has also been enjoying a beer or two. Kampala bodas are a whole other experience though, they tear through the traffic jams narrowly dodging cars, trucks, pedestrians and each other. They attempted to enforce a rule whereby all boda drivers must wear a helmet and have one available for passengers, but this fell short.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXKtDCtaizzMyuvM2U8WNWEgYVJMS0HvCWXri9B_A6zT8epVEEDUdYPJkBz1uD11NdCntBQI3hwO35r6X_mfnIrdbEnBYUI5swydktYX5xaM6UUDfxx54RS-_OPBN6_cbuxgzyyGK1c0/s1600/P1020412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXKtDCtaizzMyuvM2U8WNWEgYVJMS0HvCWXri9B_A6zT8epVEEDUdYPJkBz1uD11NdCntBQI3hwO35r6X_mfnIrdbEnBYUI5swydktYX5xaM6UUDfxx54RS-_OPBN6_cbuxgzyyGK1c0/s400/P1020412.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holding the strap to keep the helmet on... not ideal</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Unlike Kampala, Kigali has successfully enforced this rule. Of course one part of me knows that it’s logical to have a helmet and a lot safer too. However, I can’t help but think of all those other people who have worn them before me, sweating in to them, maybe with nits, lice or skin infections. Then there’s the fact that many of the helmets don’t really fit, in fact half the time you have to hold the chin strap to stop it from flying backwards off your head. In reality what good is that going to do in a crash?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So the next time you’re cursing the 7.47 train for being 15 minutes delayed or the 58a for failing to show up again, just think. You could be waiting for an indefinite period for the bus to fill up before even leaving or be sharing your commute with double the people and half a farmyard.</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-8342327874500553142011-02-12T23:13:00.000+03:002011-02-13T16:06:47.429+03:00Monkey business<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRkLPl0Z34PoN5TOSTWKRChyphenhyphenUbfeq2hElZaH5KOHIbj5lvsqpyCV9nAq_Yi9alSH7rcjlBDRQPxMkjM2g5E-rj61XL13G-K3e6e6uKokE0DZcPRce5QfN8I9E2vVr7746ENGtFnUWIBk/s1600/P1020185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRkLPl0Z34PoN5TOSTWKRChyphenhyphenUbfeq2hElZaH5KOHIbj5lvsqpyCV9nAq_Yi9alSH7rcjlBDRQPxMkjM2g5E-rj61XL13G-K3e6e6uKokE0DZcPRce5QfN8I9E2vVr7746ENGtFnUWIBk/s400/P1020185.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cute little golden monkey kind of critter</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> For many, the south west of Uganda means one thing: mountain gorillas. The majestic mountain gorilla is certainly an impressive beast and as an endangered species it is thought that only around 1000 now remain. They have never been successfully bred in captivity and they cannot be found on zoos. Therefore if you want to see these impressive creatures you’re going to have to take a trip to Bwindi National Park or the Virungas, a set of 3 adjoining national parks found in Uganda, Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. The upside is that you get the chance to see these incredible animals playing, eating and interacting right in front of you. The downside? A trek that can take between 1 and 8 hours before you even find the gorilla group and the cost, a whopping $500. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Recently rumours have once more resurfaced that the cost of trekking the mountain gorillas is going to be increased to an eye watering $750. Yes ok, these are extremely rare creatures and this is the only way you are going to get to see them, but $500 is just extortionate, particularly considering the fact that it currently costs East Africans just $100. I certainly do not begrudge this discounted rate, in fact I think measures taken to encourage locals to visit their national parks and appreciate their natural assets make complete sense and should be supported. However $100 is still very high for someone on an average wage in the south west of Uganda. I just think that the cost of permits should be lowered for everyone as I can’t see how the price can be justified.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just munchin' some luncheon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>At this moment in time you may well be thinking that the answer is obvious (and that I’m a bit dim-witted). That it’s a simple matter of supply and demand. As I’ve mentioned above the mountain gorillas are extremely rare and therefore you are paying for their scarcity. But this is where a little anomaly occurs, in addition to the mountain gorilla, the Virungas are also home to the golden monkey. The golden monkey is a sub-species of the blue monkey and they are only found in the dormant volcano range that straddles Uganda, Rwanda and Congo. Whilst they are not quite as rare as the mountain gorilla, it is thought there are approximately 3000-4000 living in the Albertine Rift Valley, they are also classified as an endangered species. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So why is it that to track the golden monkeys costs only $50 whilst to track the gorillas costs 10 times more? Having seen the golden monkeys I can verify that it also includes a hike up steep mountainside (although thankfully not for 8 hours) and you get to spend an hour with them just as you do the gorillas. All I can assume is that the price hike for gorilla trekking was implemented and people were still willing to pay. The trouble is where will it stop? To me it just seems like monkey business, but apparently, it pays.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-89438504324385215512011-01-30T11:15:00.000+03:002011-01-30T11:15:02.154+03:00Joy to the world? Not with a voice like that!<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Our neighbour’s child loves to sing. This in itself isn’t a problem. The problem is that she insists on doing it loudly, horrendously out of tune and at the most anti-social hours. Even now, well into January when for most people Christmas is already a distant memory, I am still being awoken by the screeching of ‘Joy to the World’. I can assure you that when rudely awoken by what can only be described as a noise akin to the murder of several cats when the use of a mangle is the murder weapon of choice, I do not feel at all joyful. If anything I feel tired, hugely irritable and an overwhelming urge to remove the offender’s vocal chords.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talented people, perhaps they can give the neighbours some lessons.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>She is not entirely to blame however; other local children have now followed her ‘musical’ lead, unfortunately they have roughly the same amount of talent. When not singing unrecognizable songs (I am yet to work out if this is because I don’t know the originals, or that they are just being butchered beyond recognition), their instrument of choice is makeshift drum. Essentially they bang erratic rhythms out on jerry cans and because almost anything can be made into a drum – fences, jerry cans, knees – the noise accumulates until it reaches fever pitch. There have been several times when I have resisted the urge to stagger from my bed fling open the door and ask/beg/plead/shout at them to stop. However, I think the sight of me with wild hair, barely opened eyes and dust lined pyjama bottoms might just spur them on. That, or they might be scared to death and depsite the horrific din they create I don't want to actually kill them.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Roll on February when the little blighters go back to school, then I'll just have the barking dogs and next door's baby to contend with... relative bliss.</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-64496767834743094012011-01-24T19:21:00.000+03:002011-01-24T19:21:55.908+03:00Here comes the blackout<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One of the most irritating things about living in a developing country is power and water, well rather the lack of it. This may sound flippant, that I value amenities above human rights, the plight of refugees, wide spread poverty etc. But I’m human, and more to the point a human that has grown up in Britain, a country in which power and water are largely taken for granted.*</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Officially these black outs are referred to as ‘load shedding’, it’s just a shame that it seems the further from Kampala you are the more you have to suffer the burden of darkness. So living in Kabale, in the very south west of the country means it’s dark rather a lot of the time. It’s not just that when there’s no electricity gone are the lights, computers, ability to charge your phone, but when the power goes off so does the water. Perhaps this is just something that happens here, I’m not sure if this is country-wide. It wouldn’t even be so bad that when the power returned, <i>voila,</i> so did the water, but this also doesn’t happen. It can be hours even days sometimes before water returns. Somewhere along the line the system has gone horribly, horribly wrong.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the run up to Christmas we had a total of about 24 hours of power in just over a week. Sadly the water situation was even worse; we perhaps had an hour of water spread out over the course of a week. Of course we resorted to getting jerry cans of water but tossing water down the toilet is not a viable alternative to flushing it and trying to wash your hair in freezing water a couple of inches deep does not leave you with hair you want to whip about the place whilst proudly announcing that you’re worth it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If I were eligible to vote in the upcoming elections it would be the person promising me fewer blackouts that would get my vote. Yes, health care, infrastructure and a commitment to tackling corruption are important, but after a good shower don’t you feel much more inclined to take on the world and its problems? I know I do.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">* and of course I care about these things too, I'm not entirely heartless</span><br />
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</div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-62697558085151548392011-01-18T16:36:00.000+03:002011-01-18T16:59:23.220+03:00Getting sick and tired<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am not frequently ill but when I am, all too often it is with some weird and wonderful disease. No common cold or straight forward food poisoning for me oh no. When it comes to being ill I think my body thinks it’s in some extreme sickness competition. I’ve had tropical diseases like Malaria, antiquated ones like Quinsy, suffered from gastroenteritis so severe that I had a temperature of 104 and lay in bed hallucinating for 4 days (and, perhaps worst of all, missed out on a holiday to Cyprus), and currently I’m suffering from Brucellosis. If you’ve never heard of it before, join the club. Perhaps it’s because it is a disease that mainly affects live stock. Basically I’m ill with something that cows rather humans can more readily sympathise with.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the things about having an illness that you’ve literally never heard of is that you’re just not sure if it’s socially acceptable to talk about it. For most illnesses you know who, where and under what circumstances you can talk about them, but with this I have no guidelines. This put me in a bit of a tricky situation when I was walking about town with my medicine in a see through carrier bag. This was not because I was seeking sympathy, but rather it was the only bag I could manage to get my hands on and I had to get some food from town before being able to take the medicine given and head home to bed. However, having medicine visibly on show obviously led people to ask me what the matter was. Their first question is always whether or not you have malaria. When you answer “no” their interest is immediately increased. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8cnHHzZe_4ioXV5yArKW4bA55C5vpCY0Mv3JUIfTRonu-unI7lIbqHSzRBA63vwBaNZ2A4e44zP9gomH_ntuGyP4nyTI1HLowLYLlsp_s-aCLRlQtvFDReSoGEF4ggjkN_XyDEpK5lw/s1600/P1020145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq8cnHHzZe_4ioXV5yArKW4bA55C5vpCY0Mv3JUIfTRonu-unI7lIbqHSzRBA63vwBaNZ2A4e44zP9gomH_ntuGyP4nyTI1HLowLYLlsp_s-aCLRlQtvFDReSoGEF4ggjkN_XyDEpK5lw/s400/P1020145.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The associated joys of having Brucellosis</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I tried the non-committal answer tactic but evasion doesn’t really work all that well when people start listing illnesses in the hope of working out what you’ve got. Frankly after a while (well, in fact almost immediately when you’re ill and your tolerance levels are at an all time low) the game gets a bit old so I just ended up saying that I had Brucellosis. Thankfully no-one looked all that horrified, in fact one former- Brucellosis sufferer even started shouting questions and sympathy across an internet café, so much for patient confidentiality! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Perhaps there’s just no such thing as socially unacceptable diseases here, maybe I have made a huge gaff by stating that I’ve got Brucellosis but people were being too polite to look at me aghast, of course it could be that I’ve got something that’s just as acceptable as malaria, flu or the common cold. I’m not sure, but thankfully in 3 weeks time I’ll be Brucellosis free and will no longer need to concern myself with such matters. </span></div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6074162411764095246.post-3163479902493854702011-01-12T18:03:00.000+03:002011-01-12T18:03:20.334+03:00Do you want another rap?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a.abcnews.com/images/International/ap_yoweri_museveni_101111_mn.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://a.abcnews.com/images/International/ap_yoweri_museveni_101111_mn.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandmaster rap himself</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><s> </s></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><s>Yes Sevo. </s><span> </span>Unlike the song my response would be a very firm, “No. Never”. For those of you outside of Uganda I’m talking about Museveni’s 2010 debut rap release. I’ve mentioned it before on this blog but now things have taken a dramatic turn for the worse as this frankly embarrassing foray into the music industry has been named Best Single of the year. I dislike the song for many reasons, not leastly because it’s a bit like your dad reading a list of things he likes: cricket, Sunday newspapers, ham sandwiches, ordinate survey maps, slightly faster than usual and with a beat behind it and then trying to get your friends to dance to it. Each time I hear the song my toes curl a little and I just find myself a bit embarrassed for this 60 something man who has put himself in league with the likes of 50 cent and Eminem.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Weirdly though the youth here seem to quite like it. I just simply cannot imagine David Cameron releasing a song, rap or otherwise, that would be considered anything close to cool by the youth, or indeed anyone for that matter. There is certainly no way that whilst out on a Saturday night you would hear it in the clubs. Yet this is what happened to me the other week, there I was dancing away to the usual musical fare when over the PA came “do you want annazza rap?” Well as clearly expressed above, no I do not. I don’t want party politics to be brought into the enjoyment of my Saturday night either. Earlier in the day there had been an NRM (Museveni’s political party) rally and several people in the club were adorned in bright yellow t-shirts and bandanas with the president’s face on. When his song came on I thought the excitement might actually induce heart attacks as NRM supporters set about leaping everywhere and screaming “YES SEVO!” at the top of their lungs. In my opinion there is a time and place for party politics and it is not at 1am on a Saturday night whilst I’m trying to enjoy a cheeky gin and bitter lemon.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span></span>Finally, I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one in thinking that politicians should have better things with which to fill their time. Rather than releasing dubious records best confined to bargain bins perhaps he should be concentrating on the various issues that currently affect Uganda. The radio stations don’t need another rap song to fill up their shows but Ugandans <b>do</b> need basic health care, universal primary and secondary education, better roads and more job opportunities.<span> </span></span></div>Ali in Wanderlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03777733500949115298noreply@blogger.com2