Phew! There is 20 minutes of my life I will never get back.
Along a long dirt back road called the Forgotten Highway which runs down the centre of the North Island of New Zealand is a country within a country. Strange but true. I never knew. As I was driving this annoyingly long road, filled with landslides, stunning country hillsides and beautiful native forestry with my Aunt, who thought it would be fun to take the super-duper long way to Taranaki we came across Whangamomona. The Republic that is. Now, there is not a lot there to make up a whole country but you know they have a pub and a post office so what more do you need? Think about it, you can farm all day, drink all night and post the odd letter to friends in New Zealand or if feeling a bit adventurous...Australia.
Stamped!
So I do not know exactly how there came to be a little country in a little country but according to the barmaid at the pub (name forgotten, all apologies) it goes something like this... Taranaki decided that Whangamomona was not good enough to be a part of the Taranaki District, then Whanganui said, alright lads we can have you as part of ours. But the good folk of Whangamomona thought they were too good for those lot and decided to become a Republic. They can stamp your passport and all that jazz, but I do wonder how seriously they take the whole thing of country-dom. You see they have had a goat, a dog and a turtle as their Presidents, which, makes me think they might be having a bit of a laugh.
According to our lovely barmaid it is all dead serious and not to be laughed at. I say pah! I shall laugh at your Presidents! Lookout, I may have gained myself a lifetime ban from the Republic of Whangamomona!
I'm not talking about my weight either! Although it is Christmas, I am in New Zealand and yet to get to grandma's place where I am envisaging copious amounts of food piled in front of me until I can fit nothing more in and I'm rolling around on the floor in a fit of agony from overeating. Much different to my very sad and lonely Christmas last year stuck in the Ugandan bush taking care of a malaria ridden Roger, who by the way made the soggiest, most painful patient ever. Sorry Roger but it's true and I will spongebath you next time.
The massive laksa...in a salad bowl?
So my mission to find good African food in Auckland is failing. I searched. I did not find. There is one place on Albert Street but it's reviews are saying that it's Moroccan food but it's not really Moroccan food. I did however find possibly the largest bowl of laksa in the world. Who eats that much? Really? I felt like I'd ordered a dish meant to be shared between 2 or 3 people. Thankfully they let me take the leftovers home and laksa made a great dinner and next day lunch. The Malaysian place on Khyber Pass Road in Auckland has the yummiest food but next time I'll order a regular person sized meal...for one.
On the gain side of the scale, I gained a new little family. And no I haven't been adopted again. I met my big sister Chris for the first time, her lovely husband and their 3 kids. Being called aunty Laurel felt great and one of the girls has the exact same hair as me and they all chat away so obviously we're all related. I felt so blessed to be meeting such kind and funny people and the thought that I have more people I can call my kin leaves me feeling all happy and squishy in my tummy. That and I obviously need to go to the gym, get back my rock hard abs! (HAHAHAAA.....abs...) This whole being an aunty business now is interesting, I'm just thinking of all the things I can do to be the cool aunt, I'm so gonna rock at this aunt stuff! I also got to meet allllll of the girls' teddy bears! Very cute, although I'm not sure about Burlesque bear here...she's a bit of a worry.
One of the huge things I miss about living in Uganda is the cultural variety. Uganda is a virtual melting pot of African nationalities all living and sharing their various cultures. As I'm sitting here in Auckland googling like crazy to find somewhere African to eat I found myself drifting back to memories of Kabalagala.
My favourite little dive is on the main road down a little dirty alley, up some rustic colonial-period stairs and through a little Arabic door, one of those places where Muzungu would fear to tread. Molober in Kabalagala was my favourite haunt, I was there almost every day when I lived in Kampala and when I missed a few days it was noticed. My return was always heralded as though I had been lost at sea for many months, kissed three times on the cheek by the staff and some of the regular customers. I long for the afternoons I would spend there with a friend or by myself or with a stranger I had just met.
There I spoke with exiled Ethiopian journalists, Sudanese refugees, Kenyan businessmen, an Egyptian drunkard and many North African men and women who came to Uganda looking to escape their Governments. We were all there for the same thing, a little bit of peace and quiet tucked away neatly upstairs avoiding the busy roads filled with people and traffic and loud street vendors grilling chicken and matoke.
Not to mention the food Effe used to cook for us all. Soft injeera, goat tibbs a little salata and boona. I don't think a day passes where I don't think about eating at Molober or a coffee ceremony at mamma Fozi's house. I hope my search of Auckland tomorrow provides me with something good to eat, although there are some experiences and feelings that I know will have to wait until I am back in East Africa.
I've mentioned once before that my mum and her partner are nuts. Here's one of the latest of many exchanges...this one on buying prawns.
M: We need prawns for Christmas
B: I'll buy raw ones
M: Why don't you buy cooked prawns
B: I'll cook them myself
M: You can't cook prawns
B: Yes I can
M: I've been with you 5 years and I've never seen you cook a prawn, there's been no prawn on the barbie here!
B: I'm a man! Of course I can cook prawns
M: Just buy the cooked ones
Have you ever noticed that when you were a teenager everything you did and wore seemed totally awesome? I never thought of myself as popular by mainstream standards but I thought I was pretty damn cool. As I got older and looked back at myself in photos or memory I've realised that I was just outright ridiculous. Like when I was 18 and I thought wearing baggy pant with my boxers out the top was the SHIT! Especially when you put the chain from your front belt loop to your wallet. Team that up with a wicked hip hop styled visor and pink knee high socks with skateshoes and you have instant vintage AWESOME! (Don't try this look at home, it's really not awesome!)
Errrr...right. At least I thought so. So while I'm cleaning out my mum's garage full of my crap what do I find? Photos! I'd scan them in but really...really...no one needs to see that. Ever. Period. I did come across one adorable photo of me and my best friend being gangsta with our Westside pose. Should I point out we weren't being American just representing our Westside Auckland roots!
We used to fly between Auckland and Brisbane at least once a year to see each other and just hang out with skateboards and listen to punk music. We were so damn cool. He was my first real kiss. Now many, many years have passed and we are still friends.
So anyhooooo, not going to give you the pleasure of seeing us as adorable punk-ass teenagers, him with his nose too big for his body and me with my eyebrow pierced but we did recreate the photo.
It's nice to know that even though we still don't dress like freaks, we both still enjoy our punk music and a good skate. Here's to never growing up properly!
Just like every other country (well pretty much) Uganda is smacking those SMOKING KILLS labels on the front of every pack. Like in Kenya you'll have your warning over 30% of the pack and in the future the manky pictures we have on ours in Australia.
I tell you one thing, the warning didn't stop me in Kenya it didn't stop me in Europe...but in Australia. Yeah I stopped. It's very sad.
Smokers don't need a warning, hell if we wake up feeling like we've swallowed an ashtray and then cough up part of a lung in the shower and still light up a cigarette we can overcome a warning. Hell we can survive pretty much anything. Look at it this way. If we can overcome all the warnings our bodies give us you think that writing it down for us going to do anything? Ha!
It's the money that made me quit, it's too expensive here. Like insane costly! Uganda is onto this and sorry Ug smokers your tax on that shit is going to be raised again! In January Ug is doing the whole budget thing and the taxes are certain to rise and I think by a fair bit. So here's some photos of me smoking...ahhh...better times.
There's nothing like a day with one of your favourite people to make you feel like the earth is at peace and the problems of the world just fade away. True friends, the ones for life are those you can go without seeing for years on end and when you do it's like you just picked up from where you left off.
They are the ones that know way too much about you and will take you to the pub for a counter meal and a game of pokies and it's most fun you've had in ages. So if you haven't spent a day or even just a few hours doing a whole lot of not much with an old friend recently, take my advice and pick up the phone!
I'm not good with death, it's one of those things I don't do well in life. I'm not saying that anyone is, I'm just saying I don't know how to behave. 2010 has not been a great year for me, I have never lost a friend before and now I have lost three.
I know Ali has said this better than I could but I felt I should honour the memory of our dear friend as well (it's better to just read her entry because then you can just think about me and say ditto).
It's hard leaving Uganda all the time because I don't like to say goodbye, I usually just say "I'll see you later". And I suppose in the grand scheme of things it's really all I can say. I'll never forget Willy, he really made my months in Kabale in 2008 a lot of fun and he put up with everything that Ali and I did, from making him smell pretty to tickle wars.
You couldn't script some of the stuff that goes on between my mum and her fiancee. They do ridiculous things that they find completely normal...like the other day mamma and Ben come home with something insane like 20-odd bananas. So the game has begun of trying to finish all the bananas before they go bad. After 3 days of all of us eating 2 or 3 a day I can consume no more bananas...cue banana smoothies, banana muffins, banana bread... Noone should eat this many bananas, ever.
Yummy gf banana mini-muffins!
Oh here's a little curtain chat that occured during yesterdays project;
B: How does that look?
M: It's crooked
B: It's not crooked from this angle
M: It's like one side is over an inch higher. Can't you see that?
B: No it's looks fine
M: Why don't you drill another hole and bring one side down?
B: Because then there'll be a hole above the curtain. If I bring it up on that side then you won't see the hole
M: Fine, whatever just drill the damn hole.
Julian Assange has finally been arrested...but not for leaking documents because he hasn't actually broken any laws. Other than being damn unattractive, he really is unfortunate looking. I have a really funny ex-boyfriend who would have said something along the line of..."with a face like a dropped meat pie". So anyway I was saying yes he's being arrested for having surprise sex in Sweden...at least I think it was Sweden.
Let's clarify. Not rape but surprise sex. The above picture demonstrates this rather effectively I think. And yes, I will be sending it to the high court trying this ridiculous charge as evidence. (Keep in mind they're trying him ASAP and went nuts to arrest him, I wonder if this means the police will afford other rape victims the same courtesy from here on in?)
So this whole Wikileaks thing is out of control crazy, the governments are trying really hard to silence Assange, these trumped up charges are just a bit of proof of this. Wikileaks does amazing work, they have the guts to publish the stuff that the man doesn't want us to know about. They give you the real news through leaked documents basically. But the website is very visually boring, long-winded and takes a lot of searching around to find the good parts...the website in that way probably has a lot in common with Assange's naked body.
But the website is all shut down now so if you didn't read it before the hype, you missed out. Being a journalist is hard, being an really good journalist with balls, downright dangerous. Now that Assange's locked up there's a scenario that I can see happening which reminds me of a scene in Casablanca. The one when Ugarte's departure is described by Renault, "I'm filling out the report now, I haven't decided whether he killed himself or died trying to escape."
Sorry Assange, they've got you surprised sexed big time now! And in other news Julia Gillard has grey hair! Girl needs her hair did! Jules was talking trash about Assange with her manky grey roots all exposed. Look I know you've got a country to run etc, but surely there's a friend you can call to come over with a packet of Country Life and do your roots at night so noone notices...hell Jules call me and I'll fix that shit up for you.
(picture flogged from somewhere many years ago from some website)
In order to break my feelings of discontent I thought I’d share a little flashback story to a better time.Kabale.South-Western Uganda.I had to go down there a few months ago from Kampala for a week to help some Slovenian girl with a project for Edirisa, the information booklet on the Gorillas and Kisoro region.Little did I know when I told my dear friend Marianne that I was going to go down that it would be one of the best weeks of my life.And “that” Slovenian girl would turn out to be one very cool chick and dear friend.Tjasa.
Marianne with the evidence
Marianne the Muganda Superwoman!
I’ll start with Marianne’s super human strength.There we were in the Edirisa apartment getting ourselves ready to head into Kabale town and meet Tjasa and prepare for the busy trip to Kisoro.I was in the icy cold shower washing my hair when I heard a squeal from Marianne.On trying to open the front door (and only exit) to the apartment she over-exerted herself and snapped the key off in the lock.Leaving us trapped inside.With meeting already planned and a deadline to keep we did not have the time to spend trying to get out.And neither of us had airtime to call Nelico at the Home for him to come rescue us with the spare key.After about a half hour of getting dressed and laughing at Marianne the Super-Muganda-Woman my super powers of escape kicked in.With the marvellous idea of calling out to the construction workers below us from the balcony, we could get them to put a ladder up to the second floor and we could climb down, go about our day and get the key later for our return.What we didn’t encounter is that the workers didn’t speak English or Luganda or Swahili or Spanish so between us and them nothing actually happened other than a lot of hand signals.So while I was standing there signing that we needed a ladder to climb down the next door neighbour came home and let us in through his apartment and out his front door.Problem solved and the rules from then on in forbade Marianne from using keys ever again in my presence.
The Kabale-Kisoro-Bunagana-Kyanika Road
So they’ve almost finished the damn thing.It’s only been 3 years.The first leg of the journey with Marianne, Tsaja , myself, an American girl, one sick lady and ten horny men jammed into a matatu (mini-bus) for the most part was uneventful.Aside from the men constantly hitting on us and having to stop for the lady to throw up and the extreme overcrowding it was rather pleasant.That is until you reach the Impenetrable Forest and the Forest before that one but I can’t remember its name, beautiful scenery bumpy arse dirt and murrin road enough to get you panicking about the height you’re at and the steepness of the hills.The close proximity of the tyre and the edge and the guys telling you stories of buses that go sliding down and no survivors made me slightly uneasy.So reaching Kisoro was a blessing.I even didn’t mind having to explain that I didn’t want to give the guy on the mat my number because I didn’t want him to call me.Standard apology and excuse issued to standard old creepy man pick up line delivered.
The best coffee in Uganda
Is in the most random place ever.Kisoro!It’s right down the bottom of Ug and within walking distance to Rwanda and Congo.Well I suppose that depends on your idea of walking distance.But it’s a few clicks, not far.We tried various types of coffee to test the Kampala barista’s skills and I tell you from a long black to a latte this guy has what it takes.Kisoro is the gateway to a lot of cool things, gorillas, monkey, home to the Batwa organisations which provide non-exploitative trails that I’m hoping aren’t as weird as the ones that I’ve been on.It seems to me that a lot of people dismiss Kisoro but I know that when I get back to Ug, Marianne and I will spend a week relaxing at the lakes and walking with the Golden Monkeys.After all of our research we went back to the greatest coffee place in Uganda and had juices and sandwiches, we’d coffee’d ourselves out and had a long ride home.
So many other things happened on that trip, we had fun at the markets, I got drunk at Match & Mix, we made new friends and hung out with old ones.I really enjoyed my week with Marianne, who I’ll write more about late as she’s an interesting English/Muganda lass and I got to spend time with Tjasa who I absolutely adore.So below are some photos of our little trip down south so I don’t have to keep writing.
Our favourite fresh vegetable lady
The gorgeous Tjasa
Anyone for goats head?
If only I didn't look so grumpy! I don't do cold well!
Just awesome... I suppose use teepee for your bunghole wasn't appropriate!
Words can be the most powerful or harmful weapon we have in our arsenal for life.What we say more often than not affects the people around us more than what we do or do not do.Whether you’re saying a genuine “I’m sorry” or whether you’re saying negative things to or about someone.
You know the old saying, “if you have nothing good to say, don’t say it at all.”This doesn’t mean keeping pent up anger and gossiping about someone to others.This means not saying it at all.If you have a problem with someone it’s best to sit down and openly and calmly discussing the issue.It also means being open to that conversation and taking responsibility for what you have done.Now sometimes this can be difficult and sometimes one or more people may not be receptive to this idea but at least if you try then you’ve done your best and no one else needs to be dragged into the situation.Because the words you use to talk about someone will ultimately come back to haunt you and then people are more hurt than they were before.
It works in reverse too.If someone has done something great then the words you use to congratulate them make a huge difference.It’s easy as saying “you know what, you’ve done something really cool, good work.”Or telling someone how you feel about them, as long as it’s genuine can really uplift someone “you’re an amazing person and I care about you.”Once you start using your words in that respect as a weapon to get your own way is where the problem starts.We all have a story about someone who has built us up using their words only to betray us with their actions or words afterwards.
Words can affect relationships, friendships, working relationships and can even affect the outcome of wars and the careers of politicians.Take for example the previous Australian Prime Minister who was caught on record calling the Chinese Government “rat f*^%ers.”Or the New Zealand Prime Minister referring to a certain Maori group as cannibals, which garnered him a lot of criticism and will most likely be stuck in people’s minds come the next election.The Rwandan genocide in 1994 was stimulated by words broadcasted on radio or the Ugandan President who won a lot of hearts by effectively consoling with the people after the July 11, 2010 bomb blasts in Kampala.Imagine if these words had not been spoken?The outcomes of many lives might be dramatically different.So you can see just how powerful words can be.
Most people probably don’t realise the impact our everyday words have.There’s a proverb in the bible “she opens her mouth with wisdom and on her tongue the law of kindness lies.”There is a lot of beauty and truth in this for it is when we open our mouths without thinking that we more often than not say stupid things.Now I am not saying I am above all this, nor am I preaching from any high horse.Just like all of you I am guilty of the same thing.The difference perhaps is now I am aware of this and will consciously put into affect a new law.A law governing MY mouth just as I hope you will consider after reading this.
I'm not sure exactly what to make of this...maybe you can tell me if this ingenious or damn lazy?
Metal rod beer holder that you stick in the ground for two reasons.
1. So your beer doesn't get kicked over by the dog
2. So you don't have to reach down as far to get your beer.
Trust an Aussie to come up with this.
Oh and the old geezer I met yesterday with this handy handy beer holder asked me what part of Europe I come from??? My lack of a rough, harsh, nasal Southerner accent was very confusing apparently...
I forgot how great the beaches are in Australia.There was this one time when a certain European took me to a beach on Lake Victoria touting it as a beautiful sand beach with lovely water but ummm yeah that’s not really something you should say to an Australian unless you can back it up with something like these pictures.I’d put a picture of Golo beach where I went in Uganda but it’s really not worth it.Redhead Beach in Newcastle is amazing with clear blue water and clean, shiny sand with a bright blue sky and white, fluffy cumulous clouds as the backdrop. So enjoy these ones and sorry if you're not near a beach!
This is the new video for Bliss n Eso an Aussie Hip Hop band...the video itself is an amazing achievement created using an insane amount of photos and amazing camera/editing work. The song is one that captured my heart and hopefully it will leave you feeling inspired, uplifted and revolutionary. It you ain't got that feeling for life do something about it. I've got the lyrics for you here too...get on it, get addicted!
I was born in the 80's with that summertime love
Then changed the whole game like what have I'd done
Out the gutter I come
To touch the bright sun
And from the highest heights motherf*cker I jump
Free in the sky of belief I can fly,
Ain't no tellin what they're sellin man they're sheep in disguise
Keep this in mind, I keep on my grind
I can do it any where when i do it and
Bitch I'll sleep when I die
Explosive, ferocious, get up get down that's showbiz
Power to the people that have freedom in their focus
I hope this helps you when your under the thumb
When you feel like nothing can save you
When you feel like jumpin the gun
Stop relax and remember even in the worst weather
You'll find a way across it, there'll be brighter days honest
So get up, get out and get somethin that's on the real
Forget what you were taught and show these people how you feel
Like
Who are you to tell me how to live my life
Cause I won't give this up
These are my shoes
My view
My cue
To say I do give a f*ck
And pretty soon I'ma bloomin it'll be alright
Everyday's another chance to ignite
Cause I'm addicted (Uh-Oh), I'm addicted (Uh-Oh) I'm addicted to this universal feelin called life
Since a foetus, explored life's subtle secrets
From my fingertips to my unique double helix
I can see history, I can see the past lessons
It's your right never be afraid to ask questions
How can every religion, claim to be the only one
How can they preach love — yet fight each other holding guns
I think the golden sun might be able to shed some light
I'd rather push peace and knowledge to defend our rights
These leaders in suits tell us to fight for one side
You think they got their sons and daughters on the frontline?
Not down for war but down to get an education
we're all evil yet they push synthetic separation
but in this matrix I won't be failin to make it
this is my cosmos baby space sailin with Satan
I heard it's not where your from it's where your carvin' your view
I heard you don't have to wear a suit to argue the truth
And so
Who are you to tell me how to live my life
Cause I won't give this up
These are my shoes
My view
My cue
To say I do give a f*ck
And pretty soon I'ma bloomin it'll be alright
Everyday's another chance to ignite
Cause I'm addicted (Uh-Oh), I'm addicted (Uh-Oh) I'm addicted to this universal feelin called life
They spoon feed but I won't be taken that sedative
Cause my thoughts are way to precious to waste on the negative
I keep them critical yet positive to break the chains
Every dawn is a chance to make a change
Thinkin bout all the energy swirlin all around us
We project it, we get affected it's just profound stuff
Earth is my garden man I grew from it
I pay the youth homage cause I know their views honest
Can you read between the lines of the news comments
Fightin' over land just to take some fuel from it
I guess oil boils down to some cool profits
But war, what is it good for really who wants it?
Like
Who are you to tell me how to live my life
Cause I won't give this up
These are my shoes
My view
My cue
To say I do give a f*ck
And pretty soon I'ma bloomin it'll be alright
Everyday's another chance to ignite
Cause I'm addicted (Uh-Oh), I'm addicted (Uh-Oh) I'm addicted to this universal feelin called life
I'm sorry East Africa but I have to say this. Seriously, what the fuck is up with Avocado juice? It's just not right. Now I've tried a lot of things in my life that I thought would be gross and then after the first taste they've grown on me, so I'm not taste challenged? Anyway the point is, when it's fresh and cold it's like sculling a glass of runny guacamole which you can do without gagging too much. But and here's the but! Once that juice has been sitting in the sun all day it becomes a warm goo-like viscous liquid-ish drink that I suppose can best be described as fresh baby diarroea in a glass.
Then, I'm sorry but you go one better and mix it with milk and ice-cream and make the good old avocado milkshake...excuse me...I'm just throwing up as I write this...Wrong just isn't a strong enough word to describe the avo smoothie. Why is probably what I'm looking for though...Just why?
P.S. The avo juice is the lovely green one in the middle.
Yesterday was Remembrance Day and if I wasn't having internet troubles I would have posted this then. This is a time when all Australians reflect on the sacrifices we as a country have made and a time to remember all those who fought for us and our freedom. What better way than to do it with a bit of multi-cultural poetry. One of my life-long favourite poets Dimitris Tsaloumas captured me over 10 years ago with his poem Rhapsody of Old Men. I don't have a copy of it with me and I can't remember the whole poem so here is another Tsaloumas poem for your reading pleasure...
To The Reader II
If when you walk through the mist you notice birds
- ablaze like pomegranates
in the window and on the bearded roof of winter,
- if sometimes the dark tunnels
let you out onto the balconies of the Amazon
- to see without fear flesh-eating leaves
swallowing alive the straying beams of the sun,
- and if your rights are trampled
or for your country’s sake you’re led away
- to gaol and see how blood sets fire
to the wilderness in the people’s eyes,
- then know that you’re indebted to me, that if you doff
the music I clothed you in, the shudder will crack you,
- the mists will flood you, and you’ll perish.
Dimitris Tsaloumas
Lest We Forget.
(photo by Benjamin Pfeiffer from www.1adventure.com)
Nothing.Maybe how to make an awesome chocolate brownie but that’s probably it.
Things I learnt in Africa;
I learnt how to appreciate my down time, I learnt how to work really hard for not much thanks and persevere.I found love, I lost love, I found it again and again.I saw old friends, I made new friends, I felt my soul truly connect with people for the first time.I found a brother, well two of them.I found many sisters.I was adopted by Ethiopians, I ate with my hands.I learnt how to love food more eating with my hands.I learnt that eating at a place with open sewage running past it can make you sick for a week.I learnt not to eat pork once it’s been in the sun for too long and has gone green.I leant that malaria is the most annoying sickness you can have.I sung in public.I stopped singing in public.I learnt to relax and to calm down.I learnt that I can talk really fast, I also learnt to slow it down.I learnt how to love myself, flaws, faults and all.I learnt to love my imperfections and if someone can’t love me despite those then they’re not worth my time.I learnt forgiveness.I found faith.I found happiness.I found a really comfortable grey jacket on a matatu.I lost my favourite pair of pants.I learnt that some things aren’t worth getting upset over.Like the pants.
I learnt that hand washing clothes everyday is hard and I don’t like it but if you don’t do it for a week or two things are much worse.I found a new tolerance for dirt.I also found that no matter how hard I try sometimes feet cannot be as clean as you’d like them.I finally learnt how to stop peeing on my feet every time I use a pit latrine.I learnt how to hold my breath for a really long time in said pit latrine.I found that a piece of rope and some wood with holes in it can make a pretty good set of hanging shelves.I learnt how hard it is to carry heavy loads for long distances on your head.
I found wisdom, everywhere.I found that hitch hiking on the back of trucks down the highway can make you very dirty.I learnt patience, tolerance and acceptance.I heard things said that I never thought I would hear, such as; “what you don’t have rocks in your rice?”I said things I never thought I would say, like; “I’m sick of all this damn witchcraft!”I got angry, I got sad, I learnt how to deal with these emotions and deal with myself when I didn’t.I learnt to forgive myself as well as others.I learnt that I am more comfortable with myself in Uganda than I ever have been Australia.I found out what my passions in life are.I developed a greater passion for life.I reaffirmed my path, I also made new ones.I followed my dreams.I learnt how important it is to follow your own dreams than someone else’s.I learnt truth in the words “I’d rather fall myself, than let you drag me on down.”
I found out that no matter how long I stay in East Africa I will never be graceful getting in and out of matatu’s or on and off boda’s.I learnt to love the fact that I’m not graceful.At least that gives me something to laugh at myself about in hindsight.I learnt that I can dig for hours on end, I also learnt that I hate digging.I learnt that no matter how long I have to stay away from Africa for, my heart will always, always be here and every second of everyday of my life will be dedicated to my goals and my dreams.I learnt to understand, I learnt to be understood. I learnt to dream, sleep, stay awake until far too late to drunkenly watch sunsets.I learnt that I don’t want to drink alcohol anymore and most importantly I learnt that drinking a bottle of Jamaican rum when you have malaria is a really, really bad idea.
I learnt how to appreciate my down time, I learnt how to work really hard for not much thanks and persevere. I found love, I lost love, I found it again and again. I saw old friends, I made new friends, I felt my soul truly connect with people for the first time. I found a brother, well two of them. I found many sisters. I was adopted by Ethiopians, I ate with my hands. I learnt how to love food more eating with my hands. I learnt that eating at a place with open sewage running past it can make you sick for a week. I learnt not to eat pork once it’s been in the sun for too long and has gone green. I leant that malaria is the most annoying sickness you can have. I sung in public. I stopped singing in public. I learnt to relax and to calm down. I learnt that I can talk really fast, I also learnt to slow it down. I learnt how to love myself, flaws, faults and all. I learnt to love my imperfections and if someone can’t love me despite those then they’re not worth my time. I learnt forgiveness. I found faith. I found happiness. I found a really comfortable grey jacket on a matatu. I lost my favourite pair of pants. I learnt that some things aren’t worth getting upset over. Like the pants.
