someone, somewhere taught Ugandans to speak in rhetorical questions.

for example:

"she was a attacked by a mob of angry men. Because she was wearing what? The mini skirt. You come from where? The United States. Where you have what? The homosexuals."

which was basically our safety lecture last week. It's endearing at first, but during lecture it becomes like watching a DVD that skips. During one 97-minute lecture, rhetorical questions were asked a total of 639 times, or 6.58 times per minute. On top of that is that fact that we are where? On the equator, so the rooms heats to about a bajillion degrees in a matter of minutes.

there are three things bad about Uganda:
1) you have to iron your clothes lest you be regarded as a social leper
2) the homophobia/rampant christian fundamentalism
3) the internet situation here could more aptly be described as Uganda stealing bandwidth from the North Koreans.

to combat #2, I lied and said I was a presbyterian.

Also, strangely, my host family thought I was Indian. It's probably just my sick knowledge of palak paneer and navratan korma.

other than that, I cannot tell you how many times a day I feel so lucky to be here. Ugandans are almost universally friendly, patient, and polite, and getting to know my way around Kampala is thrilling. There is no constant uphill struggle with the culture/food like there was in China. I don't miss electricity or running water or personal space nearly as much as I thought I would. Every evening when I walk home from the market, little children run after me and giggle when I take pictures of them.

I've been hanging out a lot with one of my host cousins in particular, a sweet 11-year-old boy name Douglas who wears the same fleece every day even though it is 90 degrees out. He and I have an arrangement. Every night he helps me with my Luganda language homework, and then he pulls out his schoolbooks and I go over his English assignments. He was very shy the first day but now we are friends.

his older brother Raymond is 14 and a lot more independent, preferring to neglect his chores and switch on the tv when my host mother isn't looking. Sometimes he climbs the tree in the backyard to shake down the avocados and I help him gather them on the ground. He's HIV-positive. When Rebecca told me I felt strange, because he's so healthy but just a ticking bomb.

yesterday morning my brother Silver woke me at 6:30 to milk the cows. I spent the rest of the day reading and doing laundry and playing cards with Douglas. Then the whole family watched El Cuerpo del Deseo, the Mexican telenovela that is taking Uganda by storm. Every thursday, friday, saturday, and sunday at 8 we all crowd around the tiny, damp, dusty living room on stools, and I've gotten so into it that I've rearranged my plans to be home.

the cows' names are Happy, Joy, Peace, and Hope. They said I could name the baby.