Blogging and bleating in the dark

Yes, the power is off again. I am the only person staying here and my eating companion tonight in the dining room was a pretty candle.

Obviously my conversation was poor as she self extinguished herself after thirty minutes.

As I ate, with the light of my head torch, I marvelled at my situation. The only white person in a town of 12,000 people sits alone in total blackness eating roast chicken surrounded by screaming cicadas, perfectly at peace.

Last night we had power on the ground and lights in the sky. There was a small bright streetlight near my room which turned out to be the planet Venus. The night skies here are magnificent.

My room is next to an alley which is used by goats, quite why is unclear as there is nothing there to eat, even for a goat. I’m used to goat kids bleating but not at 2 in the morning.

As I woke I realised, to my horror, that the bleating was a baby’s cries. Thoughts of dashing out to help came to mind. No baby should be alone, crying in an alley, at 2 in the morning. Perhaps it had been abandoned? The short hard life of a street child awaits it, ignored by the only person who heard its desperate plea for help.

Whilst I was summoning up courage to get up and actually do something it cried again – from the next room, what a relief. Late arrivals, it seems.

Contrasts continue. After church today (where I was announced as a “dear old friend” – dear friend seems fine, old friend likewise but “dear” and “old” together don’t sound quite so good) I was served tea by a Tribal District Sub Chief – a pleasant middle aged lady who was on today’s tea rota.

My internet speed has now dropped to 1 K. Not Mb, K ! It may take until my next blog to upload this one.

Tomorrow – back to Kampala for two days – the bright lights await (but Venus will be hidden in traffic pollution)

Thanks for reading.

Roger in the dark with cicadas

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