1) On my Sunday trip to the Masindi market one of the women I bought some vegetables from called me back after an unsuccessful attempt at buying red beans. The conversation went something like this:
Woman: there is a man I know, he thinks you are, uh, handsome!
Me: AH! Neebo*, you mean pretty! Handsome is the word for the man!
Woman: Yes! Ah, pretty! He wants to know if you will ever marry!
Me (with a huge, stupid smile on my face): Oh Neebo! I will probably never marry! I am too much for one man! Do you know what it means to be a handful??
Woman (makes a face of confusion)
Me (quick to think): Ah, let me explain. (I pick up one tomato). This tomato is easy to carry because it is only one. (I put it down). But if you tried to carry all of these tomatoes at once, that is not easy. You would have your hands very full. That is like me!
Woman (cracks up): OH!! You are difficult!!!!
Me: You have NO idea! Tell Sebo that he is confused. Tell him I am very difficult and he doesn’t want me!
Woman: (Yells to the man… probably somewhere in his 40s, what that I am difficult, it is all in Runyooro/Rutyooro (the local language).
Man: (laughs at me….that is a common response to most things I do here)
Me: Sebo! I am difficult! Trust me, you don’t want me!!!
(to the woman) Okale kurungi! (Stay well) See you next week!
*Neebo is basically the equivalent for m’am. It is a polite/formal greeting for a woman.
**You all have Chris Ayers to thank for me sharing this one. I mean I always think I am funny, but I am typically also full of crap too. So with Mr. Ayers’ laugh, which I took as his seal of approval, I bring the rest of you the story.
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2) Talking to my mother on the phone (again, approximately what was said):
Me: yeah, I think I got a bit burned on my face when I was out this week.
Mother dearest: GOD! Be careful! You know you live at the equator? The sun is hot there!
Me: I have an agreement with the sun.*
Mother dearest: Wear sunscreen.
Me: I decided a while ago, I am not going to wear sunscreen here.
Mother dearest: You know, you live in Africa, but you aren’t black.**
Me: Well damn, I am going to keep trying!
*I have an agreement with a growing list of things here– the sun, the warthogs, the bugs, I just don’t know how well they understand their contracts.
**Funny to me, who gets called Mexican/Hispanic (depending on how pc the person is) at a regular basis at home, in addition to getting called mullato, half Chinese or Indian, or whatever else non-white nationality someone happens to think I am. Now here I am and my mom is exclaiming that I’m not black! You know every time I take my clothes off, I get concerned! I have these freak arms and head that just don’t match the rest of my body, by a wide degree of shades. I’m VERY two toned here. (Sha-ka-kon, what did I tell you?? I knew this would happen!) However, the Ugandans appreciate my effort to become black. They show this by smiling and What? LAUGHING AT ME!
