The next day while Daniel was at work at the Embassy and his girlfriend, Halle, was out taking care of One Mango Tree business, I rested up from the 20-hour trip, got acquainted with Daniel's gracious and well-spoken housekeeper, Aisha, and his playful, young rottweiler, Neilos, and sat on the verandah from which I had a view of downtown Kampala surrounded by hills. From this distance it looked much like any other modern city and I might have thought I was just visiting a friend in the States had it not been for the faint calls to prayer sung by the muezzin at a mosque somewhere in the distance, the curled barbed wire atop the fence around Daniel's yard, and the armed guard patiently stationed at the gated entrance. I'm unsure if those last two touches make me feel more secure or more vulnerable.
We left the house after dark to meet friends for dinner, and again the ride itself was interesting. Danny was having trouble with both of his rugged Uganda-friendly vehicles; in fact, one was sitting dead in his driveway and now the one we were taking to the restaurant decided to die right in the middle of a busy traffic circle. We were rescued by a friend who towed the car to a safe spot and drove us to the 'best Mexican/Asian restaurant in Kampala" (their advertising claim, and I can't disagree). It was fun meeting Danny's friends who had gathered -- at least partially -- to welcome Danny's Mom. They were a mix of USAID or embassy staff, international development professionals, and business people sent to Uganda from headquarters in Canada, Europe, or the United States.
Other than a walk to the nearby Italian food store for breakfast makings, no sightseeing was feasible Saturday because we had no operable vehicle. The day's big event had nothing to do with my being in Uganda and everything to do with animal rescue. Danny had gone for an early evening run while Halle and I timed our stroll to meet up with him. The three of us were edging our way between the perpetual-motion street scene and a drainage trench along the edge where one might have hoped for a sidewalk if one were in another part of the world. A faint meow caught our attention. There, in the ditch, was a small kitten covered in slushy red mud and looking pathetic. Of course we took it home, how could we not? After bathing and de-fleaing our foundling, what emerged was a funny-cute kitten, mostly white with awkwardly-placed black splashes. Kitty appeared to be about three weeks old. Kitty could not move its back legs. The crippled kitten and a very jealous-but-curious Neilos dominated the evening.
My first Sunday in Uganda was spent at a shaggy dog show, staged by the Uganda SPCA and held at the country club. About 50 dogs and their owners showed up for the fundraiser, which bore little resemblance to formal dog shows. The categories were things like waggiest tale, or highest jumper. The only category Danny could find in which to enter Neilos was "best large dog.' He won -- over nine imposing competitors. Now, things got exciting because Neilos became eligible for the Best of Show category. To avoid making this a long shaggy dog story, I'll cut right to the chase. Neilos was taken home by his proud papa, wearing not one but TWO red ribbons on his collar.
We think Neilos was proud to be Best of Show and hoped that his ego-boost would help him to better tolerate sharing attention with the crippled new pet at home. (On Monday, a Ugandan vet paid a home visit. She could detect slight response in the back legs and gave us some hope that with stimulation and time, kitty might regain use. Meanwhile, she had shown how quickly she can scoot around the floor dragging her back half. )
On Monday will come the drive to Gulu, where I will see the 'real' Uganda.
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