Sliver Linings

 On Tuesday, I got a sliver in my left foot. Such is the hazard of living in an old home with wood floors. The main casualty in the event should have been a beloved sock, presently kept with the intent of one day being darned, as I suppress the knowledge that it will soon find a new home in the bin. The sliver, while substantial, needed only to be plucked from the flesh of my foot with care.

But, thanks to my Father, such was not the case.

Instead, the tweezers dug and peeled, ripping apart my flesh, desperate to ensure that no remnants of my office floor remained.

I blame my Father because despite all the trials of his life, it was a wee sliver that almost cost him dearly. It was a routine job – re-shingling a roof for a friend – with a routine injury: a sliver. As I’m sure he has done hundreds of times, my dad dug out what he could, likely wrapped his wound with electrical tape, and pressed on.

In a few short days, my dad was in a hospital bed. If memory serves me, he was hospitalized for five days. The sliver not only buried deep, but the wood must have been rotten. The infection that ensued nearly cost my dad his arm. At a minimum, it cost him more forced time off of work than any other illness I am aware of, including cancer.

Whenever I get a sliver, I make certain to extricate every miniscule bit of wood possible. Many of my siblings do likewise. The slightly impaired left foot is a small price to pay to avoid catastrophic consequences, however unlikely.

It can sometimes be difficult to rationally weigh risks we face. This challenge is amplified in a place like Uganda.

For example, one has to pause and consider the risks they face when this is the view they gaze upon daily.

The razor wire makes everything feel so homey!

The iron gate to Isaac and Erica's compound. The wood Isaac cut up for our New Year's Eve bonfire.

In Kampala, homes are generally surrounded by high walls that are topped with razor wire, and entry into the property requires passing through a heavy iron gate. Windows and doors are typically barred. Feels so safe.

Isaac and Erica’s compound is guarded day and night. While the guard is unarmed – except, perhaps, for a big stick, which the night guard Henry used to kill a snake one night a few weeks prior to my arrival – there is still a need to have someone in the compound to prevent unwanted intruders. As I lay awake the one night, it is difficult to ignore the sounds of the guard making noise. Similarly, it is difficult to forget news about the guard being found asleep on numerous occasions – hard to feel protected when the protector wanders through candy land. Is that banging the guard checking the gate, or someone taking advantage of the guard’s slumber. If someone were to break into the compound, I suppose the best course of action would be to hand over valuables and hope they’d leave. Calling 911 isn’t a real option.

Water is also a pretty big risk. Even with recent disasters such as Walkerton, it is easy to take advantage of a consistent clean and safe water supply. At the very least, even when there is a problem, as recently experienced in West Virginia when an industrial chemical contaminated the water supply, you can at least expect officials to truck clean water in. Water presents numerous risks in Uganda.

Lake Victoria.

Jeremy Wade and a Goliath
 Tigerfish from the Congo

You take risks cooling off. Hippos and crocs aren’t such a big issue in the city, although there is a real risk of crocs and hippos in more rural areas. Dangerous fish are everywhere. I used to have this weird obsession when in water about turtles and big fish. If I think about them, I picture them nibbling at my toes, and I have to get out of the water. I could get right back in, but I felt compelled to exit the water. I don’t think the idea bothers much anymore. Jeremy Wade of River Monsters has identified far more brutal monsters in the rivers to fear than turtles – especially in Africa (see Goliath Tigerfish, which can grow to five feet long and 150 pounds!).

There is also the danger of the unseen in the water. The parasites one might pick up from taking a dip to swim. I relied heavily on bottled water. I drank it, used it brush my teeth, even showered with it – ok, the last part isn’t true. The locals have to get water from wells, which may require a walk (especially in rural areas). We saw lots of people gathering water on our trip back from safari, as apparently there was fear of an imminent shortage.

Hippos were everywhere in the water. Photo by Isaac Shelley

The water has to be boiled prior to being used. This is especially important in the poorer areas of the city. I didn’t take a picture of the line of people collecting water from one of the few sources in the Kampala slums, but this is a picture of the river that goes through the slums. There are small channels that cut through the slums that feed this larger stream. All of the small channels are full of trash – many of the plastic bags, we were told by our guide Michael from the Hands of Hope orphanage, are filled with human waste. The entire slum was full of waste – human and otherwise. In heavy rains, all of this will be collected in the river. Apparently, the water gets several feet high in the slums during the heavy rains, threatening to wash away homes, but also moving debris freely into every nook and cranny. I don’t know if people take any water from any of these channels, or what the source of the water was where they gathered (a well, perhaps, or maybe a direct feed from the city?), but the sight of the water has had a lasting impression.

A river of debris flows through the Kampala slum.

I love water. Many of my favourite activities involve water. I’m a fisherman. I’m a canoeist. I’m an outdoorsman. Even newfound interests, such as running, I find more enjoyable when done by the water. I love the potential of the water. I love the mystery of what may lie beneath. But never before has water so terrified and saddened me. I remember reading some years ago that Coca-Cola was more readily available than clean water in some developing countries. I can now more fully understand, as there were often towers of milk crates of Coke piled along the roadside. The only equivalent for water were the yellow jugs sold to transport water from well to home.

A young boy walks down the rural road, carrying water.

As there is no silver lining to this post – only the sad reality that people in Uganda face – I thought I’d end with some nice memories of water from my trip.

The Shelley gang at Murchison Falls.

Murchison Falls.

Karuma Falls.

Cruising the Nile!

Baby Mazungu

Uganda welcomed me in true style – the power went out in the airport. As I was chatting with staff about my baggage left in Nairobi, the power flickered on and off. The women behind the computers, which must have been on a separate system, didn’t even bat an eye. I knew from talking with Erica prior to my departure that power outages were common in Kampala. I was still taken aback. Fortunately for me, that was the last power outage I had to endure.

I was excited about my trip to Uganda. But my knowledge of Uganda was (is) lacking. I knew very little about where I was going, other than the fact that Isaac and Erica were there. That was the sole purpose of my trip – to visit them. Given the busy schedule I had leading up to the trip, I honestly did no research whatsoever about my destination beyond reading Erica’s blog, paying attention to her and Isaac’s Facebook posts, and the occasional planning Skype conversation.

Needless to say, I learned a great deal on my trip. Here are a few of the more mundane observations from my Ugandan adventure.

The Smell

Remember this scene from the Matrix: Agent Smith & Morpheus? I thought about it frequently in Kampala, and would smile. It seemed appropriate, although it wasn’t simply because I felt that I had to get out of there (although, I did frequently have that thought as well). It truly was a smelly place. One thing pictures and videos cannot capture is the acrid air, a potent mixture of pollution, exhaust fumes, burning garbage and charcoal, and garbage. Even when we were at one of Uganda’s most prestigious resorts, the air hung heavy with the smells of the city. Erica had observed in one of our early planning conversations that no amount of wealth could shield an individual from the realities of living in the third world, referring to the poor infrastructure, the noise, the lack of immediate access to good, among other things. I wonder if she had, at that point, simply gotten used to the smell.

Goats everywhere ate from garbage piles. I'd like to think they are sometimes cooked over the same piles of burning garbage from which they once feasted.

Fitting In

I’m neither small nor huge. I’m above average in Canada. In Uganda, I felt like a giant. This was reinforced in a few ways. First, there was my experience riding in a matatu (taxi). Isaac and Erica insisted on taking this picture.

Riding in a matatu.

There were a number of taller individuals, but they typically lacked a dimension that I seem to have in abundance: girth. Thus, the nickname attributed to me by one of the boda drivers (motorcycle taxi) was especially funny: baby mazungu. Mazungu is the term used for all foreigners. Whether walking down the street, driving in a matatu or a boda, or sitting at a coffee shop, you constantly hear the phrase mazungu. There is no hostility intended. It is simply a way to differentiate foreigners from locals. I was deemed a baby mazungu by my boda driver when Isaac asked him to drive safely, as I had just arrived a few days previous and had limited boda experience. “Baby” clearly referred to my experience, and not my size, as the same boda driver joked that he should charge me double, contending that I was the size of two people.

I was also reminded of my size when trying to replace my missing clothes. En route to the safari headquarters, we stopped at a Nakumatt, one of a few department stores in Kampala. As we had a privately hired taxi waiting for us in the parking lot, I hurriedly tried on a bathing suit and shorts. I simply grabbed a box of XL boxers. I couldn’t try them on anyhow, the store clerk was quick to point out. I should have at least opened the box. That night, at the safari dorm, following a refreshing swim, I was excited to have doubled my supply of boxers. Imagine my surprise.

I'm going to say medium, at best!

Isaac and Erica got a good laugh. XL is clearly a relative term.

Mango Flies

I remember once being on a winter camping trip in Banff, Alberta. After a day of cross-country skiing, my friend Eric and I took our clothes to a local laundry mat. Rather than suffer with damp clothing, we warmed all of our gear in industrial dryers. Piping hot socks, especially for Eric, whose toes were still numb from the previous night’s cold sleep, were welcomed.

I probably would have paid far too much to access a laundry mat while in Kampala. With only two pairs of boxers, initially one pair of shorts, and a few t-shirts, I was washing a lot of clothes by hand. This is not such a big deal. I’ve hand washed items before, especially on longer camping trips. What got me was the drying part. Sure, things dry fast in the hot sun. But you have to deal with mango flies. These little buggers lay eggs in damp clothes. When the larvae hatch, they burrow into your skin and incubate for a few weeks, then dig their way out again. You can kill the eggs by ironing your clothes.

I have no pictures of mango flies, but this was one giant snail that joined us for dinner one at The Bay on my last night - The Bay, if you're ever in Kampala, has a fantastic burger!

I ironed, but every itch or bite anywhere on my body had me searching for the telltale signs of the mango fly larvae’s hole. One way to remove them, provided they are sufficiently large enough, is to cover the hole they leave for breathing with vasoline. When the larva pushes through the vasoline to get some air, you tweeze them out.

Needless to say, I was happy when my clean clothes finally arrived!

The Importance of Silver Linings

When one is surrounded by poverty, harsh conditions, odd smells, and terrifying bugs, you really appreciate the small comforts. Isaac and Erica, fortunately, are very close to a what I consider to be a critical comfort: a coffee shop. I'm a big fan of coffee shops, as many of you know, and have made very many good friendships with those that provide me quick and delicious access to my drug of choice. On my first day, I was treated by Isaac and Erica to lunch at the lovely coffee shop only a few minutes walk from their home, and I was happy to have my last lunch in Uganda there as well. Although a minor detail in their grand adventure, I'm happy to know that Isaac and Erica are close to such a lovely little establishment. 

Erica outside the coffee shop.

Enjoying "African coffee" on day one in Uganda.

The Great Wolf Lodge Kampala Connection

(Warning: this is long. Sorry. It is my way of processing!).

As I write this, I’m sitting beside an Olympic sized swimming pool, at one of Kampala’s most prestigious resorts. It is a day for relaxing. I have not written as many blog posts as I had intended, so today is a great day to catch up. We’ve been quite busy, of course, but that is not the reason why I have neglected to update my blog. To be frank, I have not been sure how to write a blog post. Simply put, I’ve been overwhelmed, and I have not yet finished processing all that has happened in the past few days. I’m sure I’ll continue to reflect about this trip, and blog about it, for some time to come. For sure at some point soon I’ll post about the safari – but I first need to obtain Isaac’s pictures.

My view while writing this blog post!

Today’s post is not an easy one to write, but I think it is extremely important. I knew coming to Uganda, and a third world country, would impact me in unknown and profound ways. I did not, however, anticipate the reaction I would have.

This blog is about the connection between Kampala and Great Wolf Lodge.

As many of you likely know, it has been a tough year for Leia and I. Well, truthfully, there has been a lot of tough years. I’m not complaining about my life – I truly love my life – but there have been many challenges. From Leia’s family, to constantly being in flux, to the worry of finding jobs, to the challenges of having a young family, and so on. The past six months have been particularly trying. If you’ve read previous blog posts, see our updates on Facebook, or just talk to us (the old fashioned way), you know some of the issues we’ve had to address. Some have been very minor – like introducing our second cat, George, to the first, Little M. Some have been pretty significant – like getting together with Leia’s brother Luke and his wife Lisa in Squamish in July, and then again in December in Kitchener. Or there is the fact that I hurt my knee in August playing hockey, which meant I have not been running, and I began to rely on that time to clear my head and expend pent up energy and frustration.

There have also been some huge issues we’ve face, ones that have had a profound impact. Top among them: Auntie Vera’s death. It has profoundly altered our lives, and we’re still not done figuring out what it means for us. There is not a day that goes by when we don’t think of her, as we’re surrounded by her memories, her paintings. Losing our friend Kathleen was also difficult for the whole family. And there were other issues. Some I’m not at liberty to disclose, but they kept us awake at night, and occupied our time and attention.

And then there is the thesis. I’m privileged to be a doctoral student, but my experience has not been ideal. In addition to the hurdles and frustrations I’ve faced, the past few months have been a hectic marathon of work, often leaving me neglecting the family and household, working evenings and weekends unlike any other time in my academic career in order to overcome a shortfall that I do not think exists in the first place.

So in November, in light of the past few months, my busy schedule, and the knowledge that I would be in Uganda after Christmas, Leia and I booked a night at Great Wolf Lodge to surprise the kids. It was part of an “experiences” rather than “things” as gifts idea we had this year. In early December we went, and had a great time.

Two of my beauties at Great Wolf Lodge.

But I did have a unique experience while there. Evelyn, Marley and I were in line for the Wolly Mammoth, a family friendly waterslide where you sat in a tube – this was Evelyn’s favourite. As we waited in line, Evelyn leaned against the railing. It wiggled. Just a bit.

I don’t know if it was evident to anyone else, but I became very concerned for our safety in that moment. I kept inching the girls away from the railing. I started to gingerly test its strength. I began evaluating the height of the jump, and whether I could successfully, in the event the stairway collapsed, jump into the lazy river with the girls. And, if so, how should I land so as to ensure they landed safely. Or, if I couldn’t make the lazy river, how do I land on the concrete in a way to protect the girls both from the fall and debris. It didn’t matter that the lazy river was three feet deep or that we were easily 25 feet above the concrete, I was planning as escape route. I also started to examine the structure itself. How was the staircase built, and how much weight could it hold? To minimize the weight on our section, I made sure not to crow the people in front. How many people were on the stairs? How much would we collectively weigh?

None of the above was rational. And it didn’t last long. We were on the tube within five minutes or so, and my heart stop racing, and it didn’t happen again. But for those few moments, I was irrational about what was happening, and the risks we were exposed to. I knew it was irrational, but that didn’t matter.

A few days later, I told Leia about it. It didn’t happen again, and so it was easy to dismiss as tiredness or stress from overworking the previous weeks. Although I was hesitant to label my experience, I considered it a minor and insignificant panic attack. (In hindsight, I have begun to identify a few other signs of anxiety in December.)

Leaving for Uganda, I felt some stress. This is natural, no doubt, especially for an inexperienced traveller such as myself. Some of these fears I expressed to people. For example, I was (am) stressed about the fact that were something to happen, I’m at least 24 hours travel from my family and, what’s more, I can’t get back easily. Most places I’ve visited, I could drive home, or walk. Here, without a plane or a boat, I’m stuck. Other fears I’ve been able to plan for (malaria pills, vaccinations, etc.). Some of the fears, however, I just chalked up to nervousness and didn’t say much about. For example, I was afraid I’d never come home. Silly, so why focus on it. Of course I’d come home!

Walking to Isaac and Erica's house after arriving. This is their road.

There is a history of anxiety in my family. Some of my family members, both immediate and extended, suffer more than others. I’ve never discounted their experiences, but it is difficult to appreciate how they feel. I never understood. That is, until now.

Departing for Uganda I was excited and nervous. This was the longest trip away from my kids ever, the furthest away I’ve ever travelled, and to the most different culture. But, I was excited to spend time with Isaac and Erica, to see new things, to go on safari, etc. Before leaving, I wondered if perhaps I had booked too long of a trip. I wanted to maximize the value, so I planned to spend 11 days in Kampala, plus the 2.5 days of travel. I figured I’d just deal with homesickness. I also hoped that the kids would cope – although Jordan was quite nervous about me leaving, and thought my fate would be sealed by a volcano.

When I arrived in Uganda, I was excited and nervous. I’ll blog later about these experiences. But I was also immediately thrown a curveball. I earlier blogged about this – my luggage, including the forced to check carry-on with my clothing and other valuables, did not arrive. As I noted, the bags with stuff for Isaac and Erica eventually showed up and were delivered that first night (following some bribing of the luggage delivery man). My carry-on, with some of my emergency meds, most of my clothing, spare glasses, and letters and stuff for Isaac and Erica never arrived. It still hasn’t. Erica has graciously called on my behalf to locate this luggage, as has Leia from Canada – there is still no knowledge where that bag is. I’ve accepted it is gone forever, and will try to make an insurance claim (sadly, the total amount lost is staggering for such a small bag – a consequence both of bringing good camping clothes for safari and being blind, and thus having expensive eyewear!). Isaac is confident it will show up.

It is just stuff. Not even all that important. Most I can replace, albeit at a cost. But, while it is just stuff, not having that stuff here affected me. Suddenly, I only had two pairs of boxers, one pair of shorts, and a few t-shirts – and the shorts and t-shirts were a fluke, as I happened to shove these in another bag last minute thinking, “why not?”

The first night, without that bag, I slept well. Jet lag didn’t affect me, as I had hardly slept (other than a few hours on the plane ride) since I left. I awoke ready to experience Uganda.

By night, however, things had changed. I still didn’t have the clothes I assumed I would get (more than assumed, I was told I’d have my baggage by the pervious night – moreover, here there is no real customer service other than reassurances that everything will be resolved very soon, even if that is an outright lie). And, I had begun to experience an entirely new world. And, Erica and Isaac were talking about the different life here in Kampala. This included casual conversations about the security guards – they have a day and a night guard constantly in their compound – the barbed wire and iron barred windows, the potential poisonous snakes (we found a snake skin, the first they had seen, along their fence), and so on.

Day two, I lay awake in bed unable to sleep. I did some emailing. I watched a bit of a movie. I tried reading. And as I lay there, hour after hour, I began to panic more and more. I knew that Erica and Isaac had experienced similar feelings. I tried to calm myself down. I tried to be rational. But nothing seemed to help. It was like I was looking for an escape plan off of that stairway at Great Wolf Lodge. I had one too – a very expensive flight home the next day. Around 4 am local time, which is 8 pm EST, I talked to my neighbour Jon about it on Facebook. He told me it was lame to fly home early, and that I just needed to do pushups or something. He gave me good perspective about it all. I tried to sleep, but couldn’t. We were to be up at 7am, and I was easily. I simply never fell asleep.

That day was a long day. We went to the biggest market in Kampala to buy shoes (blog to come). We also were leaving that night for the Kampala basecamp for our safari. I hoped sleep would easily come. That night, it did not. I lay awake a very long time. I don’t know that I would have slept at all, but one of Isaac and Erica’s friends, having come prepared for (and having experienced) sleeplessness, gave me two sleeping pills. They were a “just in case” for the safari, so that I could enjoy myself. I’ve never in my life used sleeping pills. Around 1:30 am, with only an hour of sleep in the previous 48 hours (I snoozed for about an hour or so on the couch mid day), I got up and tried to get on Isaac’s computer to book a flight home earlier. I couldn’t get online. So, eventually I took the sleeping pill. I laid there for another half an hour or so. I woke a few hours later to leave for safari.

The worst part was that I knew I was being irrational. In fact, I tried very hard to keep calm. I thought positive things. I thought about the fun I was having when I was hanging out with Isaac and Erica. Despite all of that, I couldn’t shake the tingling feeling under my skin, the numbness that would overtake my extremities.

I should note at this point, in case my mom or others concerned for Isaac and Erica are reading, they are safe here. In fact, as I’ll likely blog about later, I think they are thriving. I’m very, very proud of them both.

But that pride didn’t help me sleep. The first sleepless night my thoughts wandered through a forest of fears. As I lay there I thought, if an airline can’t even keep track of my bags, how am I safe? The first night I also killed a mosquito inside of my mosquito tent. Everything was scary, because everything posed a risk. Whether the water, the bugs, the food, the lack of infrastructure, the threat of robbery, the chaos that is traffic – even my beard! I have grown a decent beard (say what you will!) for the first time in my life, and it has people staring here. I’ve gotten numerous comments. Not sure if they are good or bad (although one young guy at the market told me that my hair was beautiful!). That night was terrifying.

On night three, I don’t know that I would have ever slept were it not for the little help from George. Problem was, I had two more nights on safari, and only one little pill left. But, each day I hoped it would get better, and that eventually exhaustion would help me sleep.

Unfortunately, it did not.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m immensely glad I came. I’ve also had a great time with Isaac and Erica. But I wanted to go home. As I looked at the length of the trip ahead of me, the thought of sleepless nights, and tingling limbs, I wondered if I had been too ambitious.

Part of my struggle was no doubt jet lag. And not sleeping didn’t help. But it was bigger than that. Erica later described it as a cocktail of issues – and I think she’s right. Being in Uganda, and dealing with a bunch of new stuff whilst feeling unprepared (without my stuff) and exhausted was a tipping point. The anxiety I was able to shed by riding down the Wolly Mammoth with the girls did not diminish here.

Arriving at Murchison Falls National Park.

We drove to Murchison Falls Friday morning. It was not a short drive. On a few hours sleep, I was trying to calm myself internally. I was determined to overcome the anxiety of the past few days. But I couldn’t shake it. I found myself constantly having to take deep breaths to settle myself. At the Red Chili Rest Area that night, I was feeling it all the more.

The entire time I had been talking about it with Isaac and Erica. They were well aware of how I was feeling, my lack of sleep, and so on. That night, I called Leia in a bit of a panic. I didn’t mean to, but when Jordan answered the phone (very politely, I might add), it was all I could do to keep it together. I’m not one to cry, and only on occasion get choked up (not that there is anything wrong with crying, of course), but I was on the verge of tears. And not a slow rolling teardrop down one cheek – full on waterworks. I quickly got Jordan to pass the phone to Leia. I had previously asked Jon to keep my 4 am panic conversation with him private until I returned. But I had to tell Leia how I was feeling. I probably freaked her out a bit. She has since told me that in the 11.5 years we’ve been together, she’s never heard me like that.

Short story is, I got her to book me an earlier flight home. It wasn’t cheap, but I thought, a few less nights of sleeplessness would allow me to enjoy my time here even more. So, rather than leaving Friday night, I’m leaving Tuesday night.

That change made me feel rational and calm. At least at first. I thought sleep would be no problem. I was wrong. Despite having slept very little, I still couldn’t sleep (and no nap that day even!). Sometime around 1:30 am or later, I elected to use George’s little helper again. But I was nervous to use it all in case I needed help the next night, so I bit off half. I fell asleep a bit later, so when I woke the next day, I now had a solid 9 hours over the past three days.

It was Saturday – the day of our safari. Both a game drive in Murchison and a three-hour Nile cruise. It was truly remarkable. I saw amazing things (blog to come). But the panic did not subside entirely. I could control it here and there. If we kept moving, it wasn’t as bad – but it never left. The three-hour break between the game drive and the cruise was pretty tough. I kept telling myself, “You’re fine, everything is fine”, and would take deep breaths. After the cruise, however, I began to unwind in a whole new way.  The feeling at Great Wolf Lodge paled in comparison.

Maybe I’m just hungry, I thought – after all, I have been shaky when I’ve been hungry before? So we ordered food. But I had to force myself to eat it. And, knowing that there was no late night fridge or cupboards to raid, I actually forced myself to eat a few bites. Then I politely excused myself from the table, and told Isaac and Erica I needed to go to my tent.

As I walked to the tent, I thought, “they are going to find my collapsed on the ground.” I thought my heart was going to explode. Apparently, it is very common for people having panic attacks to think that they are having heart attacks. Leia later found out from my psychologist-in-law Danielle, that panic attacks do not cause physical harm. That was actually a big relief. We were in the middle of nowhere. Any cardiac event would be bad. I’d be hippo food.

Erica and Isaac followed me to the tent shortly, and proceed to help me calm down. Erica called Leia on my behalf. Isaac put on a funny show. Then Erica rubbed my back – which just about broke me. Almost every night after dinner, the kids walk on my back (we call it shuggling). And, every day is full of double squeezes – which Leia and I have done since we dated (it means, “I love you”). I was unprepared for the impact that the lack of physical contact with my girls would have. When Erica was rubbing my back, I imagined little feet. Eventually, I was able to calm down. With the aid of the remaining half of George’s little helper, I was able to get a few hours sleep.

I feel very fortunate to have come to Kampala, and to have spent time with Isaac and Erica. I also feel very fortunate that I can afford to book an alternate ticket home. This was not how I imagined my visit, but it has been an important one for me. The past few days, we’ve spent at Speke Resort. An air conditioned room, with a bed that is long enough for me, with an Olympic sized pool, and ample security, coupled with the knowledge that I will be heading home soon, has allowed me to relax more. I’ve finally been able to sleep without having to use help. I do not regret returning home sooner, because I am not fully in control of when or where I might experience the next wave of panic. Certainly I’m more comfortable, but the gnawing feeling is there.

This blog was written over two days. Tonight I leave for home. There is a giant snowstorm there, so perhaps I’ll be stuck in Amsterdam. But, yesterday, out of the blue, Isaac was proven right. My suitcase arrived. For my last day in Kampala, I’ll be wearing fresh clothes.