Into (as opposed to out of) Africa

So much that was forgotten that is now so familiar.
   After only 3 days it all becomes abundantly reminiscent of my trip two years ago: the smells of people and diesel and a hundred burning substances; the omnipresent need that only a few dollars could make go away, for a moment or a month; the general squalor of discarded bottles and plastic trash that becomes invisible in time but that shocks Western sensibilities until that day; and the beautiful timeless beauty of so many eyes and faces that erupt into smiles when you return their "Hi Mizungo" with a doffed hat and a comment.
   I've returned a thousand eye contacts walking through the ramshakle but invigorating mud based communities around my home, found some fabulous string trick talent in kids I've met, and learned some new string moves from a maid at the house where people have been hosting me. To the children, Philip and Petra, I'm "Unka Jon", a large, sweaty but very entertaining Mizungo.
   Today I pumped 6 jerry cans full of water from a well, at 100 shillings (5 cents) per, for the right to do so. The entrepeneur justs sits there and watches the cash roll in. He's the envy of all.
  Yesterday I hired a driver for 30 dollars (note the disparity in value) to drive me to and around Makarere University where I tried to make inroads with the teacher education community. It was graduation day, so I unexpectedly got a first row seat at the very colorful proceedings as professors read off lists of names in radiant robes festooned with brilliant reds and greens and golds. Maribu storks in the hundreds animating every view,  hats on dignitaries out of that Dr. Seuss book, and students cheering hysterically in the flush of pride and accomplishment, and blissfully unaware of their sad job prospects. Ruth, my guide and a teacher grad of Makarere, is still looking for a job 2 years later. But it was a glorious grad day as I've seen the world over, with proud parents and young adults, anxious for the party to begin.
   I made 5 or 6 great contacts with professors and administerative secretaries who were awed by the letter from Jane Conoley, Dean of UCSB's Grad School of Education. A meeitng may be forthcoming in mid-Feb when I return to Kampala. Perhaps something rich and enduring will materialize. Teachers of several schools are eagerly awaiting my visits in the north for net construction  and coaching clinics, and those results I can almost guarantee. And I will soon head back to Kabale in the south for the General Edirisa Meeting, and reunions with a dozen friends. I'm anxious.
  I sit at a tour camp in Kampala, with a nice internet facility, anticipating a three day trip to the headwaters of the Nile, where hippos, lions, wildebeast, giraffes and exotic feathered wildlife awaits I'm told. With my Birds of East Africa, and my binoculars, I'm somewhat of a tourist again, and it will be enlightening on many fronts, I''m sure. Photos to come ...