Yesterday I got a ride home from a random Ugandan woman who took a shot of gin before we got into the car. The weird part was I really didn't care. I mean, sure, a part of me was concerned for my life and also hers, especially when she brought along the remaining gin in her purse for the ride home. And sure, I'll admit I was appropriately concerned every time she swerved onto the opposite side of the road at the site of a pothole or boda boda or small child. Still, I didn't care enough to find another way home. What options did I have?
(a) Walk two hours home on the hottest day I've experienced in Mbarara so far
-or-
(b) Get into the car
I think I chose correctly... although I can only say that because I'm still alive. Honestly, I think the short period of time I've spent here has either mellowed me or made me more complacent. It's hard to say which because they manifest in similar ways. For instance, last week I walked an hour to the local primary school where I'm supposed to be teaching health only to be told the kids were taking exams and I wasn't needed. Ok, no problem, see you next week. Oh you don't need me then either? Ok, see you in two weeks. Now is that being flexible or passive? At least I'm not overly stressed either way.
This upcoming Thurday is Thanksgiving. Just thinking about how different my Thanksgiving will be this year from last makes me very, very homesick. Luckily, my new Irish family and I are going to eat Chinese food and talk about what we're thankful for. Now if only I had some pumpkin pie.
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