A few weeks back, President Museveni came to Kisoro wearing his infamous safari hat.
Background: If the volunteers in my group have enough energy and enthusiasm left to be obsessed with anything these days, anything at all, it’s probably Museveni’s safari hat. In fact, the generous Oreo giver’s core service objective is to steal that hat, which I’m predicting will end in a tragic Oreo-themed funeral. I like the irony of a funeral theme which is both tasteless and delicious but I also hope it will distract from the misfortune of death-by-spear… it’s a rough way to go.
Museveni was scheduled to turn up in Kisoro mid-day, a deceptive Rufumbira word which roughly translates to: anytime between noon and tomorrow. So, after waiting in that crowd for two hours with all that entails- the pushing, the staring, the peddlers pushing their top of the line Museveni gear- I began to distract myself with the weird and wonderful fashions of Uganda, or more accurately, the fashions began to hypnotize me separate of my own personal will. You should know the highlight of the afternoon was an eye-catching, lime green, short sleeved turtleneck number in a delicate, artificial velvet. Now this is obviously a piece that can stand alone, but when paired with camouflage pants? There are no words. In other fashion news, the event confirmed the classic rifle-on-khaki combo never goes out of style.
As the minutes dragged on, the combination of scorching sun and crowded bodies began to overheat my brain which in turn caused me to seriously consider buying a safari hat souvenir bearing Museveni’s name while simultaneously experimenting with mind control in an effort to trigger a rainstorm. You see, if there’s anything Ugandans fear more than personal space and order, it’s rain. Yes…it soon became clear to me rain was the answer to all my problems. Rain would both cool me down and clear out that crowd in a second. Perhaps it would even deter the child attempting to crawl up my back. I started to imagine myself standing solo, poetically, in the middle of the football field in the pouring rain when Museveni arrived. Of course he’d be so impressed with my stamina and dedication he’d invite me into the Land Cruiser for some warm bushera (local millet porridge) and an invitation to serve as his press secretary in the upcoming elections.
After I snapped out of my heat-induced fantasy, which oddly enough had a one song soundtrack of ‘I Can Be Your Hero, Baby’ by Enrique Iglesius, I had ample time to ponder the meaning of life and more importantly, to ponder the meaning of that safari hat. It’s certainly not a fashion statement, although the juxtaposition of the hat next to Museveni’s Fauxmani suit and pimped out Land Cruiser does make for an interesting photograph. But I think the hat is more than that; I suspect we have a Ratatouille situation here. Believe me, there’s no shortage of rodents in this country to discredit my theory and it does help explain the sometimes jerky and relentless thumbs-ups. I’ve therefore begun investigating discreetly; a rat scandal like this could change the whole election and would undoubtedly make my first run as top press secretary disagreeable. If you have any information on this or other scandals, want to talk Ugandan fashion, have a Bradelina update, want to reminisce about the good ol’ days of Starbucks hazelnut lattes and/or sidewalks or need the name of a superior safari hat retailer, please don’t hesitate to contact me immediately.
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