May Day

I'd like to say that I am filled with unconventional wisdom for the rest of the populace to tap in to; I'd like to imagine myself on stage as the focal point of a hit show; I'd like to believe that each and every star I cast my eyes upon each evening has as solar system of its own not so different from ours, and I choose to have enough confidence in myself to convince myself that the latter are not simply blanket desires, instead reality...
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Young boy, I thank you for the biscuit. Where you acquired your manners I do not know. Where you learned to smile on of the most genuine smilse I will never know. But again I thank you, from the bottom of my heart for all that you have done thus far in your short life. You remind me of myself-young and curious in this world-not too many years ago.
-Webale, the young boy said.
-Kale, I say in response, garnering a nervous if not awe-filled laugh from the boy.
Young boy I truly hope you can take this poisoned world and turn it good. The undeserved ignorance that has plagued not only yoru land but many othrse shall be an obstacle not easily overcome, but I can only hope this moment in your life inspires you to know. There is a day in my memory from nearly 20 years ago where I stood, face buried in a rusty chain-linked fence, gazing at airplanes taking off and landing. I was a pre-kindergartener, taking my recess to let my my wander over these large obnoxious machines, rather than partake in a game of four square or kickball. Spurring my curiousity, this catalytical moment has brought me through Australasia and now to Africa. I tell you though, having curiousity is only a piece of the puzzle-let us say merely the endless blue sky of a scenic picture-as searching for the meaning of this curiosity is where this world begins.
-Mpaku Eagle, nnyabo.
-Eagle?
-Yi. Webale.
-Kale.
Letting my own mind wander, staring out this barred canteen window, I find a life that I have simply...

Well my train of thought has been derailed worse than...well I can't think of any well known train derailment, but I assume you understand. Now the cause of this terrible loss in concentraion is due to the canteen owner's young daughter, who no doubt could see me from miles away (well I guess most Ugandans could, because, uhh, I'm white?) has chosen to take any and every effort imagineable to talk to and see me...
-Osibye oty'eyo, I asked.
-Bulungi, responded the young man staring at me from 4 inches away through the barred window. Osibye oty'eyo?
-Bulungi. Jebale I say.
-Kale, wena jebale.
-Kale ssebo.
And yes, you see how no matter how hard one tries to have their own piece of mind (while in public) is I must say a sure failure.

Young boy, you must realise something. Take a look around you. You see the man pulling the goat? The three boda drivers next to the tree? The chickens walking through the bush? You have been privelaged with an incredibly unique life, and you have seen me and with my best hopes wish that you have an eternal line of questions racing through your mind of why or what this muzungu is doing here, and hopefully t6hat is yoru ticket towards fighting ignorance. Run young boy, take your eswiti I gave you and on't change who you are, because yoru mind is so beautiful and open to new and amazing things.

Now Margaret, canteen owner's daughter, I do not even know how to satisfy anything you say...If I teach you something i teach you, if your mind has become corrupt to outsie teaching, especially by the thoughts that muzungus will save the world, then I fear to become a friend. Young boy; canteen owner's daughter; boy who ruined my concentration by starting at me from 4 inches away, just take this with you: To think is to live, to live is to love. And think for yourself and don't let anyone else tell you how or what to think. Believe that you have the ability to change somebody's-anybody's- life, and you shall smile everyday as you do when you see a muzungu.

EAGLE...rain?...maize...EAGLE...Yes, in a nutshell the progression of the past hour, with the whole lot of previous garbage being sandwhiched somewhere in the middle. And yes, it had to only rain for 2 minutes, and I have a full beer now, and all I want to do is go home, light my gas stove, and concoct some dinner involving eggs, cabbage, eggplant and tomatoes. In essence an omelet, but something more interesting is very much desired. But for now, I will struggle through this beer-not because it tastes bad, or because I have had too many or because I have an audience of 7 people watching me (which I do)-but because my simple couch, while listending to Chrias Koza's ne walbum and eating an omelet seems far more appealing. And to that, cheers, so I may take my last sip, and exit this alternate universe of the young boy, boy who ruined my concentration and teh canteen owner's daughter.