My week took a tragic turn on Monday.
My computer and I generally have a positive and loving relationship. In fact, I trust it so much, and it has been so faithful to me, that I store half the contents of my brain within its plastic casing. Much of my life at the moment is transmitted in some form through my computer, whether it’s a conversation with my sister, listening to music through its speakers, spending late night hours together on a spreadsheet, doing a major banking transaction or storing photo memories within it. It’s involved in the intimate details of my life. On Monday, it failed me.
Granted, it wasn’t entirely my computer who was to blame. I exposed it to a virus that was evidently beyond its strength to battle. And the lesson learned: beware of USB-transmitted diseases.
So, yes, my computer crashed tragically in the span of 10 fateful minutes, loosing all the data I had sacrificed most of my weekend to painstakingly prepare for a meeting that morning, and leaving me stunned, dejected, shaken and missing half my brain.
In an effort to console me and provide a salve for my heartache, my colleague said “hey, come to Uganda with me this week. You can’t use your computer anyway until it’s repaired, you need a break, there’s a free seat on the flight, I can work out accommodation…there would be a pool, fresh salads, ice cream…”
Now really – how could one say no to such an offer? I’m technically due for a break about now anyhow, but was planning on toughing it out until April. Apparently, I’m not quite that tough.
So here I am in Uganda, having just spent a few days here enjoying beautiful Kampala, relaxing, breathing in deeply the fresh air, and leisurely reconstituting some of the essential lost files on another computer.
It’s been lovely.
Some highlights:
Dream-like poolside relaxation, swimming laps, basking in the sun, reading a good book, and sipping fresh passion fruit juice. I even got a short tennis lesson from my colleague at the pool-side court.
My computer and I generally have a positive and loving relationship. In fact, I trust it so much, and it has been so faithful to me, that I store half the contents of my brain within its plastic casing. Much of my life at the moment is transmitted in some form through my computer, whether it’s a conversation with my sister, listening to music through its speakers, spending late night hours together on a spreadsheet, doing a major banking transaction or storing photo memories within it. It’s involved in the intimate details of my life. On Monday, it failed me.
Granted, it wasn’t entirely my computer who was to blame. I exposed it to a virus that was evidently beyond its strength to battle. And the lesson learned: beware of USB-transmitted diseases.
So, yes, my computer crashed tragically in the span of 10 fateful minutes, loosing all the data I had sacrificed most of my weekend to painstakingly prepare for a meeting that morning, and leaving me stunned, dejected, shaken and missing half my brain.
In an effort to console me and provide a salve for my heartache, my colleague said “hey, come to Uganda with me this week. You can’t use your computer anyway until it’s repaired, you need a break, there’s a free seat on the flight, I can work out accommodation…there would be a pool, fresh salads, ice cream…”
Now really – how could one say no to such an offer? I’m technically due for a break about now anyhow, but was planning on toughing it out until April. Apparently, I’m not quite that tough.
So here I am in Uganda, having just spent a few days here enjoying beautiful Kampala, relaxing, breathing in deeply the fresh air, and leisurely reconstituting some of the essential lost files on another computer.
It’s been lovely.
Some highlights:
Dream-like poolside relaxation, swimming laps, basking in the sun, reading a good book, and sipping fresh passion fruit juice. I even got a short tennis lesson from my colleague at the pool-side court.
An afternoon in the rainforest, communing with the natural world and absorbing life from all that is lively and green which is lacking in Sudan now that it is the dry season.
A visit to Jinja falls, and a also to the spot that is a proclaimed “source of the Nile”. We spat into the river so that our contribution could be added to the Nile and eventually reach us in Juba on its way North.
Gazing off towards Juba, and pondering sending a message in an
empty bottle to Sudan.
All the glitz and glamour of “civilization”. We spent far too much time in one particular shopping mall, eating out, licking ice cream cones, saw a movie in theatre, and – a special highlight & a first for me – got a pedicure. This felt fantastic on tired feet that have attained a perma-tan of embedded Juba dust and grime. Complete with a foot/leg massage, a bubbly footbath with jets, and a massive cushy chair that massaged your back at the same time. Fantastic!
In closing, here is a wee tribute to Uganda. I’m not sure if Uganda has an official “national vegetable”. But if it did, it would have to be Matoke, or the green banana (boiled/roasted/fried as a main starch for most meals). These are everywhere. In tribute, here is a poem I composed on our drive back from the rainforest (a little evidence that my brain has not been hard at work this week!).
Do you like your green bananas?
Would you eat them from a truck?
Would you eat them for good luck?
Would you eat them from a shop?
Would you eat them till you drop?
Would you eat them off a bike?
Here’s some roasted – if you’d like?
Green bananas here and there,
Matoke, matoke – everywhere!
Clearly the break has brought me a deepened sense of joy and pleasure in life. A most welcome enrichment.
1 comment:
Ah, Uganda, how I miss thee. Jinja is lovely-- hope you got a chance to try the fried tilapia at one of the riverside resorts.
I'm shocked that I didn't get a Skype about your computer mishap! Hope it's back on its feet...
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