Come jump with me

How much of Uganda have you seen? What does a holiday mean to you? Because whenever my friends are making holdiay plot, they say, “Let’s go to Mombasa. Or let’s go to Zanzibar and have the time of our lives. We won’t live forever!”

I love traveling and I love writing, so becoming a fulltime travel writer is one of my biggest dreams.  Things are already coming together. I am now working with Sabili Tours, a fantastic travel agency that is taking me on all of their trips in exchange for my words. Aren’t I lucky?

The first one is to jinja, where I am going to sail the Nile and then choose between bungee jumping or white water rafting. I’m 99% sure that I’m going to pick bungee jumping because 1, I am terrified of it (challenges ooye!!) and because white water rafting involves too much bumbly bumbly. Rowing is just hard work. So. Bungee jumping it is.

Uganda is beautiful. And weird. And fun. And terrifying. Don’t be spending moolah travelling miles and miles to other countries before you have fully experienced all of the madness that your home has to offer.

Friends, come and we go? Sabili Tours is looking to make dime, obviously, but one of the reasons I respect their cause is that they are truly passionate about Uganda, and about the disadvantaged among us. 10 bob off every ticket is going to a charity called 40 days 40 smiles.  Here’s a poster (created by Solomon Isanka)

Kawa. I have told you. Now let me prepare to go to the beach with my lover.

Stop qwencing Mayans. Try something new.

Hello. Kulika festivities. You must be feeling very heavy from your weeks of overindulgence, and light in the wallet because of the same. I look forward to chuckling maliciously at all the status updates, tweets and blogposts that are going to flood the internet this month complaining about poverty.

The first day of 2013 is behind us, much to the disappointment (relief?) of all the sillies who kept insisting that Mayans said the world was ending two weeks ago. Poor Mayans were minding their own business, predicting the end of one of their time cycles, and the beginning of another. They believe a new cycle comes with changes on the personal, family and community level so that there is balance between mankind and nature.  Their jazz had nothing to do with you trolls.

Everybody on leave put your hands up! I hate working a 9-5 job. I don’t hate my job, but I hate working in the same space at the same time year in year out. One of the things that keeps me sane is browsing what I call beauty-porn. I simply devour any and all sites about facial scrubs and hair conditioners that are made mainly of things that you’re accustomed to having for breakfast.

I especially like to read about the benefits of natural oils like castor, coconut, shea butter and so on. Aloe Vera is one of my most Googled herbs because of how much of it is growing in my dad’s backyard. If all the hype is to be believed, I could have myself looking like a 16 year old in no time!

But wait. 16? No. 16 was a year full of baby fat and emotional turmoil. I remember sitting next to a window in class and staring forlornly out of it, hoping that some handsome, popular boy would catch sight of my profile and notice how beautiful it was. I also hoped he would write me a letter, as proof, and that the letter would be imploring me to become his girlfriend. So no. Not 16. Actually, I’m enjoying my current age very much. Back to beauty-porn.

So although I’d read up on lots of natural oils and beauty mixes, I hadn’t  tried any of them until 20 minutes ago. Why? I was too afraid! What if a mix of honey and salt made my skin peel off?

I’m not even sure that I would have taken the leap if it wasn’t for the four decadently fat pimples that have set up base on my face as a direct result of me rediscovering how cheap La Fontaine’s food is. Couple that with the fact that salaries come early in December, and with another fact that I can’t resist good food and you have a pimpled lady with a new courage.

I took this courage and put it into an old bowl, added a liberal amount of honey, a handful of salt and then spread the goo over my face. According to the internet, you’re supposed to wait 10 minutes before washing the it off so that it can sink into your pores and uproot dirt, pus and unnecessary oils.

I am happy to report that my skin is intact and that it feels both smooth and dry. If no nasty effects follow, this is a beauty regimen that will become a big part of my life along with this smug, naturalista feeling.

Be inspired by my courage and usher the new year in with a new, and if possible, scary experience.

Hot, oh so hot.

The air around your face has become hot all of a sudden. Either the cat has breathed on you or some idiot has, for the third time tonight, pulled the windows shut. You don’t want to check, because if you find them closed, the rage. Oh the rage. Flicking on a light is out of the question because lights generate warmth plus you don’t want thieves and other night creatures to see your window light up invitingly. They are not welcome.

You try and remember whether or not you had a bath before you entered your bed, which you didn’t obviously because only grownups do that and you wouldn’t be on this page if you were well and truly grown. You hear what sounds like a talon tapping your roof and that is when it occurs to you that rain is beginning to fall. Yay!

Ten minutes later, the sky is having a fully-fledged quarrel with your roof. The rain must be beating the heat monsters out of the air into the ground, right? Right? Why are you still sweating then? How can it be raining outside and baking inside? And no, central heating is not to blame. You live in Uganda for heaven’s sake. You’re marinating in a pool of your own sweat. You must taste delicious.

Perhaps the house is digesting you.

Sorry about that. Here’s a guide to surviving the night heat.

That pillow: Every ten minutes, quickly lift your body off the bed, turn the pillow and then slowly place your head on the cooler side. Sigh with appreciation. Savour the cool, airy cotton. Pretend not to notice that it’s warming up until you start to feel sweat trickling out of your ear. Repeat till morning.

Blow: Get your significant other to blow on your skin. What did they think for better or worse meant? You are currently experiencing a ‘for worse’ moment. That you’ve turned into the kind of maniac who expects people to abandon their sleep to blow cool air at you is his or her ‘for worse’ moment. Suffer together. Joy cometh in the morning.

Go and bathe: Even if you have to take five baths. On a normal night, bathing that often is a sign of low self-esteem. It is a sign that you can’t stand your God given smell or that you don’t trust your deodorant, in which case you don’t believe in your deodorant choosing skills. Low self-esteem! Shower with conviction, with faith and hope that sleep is eagerlywaiting to attack your eyeballs maumau style the moment you step out of the shower.

Commando: Rid your body of all things unnatural. If you weren’t born with it, discard it. Then sprawl until all four points touch all the corners of your bed. This usually helps. If you share your bed, establish dominance by pushing your bedmate off, then establish your compassion by throwing the bed clothes on top of them.

If none of the above work, go outside and stare disapprovingly at the air.