Here is a picture of our temporary home. It's a stone, whitewashed annex in the Medair compound. It countains two pretty small rooms, enough for 2 single beds and a cupboard each but not much more. Our suitcases are cluttering up the corridor, which is more frustrating for the fact they are crammed with stuff I now know we don't need. Two jumpers? Two pairs of pre-pregnancy jeans? (As if!) On the other had we only bought one water bottle for a family of four - I blame the hormones.
Anyway, the girls share a room, Gloria in her cot with a bit of improvised netting stretched over. Emma has her very own mozzie dome, which she loves as it reminds her of camping holidays. Rob and I have pushed our single beds together, but our nets are not big enough to cover us both so we have one each. It's not great for romance. There is a toilet and a shower which are connected to the town water, so the supply is a bit erratic, as is the power, so a hot shower is something of a bonus. Drinking water we have to get from the main team house, where there is a fully-stocked kitchen, washing machine and living room, shared by the whole team. It's quite a cosy arrangement, but we're happy. It's been great getting to know the rest of the team, and Em and Glo have lots of new aunties and uncles. Indeed I'm only able to write this because Shelley and Ian, God bless 'em, have taken them swimming for the afternoon.
Although basic by our standards, our accommodation is nothing compared to the neighbours, the cockerel owners, who live behing the razor-wired fence to the right of the picture. The cockerels are the the only things they do actually own, apart from some plastic buckets and the odd cooking utensil. They live in a small cluster of very rickety wooden shacks without electricity or running water. There are lots of kids who run around naked or half-naked, and we hear them cry a lot. When they see us they shout "Muzungu!" (whitey), "How are you!" and "bye bye!" and wave. (We wave back and say "Fine, thank you.") It's a shocking situation, and so far, it's the thing I find hardest about being here. It can only get worse, as in 2 weeks we'll move into an embarressingly palatial house, plus guards, a gardener and a housekeeper. (The standard muzungu lifestyle, in other words.)
Of course there's a plus side to this: we'll be giving people jobs. I need to feel my kids are safe - and we heard some scary stories about near kidnappings from our new friends who tried a simpler lifestyle in the bush, so this is not paranoia. And I'm not going to deny that I don't like the idea of sitting on my own veranda, staring at an acre of garden and chortling at the thought of Tooting Broadway tube station in rush hour. You can have a very nice life here as an ex-pat - more on that later. And yet - we didn't come to Uganda for the lifestyle.
When I start blogging about the swimming pool and cocktails, you may need to remind me of that.
