Aussie dude

Last Sunday was the day of the MTN marathon here in Kampala. I wasn't running this year. I wanted to, but with three tiny nippers and Gandaman away, the logisitics were against me. Plenty of my friends were running, so I took Emma and Glory to watch. Getting to the 7am start was a struggle, but it was worth the sight of thousands of runners take off in their yellow singlets, like a sea of bananas. The crowd were more bemused than enthusiastic, perhaps because jogging has yet to seriously catch on. (When I ran a 5km a few months back, a spectator called out "get a boda!*") I tried to make up for the general coyness with some good shouting and clapping and leaping up-and-down.

It was not like the runs I used to do in Switzerland. Neither the organisers nor the participants appeared to take it completely seriously. The portly stragglers at the back who still hadn't crossed the start-line at 0740; the chap on his bicycle; the relaxed attitude to traffic and crowd control. Then there were the very committed: some runners in slippers, others in bare feet. The muzungus in all the gear, with ipods on their arms. The crowd gasped as they saw a man in his 70s set off for the 21km, and gasped again when he finished in just over 2 hours. The winner of the marathon itself (42km) did it in a staggering 2 hours 17 minutes - Kenyan guy.

Our baby group team, Mums on the Run, all completed the 10km in very respectable times. Well done again, Ros, Kirsteen and Jo! Ruth did a very fast 21km, barely breaking a sweat. But the biggest shout goes out to Monica, who did the 21km a mere 5 months after giving birth. Each one of us felt the lump in our throat as she approached the finish line, and we clapped and cheered ourselves sore.

Here she is about 3/4 of the way round with her pal Dionne and small fry. Watch out behind you!

PS. I meant to post this on Monday, but have had annoying internet problems all week.

*motorbike taxi

Grumpy trousers

It has been a couple of weeks now since the start of the 'blog more' rule and already I am beginning to flag. What can I tell you? Let's think.

Firstly I have a horrible cold which is making me grumpy and ratty. But it is not as bad as Baby K's, whose nose is a permanent dripping tap, so much so that the skin on her upper lip is red and sore. She doesn't have a temperature, but she looks so sorry and sad I want to take her to the doctor. They would almost certainly not give her anything (apart from concerned eyebrows), but it might make me feel better. My poor baby. Did you know she can crawl and has 2 teeth?

Also the microwave is broken. Of all household appliances this is the one I love the most, and now this infidelity. We eat nothing but re-heated rice* pretty much. How do you re-heat rice without a microwave?

*with bits added

The mosquito hunter

Gandaman is the mosquito's public enemy number one. He squishes them here, he smacks them there, he splats them here, there and everywhere. In the middle of the night he'll turn the light on, and stalk round the bed, carefully frisking every inch of mosquito net to flush them out. The ones that escape, in return, bite every inch of his bare flesh.

This all works to my advantage. He is the tastier of the two of us, and given a choice, Mr and Mrs Moz always go for the no-extra-cost gourmet menu, i.e him. But he is not here, and Brian and Shirley need to eat, and the chewy old gristle (i.e. me) will have to do.

This is unacceptable. He gets back in eight days.

PS. Back to the deep-fried grasshoppers. I think it's the deep-fried that's the clincher. Isn't everything nicer deep-fried?

Today..

..Gandaman went to the North for 9 days to visit the Medair programmes. Lonely Gandalady. Gandalady feeling sorry for herself. However: now I get to indulge in some experimental cookery and read for as long as I like in bed.

..We vaccinated 65 children at baby clinic. My favourite name today was a little boy called "Godlives".

..I ate my first deep-fried grasshopper. It was delicious, similar to roast chicken flavour crisps, give or take a disquieting stringiness. "Hmm," said Emma as she tucked in (Glory was too suspicious). "They are nice and yucky."

The Donut Lady

This is Jennifer. She is The Donut Lady. She sells delicious, squidgy, melting, icing-sugar dusted donuts. So today I brought her with me to school. Parents are invited to assembly on Friday mornings, and coffee is served, but otherwise their hands are sad and empty. Sad, empty hands yearning for delicious, squidgy, melting icing-sugar dusted donuts.

"Ambrosoli, I know it!" she clapped, when I told her where we were going. "I used to work there." As we got to the school gates she said "There I was bitten by a snake!" She showed me a large scar on her leg, just above the ankle. "It was a cobra." I told her she was lucky to be around to tell the tale. Then, hmmm, cobras on school property. Maybe I should tell the head.

Jennifer is only 48 but already a grandmother. She sells donuts to pay for school fees, etc. She has four children, all boys. The youngest one's name is George Bush.

Welcome to my inner life

I've recently finished The God Delusion, by Richard Dawkins. As a result I've spent many of my idle moments arguing with him in my head. (RD, I mean, not God.) Gandahusband often catches my lips moving and hands gesturing into thin air, mid 'debate.' He thinks perhaps I have lost my marbles. Perhaps I have? So to lay it to rest, I've decided to commit some of my God Delusion-related responses to blog, probably in several parts* because there is quite a lot of it. The sub-headings that follow aren't quotes: they are just how I've summarised RD's arguments, albeit a bit crudely. I am not as clever as him.

1. There is no God. Scientific evidence tells us so.

I admit, when RD talks about science, he has the upper hand. I am not a scientist, and in the science part of the book (the first few chapters) some - not all - of his arguments are quite convincing. He is right when he talks about biological natural selection and the overwhelming evidence for it. (I'm a theistic evolutionist, by the way, but open to persuasion.) But he also takes his Darwinism very literally and extrapolates it to areas where the scientific evidence is at best weak or questionable. He admits it. In cosmology, as opposed to one big bang, he talks of the 'tantalisingly Darwinian' theory of an explosion of 'multiverses', resulting in mutated 'daughter' universes which are constantly adapting to survive the physics. Or to explain why religion has survived so long, he talks about 'memes': beliefs that are replicated (like genes) through the generations. As I mentioned earlier, he admits the evidence isn't there yet, but the 'tantalisingly Darwinian' comment strongly suggests he wants it to be true. Something you believe to be true without all the facts is a faith position. (RD hates faith.)

2. Scientific evidence is the only kind of evidence that counts.'Evidence' from scripture is only hearsay.

Forensic evidence is not the only admissable evidence in a court of law. There is also witness evidence. The New Testament is witness evidence. Consider this example. Caesar's account of the Gallic War was written 950 years after the actual event, and there are 9-10 existing copies. Scholars don't dispute the historical authenticity of this text. The first extracts of the New Testament appear 30-310 years after the events they describe, and there are 5,000 surviving original Greek manuscripts, 10,000 Latin and 9,300 others. The life, miracles, and resurrection of Jesus are recounted by the Jewish historian Josephus. Tacitus and Suetonius (Roman historians) also mention him. Even RD concedes he probably existed -but still this kind of evidence doesn't really count. God doesn't exist because we can't see him through the Hubble telescope, stick him under a microscope, grow him in a petri dish, or come up guarenteed in a double-blind randomised control trial. (Incidentally, 90% of the God RD is attacking in the book is the Christian God. Odd position for someone working on the presumption that all religions are the same. Why not share out the vitriol?)

To be continued. You are probably bored by now and I have children to look after.

*I will have have froth-and-bubble posts in between, don't worry

Back in the saddle

I've spent the morning helping out at Hope Clinic. Monday morning is baby clinic: hence immunisations, weighing, cooing over loads of little bundles and the usual tedious paperwork.

It won't be a permanent gig - I'm just holiday cover for Florence the nurse. But it feels nice to be back after a career break of almost 5 years.

After a nervous start I was injection-happy like I'd never been away. Good recovery for a girl who smashed a glass of water and tipped Emma's fried egg down the side of the cooker, both within half and hour of waking up this morning. Butterfingers!

PS In case you're wondering, I am not extracting the poor kid's tooth. I am giving polio drops, yum!