The Trouble With Roosters

The trouble with roosters is this: they don’t distinguish between weekdays and weekends. The result is that here, there is no such thing as sleeping in.
Ever.

The first few nights in Uganda I barely slept. When I did finally sleep, I would wake up frequently at every new sound. I remember a similar thing happened the first few nights sleeping in my new apartment in downtown London. Eventually, of course, I got used to the traffic and sirens and slept with no problems. This is the case here, too. However, instead of traffic and sirens, I’ve finally been able to ignore the birds and bugs and animals and everything thing else - except for roosters. Every day, including weekends, I wake up to the sound of not one, but several roosters crowing... before the sun has even come up! This is the other trouble with roosters; they’re too eager.
I’m hoping that this is another one of those things that I’ll get used to. Not getting up at the crack of dawn, but learning to tune out the cock-a-doodles at 4:30 in the morning. Maybe I just haven’t adjusted entirely yet. Maybe roosters are the last thing that one adjusts to, on account of the complete absence of them at home.

Thankfully, I have managed to get used to most of the other daily events. I no longer get tangled up while sleeping under my mosquito net. In fact, I kind of like it. It’s sort of like sleeping in a fort, and really, who doesn’t like sleeping in forts?

I’ve adjusted the pace at which I walk. Time is irrelevant in Africa. Things get done whenever they get done, and as long as you show up within 2-4 hours of when you were expected, you’re still pretty much on time. I walk much slower now, and it really is quite nice. Back home I used to zip out to the store, run around and quickly check off all the things on my list. I could be there and back in less than 15 minutes. Here, I mosey down the dirt roads. I browse up and down the aisles; I stop and chat with bodaboda drivers. It takes me an hour to pick up powdered milk from a store less than two kilometers away.

I’ve learned that pedestrians do not have the right of way. In fact, when you’re walking on the road (because there’s no such thing as sidewalks) it’s your job to stay out of the way of everyone else. Essentially, whoever is driving the biggest vehicle has the right of way. So, when calculating whether or not to move out of the way to let a guy in, one has to only do a quick comparison of size. If you’re smaller, you move. Otherwise you get squashed.
Thus, semis yield to no one while pedestrians have to look out for anything with wheels (including bicycles). I learned this after a family of four on a scooter nearly took me out. Shortly after, a car ran into me. This is when I learned what to do when a car comes too close to you – you smack the hood. At the same time that the car ran into me, it also hit another guy walking behind me. He smacked the hood, so I did too. This is how you learn things.

I’ve began speaking more like a Ugandan. I say “yes please” often and always.
Example: You call me on the phone and say, “Hello, may I speak to Laura?” In response I say, “Yes please,” and wait for you to continue.
Example: We’re parting ways and you say to me, “See you later! Have a good day!” I would respond, “Yes please, you too!”

When I’m describing a list and would usually say ‘etc, etc” or “and so on, and so on” I now end with “and what what.”
Example: “The store has things like pens and pencils, etc.” becomes “The store has things like pens and pencils and what what.”

I say “Sorry” whenever someone stumbles, trips, falls; forgets, drops, or loses something, or has any other potentially adverse thing happen to them.
Example: You stub your toe and say “Owch!” I say “ Ohhh sorry, sorry!” and make you sure are ok.
Example: You are walking when you trip and drop your books. I say, “Sorry, sorry!” and rush to help you pick them up.

I’ve learned to share my room with a mouse and my office with a lizard. The mouse I’ve named Racecar because of the way he zips around. We have a pretty good arrangement; I use the apartment during the day and he runs around as much as he likes at night. My office lizard is named Herc because of the way he does pushups. He mostly supervises.

I’ve gotten used to standing under a dribbling shower with lukewarm water and a toilet than flushes 5 times out of 10 on a good day. I’ve gotten used to matooke (green plaintain paste) and groundnut sauce as a regular meal, brushing my teeth using bottled water, intermittent power, and everything (everything!) being covered in a fine layer of red dirt. I’ve gotten used to the taste of tea made from a mug of milk and ginger, the smell of crowds and diesel, the sun, and the sweat that covers me after I walk anything more than 50 steps.

And then this morning, while it was still dark and I lay under my mosquito net silently cursing the rooster crowing outside, I thought about and began to appreciate that the things that I’ve “gotten used to” are exactly the things that make living in Africa, living in Africa. That maybe, in fact, everything that I have professed to be adjusting to - the dirt, the heat, the schedule, the food, the bugs, the traffic, the smells, the language, the mice, the matooke – are in actuality the very features that draw me here and will, subsequently, be what I miss most when I go home.

And so, after reflection, I conclude that I truly enjoy all of this. It hasn't been a struggle to adapt or learn to live without, and I actually like all these differences that make living in Africa unlike any other place in the world. Sure I miss things like Timbits and showers with hot water, but I am incredibly comfortable and content and I think I could really get used to this place.
Except for, maybe, the roosters.