A travelers reflections

I can't believe that in a couple of weeks I'll being heading home. Four months seemed like a long time and I suppose in some ways it has been. I've spent some time reading my diary relating what we've experienced and a few thoughts come to mind. The polite term for going for a pee out here is called "taking a short call", a man at a petrol station asked me to pay him 200 shillings for a short call, I asked him how much would a long call cost? What is it about the blood in our fingers and toes that is so tasty for mosquitoes, they always seem to bite those areas? Since Uganda has made homosexuality illegal it hasn't stopped the men holding hands. Traffic police wear white uniforms and despite the rainy season with all its mud, the uniforms remain as white as snow. I have tasted crocodile in wine sauce (responsibly sourced from a crocodile farm) , frog in chilli sauce ( responsibly sourced from a swamp) and grasshopper in it's own grease ( responsibly sourced from a local grasshopper plague) I must say I enjoyed the latter the most. A Ugandan secondary pupil at the Wellspring school was asked to write an essay for the subject "Christian World View" on homosexuality, he gave the Ugandan perspective, it was submitted to the UK on line and returned as unmarkable. Such is the difference in opinion on this subject between the two nations churches. Contrary to my previous statement recounting a Ugandans assurance that trains never stop no matter what is on the line,I recently witnessed an exception to the rule. Lynne and I were going on a shopping trip in a local minibus taxi called a "Matattoo". ( more on that later).We were stationary in a seemingly grid-locked traffic jam.We were on a section of road adjacent to the famous level crossing that "brave Dave the driver" recently negotiated in the works minibus. We observed a seemingly hopelessly jammed up collection of lorries cars and other vehicles facing in various directions astride the railway lines. Then a mournful blast of an oncoming train was heard coming down the line. Pandimonium broke out, motor cycles negotiated impossibly narrow spaces, men standing on top of laden lorries started waving their arms in the air like windmills in a hurricane, horns of every pitch and tone blared a cacophonous symphony with the trains horn playing the lead instrument.I said to the bus conductor " The train wont stop!", he replied confidently that it would. Neither of us was right, it simply slowed up giving time for the assembled dozen or so vehicles to somehow disentangle themselves and clear the line.Later in that interesting journey a woman tried her luck at overtaking the matatoo on the inside, the driver didn't see her and her wing received a nasty dent from our transports bull-bar.But there was no drama , she looked miffed and the conductor assured the driver that his vehicle was unscathed, and both vehicles continued on their respective journeys without stopping. Matatoos are very cheap means of transport. They all have a sign saying that they are licensed to carry 14 passengers. The conductor is not included in this number , so when full ( as it often is) the conductor sits on the passengers lap (this does not seem to be covered by the recent anti homosexuality law) or if you prefer, 4 passengers sit on 3 seats. The other exception to the passenger numbers rule is when you are carrying a body in a coffin on the roof rack, but there again, it's debatable if a dead body is really a passenger? Finally, it's interesting to note that theme parks don't exist in Uganda, that's because they're not needed, if you want a white knuckle ride , why not take a a ride on a bodaboda (motorcycle taxi) they are a lot cheaper than "Doom Drop" at Thorpe Park and a lot more scary.The poor mans cure for constipation!