one wedding, one rooster, and one hospital

I don't know, I get pretty lame when it comes to titling my posts after a while...

So, I'm here in Kampala, safe a sound. Writing from the internet cafe here on the complex where I'm staying. I'm living at the Uganda Catholic Social and Training Center, across the road from Rubaga hospital. Arrived last night at about 9pm, totally exhausted but really thankful for a safe trip, and a belly full of good Indian food.

You first need to know that as the matatu driver pulled into the Center, the "quiet" I had observed the 2 times I visited last week, was not so much accurate. There was actually a wedding reception in full swing, christmas lights, microphones and Ugandan pop music and all...sweet...but then there was my friend Maria, waiting for me with a warm greeting and a hug and laughing at my joke about how kind she was for throwing me a party to welcome me to Kampala...it really was what I needed. I did ask Maria if there are wedding receptions held here often, and it turns out the answer is yes...sweet...All I can say is praise the Lord for sound sleeping genes from my mother dearest :)

The next thing you need to know is that there was a rooster making a racket outside my window starting at like 5:40am...the darn thing continued cock-a-doodle-do-'d every 20 seconds for another hour and a half until I finally got up...the sound sleeping genes only carry you so far...the rooster right outside your window evidently is where the line is drawn! When I came home at 2pm on a lunch break the thing was still at it?!?! What the heck?! Anyways, this city girl obviously knows nothing about roosters...

Then there was the hospital, a good day overall. Kind people, laughs, the usual stares and maybe even not as many as a usual day in Bundi, and even some hands on nursing which I love, a little blood sugar checking and some insulin giving...A man died just as we were all leaving, HIV + and not conscious, had that totally haunting "no lights on" look in his eyes, and the gaunt dark skinned face, his chest heaving with each labored breath, his wife having refused the oxygen...aged him several decades upon first glance...his maybe 7 year old son was the only one around to comfort his grieving mom (not as loud as grieving in Bundi is that's for sure)...The 7 year old was just as wide-eyed as his dad was before he died, stunned and sad and no idea what to do next.

Okay, my minutes are almost up and I'm tired. More in a few days.