First was the trek to get money from an ATM.  The way we are paid:  PC deposits money into an account and we withdraw – assuming we can find an ATM and assuming that ATM has money. Neither is a given – even when one goes to the ATM outside the bank…      I was graciously escorted to the nearest Stanbic ATM – a hefty walk away through several markets, back roads and much hubbub.  I have no doubt that this is not the image that first came to mind when you think of how PCVs get our stipend.   This is not the Africa you might have in your mind’d eye… tho in some ways it still is – just not the ways you might predict.   It is a country of contradictions – high tech mixed with marriage dowries of 40 cows.

Back to the ATM – it is “finished.”  Closed.  Out of money.

However, a beautiful young woman approached, with those gorgeous weaves that Ugandan women do – in a mix of colors ranging from black, rust, burgundy, and brown.  She gave us a ride to an ATM waaaay away from this one and said when we were about to climb out – you will get a taxi back, yes?  ;-0    Ahhhh –  glad I had my Ugandan escort with me to run interference with the taxi.  I could have managed, but still it reduced some of the hassle.  And the point is, one can never assume.

Once in the taxi, I got questions about “the foot.”    (Merely walking down the road, people will stop, express their concern and ‘tut,tut – ooooh soddiiii.”  It’s an endearing custom. )  Sitting practically on top of each other, I commented on her English – absolutely perfect.  Turns out she’d spent enough time in California to drop the British-ness of Ugandan English.  Here’s the fun part:  she taught in Redondo Beach – where we lived (left) for the three years during our California incarnation.  It gets better:  she lived in Torrance, where Travis was born.   Really?  In all of Africa I should find myself sitting next to a woman with such a specific cross-over of history? You can’t make this stuff up.

When I arrived at Kabira and ordered coffee,  one of the staff stopped by to chat (again – about the foot) and I told him how much I love their coffee and that started a conversation about coffee production and prices in Uganda.    His home is in the very town where we did out Tech Immersion, studying the Bukonzo Coffee Coop.

I love when that happens. Synchronicity reminds me on “somehow” on the right track in life. 

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