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It is widely believed that Franz Kafka, the celebrated Czech author of ‘Metamorphosis’ fame, wrote works of fiction. In fact, much of his work was based on his experience of the organs of Ugandan government. The inexplicable bureaucratic processes that ultimately see, for example, Joseph K. of the Trial sentenced to death “without having done anything wrong” have been found to be close replicas of those still being practised in Uganda.

I went to re-register our NGO with the NGO board for the third time on Thursday (a process begun a heady sixth months ago). We had been informed the previous day that our application had been rejected due to a missing ‘Form F’ (we were OK with ‘Chart C’ and ‘Report R’). This was despite us holding a copy of our ‘Form F’ in our filing cabinet. So, clutching the papers tight, I waited patiently in a queue behind a handful of other people for the ugly lady to attend to me. When it came to my place in line, she said (and I quote) “I think I’m rather tired. Go to the office next door. Shut the door behind you.”

Swallowing my bile, I trotted off to the office next door, where I found the even uglier lady who had dealt with us the previous day. My eyes lit up – she would know exactly why I was there! Instead, she looked at me like she’d never seen me before and said “Why are you in here? Can you not see that this is a boardroom? There are chairs and tables! We do not attend to people in here. Go away!”

Which is exactly what I did. Am I being cynical in suggesting that if there had been a few US$$$s subtly protruding from between the leaves of paperwork I may have met a friendlier reception?

Things were even worse when I made a fourth attempt the next day, where I was actually treated like I was invisible. Words cannot express my fury.

This morning I woke up as a beetle.

Office Hours

The fruits of last week’s labour paid off – the Gannt chart is a work of art and the applications for the ‘Director of Educational Excellence’ are pouring in. Office hours were not helped by my first experience of Kampalan nightlife being on a weekday owing to a colleague’s return to the UK. However, this did not preclude the 7.30am meetings both that day and the next. Don’t worry, I really am working!

Close encounters of the African kind

This one’s second hand, I’m afraid. It belongs to Jo, a very capable UK volunteer who is spending a month with us doing research. Jo seems to magnetically attract weirdos. On Wednesday she was followed around by a man with a towel on his head, and on Thursday, as she sat in a café peacefully drinking a fanta, a lady rushed in, grabbed the bottle and poured it all over herself. Form your own judgments (and then write them in the comments section).

Friendometer

In a string of entirely separate incidents, several of you have convinced yourselves that I will find my true love during my time in Uganda. Although I don’t agree, I did meet a man in a bar who promised me that he had five or six friends who would make excellent life partners. Incidentally, he pointed out that he was after a Muzungu wife. Ladies?

And finally… Competition Time!

Let’s face it – even Microsoft Windows can’t spell gganntt, so I’m not letting you have that one. For sheer editorial pedantry, I quite like Ben’s comment about muzungu not requiring a capital, so that gets a point.

I had credited my friends and family with a high level of intelligence, which it seems was a mistake in itself, although not a deliberate one: it would appear none of you even know your alphabet.

Julia 1

Ben 1