3 AM Bus

Western Uganda is cold and hilly. Opposite of East.

Owino Market

Tea Plantation

Beep-beep. Beep-beep. My alarm clock continues to chirp as I sit up in bed and rub my eyes awake. The sunlight of the morning that usually floods through my bedroom curtain is absent today. I stretch my arm out and pat my bedside table in search of the alarm clock, still chirping. After a few moments, I press the snooze button, causing its face to shine forth the time: 2:30 AM. “Kampala awaits. You can do this. Think of the city. Get out of bed,” I convince myself as I swing my legs onto the floor and stand up. I decided not to wire power to my bedroom since I only use it to sleep, so I walk slowly into the kitchen and switch on the table lamp. The light stings, causing me to take a few steps back and rub my eyes for the second time. “Why do I have to live so far away? 9 hours on a bus is fucking ridiculous.” I usually plan trips to Kampala in advance to mentally prepare myself for city living but Peace Corps called me to the city two days ago. Not enough time to think of what to pack or re-learn how to cross a busy street. “Should I make coffee?” I ask myself as I pour water from my Gerry can into my electric kettle and switch on the power button. Bathing this early in the morning calls for warm water. “No, I’ll have to pee on the bus. Besides, I’ll fall asleep if I don’t.” After a year of living alone, I now talk to myself. I quickly bathe, dress and throw on my backpack to check my house. I’ll be gone for a week and want to make sure everything is locked. I turn on my cell phone torch, hold it in between my lips and walk around my house pushing on windows to make sure the latches are tight. I also lock the doors from the outside. “Okay, here we go. I’m outta here! Awanyunos bobo,” I wave to my house as I turn around to the empty compound. I take a deep breath for courage and begin my walk. I run through the tall grass afraid a snake might latch on to my leg. Once safely under the mango trees, I follow the path from my neighbor’s house to the school buildings. Mosquitoes swarm the security light outside the office. I stop to take a deep breath, realizing I wasn’t breathing for the first leg of my journey. “Okay, no more lights until I get to the center. I can do this. Walk fast. Walk fast, Omoding.” I tighten my backpack and set out for the center. As I walk through the school buildings I hear bats screaming as they gather in the classrooms. I clear the teacher’s houses and come to the path leading through the bush. It starts out wide and gets narrower until it opens to the main road. I skip down the eerie path, muscles tight. The sound of breathing comes from somewhere nearby. I mouth the words “Oh my God” and keep going. My feet start to run and the contents of my backpack shift, causing noise. My heart begins to pound against my shirt and my mind floods with possible situations. The breathing becomes louder and my eyes search for its location. My head whips desperately as I wait to be taken to the ground. As I point my cell phone torch into the grass, a cow’s head emerges and I let out the scream of a 5-year-old girl. “Meuh,” the cow responds before it disappears back into the bush from where it came. However, I don’t stop until I make it to the main road, where I double over, hands on my knees and my chest heaving with shame. The clouds pass and moon shines down. “You’re a little late,” I critique the sky. As I near the old mortuary, my foot catches on something and I fall to the ground face-first. “What the hell? What now?” I whisper to the dirt. “Beh. Beh.” The culprit bleats as I push myself up onto my feet. I shine my cell phone torch to find ten goats sleeping in the middle of the road. The goat I tripped over adjusts itself and falls back asleep. I contemplate throwing rocks at the animals in protest but think better of myself and continue to the center. “That’s enough. No more shit show this morning,” I order fate. Fruit bats the size of crows congregate in the center’s mango tree, showering down feces to anyone who waits below. I opt to cross the street to move out of the trajectory. The storefront lights only spread a short distance but it comforts me. I scan the center and spot a few dogs mounting each other next to the bore hole. I think of my 14 months. The sounds of footsteps come from behind and I expect to find another person coming to catch the bus. I turn around to greet the person only to find a 7-year-old boy holding Gerry cans. “Esapat, yoga. Ai bo ilosi ijo? Boy, hello. Where are you going?” I question as he passes. “Agilo. Aiga akipi. To the bore hole. I’m fetching water.” It is nearly 3 AM and a young boy is going to pump water! Furious, I say to myself, “I said enough with the bullshit. What the hell is going on this morning?” “Illiling. Ajai eong ajotoor, Shut up. I’m sleeping,” yells a deep voice from within the hollow tree stump next to me. However, I’m unable to apologize for my disruption because there is no word for “sorry” in Ateso. Instead, I continue walking through the center, distancing myself from the talking stump and the bat shit. I make it to the roundabout in the middle of the center and hear the bus horn. 3 AM. The village bus is the only thing that keeps time. “Thank goodness. I don’t think I could take much more.” I board the bus and warn the driver, “Ocoiete. Ejassi akinei nen. Be careful. There are goats just there.” He looks at me strangely and points to the back of the bus.

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Hymn: “Taking the Long Way” by the Dixie Chicks

Him: Sean Penn in “Milk” . . . stunning

Hmm: Be jealous. I found True Religion jeans at Owino for $10