Postcards from Uganda

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Only happy when it rains

Perhaps to preempt yet another heat/sweat-related entry, God sent rain this weekend.

I woke early on Saturday; the skies were gray. Thunder followed, then torrential downpour. The streets emptied. The birds quieted. The air cleared. For the next two hours, all was still but for the deafening roar of rain on tin rooftops.

I couldn’t and didn’t want to go back to sleep. I opened the windows, put on coffee and a long-sleeve shirt. I shivered and inhaled deeply for the first time in a week and took in the sights and sounds of what I know to be a gift from God, a reprieve from my biggest challenge thus far, a reminder that He is Lord over even sun and sky.

Friday, February 23, 2007

To breathe or not to breathe

Air quality is an oxymoron in my new city. There is no such thing as "smog check" here, so cars chug diesel fuel and emit whatever they please. Add a pinch of solar heat and a dash of fumes from burning trash piles and you've got the atmospheric cocktail that inspired my first acclimation debate: windows open or windows closed?

Opening windows in cars and buildings substantially lowers the temperature and reduces perspiration. Closing windows keeps out gag-inducing exhaust and other fumes. All in all, it can be hard to breathe either way, so I quickly resolved the debate in favor of opening the windows and breathing through my hanky as needed.

Granted, breathing through a hanky is a bit too Michael Jackson for my taste, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

If you can’t take the heat, get a handkerchief

Lesson No. 1: Do not leave the house without hat and hanky in tow.

Both items are essential to maintaining a semi-presentable appearance: hanky mops up torrents of sweat and the sunblock that melts off my face approximately 6.8 nanoseconds after application; hat prevents UV-stir-fryings of my face.

The heat and perspiration take me back to my days as a grade-schooler in Taiwan. As my sister and I walked to school each day, we would remind each other of the items that we were required to carry. Teachers checked for these items, including hats and handkerchiefs, and punished negligent omissions.

The sun is a punishing force here. I plan to stay on its good side.