Chew On This

Khat

*sigh* That ‘twinge’ is fast turning into a gut-twisting ache. I did catch up with him at Amakula yesterday, and Joseph. We watched a documentary called War Dance, about the abducted children of the Northern Ugandan troubles. It was really good. I was going to watch the Focus on Rwanda series too, but got waylaid at the bar. D then (surprise, surprise) had to go and find somebody, but we arranged to meet back at the guesthouse in a couple of hours and go to a club.

I went home via Ciao Ciao's, the ice-cream parlour, for some cheap and cheerful grub - chips and sausage rolls - and another beer, which was a mistake as I promptly went back to my room and fell asleep.

I was woken from my delicious slumber by D. It took me a long while to shake the groggy off and get into the shower. I wasn’t sure that I’d make it but, once I got my make-up on, I was funky and ready to go.

We didn’t go straight to the club. We just started walking and went for food and beer at a random bar. Well, I was starting on the soft drinks lol It was weird, we were so ‘together’. He just started talking to me and it felt so natural, like it used to on my porch back home when we were just friends. He told me so much about his life again. Shortly before I’d met him, he’d undergone a four hour surgical operation without anaesthetic! He’d had to scrape the money together. It had been life threatening, but no pain killers! He was describing it and I was going pale listening. So much I see and hear here makes me realise how lucky I was to be born British.

From there, we went to meet up with a couple of his friends - including Metta. They share a tiny room with one large bed down a back alley. We arrived and cramped in to say ‘hello’. My eyes instantly honed in on the little banana leaf wrapper on the floor. "What’s that?" The room smells of strawberry bubblegum and a fistful of light green leaves lie on the banana wrapper.

"Khat."

Long pause. Sound of mastication. Muzungu fidgeting in her chair.

Me: "Do women do it too, or is it just a man thing?"

Metta: "Everyone chews, depends on their situation."

Another long pause. More mastication. Muzungu fidgets, then turns to D.

Me: "Can I try it?"

D: "No."

Me: "Go on."

D: "No."

Me: "Why not?"

Metta passes me the bubblegum, laughing.

"What do I do?" I suddenly feel a bit silly.

By this time D is resigned to the will of muzungu woman. He rolls the length of bubblegum and passes it back. "You need to balance the gum and the leaves okay? Take a bite of this and start chewing. Then break off the leaves one by one and put them in your mouth. Use the gum to grind the leaves up into a ball and suck the juice out."

Discussion ensues between muzungu woman and Metta about different types of Khat and its customs across the world, interspersed with chews.

It’s quite bitter stuff. I can’t say as it really did a lot for me. They say it's a relaxant, but Erowid has it down as a stimulant. To be honest, neither dope nor salvia do much for me either, so I dunno, but I love anything cultural like that. "When in Africa..."

We went into town to Silk, one of Kampala’s better known clubs. D used to spend a lot of his formative youth there. Shortly after we arrived, a circle formed against one wall. A showcase of up-and-coming and famous reggae and rap stars took to the stage. It was wicked to watch. I knew some of them as D plays them at home all the time. Later, he introduced me to one of his best mates, Morris Mohasa, who sings some brilliant and very humanitarian stuff. He did the video against teachers raping students (in which Metta played the rapist). He’s a really lovely guy and wants to set up a child protection project in Kampala to get the arts involved in raising awareness. D had helped him to organise a march before, and wants to stay involved. It might be something we could work on together, try and help Morris find some cash and support.

It was a really good night. We got home, together, at about 2am. I really enjoyed the club, but it reminded me of a scene from Save the Last Dance. I felt a little conspicuous at first. We joke that I ‘glow in the dark’ but no one else there seemed to care, so I relaxed quick enough. I spotted about three older white men by the bar, and two white girls, but I had to double-take as they wore perma-tan so dark I almost couldn’t tell! I find it hilarious that people here bleach their skin to make it more white whilst, at home, we use products to get more brown.

D gets really defensive of me when he hears the ‘M’ word. He’s seen me get a bit pissed off by it in the past and now he gets more upset than I do lol When we were walking to Metta's house earlier, a bus driver had shouted out something with the m-word. I just ignore it now, most of the time, but D grumbled "<expletive> think they can say anything they like about you." I said I’d rather not know what they’re saying about me, but then curiosity got the better of me. Apparently, the driver had been teasing D, saying ‘where are you taking that mzungu at this time of night?’ Dickwad. I almost lost it myself in the club when one old git pinched my arm. I've had this happen before once, when my moto slowed down in Kigali. I have no idea what goes through their brains – probably nothing – but they get a kick out of it. I’m probably the first white person they ever saw *shrug*

It’s kind of cute when D gets upset on my behalf. He left me with his friend at the end of the night whilst he went to get a taxi for us, so I didn’t have to stand around outside. Whilst he was gone, his friend’s brother came over and stood rather too close. Then he started telling me that he really liked British people. "Do you know why I like the British?" - "No, why?" - "Because British women can give love to a Ugandan man that women here can’t."... "Riiiiight."... long pause... Thank Christ, just in the nick of time! D miraculously appears and pulls me out of the crowd.

I told him about that when we got home. He laughed, but he was embarrassed about the way the guy had spoken, brushing it off as a young kid talking. I found it amusing, but remembered the conversation I had with Chabel months ago.  It was about porn mostly starring white women because it isn’t produced in countries like Rwanda. Also, all those images of white women scantily clad in Western movies. He said, of course African men are going to have a skewed perception of white women. Incidents like that just remind me that D is a bit of a babe really. Sometimes he drives me up the wall, sometimes he gets me singing the blues, sometimes I want him to step back, sometimes I never want him to leave my side, but he's always looking out for me. I think I’m one smitten kitten. I guess it keeps me on my toes.

He’s just returned with my bus ticket. It leaves at 3am. I’m looking forward to the overnight bus as it won’t get so hot and maybe the Swahili soap operas will get turned off for a while and I can sleep or read. I'm really going to miss him though.

He’s staying on for a few days more for the closing ceremony of Amakula. Then he’s going on a pilgrimage to his parents’ graves. One is buried not far out of Kampala, and the other is right down on the border near Rwanda. I wish I could go too, but I think it’s probably best done alone this time, plus I have a wedding to get back for. I'm quite excited. This bus means I’ll get back early tomorrow morning, so I’ll have almost two days to prepare. Hope the cats are still alive.