In the weekends I like to take a long walk into town. On the way I pass several main roads which are lined in small shops, restaurants, and stalls. One of the more interesting places lies behind a large bamboo fence that announces – in red spray paint - “Peace & Respect 2 all Rastas.”
It is a small local cafe, but it also sells clothes. I had passed it a few times, unsure of what it actually was. The bamboo fence makes it very noticeable, and clothes displayed outside make it look like a little clothes shop, but then a small chalkboard hangs from the fence and lists a petite menu of local and foreign dishes. The menu had been an amusement of mine for quite some time – it seems to be confused as to who it is marketing itself for. It lists local street favourites chapati and beans right beside western style chips and salad. All were listed very cheaply. It seemed to be catering to an unusual market – as if this humble storage container of a kitchen that didn't even have a sink (yes, literally a storage container) on this local road could somehow capture the lucrative expat dining community.
One day as I was passing by, a woman appeared from somewhere behind the container. She was athletic figured with a fierce determination about her and wild curly hair to match. She beamed at me, revealing an enigmatic smile with beautiful (if not somehow disproportionately large) gleaming white teeth. “Will you come and support me?” she asked boldly. I decided to take a look and find out what the place actually was. I hopped over the open pit drainage trench, which runs along all the city roads, and got my first proper look behind the bamboo fence. She introduced herself as Josephene. She explained that it was more of a restaurant than a clothes shop, and she told me all about the salads and other European food she makes – she obviously knew what muzungus liked. Actually, I had been warned to avoid buying salads in restaurants (and storage containers too, I would assume) for risk of food poisoning. I was actually after local food – my favourite, the rolex. I asked her if she made them. “No..” she replied thoughtfully, “but I could make it for you if you wanted one.” I thanked her and said that I would return if I ever wanted a rolex.
A couple of days later I was in want of a rolex, so, always being one to keep to my word, I walked down to the bamboo fence and stepped inside. Another woman greeted me. “Do you make rolexes?” I asked her. “No” she replied. “Oh” I said, and I turned and left. I crossed the road on my way to another rolex stall when suddenly a voice shouted “Gina! Gina!”
I twirled around and saw Josephine frantically waving at me from behind the bamboo fence.
“Come and I make you salad” she said. I explained that I was after a rolex. After a brief chat, she said “Go and get your rolex, and then come back and I will make you a salad for free!” “why?” I asked. “Because I like you” she replied. In fact, she would have had to have given me the salad for free because I had only carried enough money to buy a rolex – part of my strategy to keep to my budget.
So, seeing no reason to refuse her generous offer, I trotted off to buy my rolex. Rolex in hand, I plodded back up the hill to that famous bamboo fence. Behind the bamboo fence I was surprised to find another muzungu – an older white-haired man – sitting at the only table. Wow, she is actually pulling the muzungu crowd after all I thought to myself. I sat on an empty chair at the table and the man began talking to me.
“I love this woman!” he told me, pointing at Josephine. “I'm doing everything I can to show her that I love her.... and you know, I'd never cheat on her, because I love her so much!”
His professions of love and admiration for Josephine steadily increased over the evening. “I love her... I love her... even though I drink too much sometimes....” The man trailed off but his enthusiasm remained. The man was a Belgian medical counsellor. His wife had left him (I suspect due to the drinking) and his adult children were all living abroad so he had taken a trip to Uganda. It was originally planned as a 3 month holiday, but then he had met Josephine, fallen head over heels in love and had cancelled his return ticket. He had been in Uganda for 2 and a half years and did not plan on ever leaving. He was an older man, much older than Josephene, but he was full of gusto and was extremely optimistic. His light blue eyes sparkled when he spoke. He told me a strange mix of stories: curiosities from his travels, his frustrations at Ugandan incompetence in the counselling field, his Flemish history, the jealousy of his ex-wife, and his love of Josephine.
Josephine reappeared with a small plate of salad and avocado for me and joined us at the table. I ate the salad in between mouthfuls of rolex. The salad was lovely. I thanked Josephene for making it for me. The Belgian leapt in to praise her as well. “And you should keep making more salads too sweetheart” He cooed affectionately. “And other European dishes – hamburgers, hot dogs, kebabs...” Ahhh I thought to myself This explains the strange menu.
I was unsure of Josephine's true feelings towards this eager Belgian. She couldn't have minded him too much because he was living with her, but she definitely did not reciprocate the level of infatuation that he showed her. By the time I left, his constant praise of her was becoming a little over the top and I sensed tension in Josephene. I began to feel slightly concerned about her. I wondered how often he drank and if he frequently got drunk. I was sure that he drunk while I was talking to him, although he was only sipping water at the time. However, these thoughts did not overshadow the entire conversation and for the most part we had a positive and enjoyable chat.
Time pressed on and I had to be on my way, but I promised to return – and I meant it. I got a good vibe off Josephine and I wanted to support her, even just to get her side of the story about the Belgian and ensure that she was safe.
The other day I did just that. I purposely walked home the long way and passed by the bamboo fence. I stepped into the patio area and sat down at the table. Josephene was sitting there eating a plate of food. She was by herself. Perfect, I thought. She was surprised and happy to see me. We chatted for a while and she prepared me a salad (I didn't get sick from the last one, why stop now?). She explained that the avocados were not ripe. I was so disappointed – avocados are my favourite, and the ones in Uganda are the the most delicious I've ever eaten. Another customer arrived, he sat down at a second table that I hadn't spotted before. He ordered a beer. Josephine had to disappear off down the road to buy him the drink because the she doesn't actually stock drinks, just buys them as she needs them. He was a rastafarian reggae singer – perhaps attracted by the welcoming spray painted message on the fence?
Josephine arrived back, carrying his beer and – bless her – an avocado for me! She cut it up and arranged it on my plate, it was smooth and creamy with the consistency of soft butter. She sat beside me and I began to ask her about the Belgian. I asked her if he drank too much and whether or not she was safe. She explained that he definitely had a drinking problem. In fact, he had a mental illness and doctors had told him that because of it, his brain cannot handle spirits. However he had never listened to their warnings, and often would end up being hospitalised for weeks on end. She said that he was not violent but would shout a lot and say horrible things to her children. I asked her why she put up with it. “It's not so bad. He helps me – he pays for my children's school fees” she answered. Then she added: “He's not bad when he's sober, and now that I know he has a mental illness I know his moods and how to calm him down... plus I feel a responsibility to his children and his grandchildren to look after him”
We spoke at length about it, and she was very pragmatic and reconciled about her circumstance. We were able to have a good laugh about the whole situation. Still, she had been living with this man for 2 and a half years which is not an insignificant amount of time! I was so glad I had been able to speak to her alone, I feel a kindred spirit in Josephene. I like her a lot.
“What do I owe you?” I asked as I rose to leave.
“1000” She replied. (1000 shillings is less than 50 cents US).
I gave her a funny look – I knew she should be charging me more – the avocado she bought me alone would have cost at least 1000.
She brushed me off with a wave of her hand “2000 shillings is muzungu price, you pay 1000”
I was really touched that she counted me as a 'local' and not as a muzungu. I gave her 2000 anyway. I gave her a hug and told her I'd come and visit again soon.
Josephine and the drunken Belgian make interesting additions to my crazy cast of acquaintances in Kampala. How I relish these chance encounters!
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