The Day I Snapped

I've commented lately that I feel my fuse getting shorter and shorter the longer I stay here. My skin has thickened and many things just kind of brush off me now, but, sometimes it is just the new little thing that really gets me.

Yesterday for instance I was pretty impressed with myself. My day started off with annoying goat sounds. I rode into Masaka with 6 people in my row of Mutatu, including the 250 lb woman next to me who was breastfeeding and the conductor who was sitting on my lap. Within 30 seconds of getting out of the car I got a call that they were canceling the meeting that was due to start in 3 minutes. Grace asked, "are you still in Nakyenyi," (my village that I had travled 2 hours from that morning on my own dime) and when I said, "no," she hung up.

Still I was feeling good. I used the internet in the office, got some stuff done and departed for my village at about 1 in the afternoon. I got back early enough to do a 5:00 run, and somewhere along my route, I snapped.

There were a lot of kids walking home and I was quickly annoyed by them saying, "how are you" or "see you", when I got down into the valley I heard kids at the borehole about 300 yards from the road screaming in rapid successession at the top of their lungs the previously mentioned greetings.

It is hard to describe the tone they use when doing this, but as far as typical American tones go it would best be described as a tone of violent anger or rage. I realize that they are just trying to make themselves as loud as possible but it is off putting regardless.

I got to the halfway point of my run and turned around, went over a hill, back into the valley, and then as I passed a group of three 5-7 year olds one shouted out at me in his voice of rage, "stop." I continued for 10 yards and then stopped and turned around. I did so with the intent of simply talking, but as soon as I turned around they took off sprinting.

And that is when I snapped.

The next thing I knew I was sprinting after the group of 3. With the 10 yards I had run past and the second it took me to decide to chase them they had a 15 yard lead. When I closed to about 7-8 yards they became desperate, realizing the 6-1 muzungu was probably going to outrun their 20 inch legs. They split up and ran into the bush swamp. I continued pursuit of the smallest one who I believe had been the one intent on my stopping. When I'd closed to within 3 yards of him he gave up.

And so I was left standing, catching my breath, over a 5 year old African child who was on his knees begging for his life in the local language in the middle of a bush swamp.

"Nkusaba, muzungu, Nkusaba ku wange obulamu"

I beg you white traveler, I beg you for my life.

Goal 2! (inside joke for PCVs)

In the local language I said,

"Tuli bakwano, bwe nduka, togamba "stop!"

We are friends, when I run, you do not say, "stop!"

I made my way out of the bush and back to the road where I ran for a few more minutes and then walked up my giant hill, having ruined my run with my sprint. The climb up the hill gave me a lot of time to think about my weird weird day.