As much as I like to think I could easily carry it off on a cool level, the decision whether to have shells or beads at the ends was too big. After all, I wouldn't want to make the wrong decision and end up looking silly.
(Does that make you feel better Cath?! You were the only one not encouraging me to turn into AfriDan - am undecided whether that makes you a good or bad friend!)
That's not to say I'm not embracing the African culture though. Just the other day I got swept away in a moment and bought myself some African get up. I got a lovely traditional, handmade, high neck, over the knee dress that will look lovely in the office - once I've slutified it by chopping 8 inches off the bottom.
The problem with me and this place is that things are so cheap by our standards. But this time, I'm very conscious of doing my usual thing of buying a load of tat, getting home and realise, "What the hell were you thinking, you dick?! Why did you think it was a good idea to buy a two foot tall wooden carving of an African lady, let alone the matching man, child and wall hanging??"
(It wasn't me that bought the carvings btw although I will admit to being very tempted by an African drum set. I was very sensible about the drums though. Even though the colour scheme would have matched my living room perfectly, I didn't buy them. They wouldn't go with my "very subtle Welsh Nash style" (thanks Mam - and Happy Mother's Day by the way!)
And of course, there was no way this Welsh Nash Abroad was going to miss yesterday's event of the year despite being thousands of miles away!
I left the others at Mbale resort to come back and listen to the game online. Luckily, my electricity dance worked and not only was the electric on, but the internet streaming was working perfectly - good omen I thought!
I was getting well into the swing of things and had dinosaur size butterflies in my stomach whilst listening to all the preamble before a snooty BBC voice interrupted, telling me "This programme is unavailable due to commercial reasons".
WHAT?!
WHY?
So how come I could listen to the Scotland match online but not this one momentously important, would sell an organ or at least a limb to be there, one?!
ARGHH!
But by the power of Skype, Hels and Dease, I actually WATCHED the second half. It was quite nice watching the game on the sofa next to Dease and sharing commentary thousands of miles apart!
Me and the Mbale Eight (as we've now become) had our own little UganDisco (da iawn Martyn!) to celebrate the Grand Slam by hitting one of the local clubs. But that's for another blog. It was like the scene in Dirty Dancing where Baby walks in with the water melon! There was a LOT of gyrating and hair flinging. Despite having lessons, me and Alex were rubbish at it, much to the amusement of the locals!
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