The barriers and breakdown in communications we’ve had with them have been almost as entertaining as the ones I’ve had with the locals.
Since being here, I’ve buttied up with a number of people, including two Canadians (Melissa and Rachel who are doing a work placement at two of the local hospitals) and an American (Tenille is on a placement at CURE learning how to be a brain surgeon – I've taken my friends up an academic notch or two!!)
One of my favourite all time moments of being in Uganda was when we took the girls to see a rugby match. After roughly explaining the rules and scoring system, Tenille pointed at one of the players wearing a scrum cap asking, “Why is he wearing a beany? Is it because he’s in goal?”
Awww. Bless!
And as for cwtching, snogging, swotting or calling someone fit – forget it - you'll get nothing but blank faces all round. And we thought we spoke the same language!
There have been lots of funnier scenarios with the locals too.
The other day, I was either told or asked if I was 'reducing' because I walk to work and back every day. I’d like to think I was told, but my indicator trousers (which fitted me last summer - grrr!) still leave red marks on my belly which suggests it was a question rather than a statement.
(Dam that two month Christmas party period and those many January ‘Goodbye Until July” meals)
Others include an unfortunate choice of words when I was asked to look like I was cooking on an energy efficient stove for a photograph (They love taking photos of the token whitie in town!). I looked up confused and shrugged my shoulders at my host, eyes pleading as if to say, “Cook? On this? How??” only to be told, “Go down, touch my wood and then smile when you look at me”.
(Childish snigger!)
And I had to try really hard not to laugh when Alex pointed at the menu to order Fusilli Carbonara at the pool bar only for the waitress to stand there for a minute looking confused before taking the menu off him and scanning the drinks cabinet.
When he told her it wasn’t a beer, she looked thankful and instead started looking in the freezer! It took about 5 minutes to explain that we were ordering food, not a drink.
But my all time favourite Lost In Translation moment has to be from last month when I went to Bududa for the day with Matthew and Gerry. Walking back to the school, a local man lifted his shirt up and shouted at me, “Hey lady, flash me!”
I turned round to Matthew, taken aback and slightly outraged at what this guy had just said to me. All Ugandans I’d met until then had been exceedingly polite and unassuming. How very rude!
“Did you hear what he just said to me? He just asked me to flash him” (I said in outraged manner and raised indignant voice)
“What? Who? Which one? Him …?” (looks over to the men then begins to laugh uncontrollably)
“Oh Dani! He means take his photo – make your flash go off!”
“Oh, right. Ok then. Well in that case, I’ll take his bloody photo now”
(Shuffles off slightly miffed as it turned out he wasn’t desperate to see my boobs after all)
One thing that definitely wasn't lost in translation was a conversation I had with Alex last weekend. I said, "Alex, you'll have to take another photo. I look like a truck in front of that truck".
His response?
"Dani, it's a camera, not photoshop".
Charming!
Photos :
* Me trying to look like I’m cooking whilst touching wood and trying not to choke with laughter
* "Hey lady, flash me!" man
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