Stories from Nakasongola

..And in the evening when everyone is done with their day's work, they'd go to the nearby dam & fetch water for a bath, after which we'd gather around a bonfire, one that made our fronts warm and our backs cold.

They'd then bring stories about anything and everything. The quality of food they eat. Politics. Football. How the day went as they were working the land on the farm.

Me after drinking two big cups of porridge. 

Those who could afford would go buy fresh milk & share it with those who couldn't afford it, but that would work as an unwritten loan for the one who's been helped would do the same when he buys it the next day, or week, or even month.

We'd laugh at things that aren't that funny, we'd argue about things that aren't that important, we'd talk about women, women would talk about women and children.

We'd stay outside around that fire keeping us warm and giving us company until the light bulb started blinking for a lack of adequate solar power. That would be around midnight and everyone would retire to where they sleep. I usually used to sleep earlier than that for no particular reason because I spent the day doing basically nothing, save for walking around the farm taking notes of what they needed. And selfies, and watching the sunset.

The sun kissing the water goodnight as it goes to sleep is one of my favourite views, apart from food of course. 😉

On some days, they would buy petrol, put in the generator & play loud music. The kind of music that doesn't interest me much but it does to them so it didn't matter. That would be usually accompanied with drinking some local brew, in quantities that would allow them to work the following day. I didn’t find out the quality but they seemed to enjoy it so we’ll assume the quality is good. They would dance, and laugh out loud. They would count that night as a wonderful night. They would be happy.

I would be happy. Such a simple life, such a simple way to be happy. I was amused and equally pleased with how simple they took life, how they found happiness in simple things, how they lived a stress-free life.

This was a gooday. 

I would be stressed and a bit angered by how slow the internet was, sometimes failing to share pics of me in gumboots holding a hoe and machete in a pile of already cut wild grass on Instagram, but they would be happy for having a cloudy weather with less sunshine, for that meant better “working conditions” to them. For them, a good day is a day where they wake up, go to plough the land, eat, maybe drink a bit, sleep and do the same the next day.

The next sunrise finds them already up working, and the cycle goes on.