Home Sweet Home
I’m home. The last month was like being an apple in the stomach of a lactose intolerant someone who got stomach flu from some iffy Indian food sold in some backwater joint in Mumbai and then followed it with three slices of cheesecake, a glass of full cream milk and some danino yoghurt. Hell. Exams, looking for a place to fart in private, looking for a place to store my stuff, money and my lack thereof, trying to decide what was going and what was staying because there was no way I was under 30 kilos. But exams ended, and I found a good place to fart, with friends, 25min from school. I’m storing my stuff there. And my suitcase was 27 kilos after I removed all my pjs, nighties, useless clothes. The trip was not fun. Harassed at check in counters at every airport I stopped in, PE, Or Tambo, thankfully not Ebbs. The one in Or Tambo was particularly ghoulish so I settled for a poisonous glare. It usually doesn’t work. My friend says the poisonus glare had nothing to do with it. Mbu she obliged to get rid of me after I waved my laptop bag in her direction and whispered Stupidus Removus. It worked though. And then finally I was home. And even though they left my luggage in Johannesburg, I wasn’t upset because I was home. I am home. Electricity just left, and it brings me joy because I am home. Why aren’t there I heart Uganda tshirts?
