Thunder, Avacados, and a Sand Pit

Last night there was an amazing thunderstorm. Rain always sounds louder on the tin roof, but this sounded like someone was dropping rocks on the house. I wake up but don’t move. I look out past the mosquito net and watch the room light up with each strike of lightning. I like thunderstorms.


I’m glad that I’m inside, then remember that I’m in Uganda and who knows how structurally sound the house is. I fall asleep and have crazy dreams that I no longer remember.
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I’m sitting in church and Joseph, my first friend from Mukono sits next to me. He sent me a text message a week or two ago to let me know he was still at school. Then I look and see Rachel, the girl who sat too close to me on the taxi a few weeks ago. Frank comes in and sits next to me. Kenny shows up a little after that and sits in the seats behind us.


After church we go to a baptism.
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Joseph, Rachel, Kenny, and I walk to Joseph’s house. His mom sells food and we are very hungry. I have my basin with all my supplies in it, and three liters of water. Joseph insists on carrying them for me. I say no way and put it on my head. He snatches it from me and won’t take no for an answer.


We say goodbye to Rachel before we get to Joseph’s. That girl is way to friendly to me, touching my arm and telling me goodbye. Ha. I ask Joseph if she has the hots for me. Joseph and Kenny tell me that’s just how Uganda girls are.


When we get to Joseph’s neighborhood and I see his mom and say, “Mama gwange!” (My mom!) Then all of Joseph’s brothers and sisters shout, “Adamoo!” and run to give me a hug. I don’t know if I mentioned it before but it’s common here to add “oo” to the end of a name for some reason. Jeffoo Adamoo .. I’ve never heard Kelleyoo or Erinoo before though.


Anyway, I don’t know what I’ve done to make these kids like me so much. We sit down and get something to eat. I’ve forgotten his name again, but Joseph’s little brother is so great. I can tell he is a big trouble-maker. He wears my sunglasses while I eat.


I insist on giving Joseph money for lunch. We take the short walk to his house because he wants to give me something. In his yard he climbs this tree, really high, and starts picking avocado. These avocados are massive. Kenny waits on the ground and breaks their fall. His hands are getting really red. The avocados are falling from 15 – 20 feet. Joseph gives me three avocados. Kenny takes two for himself.
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Kenny and I are falling asleep on our ride home. We’re almost to Kisoga, when Kenny gets a phone call. They are taking a Lorry to the sand pits in Katosi and want to know if wants to come. He invites me for the ride and I get off with him in Kisoga.


On our walk to the lorry outside the Mandela, I run into Joseph and Julius. I ask Joseph where he’s been and he says he didn’t feel well today. We sit and talk outside the Mandela, waiting for the guys to leave for Katosi.


I hop into the truck. The cab is so wide. It is so different driving in this then anything else. You can hardly feel any bump in the road. Jeff rode one of these the other week and told me about it. He said half of the guys were high and that in the front seat they had a jerry can full of fuel, because something was wrong with the tank. They had tubes going into the can and back out again to the engine. In the front seat!


The guys I’m with seem much more responsible. They are not driving fast at all. Kenny introduces me again to Simon and calls him Pastor Simon. He has started his own church and they meet in Kisoga on Saturdays.


Instead of getting dropped of in Nsumba, I ride with them to Katosi to get a look at these sand pits. We pick up five guys on the way to Katosi. They have shovel and jump into the back. They get paid 2000 sh for every trip they make to the pit. They fill the entire dump truck, only using shovels. The owner of the pit gets 30,000sh a load and the truck gets 100,000sh. But they have to pay the owner of the dump truck 250,000 a day. The owners are Americans or British who invest in the trucks. They cost about $14,000 USD.


We drive down a small road that hardly seems big enough for a huge dump truck, but we somehow manage. We pass houses and people lying around in their lawns. It is very pretty and clean down here.


Kenny tells me that there is sand under their house and eventually they will have to leave. They company that owns the pit pays them to move and get a new house. “Isn’t there sand somewhere else? Why do they need to dig where people live?” Kenny says this is the only place to get sand.


We drive into a pretty small pit and drive back out. Kenny says there isn’t any good sand. They want only white sand. We drive a little further and make our way into a massive pit. We drive in and back up into one corner. The shovelers jump out and begin working. It’s hard to believe that this entire pit was made using shovels and now heavy machinery.


Kenny and I walk around and take pictures. He points out things to take pictures of and tells me what to ask and say to the workers in Luganda. We climb out of the pit and walk around the perimeter. I have some good pictures.


There are guys who work on the top of the pit with very long sticks with small spades at the end. They slice into just about three inches of earth on the surface at the edge of the pit, and slide their poles down. Because the pit is at least 30 feet deep, the dirt they have loosed collects in large amounts at the bottom, where workers shovel it into the dump trucks.


After not even an hour we are ready for the trip back home. I pass Remy and Enoch from the dorms and wave. I always seem to be riding home in some huge construction vehicle. The guys drop me off in Nsumba. I tell them if they ever see me walking on the road to stop and give me a ride.

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