The man with the key has gone ...

So Uganda has this culture that is very, uh, paced. The title to this post is also the title of a book someone wrote, very accurately, about this place. You can sit in traffic jams for hours to get someplace, and then you hear, "The man with the key has gone." So you go away because there's no hope for getting what you came for. This is very common.

When we were in Soroti we were reminded of this. First of all, we had no power our first night in a stifling room with a still fan. Bundled in a mosquito net and no air.

 Our hotel included breakfast, and the first morning we were surprised to see a shiny espresso machine on the buffet table. We said, with some trepidation, "Does it work?" The waiter looked at it curiously and said, "No." Nescafe for us.

Standard fare at a hotel like this is chicken and chips (french fries; chips are crisps), or talapia and chips. The menu had three pages of items, but really what they have is the above. No "Adam's ribs" of mutton. No "Maryland chicken." They list pizza, so on the third night we thought we'd give it a go. A long discussion ensued about how big a pizza we needed for two, since "it depends." Then we discover it takes an hour and a half because "we build it completely." I'll have the talapia and chips, please, and Seebo (sir) the chick and  chips. Again.

A mzungu guy we met told us to  try "paste meat," the traditional food. So for dinner we went to the restaurant we were told serves it, across from the bus stage. Only open for lunch.

We decided to buy a modem for Internet while we are on the road. We find the Orange (telecom company) office. It is full of people sitting around, looks like they are waiting. The glass counter is completely empty, except for some orange fabric. Two young woman slouch, their heads lolling on the counter, and barely move as we enter. We say, "Orange modem?" They don't even stir, their heads don't move. "It is finished until Monday." This is Friday, and we leave Sunday. Everyone stares at us as we leave. What are they waiting for???

We take a walk, pretty little town. We pass a Catholic church and I decide we should light a candle; it's the date my dad died some years ago. We jiggle the main door lock. It does not open. Outside we meet a couple of nuns who say some  "mad men" might try to enter the front door, so go around the side. We do. Mass is going on, men in long garments standing in the doorway. We sidle up, but, oh my, we are so wrong in our little REI garb. We back away.

In the morning, I order one fried egg.  I get two.

We go to our training session. But the reporters have not had lunch, and training has been delayed. People lie under the mango tree. We start 40 minutes late.

The man with the key has gone. Mzungus, slow down.