On numerous occasions I have been told how important greetings are in Ugandan culture. Even if you’re in a hurry and don’t really have time to talk you should still stop to respond to a greeting then state you’re in a hurry rather than just rush past without. I’ve been trying to keep this tidbit in the front of my mind, attempting to figure out when to follow the protocol and when to ignore it as some people see Westerners as just a means to ask for things they want (of course this isn’t true of all people here, but it definitely isn’t an uncommon practice).
What started out as just a normal Tuesday walk into town quickly turned into a series of ‘interesting’ encounters, marking the start of what I’m sure will prove to be a very interesting next 5 months. In true Sarah style I was ready to give everyone the benefit of the doubt on my way to the office when I hear “Hello, sister. Come talk with me.” I decide to take the polite road and detour towards the voice. I walk up to the front of what I later find out is a car/house rental business to find a mustached man, Fred, sitting on a chair outside. We exchange greetings and then he quickly starts peppering me with questions about how long I’ve been in Uganda, how long I’m staying, and how I like it, casually easing in that if I was looking for a car to rent he could help me out. “Come, come inside, I’ll give you my card.”
“Um, ok,” was my response and I follow him into his office where my eyes immediately fall on what appears to be a giant framed modeling picture of himself. Wow. This random meeting just got really good; I wonder what the rest of the day will be like . . . ? Too bad it started getting creepy from there, Fred asking for my email and phone number so we can stay in touch because ‘we’re now friends.’ Hmm, yeah, not so much . . . so I try ‘sorry, I can only use my cell phone for work’ . . . ‘I was actually on my way to the office so I should really get going,’ and hightail it back to the road where it has now started to sprinkle.
As a light rain begins to fall I approach Main Street, ready to continue the second half of my journey to the office. Cue next encounter. “Hey, come over! Come in, I ask you every day and you never do.” It’s a guy sitting next to a restaurant and little store I pass every time I go into town. For whatever reason I think to myself, ‘sure why not? Maybe if I humor him this one time it will be over with and he won’t call out to me everyday anymore,’ and cross to his side of the street. It didn’t take long before I realized that this probably wasn’t the best idea. Not only did he continue to ask me to see him in the evening but I had to keep thinking up and lying about reasons I couldn’t. Now in the US dodging a slightly creepy person wouldn’t be much of a problem, but being in a foreign country it’s a bit trickier, especially when you don’t want to offend.
After a few minutes I was able to get away, thinking (well more like hoping) that this would be the end of things. Too bad it wasn’t. The next day as Katie and I were walking to town what should I hear as we approached Main Street? Someone calling my name. And who was it? The guy from the other day. Hmm, it’s going to be interesting to see how this whole ordeal plays out . . .