"Unveiling the unknown"

The only difference between western and African winter periods is that, the African one remains as an attraction in the skies.

Absolute sparkling white clouds graced the skies: Absolute heat polished the ground an effect so evident with the dry nature of the vegetation.

This is Awasi Village. My home village. Located approximately 360km off Kampala city and Godly commanded “let there be Awasi Village, in Soroti eastern Uganda, it had taken me 12 months to knit a journey to here.

Fresh memories of me still dominated the dusty paths so much narrowed with the over grown brown coach grass.

Seated comfortably 2ft high on my cushioned mountain bike, the brown grass scenery and scattered tress rising above them, habouring sweet sounds of birds made my academic break stunning.

Yes, I was in the village.

As I approached home, mixed with birds sounds was music peeling through the tall grass.

Granary:Agranary adjacent to the kitchen.They are used

to store food materials in readiness for the dry season when agriculture

is a miracle.

Liberalization of radio in Uganda, 1993 has witnessed a massive increase of privately owned stations which with comfort has benefitted Soroti not forgetting Awasi.

The noise that competed with the birds was a local radio station, Delta Fm I came to know on settling down.

Greeting protocol in this village is always followed.

Ladies not so young came, kneeled and greeted me. Honestly I was uncomfortable with the whole issue of kneeling. However, I wouldn’t gather the courage to tell them they shouldn’t have knelt because they would have never understood why.

There are lots of women emancipation programs in the country but these women do not know anything closer to that. So I didn’t wanna look like that old fashioned Englishman who thinks he has reached University and can now start delegating suggestion orders.

The extreme old ladies just came with mats, laid them next to me, sat immaculately and then softly extended there greetings to me. So respectful I must emphasize. The tone of their voices? Tells a lot.

A top of one of the many grassthatched houses

at home in the village.They are strong and reasobaly full proof. (above)
We engaged ourselves into massive conversations. The journey, school, which part of the city I stay, who and who did I see at the city, “miraculous” presence of lots of cars in the city, transport fairs among others were asked.

I asked, they answered: They asked, I answered. That was the format of the conversation.

Kids love playing. In Awasi, there is no difference. Typical dot com kids. As part of a game, they were told to hound chicken. I smiled. Not because chicken was on the menu (I love chicken) but because a close friend of mine has a name if directly translated to English means chicken.

They ran around with piercing but humorous noise. They would fall, rise up, slide, feeding my eye with some minutes of bizarre.

Everyone in this village knows me. I mean in and out. I lived here for a mixture of the first quarter of my life. My characters thus aren’t strange most of them.

Quiet. Soft spoken. Disciplined. Smiley. Are key characters in me that they never forget no matter the length I spend out of this lovely African village.

The grandies especially, claimed, I talk like my mom did, resemble her and all sorts of comparisons grandies normally make.

The above is the kitchen.

The conversation went on and on. Simultaneously, I brushed my lips with my tongue as the heat took its toll on me. My prayers were answered though; my lips didn’t crack.

For the only the second time in my life, my watch looked liked it was forwarding itself. The first “times”: Each time am down for an exam.

Birds were not crying out loud. The cocks started crowing, sending out routine cries of ‘bed time’ to those below their superiority. The sun was now embracing. Everything was going to bed. My time too had been already squeezed.

A lot of things make this village special. The sunset is probably unrivalled any where. The beauty of traditional granaries, the specious huts, the people.

One unique character that moved me was the family natural architectural design of the buildings. Every family I came by hard this unique setting in which the a permanent house was always surrounded circularly by specious huts.

Asking a cousin as to a reason to this dominant style, he told me; “The middle house grass thatched or permanent is always occupied by the family head who is normally the father.”

The sunset in this village is a beauty that you have the previllage of watching every evening.It stretches for most of the evenings.
According to my 78 year old father,

such a setting showed “a mans’ responsibility in taking careful of the family.”

Also, as the father ages, the siblings “especially boys are supposed to protect their father.” Therefore it was for cordon purpose.

My village has changed. Not just for the one year I have been absent but throughout the time my eyes have progressively matured.

Left: The sun gradually goes down a beauty that costs us zero dollars to watch.

Am adventurous and soon Awasi once more will be history. The world today is very much a village and its unfortunate, very soon I would be leaving not only Awasi village but Uganda for a country only me and God for now knows.