Last of the Bugandans

And as all things, this blag too must come to an end.

It's been a wild ride, and you've all been a part of it. Some would compare it to the silently applauding audience at a professional golf game, mere bystanders, standing in the way of the game itself. But to me, it's different. You, faithful readers of this blag, did your part in shaping my time in Uganda.

Many left comments, thus managing to be right there beside me, sharing in my moments there. Others read each entry in silence; whether it was an awe-inspired silence or a quiet admiration behind it all - don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Each in your own way, you were there.

It was my connection to the outside world, the blag. Much like having friends and family in helium balloons attached to my wrist wherever I went.

But it didn't stop there. Even the act of writing had its impact. It added a point of routine in an otherwise changing day-to-day life. Not to mention the processing. An experience like this one doesn't end the moment I land on Norwegian soil again. It grows in meaning with time; with the processing that is done. And for that, rereading my own blag will likely be a wonderful tool along the way.

It's been a perfect trip for me. There's not a moment of it that I regret.

I've seen the heart of Uganda.

Can't always get what you want

Okay, I'll be honest here. I was secretly hoping for the doctor to give me a very specific diagnosis. "It was malaria after all," she was supposed to say. "Your immune system just crushed it far too early for our tests to pick up on it."

No such luck. The current diagnosis is "unspecified gastroenteritis" as suspected earlier. Chances are it won't get much more specified, either.

So there it is, then. Don't mind me, I'm all better now. I'm just fond of complaining about stuff.

The hands of time

At this point, my body clock is thinking, "Oh, shut up."

I originally travelled from Norway via London. That's one time zone to the west, or -1 hour. Not much of an adjustment, sure. After London, I flew to Uganda, three hours ahead of London. Now we're at +2. Seven weeks of that, then it was back to London, for one day of -1. Then good old Norway, back to 0.

And now, it's +1 again. Daylight saving time.

Drumroll

I'm a hypochondriac!

Well, no, not exactly. It turned out not to be malaria after all, but the symptoms did fit, so it wasn't exactly far-fetched. Most likely, it was just some gastroenteritis of some form or other. I'll only have the final diagnosis on Monday.

I'm back home now, after having spent the night at the hospital, taking various blood tests and workups. It's interesting being on this side of the needles for once.

Be careful what you wish for

The abdominal pain has arrived! I've been admitted to the hospital now, where they've just taken some tests. We'll see what they say...

The adventure continues.

Toto, we're back in Kansas

After a trip like this, most people bring back souvenirs. Some bring sculptures, some bring postcards, some bring photo albums. I've probably brought malaria with me.

At least, I think it might be malaria. Headache, fevers, joint pains; sounds about right. The symptoms aren't entirely typical; I have no abdominal pain, would have expected that perhaps. If I haven't gotten better by tomorrow, I'll go and get myself tested. Keeping my fingers crossed.

I'll tell you one thing though. Of all the times when this could have happened, I am incredibly happy that this happened now, back at home. Mommy's here.

It's good to be back.

Back to the horse and cart

It seems strange to me that we take world travel in stride the way we do. Among the passengers on my flight, an ominous indifference marked the crossing of the Ugandan border, as witnessed on the flight map.

Think about it. You're in a country filled with this blend of peoples, all with their various cultures, personality traits and appearances. Music, dance, language, life. The very idea of it is too vast to fathom. The millennia of intricate histories that have shaped these to become the way they are today; the struggles they've faced, the changes they've had to go through. Blistering climates, adding their own touch to everyday activities. Not to mention nature in all its splendor, carrying its own variety of colors and roars.

Hours later, you're in a whole new country, with its own mixture of peoples, cultures and whatnot.

Where do you get the time to appreciate all this when it's just a matter of hopping onto a plane and waking up in a whole new place?