In a lighter incident, I went to the supermarket this morning, and haggled with the boda driver for about a minute about the price back up to campus (I’m lazy. I don’t enjoy climbing Cathedral Rise, which has GOT to be a 30 degree incline).
So, I finally won that discussion, and as we were puttering past the diocesan offices across from the cathedral, the Vicar happened to come out, and told me I was preaching on Sunday. It’s a good thing I already knew! I confirmed, and asked him to keep praying for me.
When the boda driver dropped me off about 50 yards later, I wished him a good day in Luganda (siiba bulungi, pronounced see-ba boo-loon-gee), and he smiled and said, “kale, maama” (kah-lee, or OK); maama is probably because he inferred that I’m clergy or some bigwig to be preaching in the cathedral.
Three minutes prior, we were haggling over 500 shillings, or about 20 cents, and now I’m a maama. This is Uganda.
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