Kampala. Hot sun on the tarmac. Potholes. Hordes of marabou storks. Get tomorrow's newspapers today! (Vi gir deg nyhetene før de skjer...) Voices. Cries from the market stalls. Honking horns of the minibus taxis. Dust and congestion an dust, dust, dust.
Kampala has what?
Kampala has life. Edible cheese. Decent cinemas. Places to be alone. Places to be together. Kampala is my home in some ways these days, Mbale in others. Soon I will be bound for the other home. The old one. The real one?
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