The word "tuneage" crosses cultural boundaries.Last night I was on the way to party with my friends Kelly and
Katie. The cab driver's radio was tuned to static, so Kelly asked "Hey, can we get some tuneage?" And want to know what happened next? He actually started to flip around his radio to find some. (Keep in mind why I am amazed: Por ejemplo, when I first arrived in Uganda, and didn't know any better, I asked a boda-boda driver to take me to the Bugolobi Shell (yes, as in the gas station.) I said it 4 or 5 times and he had no idea at all what I was talking about, until I said "Shell Bugolobi". That's right - Shell Bugolobi he knows, Bugolobi Shell, on the other hand, might as well have been on Mars.) So anyway, yeah, tuneage.
In other news, Kelly has written some fabulous blog posts that iterate quite eloquently some of the thoughts/feelings I have written about with less eloquence. She also has posted some interesting links about the upcoming staging of the Vagina Monologues here in Uganda. Unsurprisingly, debates rage. More surprising is the framework Ugandan cultural mores provide for the formation of the ideas being debated
And finally: I am capsizing my sailboat much less often these days.