Friends in faraway places, my beautiful Ugandan 'mum,' and Jo-Jo

The best thing about traveling is not the places you see, but the people you meet.

In our short time in Uganda, we have found and formed many friendships here -- from the  "royal" to the "regular"-- and, while some are "casual," many will last a lifetime.

And that's what's making this adventure -- all our adventures -- so special.

We've already got our waiter "friends" at three restaurants here. Each time we show up, we get or ask for Francis at the Mediterraneo, or Emmanual (Crocodile Cafe), or Ruth (at the Cafesserie at the Acacia Mall and who may be the most beautiful young woman in Uganda) and, at the same spot, Nikki, who, like us, is a "muzungu" (person of American or European descent) from South Africa. And, of course, there's my "mum," Mary, a cashier, at the Nakumatt market just down the hill. When we go in, we always say "hi" to my Ugandan "mum." she replies with a "Hullo my son" and then we share a hug. Even when she's not there, the other checkers will give us a "hullo" and say "Sorry, Malcolm, your mum's not here today."

With my "mum," Mary, at the Nakumatt.

We found my "mum" because, when standing in line at the Nakumatt shortly after we arrived here, Joyce was looking for me and said: "Malcolm?" The cashier looked around and said: "Malcolm? That's my son's name." (He's a beautiful 2-year-old by the way, and you can't tell us apart, except I'm a lot older!)

And then there's Marsha, whom I mentioned in my previous post. We spent a delightful evening recently at a great restaurant overlooking Lake Victoria with her and her husband, and plan to have "Ugandan fare" at their place next. They and we are already making plans for a visit to us when we return to the U.S. (So there, Red Pepper!) Marsha is strong, honest, open, opinionated, decisive, well-read and full of energy, all attributes I admire. But she's also fair and funny and beautiful. And a great wife and mother, despite the challenges she faces as a high-level manager in a tough professional environment.

We treasure those friendships, as we do the dozen or more folks we've grown close to in our first seven weeks in one of the most beautiful spots in the world. (We tell everyone here that they don't appreciate that every day is always just "another beautiful day in Uganda.")

And there's David, who's worked at the Monitor since its beginning more than 20 years ago, I'm told, and rose from the lowest of entry-level spots to be, essentially, in charge of "everything" involving the building and how it works. Literally, he is one of the nicest persons, if not the nicest person, I've ever met. He's the one, when I complained in my first days here that I hated my office on the 3rd floor because it was too far from the newsroom, which occupies the two floors below, he had it moved by the Monday -- along with the offices of the two managing editors and the news editor so we'd all be closer. That was no easy feat. Though you have to be careful with David. (Is there a word for "too efficient."): If I even whisper that something needs to be done, it's done without saying another word. Once, I complained about the ME's keeping their doors closed. "I'm going to have those damned doors taken off their offices -- and mine, too," I groused. David was ready to spring into action until I said: "No, no, I'm just kidding." However, the next day, he had installed door stops to ensure the doors were kept propped open. We're going for a lunch soon, just him and me, and not just to thank him, but to build on our already close friendship. We shake hands four or five times each day, and even give each other a hug when greeting. I'm proud and happy to have David in my professional and personal life.

And, of course, there's the indispensable Kabs, my driver (though it is I who drives him, which seems only fitting, when we go places on weekends). He comes from a long line of police officers, and his dad is a police inspector. This weekend, he and his next door neighbor, whom we encouraged him to engage in conversation because she was so pretty and nice, are coming to our place this Saturday to teach us to cook Ugandan-style.

Joyce and Malcolm with Stella and 2-month-old Jo-Jo.

Joyce and I would trust our lives with Kabs (and, likely, often do). He is smart, funny, gracious and kind, and he has allowed us into his life, which we appreciate more than words can express. We see his mom and dad, sisters and cousins, his beautiful daughter, and his mom's chickens regularly at the police barracks, where his family lives. (In fact, we went there today, and then went for a visit with another of the Monitor's drivers, Stella, who is on maternity leave. Great day: I got to hold the baby!)

And there are many more I could mention, including Alex Asiimwe, the managing director (who's essentially my boss, in some ways, though he has no say on content, and I report directly to Nairobi, though I rarely hear from them, which is good).  We have developed an open and honest professional relationship. We talk. Often. And while he'd like all that I've discussed about the news operation "fixed" yesterday, he also understands the difficulty in all that. We discuss it virtually daily, and we don't always agree -- except on one important factor: where we hope to end up with what we both are doing.

Beyond our work, he and I (and Joyce: "I really like Alex," she says) are developing a warm and lasting friendship. As with Marsha, he, too, is planning to come with his family to visit us in the U.S. once (or, perhaps, even before) my contract ends. Just yesterday, Alex and Abigail, his 6-year-old daughter, came for a visit, and stayed longer than planned because of the good time we had over juice and cupcakes, along with my promise to teach her to swim (along with her dad, who said he didn't know how, though that may because I gave him a choice: "Skydiving or swimming or golf? Pick two." Well, as you can guess, we won't be skydiving).

I can't leave without mentioning Lubega Henry (who has been mentioned briefly in an earlier blog). For now, he drives Joyce in our car when she needs to go out and, soon, she will be detailing the saga of just trying to get him a driver's license in her blog. His training is in broadcast, as a "talent," meaning news presenter and interviewer or disc jockey. And he's got the voice (and if TV beckons, the looks). But, alas, in the four years since graduating, no job opportunities, so he was doing "manual labor," for little or, at times because of dishonest folks, nothing.

The driving job has fixed that, for now. And, soon, he'll be getting a two-month internship at one of our radio stations.

He's a nice young man, so nice that we just might adopt him. Not really, but we enjoy having him around even when he's not driving.

There are many more, and they'll likely find their way into this blog (and Joyce's) at some point. Stay tuned.

But Joyce and I take the concept of friendship seriously. Some friendships are fleeting, but others are forever.

We've found both here.

As said, it's what makes this and all our travels so special. We wish the same for you.