Thursday Hike (part 2)

It's official. Every time I step outside of my house I have a crazy experience. A long day at the school calls for a long hike in the mountains. This time I chose the mountain on the other side of the valley from my "Sunday Drive". Every step up that mountain was breathtaking. I can only imagine what the Ugandans are thinking when they are sitting around on top of their little mountain, in their little village, outside of their little huts and this white girl in a tank top and shorts comes bounding out of the banana trees. I always get a weird look at first, and then the staring begins.

I'm used to it now – so I just keep on keeping on. Halfway up, walking along the ridge, I heard this chanting, children's voices. At first I thought it was some sort of afterschool athletics group or soccer team or something, and then I thought. Hm. A soccer field on the side of the mountain in a remote and completely poor village. Probably not. When you hear all kinds of voices and you know that this week is the ending ceremonies of the circumcisions done last year, you HAVE to see what is going on. Right as I turned around to follow the voices I saw a group of children burst through the trees, pass over the ridge of the mountain and disappear down the other side. About four of the older boys, the circumcised ones, had colorful cloths wrapped around their bare chests and carried long paitned sticks, some of which were almost twice the height of the barers. They were gone in a flash.

And then my knew best friend Ben appeared right when I was trying to get some info out of the locals – completely failing in my endeavors.

The big celebration takes place tomorrow. You better bet your bippy I'm going to be there! Tonight the circumcised boys (now considered men ranging in age from 16-18+) run door to door with their sticks and "capes" and a slew of little children in tow. It's like Halloween. As they go they chant that they are searching for salt, bananas, fruit, cassava, anything the house can afford. They descend upon a home with their chanting and stomping sticks and emerge with a boisterous yell, booty in hand, racing to the next house. Then they congregate at the center of the town (which happened to be right where I was standing), the children strike up a fire and cook the foods they have scored from their escapade. And that's it. The circumcised go home and prepare for tomorrow's celebration.

Ben explained it all, and perfectly positioned me along the path where he knew the parade would return. Just as they had disappeared over the edge, they materialized in a massive, celebratory, colorful, joyful group. In a matter of seconds the parade turned photo shoot when everyone realized I was taking pictures. They stopped dead in their tracks when they realized I had a camera. At one point, one of the circumcised boys asked me to get his picture taken alone. And then it really turned photo shoot. But I was more than happy to oblidge. Not to repeat my mistake of last Sunday I took a million pictures. And the mass of children was even worse, all fighting to get in the picture frame, shouting, imitating me, pressing and pushing to see the negative (I was almost pushed over!).

These people are so beautiful. The sticks were rainbow striped, or alternating white and azure bands, or a brushed medley of brown orange and yellow, coupled with bright orange "robes", or red and yellow or white, black and yellow (dangerously resembling a really crazy patterned sheet tie around the shoulders). But the faces were the most beautiful. Proud, young but trying to be older, bright, deserving, removed, quiet. They were now men. I was impressed with their dignity and presence. I wish my pictures could convey the feeling.

I hear tomorrow will be incredible. Sometimes I have to pinch myself. Sometimes I forget that I really live in Africa. Sometimes the thought catches me off guard and I have to stop to take in my surroundings. I'm really here. And here is everything I never thought it would be and everything I could want it to be.

The sound of drums accompanied me home.