New words in a new world

Sunday, July 11 was a beautiful idyllic day in Kampala. We packed up the car and headed out of town to take a hike in a big butterfly park that was rumored to have scads of red-tailed monkeys. Naomi loved it, we enjoyed the picnic and she even slept well afterwards. When we got home, we blew bubbles in the backyard and Naomi ran back and forth between Lendell and I kissing us and saying “bubbles!” and “birds”. We put her to bed and headed out to watch the football final at a local bar near the house. The excitement was palpable – Uganda and all the people viewing the game were still basking in the glow of Africa’s World Cup. Not long after the second half began, I faded and headed home around 11pm. Lendell stayed, and a few minutes later got a text about the first bomb in Kampala. The text advised everyone who was at a bar to head home. He called me and said he was taking precautions and making sure consultants and friends got home. Five minutes after the call – which I have to admit I thought was a rumor gone wrong – I heard a loud boom down the hill. One minute later, a slightly louder boom. My legs shook. I suppose I would have thought it a firework or car backfire if I hadn’t gotten the news. Kampala is full of sounds and booms. I’ve been caught in potentially sticky and definitively high security situations, but not yet as a mom. Naomi hasn’t slept well since she was born, really, but surprisingly she slept through the blasts. At that moment, all I wanted to keep her asleep, keep her protected. Lendell got home 15 minutes after the blasts and we started to try to figure out what was going on through networks and calls. One internet connection went down but I searched and googled (when in doubt, google) on the other connection and found stories about threats from Al Shabaab last year, stories of the Kampala blasts from 1997-1999 and a variety of stories I never paid much attention to until just then. At around 1:30am, the stories started to tell more of what happened a few hours before at the Ethiopian Village and the Rugby Club down the hill from our house. It was a long night of no sleep, but I’ve been able to sleep more in the subsequent nights this week.

So here we are. Five days later and I’m still a bit jumpy but we are safe. Naomi knows nothing of it and continues to love her new home and new city. Security has increased everywhere – there must be five guards for every one I saw before and all vehicles and bags are being searched before you enter any large gathering place. This is what many cities know as the norm – Nairobi, Johannesburg, etc – but it wasn’t our norm here. Life has to go on, and it does, just in a new way. We hear so many new words on everyone’s tounges – Somalia, Al Shabaab, bomb scare, bomb squad – but she says only the ones that matter to her – bubbles, lights (pronounced yights), please, up, Moo Moo, Mama, Daddy, dirty, ball, bird and happy, which she often walks around her big empty house chanting repeatedly with glee.