I’m leaving now now…

[I hope Randy and Lori Caldwell will forgive me for this entry.]

If my parents were Ugandan, all of their marital trials (not that there are many) would be forgotten. Let me explain and hope I’m invited back to Thanksgiving upon my return.
Every Sunday before going to church it has been the same scenario since I can remember: Dad and I sitting in the car waiting for Mom. Now both parties, to some degree, are at fault: Dad could be a little more understanding as Mom is preparing our afternoon meal (with mashed potatoes of course); and Mom could work on being a little more punctual (but come on, she’s Lola’s daughter). However, if they had been born and raised here in Kampala, both would be accustomed to “Ugandan Time” and Randy wouldn’t mind rolling in to church for the closing prayer.

My first encounter with the Ugandan time warp occurred my first day in Kampala. My host counselor, Dr. Carol, promised to pick me up at 9 AM to go purchase my phone (a resilient little Nokia that will surely be put to the test: Hider House, you know what I mean). Around 11 AM, Carol rolls up, nonplussed and unapologetic. The time problem extends into the work field as well. I received an email from Eddie, my research supervisor, regarding my first day. It informed me that I should be present at the lab no later than 9 AM. The next day, Eddie strolls into the lab office at around 10:30 AM and asked how long I had been waiting. When I informed him he exclaimed, “Didn’t you get my email!?”

Meetings are almost impossible to schedule. My coworkers hold lab meetings every Friday morning at 8 AM (although they typically get started late). About 15 minutes into the meeting, a few stragglers arrive and ask to be caught up. So the next 15 minutes are spent recapping everything that had been previously discussed. As soon as everyone is caught up, without fail, more latecomers show and beg to be caught up… so the 15 minute recap begins once again. So the 2 hour meeting consists of a vicious, repetitive cycle of the same block of information.

I have discussed the phenomenon of Ugandan Time with a few expats living in Kampala. They clued me in to the terminology often used by the locals. If your friend calls and says they are leaving to meet you “now,” you can expect at least a half hour to an hour waiting time. However, if they let you know they are leaving “now now,” they are actually on their way.

Sadly, I can see myself falling fast into the time management habits of my Ugandan friends. In order to speak with my friends and family, I have to call through Skype, a computer program that allows you to make international calls for free. Due to my busy schedule and the time difference, we have to determine a mutually acceptable time. A few weeks ago, we planned to talk before they went to church (about 3 PM for me in Uganda). At the time, I was out shopping with a friend, then stopped to talk to another, and soon realized it was 4 PM. So now on Sunday mornings, poor Randy is waiting for both Mom and Bethy on Uganda time before he makes it to Sunday school…

As it turns out, I am late (big surprise) to meet a friend for a pick-up game of basketball so I must leave now now… Mom, Dad: I love you both.