I observe and listen. I don’t ever fully understand what is being said around me. There are somewhere around 56 languages spoken in Uganda. Many times, languages are mixed together like a community soup. At site, I had just reached intermediate level in Lumasaaba language, spoken in the Mbale region of Eastern Uganda. An achievement that took me four months. I competently barter for produce at the local markets and brush away daily marriage proposals.
Mountains of the Mount Elgon Region or Bugisu Region
It was at this time that a young man tries to break into my house at 2 AM one Monday morning. I scream for help; no one comes. I quietly listen. The man seems to be alone. He doesn’t have tools and will be unable to break open the shutters or doors with his bare hands. I had just reinforced all the latches. The man circles my house, testing all the locks. For about an hour, he talks softly to me in clear English, asking me to open the door so he can defile me. He eventually jumps up on a ledge to look at me through the bars of an upper transient window. I immediately turn off all my lights. I lie in bed with a shovel. “He can’t get in,” I tell myself. Daylight is only four hours away.
I wake up at 7 AM, unusually late for me. Village activities start early, and the noise carries up my hill loud and clear. I unlock my front shutters, and peer out. Everything looks sparkly and new this morning. From inside there is no sign of last night’s disturbances, outside I see the footprints in the mud and on the window ledge he stood on. My work phone rings, it’s the Safety and Security Manager from Kampala checking on me. I had sent a 4 AM email, thinking “this will land on their desk first thing. “It did.
Now the real commotion begins. My supervisor rushes over and I describe what happened. Additional men from the community are called in. I re-tell the story as I hurriedly pack my house. I have been instructed to get myself to Mbale town ASAP.
That was the last morning I saw Buweswa. A clear, beautiful morning where a man hid away watching my house.
Intensive Agriculture in the mountains of the Bugisu Region
I scream for help; no one comes. I quietly listen. The man seems to be alone. He doesn’t have tools and will be unable to break open the shutters or doors with his bare hands.