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In Swahili 'muzungu' means 'aimless wanderer'. With all the plans she's got in mind, this girl's no AMYless wanderer....
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    I had nearly reached my local boda stage. There was just over 100 meters to go but as I walked past the local swimming pool – the same one where I’d been called a mermaid a few months ago, where … Continue reading

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    By now the novelty of the Amy Childs dress in Uganda was wearing off. Every mzungu in the country had borrowed it at one time to have a go. I had spotted a very similar, no doubt cheaper version from … Continue reading

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    Postscript Always one for a challenge, I returned to Owino a week later. Besides being told, “You look like Gaddafi” (some Ugandans had a strange sense of humour), I was shocked at some of the items on sale at Owino, … Continue reading

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    I had agreed to cook dinner (read: cooking lesson) for my friend Lucy M, a TV producer (aka Biccy), the next Wednesday night after she’d been shocked at my lack of hearty meals. The things you signed up to in … Continue reading

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      As she cradled her baby, just a few hours old, on the bed opposite me at the birth centre Natooro told me Kikome, her new daughter’s name, meant ‘cloudy’ in Luganda, Uganda’s main language. Although the sun was shining … Continue reading

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        In the past week, I’ve realised how truly caring, compassionate and tolerant Australia can be towards people from other countries when we want to. I only had to go to South Sudan, thousands of miles away from home … Continue reading

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    “And now, I’d like us to pray for the journey ahead,” said the conductor standing in the aisle of the bus, his eyes searching the crammed, stationary vehicle for any takers. You have to hand it to Ugandans. They sure … Continue reading

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      It was a sunny Saturday morning in Kampala and I was at the local City Oil service station trying to top up my airtime on my mobile phone. Anytime in Uganda was airtime, it seemed, for anywhere you looked … Continue reading

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    As a belated birthday present my good friend Martha had insisted she wanted to take me to high tea at the Serena Hotel, the only place in Kampala, I believe, that put on the spread for guzzling mzungus like myself. It didn’t … Continue reading

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    I had a new stalker. Imran Boda, as he was now known in my phone. He wasn’t as bad as the ones I’d saved in my phone under Pain and Random Pain, but I could see there was potential. You’d … Continue reading