Wednesday, 25 February 2009

There's something wrong with my face

The following day was our last day with Jane before we left for the weekend to Whistling Thorns, and then on to begin another of the arrangements we’d made before we left, a month long internship at Pamoja Trust. It was to be a day of pottering about, writing emails, uploading photos and just not much. I was really looking forward to it. Up until around 2pm, everything went according to (no) plan. Then, just as I was organising a second slideshow, Jane told me she was off to the market and offered to take me with her. I had 5 minutes to get ready. Keen as I usually am for a photo opportunity, I was longer than five minutes away from being ready, but when I suggested that maybe I wouldn’t go, she said, somewhat crestfallen, “That’s a shame, you’d have got some nice photos.” How could I possibly refuse? My pace changed from leisurely to breakneck, even then, it took longer than five minutes, and even then, I forgot my wallet and to moisturise my face. By the time we arrived at the market, my skin was burning and I could see it peeling off my nose.

Jane went off to do her shopping and left me to wander the aisles with my camera. I wasn’t in the mood, either to take photos or make small talk with market traders, preoccupied with the fact that there was clearly something deeply wrong with my face, which was now hurting quite badly. But in the name of professionalism, I got on with it and took some (dull) pictures. Then Bill rang to arrange to meet so he could say goodbye before heading off back to Uganda. We arranged to wait at the market for him. The first thing he said when he saw me was, “What’s wrong with your face?” What indeed. By now, my good mood of the morning had completely evaporated and I was entirely concerned with this very question.

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