Accra, Ghana

Like any human being, I am reasonably jealousy of my reputation.

That is why I blog about my smelly feet and socks and the things that I do. Someone asked me why I down rate myself. Do I? I think of it like seeing my true self, rather than being dazzled by the things that I can do. Of course there are things that I excel at. And there are those that I do not. So does every human being.

I try not to be a Uriah Heep in my humility. (Long time since I read David Copperfield, but the image was so strong I remember!). I am what I am, and proud to be, a fallible common man.


The fragility of life’s a tightrope;
balancing act I walk daily-
every precious second of life.


So, as to my bragging. Prepare to be bored.

Just realized today is the 7th of Jan. Barely a week since the new year started.

I have been on, and off the African Continent. And surprisingly, for a guy who does love the city of Kampala, within the next few days I may be on two other continents.

Where am I at the moment?

Ghana. The Gold Coast, as it was called a long time ago. As it is still called by those who love to remember old things. Like me.

And if in Ghana, where else to be but Accra, the capital.

A stewardess at Dubai airport asked me where Accra was. I was struck with amazement. I told her it was in Ghana (my geography has always been good, though I must swear I did not know the particular point on the map where the world famous Dubai was.) Why was she asking? Accra, it has a nice sound to it. That was her explanation.

I gave my world famous grin and rushed not to miss the plane.

What am I doing on the gold coast? Well, not much gold to take, if I knew where it was. But there are other things. The country has beautiful men, and women, most likely. And a beautiful weather, warm, in the 30s most of the time, till late in the night, and even then the temperatures do not drop too much.

Staying in a beach hotel, and the beach itself? Amazing, breathtaking. Lake Victoria is beautiful in its own right. But a true beach of sand, stretching for miles out of sight, with a sea surging at tide, a horizon curving to touch the skies- that has a beauty all of itself.
I have spent most of the time ensconced in a conference room. Talking with others, listening, being chilled by the air conditioning system. If there is a worse way to spend time, I will have to look it up.

Maybe it was worth the while.

Entering Ghana, at the airport customs, there was this board.

“Welcome to Accra, Ghana. Ghana welcomes everybody. Beware pedophiles and those of deviant sexual behavior. Ghana has strict laws to deal with you. You are not welcome.”
I am no pedophile. (Some people do confuse homosexual and pedophile). But I had no reason to doubt that I was one of the people with deviant sexual behavior that was being warned to stay clear of the holy soil of Ghana.

I did not feel welcome. Not at all.

Imagine, my surprise, and pleasure, when I discovered, on Saturday, that Accra had a very vibrant gay scene. Very vibrant!

The freedom that these guys and gals showed, the welcome with which they embraced me, the warmth and thawing, noting that I am home, in Africa. That was truly something to feel and write home about.

Yes, the gay social scene is more open, and vibrant, than it is in Kampala, Uganda. I will take some very fond memories away with me.

Yes, by the time you read this, I most likely will have left Accra, Ghana, and be off to more travels.

Have a great new year, and wait for more!

GayUganda

Impressions of Dubai

Now, now friends.
I was not able to come as promised, to tell you all about Dubai, simply because I am not there anymore. And to make this fairy tale of mine more amusing, I am at least thousands of miles from Dubai at the moment. Possible? Yes, in this day and time of air travel, it is.
But that is another story. I am going to share with you some of my disjointed thoughts which I wrote when I was on the plane.
Each line is a thought, complete, disjointed, maybe making a whole at the end. Enjoy my fairy tale journey, for indeed it is.

--
How did I end up in the First Class Lounge?

--
What clerical error makes me fly first class? I don’t know, but I am not going to point it out; not until I am escorted back to economy!
--
Imagine a 7 hour flight in first class confort!

--
Complementary champagne, when I cant taste alcohol at the moment…..
--

My feet are really stinking in the First Class cabin
--

Who wouldn’t get used to this opulence and service?
--

I wonder whether the attentive stewards and cabin crew are wondering at how I come to be flying First Class?
--

My snickers, cheap, imitation leather ‘Made in China’. I wanted to use them for confort. I am embarrassed. My feet sweat, the shoes do not let them breathe, and they stink!
Its fantastic that I am flying first class with no one near to smell this stink.
--

Oh, I have been given these brown carpet shoes. Not sure what they are called. But they are good. And my smelly feet don’t mind them. Not at all.
--

In economy, flying into Dubai, I had only one window. Now I have 1, 2, 3, 4 Wowwwwww!!
--
These guys are not coming to take me to economy class!! The plane is moving!
--

I love this, maybe most because I think it is a mistake in my favour!
--

The only thing I want to do is to sleep. Imagine, even poetry this morning holds little appeal.
--

The only wonder of the First Class seat that I want to explore is how comfortably it mimics a bed.
--

The pampering? Sorry, I’m going to tell them to get lost. They already bother me.
--

This is a fairy tale fantasy. Wish my lover was here to share it with me! He loves this kind of thing. Me, I just want to go to sleep.
--

Treated like a king in Dubai? Imagine! It may be worth the long detour.
--

Oh, environmental pollution by the plane? Is that what you said? I have only one life, tell me about it later.
--

Dubai, from the air, in the morning… Forget sleep, I’ll look.
--

I have seen the world’s tallest structure. That building, still under construction.
--

Wow, wow, wow!!! Speechless.
--

To hell with looking cool and collected. I’m enjoying every celebrity second of this, never mind the smelly socks.
--

Sea blending into horizon and sky. Wow!
--

I literally have to tell these guys that I don’t want service. Will destroy my ‘cool’ status, not ordering anything. But only thing I want is sleep, which I am getting NOW.
--
After a lot of sleep, I’m tired of the chair bed. The journey is 8 hours long, 6 are gone. So I’m seated on the floor, cross-legged.

--
How would the crew take it if I asked to eat from the floor?
Would be a first. And the crew, maybe the thoughts would be like this. This African man, dressed unlike any other first class passenger, minimized the pampering and asked for his meal to be served on the floor!
Rich, uh?
(African men, at least those of my tribe, DO NOT seat on the floor to eat. That’s for women and children!)
--

Minimised the pampering? No way! Have loved every long second of it. Lapped up all the attention.
--

Fact is, my lover would have loved this. First class, 8 hour journey, fawning service, Beautiful!
I love the freedom. I want the journey to end.
--

Written from the floor, where I am seated cross-legged. The perfume from my socks is around me, warm, earthy, familiar in this pristine environment.
--

Best thing about traveling first class? You can get out of the chair, and sit on the floor, or lie on your back to stare at the cabin roof. Dreaming.
--

Far, far, far away, where the sea meets the horizon….


Err, wonder where I am at the moment?
Need to go take dinner. That is another long tale.

GayUganda

Dubai

Hi,

Are you guys and gals ok?
I swear that what I am writing about is the truth, nothing but the truth, and only the whole truth. Yet it sounds like a fairy tale. Not the african ones, but the contemporary European ones.

I am in Dubai. UAE.

No, I did not come seeking asylum or 'kuba kyeyo' as Ugandans call economic refugees. I am in transit to another place.

But that is not all. I am in the First Class Lounge at Dubai International Airport.

I tell you I can almost not believe it.

I am weary and tired, after a very long day.
Started in Kampala, waking up early as usual, preparing to board the plane. Sorry, I did not tell you that I would be travelling, but you know, I have a healthy respect of my government, and I do not believe that they would stop at interrupting my travel plans! That is, if the likes of Nsaba Buturo came to know of them. I am an insignificant non-entity, far as I know, but some people's dislike of my sexuality makes me significant.

Anyway, I got this ticket. On it was the confirmation that it was the cheapest that could be got for my itinerary. And that means that I go to places that I am not supposed to, and wait for hours.

But someone, someone, did me the honour of handing me the first class boarding card, and inviting me to go to the First Class Lounge.

I am tired, and sleepy, and unable to sleep. I am sure when I read this I will be wondering who wrote it. But I am the one who is doing so. Me, gug.

Anyway, cannot even continue because my flight has been called. And I have to step out and go to the gate.

Of the lounge, I can only say, wow!

gug