Plot 31 Acacia Avenue

The rumors are true! I have a home. Actually, I have a flat, which is slowly accumulating the bits and pieces necessary to make it a home. The house hunt wasn’t as easy as I had anticipated. It started out rather methodical in nature, much like the process you’d follow anywhere else in the world (scrutinize the accommodation sections of assorted daily/weekly/monthly publications, identify places close to the office(s), inquire about availability, amenities, rent, make appointments and check ‘em out), and ended with Janani and I ascending the hills of Kampala on foot and by car in the heat of the day, knocking and hooting willy nilly at any gate that looks like it might lead to some sort of rentable space, with complete disregard for appointments or tact.

Somewhere along the line, we found the middle ground between the dark, dingy, claustrophobic spaces with unsightly furniture and absent security, and the twice-my-housing-allowance, A/C, W/D, pool, gym, wireless internet included exquisiteness. Without further adieu, I give to you, “Plot 31 Acacia Avenue: A Resident-Inclusive Journey Through Harsh Lighting and Mismatched Furniture.”

Here she be, in all her apartment complex glory. Not shown here are the double gates which provide such tight “security” that it often takes 10 minutes for Otto, the guard, to successfully grant entry.

An actual stove or oven was too much to ask for, as was a standard size fridge, but I do have a brand spanking new cooker and little-bigger-than-a-mini-fridge. Perhaps the unnatural food prep position is the reason behind the odd tingling sensations I’ve been experiencing in my hands lately…

More kitchen. Bananas and mangoes and pineapple, oh my! Throw in another mango and you have much too much fruit for one person to consume in a week. Overjoyed upon seeing the stands and stands of fresh and colorful and juicy-looking produce my first time at Nakesero Market, I went a little overboard. Some of the bananas reached the excessively mushy stage and had to go (no banana bread pan, yet). As Sepha, my housekeeper, so accurately put it, “They were feeling bad.”


The kitchen table and me not on the internet. Mr. Singh swears it’s coming soon…

Blinded by the light. And the clashing couch, rug, and curtains. I don’t claim to have inherited Mom’s interior design gene, but I’m pretty sure there isn’t any feng shui action here.

The entertainment corner. For when all my friends come over ;-)

Anonymous bed-jumping offender trying to give the cast-iron mattress a bit of much needed flexibility.

The second bedroom doubles as an office/master muscle suite. So far, I’ve incurred only minor injuries from conjuring up my own moves.

And last, but certainly not least, my shower-curtainless, cold-water-only, requires-a-hand-to-operate-effectively, shorter-than-I-am telephone shower. What’s wrong with a few gallons of water on the floor and permanent back problems, anyway?

I kid because it’s funnier. I love the place. It was just finished, so everything in it (dishes, microwave, tv) is new. There are restaurants galore within walking distance (Indian, Ethiopian, Thai, Chinese, more Indian, Japanese, Irish, more Indian, Tex-Mex, Continental…), the grocery store is nearby, the AFFORD office is visible from my balcony, and Janani, Doreen and their pool are just around the corner. Location, location, location. It also comes complete with a new “family,” but I’ll have to save that for another day. Right now, I’m off to save the lives of some ailing fruits and vegetable. By eating them.