i don't know how to put this, but i'm kind of a big deal...

i must say i was not anticipating this. after two weeks of visiting family and friends, traveling across the usa to familiar cities, houses, and offices in relative anonymity, i was ill-prepared for my return to uganda and the center of attention among people who are at best a little closer to me than strangers. being frequently engaged by friends and family is one thing, but having random ugandans call me by name and ask me daily, ceaselessly, about my nonexistent wife (“what? no wife? let me give you one!”), my travel plans, my work schedule, and my diet is quite another. to punctuate my frustration, a group of villagers can be counted upon to huddle nearby as i pass, rattling off a string of indecipherable dhopadhola followed by uncontrollable laughter, which i can only assume is directed, in some way (likely harmless and playful), at me.

when i meet children on the street, it is typically after they have been chanting my name ("mr. ofwono!") or more likely my color ("muzungu!") repeatedly and from a safe distance. the object of this game is clearly to capture my attention, although most of the time they have no idea what to do once they have it. some run away, some cry and flail their youthful limbs, some stand motionless and wide-eyed in shocked silence as i approach. having gotten this far, i will attempt to shake hands and greet them. often their replies are brief and barely audible; their eyes not on mine but rather the hand they are shaking, or even more specifically the skin on that hand, as they inspect it, rubbing it carefully to see if they can glean any information about why it looks so different from theirs.

on days like today i feel lucky to have the energy to face these interactions with patience and good humor. at other times, however, the exposure can become exhausting and leave me with nothing more than the desire to disappear someplace quiet, secret, and impenetrable. but even if a temporary vanishing act succeeds, it only makes me more conspicuous, for it is contrary to the extremely social culture in which i now live.

let's assume that i have opted to hide away for a while. now suppose i choose to step out of that place, even just for a moment; there will invariably be some children nearby who stop what they are doing to stare, wave, and wonder what incredibly mundane task i am about to undertake. is the muzungu going to the bathroom? short call or long call? is he going to take his clothes off the line? sweep the lizard leavings off his doorstep?

whatever it is i end up doing will ultimately be broadcast through a series of elaborate word-of-mouth networks to the rest of the community and beyond. in fact, i spend a great deal of my time in conversations with the local population confirming or denying information they have been given about my whereabouts, my friends, my sleeping and cleaning habits, and my meals. i sometimes feel like i am policing an extremely boring word-of-mouth tabloid. every once in a while, their information is wrong ("no - i was not in nagongera on tuesday! i went to TOWN! haha!"), and i feel as if i have won a small victory over the machine. of course, i have done absolutely nothing remarkable to earn this attention other than be a white man in africa, but i suppose that is really all it takes.

this experience has lead me to only one logical (well, i think so) conclusion. i, ofwono richard, am famous. not five touchdowns in a friday night high school football game famous, or even local news anchor famous, but REALLY FREAKING FAMOUS. i am, like, a big deal. so save that handwritten note from me or the photo of my hands facetiously clasped around your neck; you'll get all kinds of "cool points" by showing them off to your friends. because you, dear reader, know (or have been choked by) a celebrity.