I'm sore. I went shooting (skeet and trap) yesterday with some family friends.
(Guns are everywhere, like it or not, and it's comforting to know -- somewhat -- the nature of the beast.)
Then I drank some wine, and didn't drink enough water, because we ran out.
(We do have running water here, but it's not potable -- too rusty and full of lead. It's brown. --So for drinking water for us and the dog, we have to go fetch it from the stream in the middle of a nearby park.)
Anyway, as a result of lifting the shotgun, pushing through the recoil, and not drinking enough water, my muscles are dehydrated, and I am sore.
I shot pretty well yesterday; and it was a gorgeous day, lovely to be out in the winter sun.
Most people are vaguely interested in Kitgum and what it was really like. A few of my closest friends are very engrossed and ask me questions. Some people have frankly weird preconceived notions about "Africa". One member of my family does somersaults out of conversations to avoid learning what Kitgum is like.
I miss Kitgum. I felt culture shock in Kampala, but at home, at first, I didn't. Home was fun -- familiar and novel at the same time. But it's getting tiresome that nobody understands the things that are most on my mind.