Nsereko Rorens
"This is GOOD!... tsjubtsjubtsjubtsjub..."

Prafessa Nsereko Rorens wearing my spectacles

I thought 24 hours report on Selekololens would suffice, but no, the amazement has not reached an end. I stumble out of bed again early because S wakes up and starts doing things with fire and electricity that I feel I have to monitor. Is it ten o'clock already? No, seven. My clock is three hours forward. I had a lightning flash on the dhow a few days ago that gave me an awful shock - through my laptop! I did not observe any damage anywhere, but could it have changed the time on my watch? S offers me coffee and double chapatti-omelet � la S. Yesterday I explained him the working of the muzungu garlic press. Now, he puts some onion mash in the chapatti dough, using that press. I never got that idea, very nice for vinaigrettes! His exact name Selekelelesh Selekolelesh, Selekololens, Serekelelens, Selekololens, will I ever get this straight? I take a picture of S's breakfast, background:  source of the Nile.

Lake Source view with my breakfast prepared by S: coffee and double chapatti-omelet � la S, misty atmosphere courtesy S's greasy kitchen fingers on my lens..

The camera refuses to focus. S's greasy fingerprint on the lens. Of course, my watch! No lightning but eager greasy fingers! 

Breakfast finished. There are clouds, fish will not byte. So what do do? Yesterday S had found my canoe fender loose and decided he was going to fix it. I have something special: cramps (small U nails). "This is GOOD!... tsjubtsjubtsjubtsjub..." I clean my camera lens and take the picture.

Afternoon. "I am going to kick the ball!". In his former Kingfisher party hut hide-out he has a plastic ball. He surfaces from my workshop with my bicycle pump and ball valve adapter. How could I ever hide anything for this guy on my dhow?
I do my Jinja shopping. After dropping it on at the shore side, S wants to go with me to bring the car to the Kingfisher parking. Then he wants to stay at the shore but brings me to keep the canoe his side. The canoe logistics test failure is hence unexplained. The exciting ride turns even the canoe into a car and while he peddles back to the dhow his mouth makes the sounds of engine and clutch. From Jinja I brought him toothbrush and paste. Big smile! After swimming and drying. You have sineering oil? You buy? No, if you want smearing oil you catch fish, sell and buy.
Resignation. "OK I can use this."
He goes to the bottle where we dump our used cooking oil, takes a hand and rubs it all over his face shoulders and arms.
"So, now we are clean?"
"Yes!"
Later he returns from the shore with his still shiny face and bursts into making a macaroni with garlic, - pressed! - tomatoes, onions, fish (self-caught), and... masala as he got in my fish-and-rice dish yesterday. He did not see me putting it and comes to ask how much. He does know the proper amount of cooking oil: A LOT!! Without reaching a cross cultural compromise on this point I will have to cease participating in these food orgies.

S, his face, in the absence of "sineering oil" rubbed in with USED cooking oil, smacking his lips before starting his self made oily oily fish spaghetti.

S's first self made self-timer picture, GET THAT BLOODY OIL OFF YOUR HANDS FIRST!!!

S's second self made self-timer picture

We do some first reading attempts but S finds the learning curve to flat. He assumes a beginner's reader's voice and tells the whole school book's story by just guessing from the pictures what is happening. The story makes some surprising turns but ends roughly on its feet. He finds the exercise questions at the end, hands the book over to me and asks me to test him.

S in his fake reading pose

Asked to write his name he writes "Nsereko". He has no clue as to how to write the Lolens. I write "Lolens" and "Rorens" ^[why?] He opts for Rorens.
"Everybody here calls you Nsereko."
"Yes but that is wrong! It is Nsereko Rorens."
Nsereko Rorens' big friend Peter appears far at the horizon approaching Kingfisher Hotel after a four days' boat trip to collect some tourists from Entebbe. He tells me "Nsereko" is on our beach for 4 months now. He has, before his Entebbe trip, reported him to the village leaders, and discussed his case with an orphanage. Since he will be off again tomorrow we agree he will introduce me to his contacts, so I can continue them. Peter is now a busy business businessman with two companies fighting for his agenda.

A busy Peter on the phone, taken from the dhow to the shore by Nsereko Rorens.

Peter is peddled from the dhow to the shore by "Nsereko" to take some Kingfisher guests by boat to the Source of the Nile, then to do shopping for his three weeks trip with tourists from another company, then taking care of two daughters of his Karamoja sister living in his Bukaya room to go to school here. Clearly time ran out for seeing the orphanage people with me, and the next day he is off. I decide not to find out where he went, make my own start and go to Gaby, a German woman I know who is running a school mainly for orphans. She is not enthusiastic putting Nsereko Rorens among 8 year olds in P2. He will get bored and fail. He'd better be trained to enter a class of his age group, at least P6, or find a special place for boys in his situation.
That takes all urgency out of school search. The orphanage home itself? This guy runs his own life already for two or three years, he is an integrated and appreciated member of the beach community here, he is clean and not undernourished, what does he need an orphanage for?

Bedtime. He wants to sleep next to me, not any more in his tent, actually even in my bed. I show him a well done bed at port with rain protection tarpaulin and a mosquito net. NO, he wants the bed in front of mine, his head my side (in the picture of my boat from 1 to 2). Actually no one sleeps there with his head sternward because that bed inclines down in my direction. There is no mosquito net. Complaining about mosquitoes, giggling when my farts pass by, listening a borrowed miniradio - through my headset as fortunately I ordered right from the start - meanwhile playing bleep bleep games on it, he falls asleep, only to wake up for a moment when I take his radio, switch it off and put it away.
In the morning he refuses to get up. I make my own coffee since three days. He changes his bed for mine. Then wants coffee. With no sugar (he LOVES sugar but he wants to do how I do). Then he wants me to make more coffee for him.
"No. You make." This is the first time I tell him to do something. Not because I am lazy, but I feel he expects me to set a limit somewhere. Will it mean the end of the copycat session? No. Now he wants to learn to eat cheese, eats with expression of profound disgust. Finally he makes coffee and bread with Nutella. Cheese and Nutella: muzungu products unaffordable to Africans.  The cheese is a formidable obstacle. DISGUSTING! But he does not give up. Now he has a new name for me: The Man Who Loves Cheese. He switches on the fridge, but is is too early: in the morning our battery is down and we have to wait for the sun. My inverter shuts down, with it the GPRS modem.
"Shit! You are breaking my connection! You stop touching buttons before asking! And you clean your hands before touching my buttons! And you clean the kitchen!!" Order nr.2. But is seems quite natural to both of us.
"Yes and then I will clean the fish, then I go to Bukaya and buy eggs."
Peace.

"....And you clean the kitchen!!!...."

We were sold a BIG tilapia, who had been swimming round unsuspectingly until 5 minutes before, for a good price from an adult fisherman who likes "Nsereko" and appreciates my hospitality. Nsereko routinely scales the fish and removes the intestines. Of course we eat it with the head, the major delicacy to African standards.

"The fish is fighting!" ( had been swimming round unsuspectingly until 5 minutes before)

His football is now irreparably broken. After whining for a new ball  - USh2000 = 1 $, but this is a day's work to the average Ugandan - I offered for a start 500 for outside and inside cleaning of our water jerry cans.
"You nicely cleaned them"
"But I did not clean them. It was my friend."
"Then your friend should have the 500."
"Yes, I'll give him. Then I go to Bukaya to buy eggs"
"For eggs you will need like last time 12 times 200. That is??"
"Ehhh 400.....400...."
"2400. So this 500 is for your friend, these 3000 you give for the eggs and the mama gives you 12 eggs and 600."
"Yes. I go. You read your books"
"Roger"

Of course, going on land we switch life style. He borrowed from friends: green short, goggles and radio. He borrowed from me: head phones. He got from me: Saa Moja crew cap, old rain jacket. There he goes. Not Selekololens in his stern compartment tent, but Nsereko Rorens, demanding orders and being disciplined under threat with misbehaviour, at night with his head 50 cm from mine with a f...g radio in his greasy fingers, giggling at every fart.