Sangara
"Do you have this thing for wind to push the canoe..."

"Do you have this thing for wind to push the canoe..."
"You mean a sail? Yes I have"
"I catch small fish then sail to Busaana to catch big. Then when your computer breaks we can buy a new one."
This proposal needs some explanation: Nsereko proposes to go and catch sangara (the English for some reason decided to call that fish a Nile perch, ^[more]).
Catching sangara is done by first catching small fish (furu). This can be done at the shore in shallow water. Then, at night you go to deep water (10 km East) to catch the perch with the furu as bait. This distance can only be made by putting a rig on the canoe. We made such a rig for mine ^[details]
"But I have to teach you how to sail"
"I know!"
"No you don't. How do you know?" (This guy came from his Kampala street kid life three months ago, unable to swim, peddle or fish).
"My friends and I we know."
"Call them"
After some forceful shouting to the shore two boys, considerably bigger than Nsereko, maybe 17 years of age, approach in a very old heavily leaking canoe.
"He" (in Lusoga, pointing at me) "has a sail, we go for sangara!"
"But you wear life jackets"
"Yes!"
This needs another investment: a jerry can to perforate and use as floating cage for the furu to catch and use as bait. I am interested enough in this experiment to supply it. The gentlemen are off with my canoe to catch furu. Meanwhile I take my canoe sail, fix it to the folmali, and add demani, josi and kamlawa (its control lines ^[details]).
They return after an hour or two, their jerry can now crammed with furu, caught in two hours, a fish claimed by the film Darwins Nightmare and its Dutch source book Darwins hofvijver claimed to be hunted to extinction by the sangara).

It goes without saying that a night of fishing perch absolutely requires the captain's oversize HiFi stereo headset, left: the floating jerry can crammed with furu.

Off (peddling to the weather shore first then set sail). Nsereko's assistant fishermen are muscular low-voice three sizes bigger (17 years old?) weary-of-school-no-money-for-school-fees-anyway desperados.

My canoe with my peddles, my sail, three of my life jackets, my Karen Golf Club T-shirt, blanket and torch off for the night

I see my canoe becoming smaller and smaller. With my peddles, my sail, three of my life jackets, my Karen Golf Club T-shirt, blanket and torch. Nsereko borrowed 2000 (� 0.80) for food, to be returned after selling the perch. I cannot prevent myself adding the money value of what I am risking, but of course it is not much. Off for the night , adventure and business combined, with me as capital supplier.
You fish your perch at night and the next morning you sell it at Busaana, a beach near the fishing place. Then with you pockets bursting of money you sail home to arrive in the middle of the morning and everybody is happy, or so we think at departure.
Or?
By noon the next day my canoe is not yet in sight, and my sight, since their sail is more than 2 meters high and my dhow is three, my sight is about 8 km.
I list the possibilities from likely to unlikely: 1. They could not stop fishing 2. Government officers (army, police, fisheries inspection) saw young boys, easy prey, took everything under some silly pretext, and put them in prison. 3. Non-government thugs (so-called "NGO's").
At around two they get in sight and home in.

Returning from Buvuma in an afternoon South 4 Bf

Half day late return of all three life jackets, my oversize HiFi stereo headphone, no tears in my sail

Arrival at the beach

"Only one, kept for my father" ... ?

They caught "only one perch". It was Nsereko, Nsereko said. They decided not sell it but to keep it for "my father". I thought it not the appropriate moment to tell him that a fish is good enough as a return for a fish canoe owner, may be even for a host of an orphan who would otherwise sleep in a plastic bag, but that fatherhood is too big a deal for someone as lazy as me, and a truck load of Nile perch would not do the trick. OK they caught "one perch".  I did not do a body search, but given the content of my fridge a few minutes later they beyond reasonable doubt caught at least one.
For the poor catch the hooks were blamed. Too small. They lost some biters.

I had used my almost 24 hours spare time on my boat (without a canoe to get to the shore) to decide we would need a second canoe if this was going to be a regular event. I called Desmond, Tielli and Nsereko for a meeting. They would start exploring the market for a canoe, keep the secret that the buyer would be a a muzungu, and come to show me anything reasonable. After two days I was presented a decisively above average classical Ugandan disaster canoe, with the normal market price tag of 180 000/= (75 euro)

After my technical inspection (not bad, even good  for a classical Ugandan disaster canoe), off to the shore with Desmond and 180 000 shilling to buy the canoe

Final transaction palavers

Mukassa walks away with his peddle, bags with belongings and my 180 000 in his pocket

Reducing our new 3500 (1.50 euro) peddles, too big and heavy for Nsereko

The new canoe was not made for sailing. I decided they could put my canoe's rig.

Desmond fetching the new mast support

Life jackets hidden under coats, they use my canoe rig.

And there they went again, their life jackets now hidden under coats (an useful idea that had arisen from my needless worries when they were late last time).
I had bought the right size of hooks but at return they again claimed the sangara they offered me was the only one caught. I decided to believe them (why not?) and invite them for joined lunch the next day.
About this I might have better thought a bit longer. The next morning everybody was present for breakfast, I did not count the exact number of chapattis made but they were nearer to twenty than to ten. In the evening my morning's stock of twenty eggs had also disappeared. This however could easily have been on the account of Nsereko only, who developed an extreme liking of eggs, now he finds them abundant. These are of course not damages of the proportion you would call your insurance agent for, but where are we heading? Before jamming the breaks on this, I decided to employ it to receive my friend Henk, on working visit from the Netherlands in Uganda. I told my three musketeers that we would have a guest the next day and we should receive him in style. Everybody knows this requires a chicken and off they went into frantic negotiation with the village women, while I went for my shopping in Jinja. They came back with their market survey and while I started talking about it with Desmond, Nsereko already popped out of the cabin with a huge glass of grapefruit juice snatched from the fridge.
"Oooooooh what are you doing!" I screamed totally upset and nervous, "that is for the guest!"
Nsereko shrank through the deck floor "Forgive me..." he whispered.
"What is the mistake?" I asked, now friendly.
"Asking!"
"Yes".
Nsereko now felt morally unable to finish his juice, but Tielli was totally ready to relieve him from that embarrassment.
We agreed about a 10 000 shilling cock to be collected the next morning.

.

Our 10 000 shilling cock, still alive and well, of course, on the background left to right Nsereko, Tielli and Desmond, in our new canoe

While Henk and I tried to fill at least part of our 20 year backlog of life stories, we saw down wind white feathers blowing over the water. Under us in the canoe the cock had heavened without uttering a sound. An hour later he surfaced on our plates.

Lunch photo session with Henk and our chicken with rice. This is a self timer shot and Nsereko's eating pose is studied.

After the festivities and the high visit, I told Nsereko that his friends are welcome, but we are not going to feed them every day.
This clearly met understanding.