Yakking Yik!

God, almost forgot. We were driving with a rental driver because my organization is perennially short of vehicles in the field. The driver, Rashid, was, I have to say, excellent. But terrifying. Really really terrifying, even for me who rarely notices. Careening across ditches, fishtailing through villages sending children and goats scattering, going like a bat out of hell when a granny in a zimmer frame would've been more appropriate.

On the way back we had a couple guys in the back of the pickup, with the luggage. I noticed a commotion at one point but I turned around and they were still alive and there so didn't give it much more thought.

When we stopped to look at a particularly nasty bit of roads, the guys in the back all hop out sharpish and start gesticulating wildly and speaking rather aggressively in Madi or Acholi or something. They're pointing in the bed of the truck. One guy looks sheepish. We get out and there is vomit everywhere. EVERYWHERE. It is all but sloshing around, lapping up against my lovely leather monogrammed bag and sitting happily inside the box of training materials for our water and sanitation program.

Honestly, this has happened to me multiple times in the past few weeks. People who aren't used to anything that moves faster than a bicycle seem to get right ill when being driven around by your average NGO driver.