The Ex-Pat Hokey Cokey

Me: Kampala, Uganda

Him: Zanzibar, Tanzania

Distance: 1,762km

One of the best things about having lived in East Africa for the past six years is how so many of our friends have shuffled in and out of the region. Kind of like a giant game of Hokey Cokey (or Pokey if you are American and want to enter into the oh-so-frequent ex-pat to-may-toe, to-mah-toe discussion). I spent last week with our team in Kampala, and one evening got to hang out with a friend who is one such Hokey Cokey player. We met in Tanzania, from where she had arrived from Zambia, from where she went to Ireland, and from where (Ireland) she then moved to Uganda.

Now, any true player of the ex-pat Hokey Cokey game understands that fleeting catch-ups in cities one or both of you are transiting through are rarely 'normal'. By 'normal', I mean they tend not to be the sort of catch-up I would have scheduled at least three months in advance back in

my London-days. In the past six months, just to give a couple examples, I caught up with two of my best friends 1) for breakfast in Hammersmith mid flight from Kenya-San Francisco and 2) at a Bluegrass festival when two of us were in the USA for a conference - one from France, one from Kenya.

Last week the Kampala friend suggested we put our left leg in, our left leg out at the Hungarian Reception (not her exact words, perhaps, but her exact sentiment). The reception was to be held at one of the fanciest hotels in Kampala and would commemorate the 1956 revolution. A revolution I had hitherto been unaware had ever happened, but during the evening learnt it was a failed attempt so didn't feel too bad about my general knowledge. As a keen player of the Hokey Cokey, I obviously agreed.

The evening went the way of the many similar embassy events I have been at over the years. People dressed in suits or dresses tried to talk to only the people they already knew, we all drank as much of the free wine as possible, and the whole room vied to position themselves at the back so they could continue whispered conversations during the never-ending national anthems and speeches.

Having reached the end of what I had planned to say in this post, I realise that like the song it is named after, it is sadly lacking in story arc or climax. However, it does, I hope, give a certain sense of this way of life.

And that's what it's all about.