Eine kleine nachtmusik (A little night music)

The sounds at night are very different here. We are away from the city, and you would think that would mean a great deal of silence. Not so. There are the crickets, as you would expect. But lying in bed we can hear a whole symphony of other noises. All night long.

Not too far down the road (a mile away) there is a dance club called Africa Go Go. It is a very large building, painted bright pink and not surprisingly, they play music quite loudly at night. Louder than that is the radio station that wakes us up in the morning. It is a Lugandan talk show, and why it is broadcast publicly remains a mystery to us. Of course, there are also the conversations that wake us up before dawn. The security guards often feel the need to chat before their 6am departure and the next door neighbours begin their day barking orders to children and livestock.

Those are the human noises. Staying here, we have learned that roosters don’t just crow in the morning. Pigs occasionally get mixed up in the ropes that restrain them and make hysterical squealing noises that Karin says sounds like they are being tormented. Cows nearby moo randomly. Goats bleat sporadically. A cat who lives on this road often wanders by and yowls near the windows.

And how can we forget the dogs? There is a howling chorus of dogs quite often. These are not domesticated Oakville dogs, but feral animals. Their barking is endless, but with emotion. Clearly some of them are looking for love.

The birds here are quite something, too. They sound so different from home. My favourite is the one whose call sounds like a fork banging against a metal pipe. Karin likes the loud squawking ones who sound like monkeys. Anne has noticed what we affectionately call "the backup bird" because it sounds remarkably like a truck beeping when in reverse.

Thankfully, our turkey only poops, which is quiet and doesn’t keep us up at night. Although there is Steve’s daily refrain at bedtime: “Boy, do I smell”.

That’s some kind of night music.