Somewhere in Soroti I realized my water bottle was holding contaminated water. At first I drank it regardless, assuming the slightly strange smell was natural to Ugandan filtered water. The next day it smelled like a dead animal. Almost too precisely. (And somehow I never got sick?) Because I had another Nalgene with me and there were no means to clean the diseased one, I nonchalantly left it in my hut when we departed for the next venture. Despite the fact that I was the only person in my hut and I hadn't told anyone about it, that evening, to my own surprise, I found it sitting in the back of our van. These little occurrences happened several times for the remaining duration of the trip - prepensely leaving it some place only to repeatedly run into it once more. Through Soroti, Lira, Murchison, the Nile, Nakasongola, Kampala, the bottle traveled. Then, 30 minutes ago, my boss walked in the office and handed me my Nalgene I thought I left somewhere in Africa a week and a half ago. I guess at this point I might as well clean it.
If only everything in my life was looked after and cared for like this poor, deserted water bottle.
No comments:
Post a Comment