Le Fantôme de l'Opéra...live from the Acholi Ber Country Hotel, Gulu.

There is a man that limps along the dusty road in front of my balcony each day and night. As he does, he scowls at and chases passersby, vying for their attention and begging for their money.

Upon my first occasion seeing him, my immediate reaction was fear. His ragged appearance and grotesque looking leg, which is swollen with some form of advanced infection, instill an almost knee-jerk social reaction: get away from him. This is true not just of westerners like myself, but also of the many children who walk along the same road--they all avoid him.

Nestled two stories above the streets of Gulu, I have a rather opera-like view of the goings-on. All of the hustle and bustle is directly in front of my balcony, and it makes for some great real-life African drama.
Over the course of a week I've watched this mis-shapen, even monstrous looking man make his seemingly religious procession up and down this road. You can almost time his arrival: at 7am, and in the evening, around 6pm just before dark. Each time I've seen him, his behaviour has piqued my curiosity more and more. Perhaps that is the result of being alone in a remote region of Northern Uganda, but I think my natural curiosity of human behaviour is the more likely culprit.

Nonetheless, I've begun to watch how the locals react to him. I've found myself wondering, "Is he well known? Does he have friends or family?" Judging from the evidence, he appears to be a rather lonely soul in a city with little pity. Perhaps he has a mental health issue; perhaps he is just down on whatever vestiges of luck one can manage to find in a place such as this; or maybe he's just a sad product of his environment. But each of these assumptions are nothing less than subjective observations, they do nothing to truly describe his experience, however seemingly miserable it may seem.

My point is that this is what we as humans do--we label and judge based upon what our senses tell us. This is less than a ground-breaking or salient point, but there is something about this experience of being here that has forced me to consider such (perhaps trivial) things. Before I digress, I'll get back to where I was going with this.

As I watched the man make his usual bare-footed jaunt up the road this morning, I noticed him chasing a small child who seemed absolutely terrified. The little boy he was chasing (rather slowly) was crying and began running to his father some metres away. One would expect that the father would be somewhat disturbed by this behaviour; but, the father was in fact, laughing. I continued to watch, attempting not to seem obvious, and as the hobbling man approached the father and son (who was now hiding behind the father's leg), I noticed that the father seemed to be genuinely entertained by the man. The father then pulled out a coin or two and gave it to the begging man. Was he just being rewarded for terrifying the little boy I thought? The answer would not come to me until later in the day...

As has become a ritual for me, I have started enjoying the odd afternoon nap: The heat here is something to be avoided in the afternoon, so it's indeed a luxury to curl up in bed with a book, the fan on high, and just air out my junk (slang for private parts) until I fall asleep. Anyways, as I began nodding off, I decided to set my alarm for around 6pm so that I could watch some much needed entertainment unfold from my balcony. Sure enough, at just minutes past 6pm, the haggardly looking man was headed back from town. He appeared rather jovial as he navigated along the sharp rocks and dust, singing a song and limping as he went.

When he approached the front of my balcony, I saw his demeanour instantly change. A young woman was walking directly towards him, and he began bellowing and pointing at himself. It's an ungodly noise that he manages to conjure from his leather-like lungs, so you can imagine the immediate reaction of this young woman. As I continued to watch, I noticed that he actually seemed to be acting, of all things. It was as if he was using his own ailment to portray himself as monster; a vile, repulsive creature that had to be seen to be believed. It then became evident to me that he was indeed acting; he seems to be using his own ailment as a prop of sorts. When adults come near, he takes on a menacing role--pretending to be a monster. When young people or children come near, he seems to take on a clown-like or jester kind of role.

Anyways, that's my story for what it's worth. It just kind of reminds me (marginally) of the Phantom of the Opera: A disfigured ghost who extorts for cash. This man would likely be a walking ghost if he didn't gather attention the way he does. It's about being resourceful I suppose, and it's something I guess I could stand to learn from. You deal with what you've been given--good or bad, sick or healthy.

Lame story, I know, but I thought I'd share it nonetheless. Hope I haven't put anyone to sleep.

All the best from my opera balcony for now...