For a second, I lose track of where I am. To my right are the carousel swings but unlike home, these ones have an awful sound coming from the motor, the metal seats are covered in rust and the chains look like they could snap at any moment. Nonetheless, this hasn’t stopped people, tickets in hand, from forming a line and anxiously waiting for their turn. My mouth waters as the familiar smells of buttered popcorn and funnel cakes alert my senses, however, tonight these are mixed together with the exotic smell of charcoal fires cooking local favourites. Whistles and bells accompany the steady buzz in the air that is always present at events with such large crowds. There are so many people that it is nearly impossible to move.
It is not until I hear the word “muzungu”, that I am pulled back to reality. The word is one I have become familiar with over the past week, used in Lugandan to describe people like myself who have white skin. This is what pulls me out of my daze. Coming to my senses I search for my friends in the crowd. Amongst the sea of faces, my volunteer group is not hard to find. It is clear we are not locals here in Jinja and as eight young Caucasian females, we do not blend into the massive crowd. As I walk towards my friends I feel multiple sets of eyes following my path and for the first time in my life I am hyper aware of the colour of my skin.
Our local guide Alex informs us that the main event, a stunt show, is happening in the big red and white stripped tent situated in the middle of the field. As we begin navigating our way through the swarms of people, I am still aware that we seem to be the most interesting attraction present. As we approach the ticket booth I open my clutch and start fumbling around with the unfamiliar bills trying to find the correct change for a ticket.
In an instant, a dark hand reaches for a crumpled-up bill sticking out of the corner of my bag. Reacting on instinct I snap my bag shut and pull it as close to my body as humanly possible. I look up into the dark round eyes of a boy younger than myself. At first, he seems shocked that his attempt to rob me has failed but his face quickly shifts, and a twisted smirk emerges across his face. Before I even have time to react, he reaches for the chain around my neck, yanks hard and runs off into the crowd without looking back.
Alex rushes to my side asking if I am alright. Still stunned, I nod and involuntarily put my hand to my neck. I no longer feel the gold necklace with a cross on the end but instead find a thin trickle of blood has taken its place.
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- Katrina Rybka