You can hear the frenzied hum from the banana plantation several hundred yards away. The whirling of the machines as bare feet pump the iron pedals rhythmically up and down. Radio Best F.M. cranking, the drone of morning chatter, and the occasional burst of laughter.
The girls are on time. More than that, they're early! This moment took 2 weeks in the making. I stop and relish it for a minute.
For nearly all the girls this is their first real job. And for those who have had the occasional odd job, it certainly wasn't the Mon-Fri, 9am-5pm variety. Afri-Pads may be a rural, un-electrified, 20 x 30 foot village workshop, but as the girls say, "Afri-Pads is serious". What they mean is, we mean business!
I'll go out on a limb here to say that, while I'm not a big proponent of stereotypes, the bad rap Africans have gotten about taking their sweet time and "No hurry in Africa" is not such a stretch from reality here in Uganda. In fact, they helpfully remind you - in case you could possibly forget! - "You know Ugandans, eh, we don't mind about time. But you Bazungu (white people), you really know how to keep time."
And so it came to be that teaching the girls to "keep time" became one of Afri-Pads' first challenges. The Afri-Pads girls have no problem working until 5 o'clock. In fact, most of them are inclined to work later and it usually takes me poking my head out of the office at 20 minutes past 5 p.m. and some prodding words ("Yamiria bannyabo!" - Translation: Stand up ladies!) to push them towards the door.
And now the "BUT" ...
While the departure time is all good, it's the arrival part that the girls struggle with. For better or worse, when I tell the girls that the workday starts at 9 a.m., my words are loosely interpreted as: