A Holy Cow

Today, my first day back in Uganda after four days in Europe, I was sluggish.


Perhaps it was the heat after the blustery European temperatures, perhaps it was the fact that I felt compelled to eat about 10 pounds of cheese in every form available while there (Uganda doesn’t have good cheese, I love cheese, Brussels and Geneva have good cheese…go figure), or perhaps I was just tired after a day of endless plane travel…whatever. I was sluggish.


I called my driver, Robert, when I awoke and said that he didn’t need to meet me at our normal time and could come in the afternoon as I was going to work from home for the morning.


I actually did manage to get a lot done before retiring for a nap at noon to be ready for Robert at 2PM.


As I was getting ready, I happened to peer out my window into the parking lot and see that Robert had arrived.


With a cow.


“Holy Christ!” I thought, “I did not do nearly the amount of drugs my friends did in high school or college so I don’t think I am hallucinating and I have no reason to be jet-lagged with a two hour time difference but, I swear to God, there is a cow in my parking lot right now….how can this be?”


First, let me preface this by saying that I DO NOT live in a rural neighborhood in Kampala. Most of Kampala is pretty urban and, while you may see a chicken or two, there are certainly no cows roaming the streets. And not in my neighborhood…which is mostly populated by upper middle class Ugandans and diplomats.


I rubbed my eyes and returned back to the sink to splash some water on my face before looking out the window again.


Yep, dammit…there was a cow down there…tethered, by a piece of cord, to the side mirror on my jeep.


My mind started spinning,


“Well, I did tell Robert that I missed having pets and maybe this is his solution…but a COW? Really, a COW?”


So, still half-dressed, I decided to call him.


“Robert, is that a cow that I see down there in the parking lot tied to the jeep?” I asked.


He was ecstatic.


“Yes! It is a present to me from a cattle herder who I once drove to his home for free many years ago! He is wealthy now and he was bringing cows to the market to sell and he dropped one off for me…can you believe my good fortune?!! I have a cow now!!!”


Trying to be rational, and knowing that cows are indeed worth a lot of money in Uganda, although probably not a normal sight in an apartment parking lot in Kampala, I attempted to be happy for him.


“Robert, it is wonderful that you have a cow…but why is she tied to the jeep in the parking lot? And what are we going to do with her?”


He hesitated and I grasped the master plan immediately.


“Robert! The cow cannot go in the jeep, it cannot! You must not put your cow in the jeep, do you hear me? The owner will be very upset with me if I put a cow in the jeep I am leasing from him…please, please, DO NOT put the cow in the jeep!”


He sighed, recognizing the obvious: My boss is a moron.


“Madame Boss, the cow does not fit in the jeep, I shall not place her there. I never intended to place the cow inside of the jeep.”


Whew…


Then, “OK, well then what should we do with the cow, Robert?” “Because she certainly cannot stay in the parking lot.”


(All the while I am keenly aware that most of my neighbors are Hindi and I am worried what they will think of me and this cow tied to my jeep…sacrilegious, animal/dead relative abuser, heathen?).


“Madame Boss, I would like to request an hour off to take the cow to my home. I can call a friend with ‘a cow transportation truck’ now. Is that OK?” he asks.


I respond that it is MORE than OK…just get the cow out of the parking lot...NOW.


Ten minutes later, I watch (from ground level this time) as this poor cow is loaded onto a flatbed to be taken to Robert’s house (who, by the way, lives in the city so I have no idea how his poor wife is going to cope with this new arrival).


He comes back to pick me up an hour later.


“How does your wife feel about the cow, Robert?” I inquire.


“She is a bit surprised but we will arrange transport for it this weekend to my brother’s farm.”


“Is this normal?” I ask.


You give someone a ride and, six years later, they give you a cow?


He assured me it was not “normal” but that a cow costs about $400 in Uganda…almost the yearly salary of a middle-class Ugandan, so this was a huge gift.


He is giddy beyond belief. He tells me that since he has begun working for me, he has been blessed with a good and regular salary, someone who doesn’t beat him, a nice jeep to drive around in, and a new-found respect from his family and friends.


Oh, and that God seems to be looking favorably on this new arrangement.


Proof of all of this?


His new cow.


“I am going to name her Patricia,” he tells me.


“That’s nice, Robert, I appreciate that…but are you going to eventually kill the cow for food or money?”


He looks upset.


“Yes, eventually.”


“Then please do not name the cow after me, Robert, it is not good karma” I tell him.


“You’re right!” he says. “I will not name the cow Patricia…but I have to thank God for this gift!”


OK, then go to church or something…but don’t name the cow after me…


Two hours later, he calls.


Apparently his wife, Rebecca, was not so thrilled about having the cow in residence either (I can hear her fuming in the background). She has just given birth to their second child last week and a cow was clearly not something she wanted to deal with at this point…no matter how much money it cost.


“Madame Boss, I have to ask another favor,” he says.


I know…I know the favor already.


“Yes, Robert, you can have a few hours off in the morning to take the cow to the farm so your wife does not kill you. I understand. Just pick me up at 8AM and take me to the office and then come back for me at noon. Just get rid of the damn cow, please.”


As I was walking downstairs an hour ago to drop my trash off at the dumpster, I stepped in something unpleasant.


Cow shit.


Despite how disgusted I was…I also had to laugh.


And Europe is a million miles away.