Spelling it Out Over Scones

And the winner is

Had I stepped onto the set of  a Merchant Ivory film?  The marquees sighed  in a warm breeze, guests murmured, black mingling with white as the gold, red and green of the Ugandan flag fluttered on its pole.  The scones were fresh from the oven, the cream whipped, with dainty sandwiches on the side.  It was as British as Dame Judi Dench's corset.

This was prize giving afternoon in Kabubbu.  Not for the school-children, but the adults who had best embraced the work that this charity, the Quicken Trust, has done for this village over the past ten years.  But it was to be a most un-British ceremony after all.

Trifle to follow

First up, a prize for the woman who'd made the most profit from her poultry farm.  The citation pointed out that she'd won because, unlike one or two others, she really looked after her animals.  Next, a prize for keeping tidy the house the charity had built -- unlike some, the man with the mic reminded us, who left the place in a right state.  There was a prize for being honest about what was needed and what was not -- "she'll tell us if she's got enough", we were informed -- and a prize for taking medicine regularly, rather than wasting the drugs that had been given.

No, this was a most Ugandan affair after all.  Like Britain, there was failure.  But unlike Britain, it was spelt out, not implied, and the success was celebrated with shrieks and screams and delight.


John