I awaken suddenly.

With the exception of the tiniest bit of daylight beginning to show through the open curtains and the blue glow of my computer charging in the corner, complete darkness surrounds me.

Even before looking at my phone to find the time, I already know, based on the activity level I can hear, what the current time is.

I'm flooded with familiarity.

The rain is pounding on the concrete slab our compound is built upon and the open window amplifies the sound.
A low rumbling of thunder rolls across the city and lasts for what seems like five whole minutes.
A few minutes later, a choir of street dogs howl and bark in the distance, alerting passersby of their presence.
Then the whir of a few boda boda engines can be heard as they zip by and fade out as quickly as they started.
The first rooster crows.
Then crows again.
Then again a few more times.
The loudspeaker of the local mosque boasts the call to worship, which can be heard throughout the entire city.
Neighbors can be heard as they greet eachother and prepare for their days, despite the pouring rain.
Clanging of the large, metal doors of gates begins, as people begin the walk from their houses to the taxi or boda stages to go to work.
The cranes and other birds screech in sky as they fly.

It's 4:30 a.m.

I'm not awake due to jet lag or the time differences between here and America or excitement to begin my time in Uganda, this is just what my body does when I'm in Uganda. 

It syncs seamlessly with the local culture.
There is something in me that says, "The locals are up. You should be, too."

I lay on my foam mattress, wrapped in the blanket I borrowed from my plane ride here with my feet poking out the end, touching the mesh of my mosquito net. The breeze the rain storm has brought is a stark contrast from the hot, sticky air that surrounded me just a few hours before. 

And, for two hours, I just lay here and listen.

All these sounds combined make for my favorite alarm to wake up to.

Soon, the entire city will transform into a scene that is fast-paced, hard-working, and very very noisy.

But for a few hours every morning, I get to witness as the city slowly wakes up from the still, silent night and begins its day.

I still don't know what today will hold for me. (Or any other day that follows, for that matter.)
The other girl here at the base in Kampala with me, Elaine, is a nurse and goes to Katalemwa on Wednesdays. Katalemwa is a rehabilitation center for children with "disabilities", which can range from severe burns from falling into cooking fires to shattered bones to genetic and developmental disorders. I've worked with Katalemwa in previous years and the joy those children have, despite their circumstances, is so encouraging. 

My friends on staff here at Empower A Child will also be coming into  work today, so I should be able to see them, too! Since I arrived at 11 p.m. last night, they had already gone home and I only saw the couple of people who came to the airport to pick me up. 

There is also talk about going to the village! The headmaster of the school needs to return and Patrick will be taking him. I'm hoping I can go with them and hug on my friends in the village, until we can nail down a plan to of what we will be doing and when I can move out there to stay in the village longer.

I do know one thing for certain: today, I will be getting myself a Stoney Tangawizi and a chapati for lunch! You can bet on that!