our Ugandan home

The upside of having your wallet stolen

The latest news from this corner is that my wallet, soggy and laden with earth beetles, was found in a neighbour’s rock garden. The phone call came.

“Are you Thomas Froese?”

“Yes.”

“I have your wallet.”

It was handed to me in a plastic bag. Hard to say if this is good news or bad. It’s like someone finding a body.

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Seeing some things half clearly

“I see you’re aging gracefully.” This is what he, an old Canadian friend, now overseas, said after seeing my photo complete with beard and glasses. Oh, come on. Already? Now? So soon? Aging gracefully? Really? In truth, the beard comes and goes like pages of a calendar. I shave. I don’t shave. My bride, that is my young

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On dogs, dreams and getting robbed … again

Healing can come in any number of ways, of course, even through a dog. Our dog, Zak – he’s laying a few feet from me right now – has been this for me. If you’ve never met Zak, you can do so here, through these simple pleasures. Yes, Zak has been many things: guard dog,

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We’re back

We’re back in Africa (with the cats and dog and everyone else). So is this blog. They, the Ugandans, always call it a holiday. “So how was your holiday?” they’ll ask. It gets too complicated to explain in any great detail that we actually aren’t really holidaying during our annual stretch in Canada, not in

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Okay, so my son has the dark side in him

Okay, (still catching up here from last time), speaking of watching movies in Uganda, which we were recently with this latest Joseph Fiennes movie, I can report two other things. One relates to the new, (sort of new in Uganda, anyway), Star Wars movie. One is that, similarly to our movie experience in Yemen, around here

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Just call me The Daily Granddad

We’re taking the long way home. Through the UK. More to follow. Before this, through Athens. More to follow from here also. And before this, transiting through Brussels airport. Yes, that Brussels airport. And sure, more to follow from this (now) well-known spot as well. But first, it’s the pool, our final good-bye to Uganda

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We have a limited democracy around here

It’s dinner. The vote goes in the kids’ favour for what DVD we will watch this evening. (Dad’s latest find, a biography on Rich Mullins, will wait another night for, uh, Laura Ingills and company.) “Thank God for whoever invented democracy,” says Jon. “The Greeks did,” I noted. (More on this soon: some news from

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I’m under 11. I can play. No, really.

When it’s all over (this two-lives-for-the-price-of-one business, this travel and observing and returning home, then leaving again and looking more and writing at least some of it down), it’s the traffic that I will miss the least. Of all the dangers and perceived dangers of the developing world that were ruminated on to the point

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