Example 1. The following keeps happening at an increasing frequency when I spend time in an English-speaking environment. Someone asks me how I am, and I truthfully answer that I’m OK. This is met with a puzzled additional question “Just OK?” and a look of compassion conveying that the person thinks I must be going through a serious bout of depression.

Example 2. The Finnish national lottery draw, on TV every Saturday around 20.45. I am pretty sure that in the eighties the official monitors of the draw – men whose uniquely inflexible televised role has given them something of a cult following among the younger generations – still greeted the public with the simple “iltaa” (evening). Then it became “hyvää iltaa” (good evening), and some time during the nineties even that proved insufficient: “oikein hyvää iltaa” (very…) was introduced. I’m anticipating the day when one of them sheds the last constraints and moves on to “oikein vimmatun hyvää iltaa” (insanely…).

Example 3. I haven’t watched the BBC World News long enough to establish a convincing trend, but right now the standard expression for thanking the correspondents after their reports, or for taking over from another newscaster, seems to be “thank you very much indeed”.

Example 4. Thank you addresses at the Academy Awards.

Example 5. Increasingly, I hear always instead of often, never instead of rarely, a million times when I should hear twice. Great, grand, fabulous meaning OK. And it’s not my ears.

Something has to be done about this trend of hyperbole and pointless exaggeration, this inflation of language. It reminds me of the famous Spinal Tap scene where the guitarist explains why his speakers have a particularly high volume capacity. I think language is supposed to have a shared standard scale of relative stability as far as phrases denoting extent/intensity/amount are concerned. If you're already at ten when things are just OK, where can you go when you have the real thing that really deserves ten? I am not particularly interested in launching expressions that go to eleven.

09:35

Kasubi Tombs. Royalty of the old kingdom of Buganda were buried here. Country Uganda, language Luganda, native person Muganda... 10:42

Kaija is currently on a work-related trip in the north for two weeks, in areas where the whole population lives in IDP (internally displaced person) camps because of a plague called the Lord’s Resistance Army. Whole districts in that part of the country are without electricity or running water.

It’s a pity to move that fascinating little story of a pickpocket’s sufferings away from the top of the page (perhaps I should rename it as The Chinese Application of Hammurab’s Law), but I feel it’s time for some personal news for a change. I have been watching time fly past in Uganda for almost five and a half months now, and in little more than a month I’m going to pack my papers along with a few clothes and head back to the homeland for the summer. I would say summer vacation if that were the case; alas, I am anticipating a work-filled period of three and a half months. I almost hope it will rain all summer (always a realistic possibility) because the oversigned won’t have much time to enjoy the great outdoors during the months of light in the north. The dissertation is plodding along in a mildly satisfactory manner. I am hoping to have a vaguely tolerable version of the manuscript ready by the time I head back for Africa, which is scheduled to happen on 1 September.

I just secured a nice one-room flat for the summer months in Tampere. It’s in Tammela, right by the marketplace, so I’ve also secured a nearby outdoor source of certain groceries. I’ve never lived in that part of town, and the offerings of Tammelantori for my kitchen remain to be experienced. What i do know is that the black sausage will continue to occupy a very minor position in my diet. It’s pretty tasty with fresh crushed lingonberries, but, let’s face it, most foods are delicious with fresh lingonberries, and they won’t be around until the end of summer. Which reminds me: the strawberries will be something to wait for. I haven’t had any since last summer, and the year prior to that I only got to “enjoy” the watery taste of huge, genetically manipulated American specimens. What else … yummy! (this one is me, not the turtle) – I’ll also enjoy the blueberry and raspberry season, and cloudberries, if I so prefer! Long live the subarctic forest! Hail the swamp!

Variation in the amount of light will be welcome too. It gets kind of boring in the long run when night and day follow each other in regular 12-hour shifts like clockwork. Give me something different. Give me seasons. I missed the dark era this year, so give me the midnight sun instead.

P.S. Kävin muuten viime keskiviikkona saunassa.

09:59

Well, we all know how dangerous Asian (especially Chinese) women are. If you don't, watch some movies. Here is a true story from the "Crazy, Crazy Kampala" section of last Saturday's paper. I wonder if the cool heroine is one of the little waitresses who work in local Chinese restaurants.

Deadly kungfu for the thief

By Herbert Masaba

It might have gone down into records as a costly preparation for the
resurrection of Christ.
A man only identified as Siraji sustained a broken arm on Easter eve
as he attempted to pick-pocket a Chinese lady in Kisekka market.
The lady was haggling over the price of loud speakers for her Surf
vehicle when Siraji emerged at the door and stood close.
He immediately dipped two fingers into the hind pockets of her jeans,
but she at once realised the "unwelcome hand" and acted swiftly like a
cat. She jumped high and executed a well calculated round-kick that
caught Siraji squarely in the face and sent him reeling onto the mega
loud speakers. Without giving him time to counter-attack, she hastily
held Siraji by the arm and broke it at the joint using her right knee.
As on-lookers applauded her, the Chinese lady was not moved. She
humbly proceeded to purchase the speakers after which she hurled
sh20,000 at Siraji who was by now moaning, "Omukazi amenyede ddala
omukono," (The woman has broken my arm.) She then cruised off to town.
Siraji could not believe what had just happened to him.
He picked the money and disappeared while moaning. The owner of the
spare parts shop too was perplexed and wondered loudly, "Ehh nga that
woman is sympathetic. She has even left him money to treat himself so
that he returns to continue terrorising us!" 11:19