Mine is the pink one.
When I shifted to my new site last May, I soon noticed, at the huts right next door, a nightly gathering of people who partake in the Ugandan cultural social tradition of sipping from a communal pot with long straws. This was something I just had to try, though the practice certainly contributes to the high rate of alcoholism in this country. Joining my new neighbors helps me integrate too.
Some of the straws are like rigid aluminum. Mine is a flexible rubber tube attached to bamboo.
After the initial tastes, I generally faked sipping to avoid the inevitable sharing of saliva.
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There is a metal filter attached. The participants just take and return a straw to a barrel. I suppose they might be identifiable. I took mine home and boiled it in the rice cooker.
A sound system plays music to lend itself to a party atmosphere and there is a bit of dancing, I watched a mother suckle her child while she indulged (ugh).
It was interesting, but not something I would do too often. Azedy tells me there is another regular group next to the hospital composed of doctors, engineers and other professionals. He says I might find the conversation with them to be more stimulating, so I hope to give my straw another workout in the future.