I think I'm being bathed

This past weekend, another volunteer- Sarah- and I packed our culturally appropriate one piece swimsuits, loaded into a tiny white pickup truck of a traditional herbal healer/monk/father- take your pick, and headed to the hot springs for a daytrip. We bumbled along the pothole pocked road, squeezed together in the front seat, Sarah trying to avoid the stick shift jamming into her leg, and me bracing myself, arm out the window, to the roof of the truck. Glancing nervously at the forming thunderheads, I wondered why the monk kept saying we were lucky, "Rain is not coming today". We passed a "trading center" aka- tourist trap Ugandan style, a block long strip of one storied storefronts painted bright colors- turquoise, red, and yellow are the cheapest paints. A sign surprisingly pointed the direction towards the hot springs "Kitagata" and we turned just as I heard people yelling "Muzungu!" We swerved downward into a valley, the Rwenzories towering above, and turned again down a road. "You have finished?" the monk called out to a woman carrying a plastic bag and moving towards us. She nodded, then gestured at us, somewhat of a confused wave. The monk shifted into park, Sarah and I spilled out of the seat and looked around. Hit with intense humidity, Sarah's curly hair immediately became tight curls. I expected a thick scent of sulphur and bubbling water, but as we walked around the bend, we came upon a shallow stream gurgling over huge black boulders, and almost camouflaged, were a large group of mostly naked Ugandans, sitting about, somehow masked by the rising steam. We were curiously watched as the monk walked us around the area, to the source. A man came up through the steam, carrying a book. He spoke surprisingly decent English, and informed us of today's Hot Springs temperature at the source- 98 degrees. He then opened his book, removed a pen from his pocket, and handed me- the guestbook. We signed the guestbook, then set our things along the bank. The monk explained that he could not enter the waters, since he was religious. Learning not to question the monk's explanations, we removed our shirts, opting to keep our wraps on to cover our thighs, we walked towards the water, feeling all eyes on us. We were motioned to the end where the women bathed, and Sarah and I settled into the water, feeling all at once completely relaxed by the warm water and completely on edge due to the 30 some pairs of eyes staring at us. Neither of us spoke, just gave awkward smiles, when suddenly, a topless woman waded towards Sarah, and began pouring water over her. Sarah turned towards me, "I think I'm being bathed." Soon there were many shirtless women, their sagging breasts all around us, pouring the hot water over us, Sarah and I, suppressing giggles. Eventually, when they thought we were clean, I suppose, they stopped. Sarah and I waded out of the springs, and turned back to stare at the springs, perhaps we were both trying to make sure it was all real, and not just a melfloquine-induced dream. On our way back, the monk navigating back and forth over the road, he said again, "Yes, you are very lucky." I'll take his word.