i am back in Uganda. this land of lush green shrubbery. baking hot sun. vast expansive sky where the clouds billow just over the horizon. in this land of heavy traffic and loud music. jerry cans, charcoal stoves, potholes, dirt roads, police, mud huts, bodas, bicycles, fresh vegetable stands, cows on the roads, people on the roads. where the men sit around playing cards while their women walk, heads held high, carrying babies, water and firewood. where children play on the streets and in the dirt. where people stare and point and make rude comments. where i am the minority. where the call to prayer happens every few hours and the sound of roosters crowing wakes me in the morning. in this land of burning trash and burned cars. this land of smells. nasty, obscure and interesting smells. body odor, exhaust, and cooking oil. where corrugated tin shacks are decorated with flaking remains of political campaign posters. where coca cola is made with raw sugarcane. this land of banana trees and sugarcane fields, of simplicity and freedom, joy and sorrow, beauty and pain.
Uganda: i can feel you in my veins. your breath is hot on my face. i want to soak you up, cherish the time i am here, however short or long. i will be forever grateful for how you have moved me. shaken me up. made me feel more. made me alive again.