Six more months of living in Uganda, giving me a collective
of ten months in the country over the last two years. Kampala, and to some extent the greater environs around the country, have taken on a sense of home
rather than a place of temporary residence, even if that’s what they were
always going to be. Looking back on my first time in the country and how slowly
that time seemed to go, as well as how recent it feels getting dropped off at
the airport in the brisk October weather last year, it’s hard to be believe I’ve
been away from home for half a year. Trying to reconcile how short this
adventure has seemed with the reality of how long six months actually is has
been rather difficult to say the least.
One of the hardest – but in my mind, most important – bits of
reflection is to combine the professional/career/pragmatic side of my time in
Uganda with the overall experience of coming here and being here. I’ve tried to
keep a mindset that travel is meant for storytelling, memories, personal growth
and reflection, not for career advancement or monetary gain. If the latter
happens to occur then you’re god blessed, but I hope I can always move around
this globe on my own accord, with a shrug on my shoulders and an attitude of ‘because life’s
short, that's why.’
My time with Refugee Law Project was more than I could have
asked for or expected. The work challenged me emotionally and mentally, and
provided me with more challenges than I needed, but I am grateful for the
experience of navigating all of them. The job provided me a platform to travel
around this beautiful country multiple times and allowed me to meet a handful
of folks whom I will remember and hopefully keep in touch with for years to
come.
I gave a presentation on the media and post-conflict
recovery in Gulu to members of the national press; attended workshops and conferences
in Soroti, Kasese and Kitgum; published public policy pieces in two leading
Ugandan outlets; became friends with the former head of internal security and ventured
around with him on a few occasions; I met the Honorable Norbert Mao and am in
the process of becoming his editor for some of his personal memoirs.
Those experiences have been the dominant aspects of my time
in Uganda, and some of the memories I will cherish the most, but they don’t make
up the sum of my time here. Far from it. In Zanzibar I dove off boats into the
turquoise Indian Ocean. I locked eyes with a lion fresh from a successful hunt
in Kiedepo. I fed monkeys in Entebbe and stood under a waterfall in Mbale. I
quit smoking (3.5 months now) and got into decent shape again. I made three
great friends in my roommates and created relationships with others that started
and really only ended because of the happenstance of simply being here, so far
away from home.
As I’m typing this I’m looking out my bedroom door into our
compound, the sound of Ibis birds and children playing mixing with tree
branches lazily swaying in the wind. Earlier in the day I hand washed some
dirty clothes and ripped the skin off my thumbs ringing them dry; even after 10
months, I haven’t mastered the art.
But in less than 48 hours, I’ll be getting on a plane back
home. This Friday I’ll be in Harrisonburg with some of my best friends, and
Saturday I’ll be fighting through the consequences of international travel and
culture shock while aggressively taking part in the Rockingham Beer Festival.
In less than two weeks I start a new job, and in 20 days I’ll go on my first
family vacation in over three years.
It’s hard to imagine and impossibly exciting to prepare for.
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