Dust of Mbale

 Clouds of dust dissipated, transformed into a thick and gooey muck, as the heavens quenched the parched land. Leaves danced in the torrent of rain and miniature rivers flowed through the dirt roads.

Winston Churchill dubbed Uganda as "The Pearl of Africa," noting the extreme beauty that prevailed throughout all the land. The accuracy of this title is perhaps one of the few beneficial things brought to Africa by colonialism.

My time in Mbale, the eastern part of "the pearl," was a time of learning, observing, and serving. I interned with a grassroots non-governmental organization (NGO) called Mission: Moving Mountains, MMM for short.

MMM prioritizes community development in the rural regions of eastern Uganda. They teach skills related to agriculture, preventative healthcare, income generation, and spiritual health. It's development for Ugandans by Ugandans.

Muzungu.

Muzungu is the word used by Ugandans to refer to outsiders, to foreigners, and typically, to white people. Whether the term is one of endearment or offense is up for debate, but the idea of Muzungu is firmly ingrained in Ugandan culture.

Muzungu has long been affected by colonialism and the effects afterwards. Throughout Uganda's history, muzungus have been seen as benefactors, even saviors at times. This is the cruel crippling of colonialism, that muzungus were seen as there to give money, provisions, and knowledge.

I was a muzungu, an outsider, though I was there to learn from Ugandans, not to be their savior. The riches of my experience could never have a price tag slapped onto them, and they are something that will remain with me forever.

***

Uganda's rainy season had turned the rich, russet-colored soil into a gluey mess that prevented the old, Toyota Hiace from continuing down the village road. I had been in the country for just over forty-eight hours, hardly stopping to rest, and now I was being sent to spend time with strangers.

Of course, these strangers were known to the folks at MMM, carefully vetted, based on their work and cooperation with the NGO. The other members of my group and I were to spend several days living with a family, learning the language, culture, and seeing the impact MMM had throughout the region.

My friend and I stepped out of the van and slipped on our newly-purchased gum boots. Our footsteps made a wet, sucking noise, as we waded our way through the mud and to our new homes.

The welcome was immediate.

The mud house I lived in was illuminated by the glow of a paraffin fed lamp. Rain danced on the tin roof, creating a surprisingly pleasant drumming that served as a backdrop for our conversations.

"When you go back to America, your stomach will be bigger and people will know that we fed you well," one of my hosts later joked.

Fresh, steaming plates of savory foods were brought out to the dimly lit living room, the eyes of my Ugandan family glowed with the joy of welcoming a new guest. You see, hospitality is a key component of Ugandan culture.

A large portion of the money I spent on this trip would go to the family that hosted me in the village. Aside from their own economic benefit, some of the money would be used to feed me; to feed me right into a food coma.

The feelings one experiences after being fed by Ugandan villagers is akin to that of what one might feel after going to a buffet on an empty stomach, except in this case, the food is actually good.

The Ugandan women of the rural regions are super soldiers. Not only do they work the fields, but they also manage a lot of the upkeep for their household, and it would be a sin not to note their culinary skills

Ground nuts (peanuts), also referred to as "g nuts," are my favorite snack from Uganda. Even better is the sauce that g nuts are used to make, known as "g nut paste," or "g nut sauce."

Of course, you can't have a meal solely composed of a sauce. No, you use said sauce to douse the rice, beans, potatoes, matooke, chapati, chicken, and sometimes goat, that have been generously portioned on your plate.

I think that a lot of people tend to see eating as a necessary, utilitarian function, whereas in other cultures, the socializing aspect is as vital as the sustenance. It can be a jarring, albeit pleasant, change of pace. There's no rush; Ugandan villagers are event-oriented, not time oriented. You take your time to enjoy the food and the conversation that follows.

I was reminded that humans are social creatures, that sharing a meal with someone is somewhat of a ritual, one largely forgotten in my own culture.

I thought about how the pace of "modern life" has pushed us to constantly be on the go. We have things like fast food, frozen meals, and so many of us seldom gather around the dinner table.

Following our meals in the village, we would converse in the glowing lantern light, sharing our lives with each other, learning about the nuances of our respective cultures. I learned a lot about Uganda's history, about the hardships my Ugandan family had endured.

Ugandan farmers are prime for giving TED Talks about endurance, contentment, and joy. My own privilege was blindingly apparent, even as a broke college student.

They have a saying whenever something goes wrong, "This is Uganda." Some might find this pessimistic, even nihilistic, but I consider it just to be realistic; accepting what cannot be changed but still living life to the fullest.

I thought I knew what it meant to be kind and content. I thought I knew what life was about, what person in the twenties doesn't hold this naive belief?

Uganda showed me otherwise, it showed me to look within myself, to examine, wrestle, and grow. When I left Uganda and came back home, my shoes were stained reddish-brown, forever kissed by the dust of Mbale.