week two: the friendliness of the ugandan

Location: Kampala, Makerere

When I first arrived in Uganda, I was immediately struck by how kind so many Ugandans seemed to be. Not only were those Ugandans who were affiliated with us so welcoming and kind (the first Ugandan I met here, Dan, welcomed me so warmly, even though he had to come pick me up at the airport at four in the morning, facing rain, thunder, and lightening in a car with very poor windshield wipers), but even those people who we have met on the street or at restaurants have been so friendly to us as well. When we go out someplace, people seem to want an excuse to speak and interact with us, and on several occasions, a simple request for directions has led to good conversation.

To and degree, I suppose, I was expecting this. My Lonely Planet mentioned Ugandans’ friendliness several times, as did my other guidebook, and everybody who had gone before us attested to this. Yet experiencing this friendliness through personal interaction is different than hearing about it from outside the Ugandan context. In experiencing the friendliness characteristic of so many Ugandans, it is difficult not to think about their lives relative to what we are used to living with in the United States. It is true that many of the people we have interacted with have been better off, and although I appreciate these peoples’ friendliness, it is not this group of people whose friendliness I am taken by; rather, it is my interactions with people selling sausages on the street, with the person cleaning for me, or my interactions with street children living in the slums of Kampala, that force me to evaluate my situation relative to theirs.

Meeting with the street children, I think, was what really made me appreciate the resources that I have had available throughout my life. I have had a quality education, I have access to quality healthcare, and I have never been without food, housing, clothing, and family. Many of these street children have never had any education, come from abusive households or are orphaned due to accidents or diseases such as HIV/AIDS. They sleep in the slum, sometimes under a roof and sometimes not, and they eat whatever they can get their hands on. One child who I spoke with, who attempted to tell me about his life in very broken English, had a large festering wound on his leg, probably the result of a run-in with a piece of scrap metal. Yet, despite all this – despite having almost nothing relative to what I have – these were some of the kindest most welcoming children I have ever met. I truly could not understand how they could be so kind, welcoming, and courageous, and how they could have such a positive outlook on life, when they were living on the streets with barely enough food, without family or resources. The problems I face in my life seem insignificant, almost petty, compared to theirs, yet I do not see myself as being as positive and kind as they were, and I am definitely not as courageous.

It is very impressive really. Despite our position as college students visiting them from the United States, I think there is a lot more that we could learn from them than that they could learn from us.