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Posted on July 27, 2009 - by Becca M

Snapshots

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Snapshots

Looking out the lunchroom window at our green and white FDNC bus, I dismiss the thought of returning home to smooth, single-lane car rides. As we drive to and from the compound every day, the ditches and potholes in the road literally shove us from our seats and into the air. We swerve dangerously from left to right, never quite sure which side of the road is the correct one. And more often than not, a large-scale tree branch will force itself through the window just long enough to scrape a few of us. And at this point, I cringe at the thought of anything calmer. But what I know I will miss the most is what we see speeding by outside the windows.

Not surprisingly, we drive quickly. But unlike the highways we drive at home, there are children, tomatoes, water jugs, shoes, mud huts, games, goats, and jackfruit, right there on the side of the road. Usually, they slip in an out of our curious gazes before we can give them a second thought, but I like to think of them as snapshots of all those lives we pass as we drive. I saw a man one morning carrying forty or so bras on his arm… which is funny because people don’t really wear those here. But it made me wonder where he was coming from and where he was going… all I’d gotten was a snapshot of his life. I’ve seen a mother teaching her daughter how to balance a jug of water on her head; a sister stealing a tire from her younger brother as he rolled it in front of him, laughing.

Earlier in the week, I met a beautiful girl who goes to school at the Kisakye Memorial Special Needs Unit at FDNC. Her name is Daphne and although she is deaf, we quickly became friends. Daphne walks a long way to school every day, and before we left yesterday(me for the last time), she asked me silently if we could please drive her home. When we agreed, she jumped into the bus and onto my lap, her smile growing bigger and bigger the whole way home. My last bumpy bus ride left me warmed.

At home, I tend to struggle with the idea of living in the moment. But there is something about living in Uganda that makes it impossible not to live in the moment. As we drive through the worlds of what feels like hundreds of Ugandans every day, seeing snapshot after snapshot of worlds that more closely resemble our own than we might think, I can’t help but feel alive and present in my own moment. I hope that feeling lasts forever.

Peace!!!!
Becca Mac