Written by Stefan Wheat '18
Our first week in Uganda has been marked by innumerable small adjustments, from learning to be damp most of the time to forcing our guts to wait until 10:30 PM, when dinner is typically served, to eat. However, amidst this period of transition, one of the most endearing and consistent little departures from our lives in Vermont comes on our walks home from Mulago Hospital. Every day we walk home along the same path, identifying the route that would leave us least drenched in our own sweat, and every day we are be greeted by children in our neighborhood of Makerere Kikoni. They grab at us, hold our hands, or often give us swift pokes to the buttocks before running off giggling. We always indulged the children, oblivious to the reason behind their fascination with our skin until one of our taxi drivers told us us that young children are enthralled by bazungos (foreigners) because they grow up on stories of ghost-white spirits lurking in the forests. As white foreigners, we are likely just novelties for most of these children but for some we are their childhood stories come to life.