Where To Begin?

So yeah, I went to Uganda and saw heaps of sick people.

Literally, heaps. No matter that beds were filled. The people just bring their mattresses and stay on the ground. No worries! Also, no deodorant.

I have no idea where to begin, so let's just start in Mbarara, a city of about 1.5 million that's a four hour drive southwest of the capital, Kampala.

Sunday morning on the patient wards in Mbarara:
Father and his sick son (check out his left ear) in the courtyard of the university hospital.

Walking around with my camera, I felt guilty and intrusive. People were sicker than you can begin to imagine, and here I was snapping photos with my special brand of slummy tourism¹. We always asked before we took pictures and were generally received warmly- especially when people found out they could see their pictures right away- oh how the instant gratification of digital became the tie that binds!

This little girl was fine with having her picture taken...

...But perked right up when I showed her the picture of herself. She asked to take another one. Prepare to be dazzled by the toothiest grin you have ever, ever seen:

These two kids were working with their family in the maize field outside of the hospital grounds. We had never seen them before in our lives, but they came running up to us and greeted us with huge hugs as though we were dear and long-lost friends. Their mother stayed back, but smiled and waved at us. And there you have Ugandan hospitality- warm and completely unassuming.

More to come...

1.White guilt alert! White guilt alert! I bitch and moan when I have to wait for more than 15 minutes at the doctor's office to get my tonsils prodded.