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| Notice all the Musivini t-shirts, incumbent presidential campaign to a group who would have no political views |
Getting to Kokorio was just a little different this time around. We had no rented taxi, no bus, and no car to get us to and from this place where no roads (and almost no paths) lead. I was enlisted to renew my boda driving skills and carry one of the four team members to Kokorio while Henry carried the other. Poor Gabriel, he drew the short straw. Alas the opportunity was snatched away by some good Samaritan who offered to drive us. Save my skin for another day.
Singing and dancing are an important part of the Ugandan welcoming custom and continue to make me smile. The women danced and sang. The children danced and sang. The elders joined at various points not at all afraid to make the crowd laugh.
Henry made several trips to this very remote, roadless location to deliver benches for our comfort. The almost five-hour ceremony rendered me thankful for all that effort. Officials from the church, from the government, and from the tribe were honored over and over again. The tendency to look at me when giving thanks and appreciation was somewhat uncomfortable. While I am a small part of Mercy Uganda, the work and organization of this effort was that of Ugandans, not Americans.