Remembering how to be a philocalist (part two)

It was so refreshing for me to have left the concrete suburbia within which I presently live, to once again return to the sensation of being in Africa. I had lost sight of it very quickly and I knew that I needed to act on this before I became further swept up into a confusion of neither being here nor there. Continue reading “Remembering how to be a philocalist (part two)”

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Remembering how to be a philocalist (part one)

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that it is all around us, (if only we remember how to look).

I have now entered my third week of working here in Uganda, and quite honestly I lost this ability almost immediately upon commencement of this. Whilst I won’t go into the finer details of why, I can simply state that communication is hugely vital in pretty much all aspects of life. When making the minor decisions such as to leave the entire “life as you know it” in order to fully immerse yourself into the unknown, having some form of clear communication channel around this is somewhat useful. At least it is for me. Thus when I found myself at my new workplace on day one, in a role entirely different to the one I thought I had come for, I was utterly thrown. In fact, I was devastated. Continue reading “Remembering how to be a philocalist (part one)”

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Beyond all words

 

As I venture onwards with my travels in Uganda, I find myself continuously in awe of it’s complexity.Yet the one thing that repeatedly comes to mind is this: in a country of many languages, cultures, customs and beliefs, there may be a multitude of difference yet one thing remains – the unity of  communication, beyond words.

Wherever I go here, I have learnt now to be assured that if I smile at a local, they will smile in return. Their wide smiles brimming from side to side, and their eyes shining with happiness, that a mzungu has acknowledged them. (NB Mzungu = white skin.  It is not meant to be derogatory in any way, though it can feel a bit strange at times when you are simply referred to by this term.  Or when children come running from apparently nowhere, excitedly calling out “Mzungu! Mzungu! How are you!” whilst reaching out their tiny hands to make contact with yours, in fascination of who they see before them). Continue reading “Beyond all words”

Tell me a story

It feels like a distant memory already, since I was in Heathrow airport, questioning: if I would be granted a visa to enter Uganda; worrying that my bags would be too  heavy (after multiple re-packing attempts and panics back home) meaning I could receive a mighty fine or be left with the dilemma of what else I could possibly remove from them; and wondering why on earth I was leaving, when I was feeling so incredibly pained to be saying a goodbye in the physical form to people. Continue reading “Tell me a story”