Signs pointing towards Uganda
I headed towards the theater, pleased with the discount ticket that I found online. I didn't know who I would be sitting next to, but I had been interested in seeing The Book of Mormon for some time now. In the past I had gone to concerts on my own, and I guess I had traveled solo too. I wanted to do something and if I wanted to wait for someone to make the journey with me, I could be waiting indefinitely. In this case, I needed to get out of the house. I had been spending my days locked in my room, grieving a breakup and searching for the next step. I had eyes on a Refugee and Human Rights Internship in Uganda, and was grappling with the decision of taking the step to go. I was extremely raw, tired and the cost to make a 3 month trip to Sub-Saharan Africa would not be cheap. I know very little about Sub-Saharan Africa, and about Uganda, though at this point my skills in researching countries was starting to sharpen. It was different than actually going though. Smelling the air, traveling the streets, talking with the people and living the life of being immersed in the environment is something that a documentary cannot give you. Educating one's self about a place can help fine-tune your senses, knowing the history and social contexts of the places in which you stand. Stories from people who stand with you, add a humane picture of what is, separated from a screen or book, though both have the power to transport one into someone else's shoes, or another world.
The cold London air bit at my nose and throat as I inhaled air that made each breath noticeable. The insides of my nostrils and the back of my throat were coated in an awakening frost, like popping a piece of mint gum in your mouth. The line outside of the theater started moving, and I found my seat inside of a large auditorium, facing a stage with big red curtains dividing the stage and the audience. I laughed and found humor for the first time in a while when watching The Book of Mormon, as the tale of a boy's mission placement was to be determined. Guess where it was? That's right, Uganda. I smiled at the fortuity of it all, and more than half of the play took place in the African country that I was considering traveling to.
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Thank you for visiting! This is my personal blog, where I write about social justice, geography, culture, and my own encounters and reflections from around the world.