I just finished dancing in the mirror. All alone, 7700 miles away from home, with nothing but the sound of Afrobeats music, the comfort of my own aura and the divine protection of God surrounding me. …I’m living in both a dream and a memory.

And one day soon I’ll have nothing left but a few souvenirs, the ink on my journal pages and the pixels on my screen to remind me of the time I left everything behind to go experience life some place else. It’s all I ever have left—the memories.  

I re-watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants recently. And I can’t seem to shake the memory of Bailey, a kid dying of Leukemia, laying in the grass, reflecting on her mortality and concluding that there has to be more than life as she looks up at all the stars. When her friend looks over in her direction and asks if she’s afraid of dying, she replies,

“Not of dying, really. It’s more that I’m afraid of time. And not having enough of it. Time to figure out who I’m supposed to be… to find my place in the world before I have to leave it. I’m afraid of what I’ll miss.”

The line gave me pause. It made me reflect on what a privilege it is to still be here, living. Breathing. Free to dream and to hope; to love and to learn. To make all the mistakes I have yet to make. To exist in this body, in this world. To dance along the pages of my life story.

Bailey didn’t have a future to hope for. She didn’t have much time left at all. And yet, she lived each day as if she did.

She wasn’t consumed with what was wrong with her life; she was excited to still have life. And she saw beauty and value in everything and in everyone. She didn’t hold back on saying nice things to strangers and she didn’t hold back on speaking her mind. I can’t help but to think that somewhere within Bailey’s character dwelled an eternal spirit kindred to mine.

Right now, today—this moment—is time. We all have it. But the present moment is all we’re guaranteed. And this experience here in Uganda has opened my eyes to the fact that we really don’t need much to enjoy it.

Each day here I am challenged to come face-to-face with my own privilege and the inequality that exists in this world. I was already passionate about each person spending time abroad if it is within their means to do so, but I now have an even stronger passion that every person born of United States nationality (or any developed country nationality, really) should invest in spending time in a developing country.

I look around at the unpaved roads and abandoned buildings and wonder,

“Do people here know it doesn’t have to be this way? Do they know that there are whole nations of people living with air-conditioned malls, homes and workspaces, paved roads (with crosswalks!!)? Why do I feel guilty that back home we have unlimited, quality, internet access, electricity and hot water that’s pretty much always on?”

But then I remember that I don’t live a life as luxurious as, say, the Kardashians, and that there are levels to this privilege thing.

It’s all relative, I suppose.

But that doesn’t erase the fact that the world distribution of wealth is so vast. It’s wrong. It’s absolutely problematic and disheartening. And it’s wild to realize that poverty exists in extreme levels in so many spaces across the globe.

As much as I am LOVING the people and the environment here, there are moments where I have had to stop myself from thinking too much about the inequality behind the beauty I find in every space of this town. Thinking about it too much makes both my heart and my tear ducts heavy at the unfairness of it all.

The incredible people of Uganda don’t need my pity; they don’t need anyone’s pity. This society thrives within its normal. The entire Black diaspora thrives within its normal. The people here have everything they need and more—the things that matter more than those born into wealthy nations think we need.

I already know that when I return home my heart won’t be the same. It’s already expanding. It’s clearing space from unrequited love and making room to receive all that God is carefully pouring into me in this season of my life. He’s preparing me. And I’m waiting patiently and expectantly for all that’s to come.

A piece of my heart will remain here in Masaka, just as it has with every other place I’ve traveled. But this time… it’s personal. I have never seen anything like the things I’ve seen here. And I’m not sure how to even begin to describe what might be best tucked away safely within the pages of my journal.

There’s so much more to what Africa has to offer than what mass media gives credit for. Uganda is beautiful. It’s people are beautiful. The weather here is perfect. The village off in the mountainous view from the window of my spacious hotel apartment, are beautiful.

I love it here. I’m healing here.

And one day, time willing, I would love to come back.

There’s a whole society out here, y’all, living life happy and free. Working hard and dancing harder, with only a fraction of what they deserve.

I think there’s something we can all learn from the people of Uganda, and from people like Bailey. Life is only as beautiful as the lens through which we choose to view it.

And from where I’m standing, my lens just got a lot more clear. ♡