Travel Adventures: The Pearl of Africa
Uganda.
Finding myself here feels like nothing short of a miracle.
I could write endlessly and still struggle to capture the depth of how this country is shifting my perspective.
As you might imagine, being white in a sea of black and brown faces draws attention. I feel the weight of every glance, expressions ranging from warm and welcoming to indifferent and unreadable. The red earth here is strikingly familiar, reminiscent of the vibrant hues found in Sedona, Arizona, or the Garden of the Gods in Colorado. This red dust weaves itself into everything—carried on the wind, coating shoes, and clinging to every surface. It creates an unexpected sense of connection, as though the very ground underfoot has a story to tell.
The cityscape is humbling. What was once the tallest building stands only a few stories high, and gives way to new, more modern hotels and business buildings. Many homes are constructed from corrugated tin and mud bricks. The streets are an intricate dance of “Boda Bodas” (motorcycles, whose name reminds me of the sound children make to imitate them) and cars weaving through potholes and people. To my untrained mind, it’s chaos—so much so that I often close my eyes as we navigate the roads, trusting the locals’ mastery of this complex flow.
We came here to meet Dino, our son—not by birth, but by the bond of love and commitment that transcends borders. Dino is an Ethiopian refugee we’ve supported and cherished for seven years. He is kind, open-hearted, soft-spoken, and deeply grateful for our presence in his life. What he may not fully realize is that it’s he who has transformed us. His courage to trust, his perseverance in the face of unimaginable hardship, and his patience—even when the world feels brutally unkind—have inspired me to live with greater gratitude, dedication, and presence. Dino’s story brings hope to many, though it is an undeniably hard life he leads, as it is for so many here.
The streets pulse with a relentless pursuit of survival. Hundreds of people weave between cars, selling everything from fresh fruit to spare car parts, even toilet paper. They dart to safety as traffic lurches forward, yet the drivers appear to navigate the chaos with a kind of mutual understanding. Everyone does what they can to get by.
Our driver, Ali, a native Ugandan, has been a willing guide into this vibrant and complex culture. He and others have explained traditions like dowries—seven to ten cows (or more) exchanged by a groom’s family to the bride’s parents—and the staggering costs of marriage here. An introduction party often hosts 500 guests, while weddings typically see over 1,000 attendees, also paid for by the groom’s family.
We’ve visited the tombs of kings, the markets where locals shop for anything from live chickens to mangoes, the Gaddafi Mosque and the Ba’hia Temple. A few days ago, we stood at the equator, ate a rolex (not the watch, but a delicious rolled flatbread “burrito” filled with eggs and vegetables), and visited a conservation site where we walked among zebras and impalas and even petted lions. The experiences have been both exhilarating and profoundly moving, stirring something primal and sacred within me.
Practicalities here remind us of our privilege. Bottled water is a necessity. Mosquito repellent and daily malaria tablets are non-negotiable. Yet, the greatest challenge isn’t the physical adjustments—it’s the way this place digs into your psyche, asking you what it means that you are born with so much while so many struggle with so little.
Uganda has a way of revealing the strength and resilience of its people, who are as colorful as the dresses they wear and the paintings they create. And once you’ve stood on its red earth, looked into the eyes of the ancestors shining through the faces of its citizens, and felt the heartbeat of its land, you may find that your heart is forever tied to this place.
Mine certainly is.
