A month to remember.
Uganda was beautiful.
Whether it was serving a rural village by building latrines, or meeting orphaned children, or climbing mountains, or swimming in the Nile, or teaching in schools, or seeing wild animals, or exploring remote islands, or visiting health clinics or simply immersing myself in the African culture, I have had the most wonderful experience of my life.
I saw the world with fresh eyes. I saw emotion in its most dazzling depth; I saw the purest glimmer of joy and the darkest shadow of helplessness. I tasted both the sweetness of joy and the sobering reality of poverty. I heard faith and content and the ripple of a disgruntled heart.
Because I saw reality. I saw that the world contains so much raw beauty, yet equally so much cold cutting travesty. I saw more than a lens could decipher and felt more than a stroke of piano keys could portray. Because the curtain of a comfortable life was torn and the act of being desensitised was undone; I could no longer turn a blind eye.
Rather than marching out into the world, planning to make a change, I soon discovered that it would be the world that would change me. It was the essence of seeing that our lives are not as simple or as easy as they seem; that they are not as efficient and flawless as we do our best to show. Rather than speaking to others, it was they who spoke to my heart. It was their kindness, their faith, their joy, their misery and hopelessness; it was their laughter and their curses.
I found meaning at the top of a mountain rather than surrounded by the four confines of a building.
And it was beautiful.