Getting Started

I arrived last Tuesday night to a city bursting with schoolchildren singing at the top of their lungs, motorcycle taxis called bodas that zip through traffic with their passengers perched precariously on the back, and swarms of pedestrians kicking up billowing clouds of red dust. Kampala is complex to say the least—pristine NGO office buildings stand across the street from collapsing slums. It’s full of paved and dirt roads alike, and a vibrant people who will sing their church hymns so loudly early on Sunday mornings that it’s impossible to sleep.

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