Leaving Mbale was strange; sitting in the car, feeling like I was getting sucked back through the worm-hole I took to get there, which at the time felt like I was burrowing deep into some unreachable depth of Africa. Now I rushed quickly backward back through the same pathway I used to come, being pulled by some invisible force. Like a scene from Being John Malkovich - perceptions altered, tunnel vision. Seeing the country side with new eyes, eyes that know what each house and structure is, what each barefoot child is doing, how the goats and cows are cared for and valued, the plight of women - carrying water, wood, babies. But not knowing why... Why the situation is like it is, Why it ended up this way, Why Africa is poor and the US
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