Peeking out from over the yellow grassy bank, seven little sets of brown eyes widened, eyebrows and mouth corners arching upwards in unison as the rest of their bodies whipped into motion, waving, pushing, laughing, and running down to the road. “Mzungu!!!!! Mzungu!!!” Having rallied dozens of their fellow red and blue uniformed classmates with the call, a fusillade of high-pitched “OW are YOU?”s rained down on us. When a camera surfaced, their unbridled vivacity displayed itself in alternating games of one-upping each others’ ridiculous poses and silly attempts at hiding. As our share-taxi rounded the bend and their baby-toothed grins were slowly veiled behind the curtain of dust kicked up from our wheels, my heart thawed. On our way back around the Rwenzori Mountains from the Congolese border we finally broke free of the hostility
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