Woke up this morning to a rooster crowing and children singing in the street - good morning Uganda.  I had my last shower for some time to come, got dressed, loaded my things into the truck and joined my colleagues for breakfast.  There is another global village team here - a group of nine Irish medical students and five professors from the school.  Most of the medical students are beautiful women - there is something so sexy about intelligence.  Also part of the group, a beautiful blonde Belgian girl named Tiffany...what are the chances?

The village children found arm-hair to be quite interesting. Click here for the day 3 photo gallery

Stephanie is sick with a very sore throat, so we stopped by a clinic on our way to Bululu, all of us hoping she would be able to continue.  While at the clinic, I had a chance to walk around a bit and have a look at my surroundings.  I couldn't believe this was the rich part of town - I was surrounded by crumbling buildings, broken walls and streets in disrepair.  There though, they had running water and electricity - luxuries in this country.  There was anonymous bird flying about - wingspan of at least four feet - so beautiful!  I am nervous - it is so difficult to see such poverty.  We smiled at the people walking by and they gave us solemn nods - there is an unseen chasm between us and it seems almost pointless to try crossing.  I hope I am able to cross soon.

We arrived in Bululu at around 3pm to a parade of children running after the vans, cheering and waving.  We got out of the taxis and stood huddled together, all feeling the same awkwardness

Lusoga lesson Jambo (Jahm-bo): hello Webale (Way-ba-lay): thank you Nambecu (Nam-bay-coo): please

over the rock-star like reception we were getting.  Finally, Eden jumped into the crowd and began hugging the children - this broke the ice and we all joined in.  The kids all wanted to touch us -our white skin and the men's arm-hair.  Someone took a picture, then turned their camera around to show the image on the camera's screen and a new wave of excitement began.  These children had never seen their pictures before, and definitely not a digital camera.  We continued like this for about an hour, gradually becoming more comfortable.

At around 4pm, we sat down for a welcoming ceremony.  Sixteen chairs were arranged for us in a half circle, then a large space, then the rest of the chairs for the men of the village.  This would a common theme during our stay - we were often separated from the others out of respect, when all we really wanted was to sit among the villagers.  When the ceremony began, one by one, every senior member of the village stood up and thanked us with such reverence that by the end, we were all feeling awkward at how grateful they were.

Featured Dish: Matoke Matoke (pronounced Ma-toe-kay) is made by cooking bananas until they achieve the consistency of  baked potatoes.  Any number of spices and/or meat can be added if desired, although we ate it plain.

After the ceremony, we were told to keep our seats while they brought us dinner.  They served us on their finest plates, which had to have been twenty years old and used to exhaustion.  Our first Ugandan meal was a delicious one as we were introduced to some of the local dishes, posho and matoke.  The food was delicious - very heavy on starch and with no spices or seasonings.

After dinner, we sat and relaxed while talking with some of the villagers.  Just after dusk, Dave and I began to chat with a group of children who ranged in age from six to eighteen.  This impromptu conversation was one of the most eye-opening I had ever had.  One child in particular took the lead in explaining the sentiments of the Ugandan people.  He kept using the word 'struggling', but with a smile on his face.  It was un-nerving how he spoke of life and death matters with such humor.  I suppose you have to in rural Uganda.

He said many things which stuck in my head - he told me how he believed that God had blessed America by putting all the 'riches' there.

Featured Video: Driving in Uganda Most of the rural roads in Uganda are cratered with pot-holes.  Driving here means constantly swerving to avoid them.

  I told him that often, those with the most money have the least happiness, the least 'riches.'  I realized as I was saying this how silly I was being - he is not talking about fast cars and fancy clothes - he is talking about food, education and basic medical care.  At one point, he asked me how old I was.  When I told him I was 27, he told me that was old.  I said "I'm not old" to which he responded "here, 27 is old."  He told me how he thought all white people were beautiful and all black people were ugly.  I told him nothing could be farther from the truth, that during the whole trip, my friends and I had been commenting on how beautiful the African people were.  He found this quite funny.

Finally, he pointed to a boy wearing an old, ragged pair of tennis shoes.  "Look at his shoes" he said, "he is rich, he works for the government."  Every child here has asked us for money - it is so hard to look them in the eyes and say no - we are under strict orders not to.