The Many Faces of Africa

During a little adventure through town, as we drove up and down the roads, when I began to really think what the people of Uganda were thinking about us. Driving back and forth down the same road a few times in a giant bus filled with Bazoongas – you definitely stand out. I felt bad – many of the other kids were taking as many pictures as they could, but I just sat there watching the faces of the people. Of course they must have thought we were lost, and therefore pretty stupid, but many of them waved as most the people do. Here I observed a number of faces.

The first, and the one I will remember the most, are those of the children, who immediately wave their hands furiously and sometimes even run up to get a closer look at the Bazoongas on the bus. Other children just pause, maybe having never seen a white person before. Some pause, then if you wave at them, they will smile and wave back. The older boys usually yell and taunt, but not in a mean way, or simply stand and stare.

Another is the face of curiosity. “What are these people doing in Ft. Portal?” “Why are there so many of them, and why are they on such a large bus?” “And why are there fellow Ugandans (who many of them seemed to know) with them and where are they going?” Finally, they had to be thinking, “didn’t we just see that bus?” “Why does it keep going back and forth down the same road?”

A look of suspicion and reservation also touched many of their faces. Maybe they had seen a white man before and still didn’t trust them, or possibly even had a bad encounter with them. Maybe they did not like the ruckus we caused in the big bus or the dust it dug up on their faces. Or maybe they associated us with the British or even American tourists who were just there to take pictures and exploit them. I noticed in particular most of the elders looked this way. Unlike the children, or even younger adults, they did not just stop what they were doing to observe us. They simply watched us go by, not waving or making eye contact, but without unwelcoming glances. Many of the parents of the children also held these looks. They weren’t as impressed with us as their younger ones, and probably for good reason, because if any of us saw a cute Ugandan child (and they are all ridiculously cute), we snapped our fingers like the paparazzi. I didn’t take it personally…in Africa, overprotection is not a vice, it’s a virtue.

I interacted with as many passerby-ers as I felt comfortable with, for they had a clear view of my white skin through the open window of the bus. I kept a smile on my face and if the people say me look at them, I waved. I would say 99% of them waved back.

Driving around Ft. Portal and Uganda in general you see so many things, it’s very hard to process all at once. Because everything is so new and unique, we have the natural urge to take pictures of everything we can. I have learned, thanks to my friend Natalie, that although pictures are important, it is better to live life in full view rather than from the lens of a camera. So I sat on the bus and watched the endless number of faces go by. The final face was one I haven’t, nor should, see often, and it is very tough for me to see it. The face of intrusion, exploitation, disrespect and to be fair, misunderstanding. I see it on many faces as our bus rolls by, but is even worse when the cameras hang out the open windows. We were driving up the hill and there were three woman walking down toward us, each with heavy things and baskets balanced so perfectly on their heads – a common and beautiful trademark site in Africa. One of the girls put her camera out as far as it could go and took a picture of one of the women right in her face. She tried to ignore it, but then scowled, shook her finger angrily and said something to the other women in Rootoro. My stomach dropped. The ugly American reeled its ugly head. Poor Lisa, she didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings, and she was probably just practicing taking shots out the window. But it was wrong. I thought about it for the rest of the day.