Landmarks so familiar, and each with a personal story. As well as a story far larger than mine. For instance, Lake Victoria, source of the Nile, found by Burton and Speke at Jinja (on the Ugandan side). Burton, the leader of the expedition fell ill right before the moment of truth, – Speke went ahead, made the discovery, and raced off back to England to take all the credit. Or something like that. The personal side of historic moments.
Bugando Hospital, high on the hill, overlooking the town. A scary place to be when you are sick, – but kind and patient staff, and a reputation as an excellent teaching hospital. Memories of the emergency department and the great holes in the poor man who had been attacked by a crocodile; the children’s ward where mothers share the bed, or keep vigil from a blanket on the floor, bringing food and cooking it, providing nourishment for body and soul, chasing away the ghosts of fear and loneliness; the classroom right at the top for the children with cancer, the painted walls, the books and toys provided by volunteers to lighten the tedium of a long-term stay.
The Aga Khan Mosque: the day I touched a princess; the students sponsored by the Aga Khan; the children’s workshops run by Ernest the artist, dapper dresser and tireless promoter of art education in Tanzania.
And over everything, – the sun, – every day.