It has haunted me from the moment I stepped foot into the country, and it continues 2 weeks after I have returned home.
My life is haunted by this place, this country so far away.
The children's faces stare at me in my dreams. The smells permeate my nostrils. I can feel the fear of seeing the police with their AK-47s strapped to their shoulder. I can hear "muzungu" as we walk down the streets. I can feel the bumpiness of the roads to the villages. I can see the wrinkles the sun and hardship has left on the faces of the elderly. The children walking up hills with jerrycans full of water on their head and their feet bare...
I don't know how to deal with all this. I can't sleep. Very few people understand what this feels like. And I struggle with how to help Uganda right now. I want to be doing something even though I am not in Africa. I want to help.
I have to do something.
I am going to lose my mind.
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