As we were coming back to Omaha (what felt like very slowly, I might add), I was filled with mixed emotions. I mean, it was impossible to get past the basic desire of wanting to be back in my bed, both for the longer length and lack of mosquito net. In the same vein, I had to come to miss some of the food I regularly eat that wasn’t available in Uganda. I even came to miss water being contained in the space where I’m taking a shower.
However, it was just as hard to ignore the nagging feeling I had of how I was going to really miss what I had come to know over the past two and a half weeks. While what we saw and heard most days was sad, the experiences I had and things I learned most days as a result of going wherever we were was something I had already learned to highly value. I think some of it came out of a fear of how I go back to the same sheltered experiences at home. After learning so much about these people and how they live, it was time to trek to the airport to completely detach myself from what had happened. I didn’t necessarily feel guilty- I clearly needed to go home- it just seemed odd. I think it’s great that we’re making a documentary about what we’ve seen, directly using their words to relay their situation to others. It’s really helped ease that feeling, perhaps more so than if we just would’ve shown up, done some service, and gone home.
Plus… I am gonna sort of miss the food we got.