African Hospitality

“The people are so nice there,” was my professor’s first remark about Ugandans. Of course, I thought. Every developing country I’ve been to has proven evidence of that. Or just every place outside of the East and West Coasts of the US, even. I wasn’t expecting much of a difference upon arriving at Entebbe Airport, as I walked off the glass and steel jetway (a pleasant surprise) and into the obligatory swine flu checkpoint.

“Please sit down, sir,” the nurse invited me in a sing-song voice. My thoughts turned to the worst – a possible quarantine, which my sister actually is right now undergoing in Beijing. “You can fill out this health questionnaire,” she suggested, and provided me with a pen. And waited, patiently. This was not the customs and border officer demeanor I had expected. Where was their tough-guy personality? What if my body was harboring millions of illicit microbes to bring into the country? “Where are you from?” she asked, interrupting my worried thoughts. “America, what a nice place. Welcome to Uganda, I hope you have a blessed time here,” she responded, in measured, kind tones.

As I was ushered past immigration and customs and into the calm, friendly arrival hall, I knew I was no longer in China. This was not a country of extreme changes, speeding along at the speed of Social Darwinism. No, this country ran in African time, which runs a good two hours slower than Korean time and three hours slower than Chinese time.

You can sense the pace of the country around you all the time. It is not a pace of laziness, but of quiet content. What is the need of hurrying rudely along when the destination itself is unclear and even unworthy?

In the words of our co-workers, Dr. Olive the physician, Simon the counselor, Aeyisha the nurse, and Haruna the driver, “Please, take a seat. Smile, and welcome to Africa.”