Is not the toilets, lack of running water, strange food, sporadic electricity, language barriers, dust, parasites, bugs, or even the slow pace of work.
It is the drunk man who yells at Heehyun and I on the way to work in the mornings that Chinese people have small brains and starts following us until, hearing me yelling at the drunk, a passing boda driver intervenes while onlookers cackle in laughter. There’s nothing funny in this situation, and nonetheless it will happen again tomorrow.
My dear straight white men who complain about the children chanting "Mzungu": I feel no pity.
Though to be fair to Uganda, variations on this, usually not involving 8:30 am drunkeness but rather everyday sobriety, happen in America too. Even within the confines of the Sanford School of Public Policy.
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