We drove into the heart of Kampala on the last night, and ended up in this little gymnasium sized club with a fountain right by the entrance. The stairs leading up into the party was nothing fancy, just a few wooden stairs; the ticket man saw that we were mzungu and waved us in without asking for cover. The music was so alive, everyone was dancing and having a good time, enjoying city nightlife. At first we were a little awkward, like those first grade-six dances, but we warmed up and after a few drinks loosened up and just danced. I remember feeling incredibly lonely, homesick, and all the same reluctant to leave Uganda as it was our last night there. Then I let go of all those emotions/thoughts/overthinking and just celebrated being and staying true to me. For the fact that I knew I had grown and moved past little grudges and upsets that made me want to leave Vancouver so desperately in the first place, the reasons why I applied to go so far away. Knowing that I had become a better me, knew what I wanted, what I was willing to give.
Danced for all the moments of happiness from the three months, for the moments of connection, bonding, heart to hearts… for living out our lives: careers, passions, visions, for making real friendships with people we may never see again in our lives. The music was in Afrikaans, in Luganda, and Swahili– those were the three main languages that most city people knew. Our friends sang translations of the song lyrics so that we could understand. The room smelled of vodka. We were the center of attention for a little while, since we were mzungu. The men in the club were gentlemen, not like so many of the cat-calling men we put up with over the three months in rural villages. We danced with each other mostly, me and Hannali, me trading her my fuller bottle for her emptier one, because our friend kept insisting on buying me more and more drinks (1500 shillings each, $1). I remember just letting my body dance to the music, celebrating being there, living and enjoying and laughing and in the moment. I felt so free. Liberated. Escaped from having to think about the realities and practicalities of life back home. Dancing is amazing for that, letting go, being free.
Hours later we left the club and I remember sitting there under the African stars breathing in the fresh, fresh air, wondering when I will ever feel that rush of exhilarating freedom and happiness the next time.
On another night in London, a few girls from my room decided to go out, and so I went with them in a little cab into the heart of the city (so glamorous compared to Kampala). We went into this little club that had just opened up, after a guy on the street ‘recruited’ us; apparently there are people who try to recruit people to go to their clubs and not others, it’d be an interesting (sleazy) job. It was empty when we went inside, so we had some drinks (three Canadian girls including me, one Australian and one Spanish) and just started dancing on the floor. It felt so different from the African floor. I felt awkward, out of place, uncomfortable. It felt like dancing was according to certain sets of moves, to standards of beauty and sexiness that’s been dictated. As the club filled up, the music blared louder, and I felt more comfortable. Perhaps it was because we were more anonymous. We left soon after, though, we just weren’t feeling it. I remember the ride back home in the club as a really cozy conversation, I forget what about.
And I remember one more night in Mbale, when all of the UBC students on exchange went to a dance club to spend some time together after dinner. There were a lot of expatriates and other volunteers there, and the music was also lively. What I remember, though, was when one of the placement doctors from Denmark asked me to dance and I said yes out of boredom and curiosity… and suddenly I was twirling and following his lead and somehow I really danced. The people in the club formed a circle around us and it was another of those really uplifting freeing moments– I remember thinking in the moment, why I can’t seem to let go more often back home in Vancouver. So I danced and just let my personality shine through, and our little tango seemed to be the icebreaker for everyone in our group because next thing we know, we were all dancing together, trading partners and just enjoying the company we have in each other. Being that far away from home, in such a foreign place, they were my family, even if outside of that place there was little chance of us getting along as well as we did.
When we came out of that club, I remember seeing five or six women in their 40’s, selling bananas on the street. It was 3am. Apparently they sleep on the streets because if they were to commute back home every day it would take too long (5 hours one way). Also, that way they could make a few extra dollars by selling bananas, since there are no fast food chains in Uganda for club-goers to grab some food.
I went back to some posts from 2010, when I was just starting to apply for my placement in Uganda.
So now, I am starting anew, distancing myself. I aim to indulge in myself, allowing time and space to discover where my passions lie. I will seek out what I want out of life, and my goal is to find that balance between my health, my mentality, and my personality. I no longer need approval from others, because in that, I cannot discern between others’ and my own opinion of myself. Focusing on myself and nurturing the wonderful network of friends and family that I have will help me understand who I am and allow me to love myself as I am loved by others.
It’s wonderful how experiences in life build upon each other: little moments of surprise, anger, learning, giving, hurt, sacrifice, love, that come together every now and then to give you a glimpse of how you’ve changed and grown as a person. It’s lovely when your relationships and friendships with those you care deeply about really reflect these changes in your own self.