After Kampala we admired the rolling hills full of far-away homes with beautiful rust colored roofs, reminiscent of Italian villas. We passed through the Mabira Rain Forest, peeking into the tall trees, trying to spot a monkey while often failing to keep our sleepy eyes open. When we broke through the forest, we came upon acre after acre of tea farms. We watched the workers pick the leaves and toss them into the four-foot tall straw baskets they carried on their backs. We watched the families, cows and goats walk along the road to a destination unseen, on what seemed like countless miles of empty farmland. Women carried babies on their backs and large packages on their heads, as we watched in awe at their strength. Men pushing bicycles with goods piled high on either side made their way to the bus stops where they competed with merchants aggressively pushing sticks of cooked chicken into the bus windows. As we passed through the small towns, we saw children filling jugs of water from the community spout in their plastic yellow jerrycans. We saw stray dogs wandering around, eating the sparse tufts of grass sticking out of the otherwise red clay, whose dust seemed to cover everything and everyone. We watched as the people in the villages shopped and laughed and relaxed together. We noticed how impeccably dressed everyone seemed to be. We watched the workers at the small businesses with hand painted signs, entrepreneurs creating their own capital in one of the world’s poorest countries. We noticed the many babies and children in this young country, sometimes dressed in nice clothes and playing in groups, sometimes sitting alone, naked with no toys, just staring. As we entered Jinja, Patrick pointed out the Nile as we crossed over it, it all felt surreal. Were we really crossing over THE Nile? We pulled up to the gate of the Nile Village Hotel, watching as the armed guards did a thorough search of our car. We were reeling from sensory overload and jet lag. We thanked Patrick for his service and paid him. We entered the hotel, taking in the view of the nice pool and luscious landscape. After checking in and watching a tiny woman carry our 50-pound luggage over her head up the two flights to our room - as if it was weightless, - we heard “Excuse me, ma’am.” We turned to see Patrick holding out money to us. He told us we paid him too much, and he extends his hand with ten dollars’ worth of Ugandan shillings. What we considered a meager tip considering the distance we traveled was a full week’s worth of work for many to earn in Jinja. We told him that the money is his tip, and we are grateful to him for keeping us safe and answering our many questions. After thanking us profusely, Patrick departs and leaves us, as we look at one another, jaws on the floor in reaction to the integrity and gratitude we just witnessed. We continue to be amazed. During the coming weeks we realized that Patrick is by no means the exception, but the rule. The Ugandan people we interacted with were incredibly kind and generous. They showed us exceptional hospitality and greeted us with smiles and waves, even strangers passing on the street. GDS Magazine | 31