Death of the Type A

Death of the Type A

Shortly after our arrival in Uganda, I was expressing frustration to Elder Story, a senior missionary and retired business man, about all the work we had to do and the need to do it now.  He smiled, and told me a little secret: Uganda is where the type A personality comes to die, he said.  We both had a good laugh over that and I moved on. But I have come to realize this is literally true. Now that RaNae and I have been here nearly eight months, I can see that my anxiety over running my life just so, has faded into the most amazing, peaceful tranquility. This is not to say I no longer care, but that I have come to see the incredible beauty of what Ugandans have. Many Ugandans live in simple mud huts in a family village. When a son marries, he brings his wife home and another hut is built. When a muza (moozay = old person) dies, she is buried next to her hut and a marker is set in place. The family digs in a shared garden for food. There is very little cash to buy things. At night, the family gathers in groups under a mango tree to chat or play games. We’ve driven by many villages at night and seen groups of people along the roadside, sitting under a tree or veranda by a little shop, laughing and talking of the day – and watching the Mzungus drive by in our nice truck. Whatever happened to those days? At what point did our electronics, digital media, bright lights, and fast lifestyle drown out the simple beauties of just...