5 full days have passed since I landed in Kampala. After reading through my fellow fellows’ blogs, I must concur: I feel like a baby girl, able, at least, to walk and gesture, but totally unfamiliar with my surroundings–their dangers, their prosperities, their loves, and their losses. I am a Muzungu or a Buzungu (white person, pronounced “Muh-zoong-goo”), depending on whom you ask, and every child, from 0 to 18 hollers out “Bye, Muzungu! Bye!” Somehow they lost the “Hi” part, and simply dismiss me, with glee, whenever they see me! Of course, when I reply with a “Hello!” they continue on with the conversation, asking me in a lilting, Ugandan accent, “How ah-re yew?” The babies always snatch my attention the most quickly, with their squat little bodies topped by adorable, squishy, round faces. In less than one week, I have re-discovered my strength, as I battled a urinary tract infection on my first night (I thank my foresight for getting a prescription of ciprofloxacin), road a “boda boda,” or motor bike taxi, for the first time and, while dismounting, got a first degree burn on my right calf, and got a cold that won’t quit! However, this has only reminded me that people, everywhere, are amazingly kind. My wound has brought more people to my office door, just to check up on me, than I could have ever expected. As I adjust to my very new, very different surroundings, I am reminded how very similar we all are. I know that I will fall in love with this place.