Sweet Home Uganda To paraphrase the great poet/philosopher Lynyrd Skynyrd, Sweet home Uganda, Where the skies are so blue; Sweet home Uganda, Lord I’m comin’ home to you. It’s been six weeks since Jeffrey Hamelman and I returned from training the bakers in the Oruchinga refugee settlement. My eyes argue that I am in Cranston, Rhode Island USA; however, the pounding in my chest combined with the relentless alpha, beta, and gamma waves profoundly insist that I’m in Uganda. And that Uganda is in me. I’ve returned from exciting, inspirational trips to beautiful and significant places. Within weeks, if not days, the memories become fond, but detail-less, accompanied by the default refrain, “Oh yeah, it was great…” The embers of this trip rekindle my memories daily, if not hourly, infiltrating, then dominating my thoughts in work and play (as difficult as it is to differentiate baking and working or working and baking).
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