Thought

I was reading Rachel’s book, “In a Sunburned Country” (great book, the author is HILARIOUS, not kidding, I was crying from laughing so hard) and I had a small thought.

The author is giving accounts of some of the more ridiculous 18th and 19th century attempts to cross the outback (eg. the guy that lugged 3 boats all the way, or the guy that brought a Chinese gong and 2,000 lbs of sugar) and he mentioned some guy that was chosen for an expedition with no other qualifications other than a family name and big bank account.

And I realized, when its 1789 you’re on a boat to Tasmania, no one gives a darn about your wealth. It does you NO good. They certainly don’t have ATMs there. You can’t stop in the middle of the ocean to buy more supplies. And you definitely can’t change money over once you get there. It’s just you and whatever skills you have.

And wouldn’t that be an interesting experience. To leave all that behind. Here in Uganda, I know I have more than enough money in my account to get by, indulgently even. I know if I need anything, if anything were to happen, chances are, my money would help me wiggle out of it. So much of the “muzungu identity” revolves around having money; it effects your attitude towards things, how people treat you, basically your entire experience. But what if my “wealth” here meant nothing? What if I had only what I brought with me and was on the same par as everyone else? I think it would be a most valuable and interesting experience.