To tell the story of the incredible experience I had in Africa, I want to start from the return — from that long and sorrowful flight that brought me back home, a journey filled with memories and emotions, with one single question on my mind: When will I be able to return to Uganda?
…Last year, at the Rimini Meeting, we had the chance to meet Rose in person: beyond the beautiful stories and the many emotions, there was that phrase: “I’ll be waiting for you in Kampala.” Maybe, for her, it was just a kind and polite invitation, but for us, it meant so much more — the spark that turned a desire into reality. And that’s exactly what happened.
The journey actually began months before the departure date, when in the evenings my wife and I would discuss what to bring for our two sponsored girls and what might be useful for the schools we would visit. We thought school supplies would be more useful than toys — pencils, markers, notebooks, a backpack… Maybe we got a little carried away, because in the end, the girls’ backpack was overflowing! For us, it was like walking a child to school on their first day and thinking, “We don’t want them to lack anything.”
We also thought it was right to add something fun: some stickers, little stamps, Play-Doh with molds (my wife, who teaches preschool, had much clearer ideas than I did about which toys were more educational). I managed to sneak in a box of beads for making bracelets and necklaces, which turned out to be a lovely surprise.
We also wanted to bring something that represented Italy and that the girls would enjoy. We had no doubt: Nutella.
…As we walked through the neighborhoods and those communities, the poverty was evident, but that difficult condition had not eroded the humanity and dignity with which we were always welcomed.
Finally, the moment we had been waiting for so long arrived: the visit to the primary school, where we would meet Gift and Edina. But it was when we walked into that room — where, together with social workers and parents, Gift and Edina were sitting — that time stopped. I, who am used to speaking in public and facing people, suddenly felt bare and speechless, capable only of an awkward smile.
…Unfortunately, I don’t speak English, and aside from a few translations provided by an assistant, communication was based on gestures and smiles as we explored the various objects we had brought for them.
When Gift dipped her finger in the Nutella and tasted it, her eyes widened, and she turned to her mother with a huge smile — a smile I will never forget.
When we pulled out the box of beads and all the tools for making bracelets, to our great surprise we discovered that her mother makes bracelets for a living. That coincidence made me happy, because she would be able to use the materials for her work too.
…Just a few hundred meters from the school, we met Rose’s women. What can I say? They are like the sea: strong, proud, imposing — and when they start singing and dancing, they become a storm that grabs you deep down and carries you away. Their song, with their story, is the only anchor to hold on to, because they give you everything and you’re not ready. You can’t imagine it: they first shatter all your certainties, they empty you, they make you human — and then they plant in you a seed of humanity that you may not recognize at the time, but that continues to grow. Even now, I feel it has strong roots in me.
Overwhelmed by this experience, we walked with Rose into the Kireka slum, where thousands of people live in makeshift shelters clustered on the red earth typical of the area. It’s clear that this is a situation of extreme poverty, but as we walked through the winding paths between homes, we met many smiling faces of women and men, and curious children who greeted us. Poverty had not diminished the humanity of that place.
After a while, we arrived at a house where a family welcomed us for lunch. The hospitality and generosity we received are something I’ve rarely experienced, because that’s just who they are — they give you everything.
After lunch, we returned to the meeting point where the women were waiting to say goodbye.
…That afternoon, to our immense joy, we saw the girls again. Edina was sitting next to her father and gave us a shy wave, while Gift, the moment she saw us, ran into our arms and hugged us.
I don’t have the words to describe the emotion I felt in that hug.
We had brought a snack to share and, now past the initial shyness, we asked them a few questions and showed them photos of our cats. Edina was very curious.
To our surprise, the girls’ parents had brought us gifts. In that moment, I truly felt small — they, who have nothing, were giving us something, offering what little they had.
Gift’s mother had made bracelets with our names on them using the beads we had given her the day before — a gift made from the heart, one I carry with me always.
…This time, the goodbyes were incredibly hard for me. We thanked the parents for the love they have for their daughters and told them that we will always be there. We hugged Edina and Gift tightly and, with heavy hearts and many regrets, we walked away.
The only certainty that gives me strength to keep smiling is that this is just a “see you soon.”
…On this trip, we felt deep emotions, saw the beauty of a place and the dignity of its people, met wonderful people who dedicate their lives to helping others, and saw with our own eyes that even the impossible, if truly believed in, can be achieved. We filled our hearts with deep love — we came convinced that we would give, and instead we received a love so immense our hearts could not contain it.
For days after returning, I kept dreaming of Africa, and upon waking I was still wrapped in the emotions I could feel — I dare say, even touch. I keep humming in my mind the song of Rose’s women — “I am now free” — because that song truly makes me feel free.
Sometimes I reflect on all the coincidences that followed us on this journey, and instinctively I feel like saying the world is small. But then, thinking more deeply, I understood — just as someone we met during this beautiful experience told us — that maybe it’s not that the world is small… maybe it’s that God is great.
And I… am just a man.
– Riccardo
