Conversation with a meat seller

"Excuse me, can I take a photo of you?" I am standing in the middle of a market on one of the main roads in Kampala. The nearby bus station will later push many people out of simple huts into the narrow streets on their way home from work to the adjacent residential area. There is not much going on now, but the lonely butcher with his forlorn-looking pieces of meat immediately catches my attention. Even though I don't eat meat, his display looks good. The remaining tail hair shows the authenticity of the meat. Unusual by European standards, where apparently no one wants to know that what you are eating was once alive. The presentation of the meat does not look appetizing, but it brings structure to the picture, as does the uneven background. I would like to have a photo of the scenery, which is unusual to European eyes.

I am in Uganda and here it is advisable to ask permission to take a picture beforehand. The people here are mostly very religious and a photo steals a piece of their soul - they say. So I am prepared for a "no" - I have heard it a lot in the last two weeks and despite the great scenery I can live with it because it is not about Pulitzer Prizes. But the meat seller answers in a very different way in a friendly voice: "You are not allowed to take my photo because you are European and you don't like black people. You think we are inferior." Boom! Thousands of kilometers away from the shift to the right in Europe, it catches up with me here in the heat of Africa.

We talk for the next twenty minutes or so and I try to make it clear that although he is not wrong, there are also many Europeans who think differently. I learn a lot in the conversation. About Uganda, about travel opportunities, about the incredible wealth of white Europe, about racism,... My time traveling in Uganda is almost over and now this conversation is forcing me to think intensively about my reasons for traveling. It's an interesting exchange.

Finally, I am able to convince the seller of my seriousness because I can show him a picture on my iPhone that was taken in a Ugandan apartment. Kindly, I and my fellow travelers from Viva con Agua were invited by Nobert's mother to have dinner at her house the evening before. Nobert is one of the main people in the attempt to set up Viva con Agua in Kampala. In the picture we are all standing in the living room with his family - and in the picture they are with us Megaloh and his DJ and producer Ghanaian Stallion two of his skin color from Germany. The butcher looks intently into my eyes and wants to know exactly. He has now also learned something about Europe. Still friendly, he agrees to my request for a photo.

The photo is no longer that important to me. The in-depth conversation with the strange, lonely meat seller across all language barriers was much more important.