It appears that romance clads the hills of Kampala. Tiny lights from small houses diamond-stud the darkness until it looks like any other city in America. I would like to gather all them all and cast them into the sky by my house in Masindi. But perhaps the lack of lighted hills will enhance the million star sky I hope to see. Are there stars in Masindi? There must be. I want to wish upon them every night.
We are on the 12th floor of the hotel in a quietly elegant restaurant. We dine on a mélange of green beans, eggplant, and fresh root vegetables pulled from the rich African soil and roasted with fire. It is mixed with light balsamic vinaigrette seasoned with a spice I've yet to learn about, and served on crisp white cabbage. Little round fresh-baked rolls, and an aromatic onion bread with sweet butter accompanies our meal. Bread and wine. That's all I really want.
The glass enclosed restaurant revolves. Over a period of an hour I see many different views of the Seven Hills of Kampala. I feel a deep connection to the determined revolution of the floor beneath me, and the evolution of my perspective of Uganda.
The server is a tiny Ugandan lady - soft-spoken, and almost regal. Yet she serves us as if we are royalty. Her peacefulness is drawing me in. I want to sound like her. I want to smile with such knowing..."this is good."
It is autumn at home, and tonight, Kampala is slightly cool. African rain has scented the air with hope. I look for the moon.
Abstract orange dances behind indigo clouds, and just for a moment I think it is an autumn moon.
There is no autumn in Uganda. But for me tonight, it feels like fall. Halfway through the revolution I see the North Star. Its constancy gives me a sense of peace. I am not lost.
I am turning – revolving. I see differently. The vision is changing.
The server offers me more wine. I accept and continue to watch as the windows on my world change my autumn to summer. A new beginning…a new romance.