As I arrive in Kampala, Uganda my initial shock is that they are driving on the wrong side of the road and that there is a working stop light in the country. Fighting exhaustion, I ask the driver numerous questions about ethnic groups, fishing, herding and the main local language, Luganda. As I struggle to keep up conversation, I think about how different, quieter and more ambivalent to my presence he is than West Africans. I reflect back upon the time when I followed the Pulaar girl featured above. How she brought me to her home, offered me dirty water and a place to sit, telling me where she comes from and what she does, all with sign language and my 10 words of Pulaar.