A tour, but not like hers

On the plane to Amsterdam I met a woman who, upon arrival, would be going on a river tour. I told her about my work with Invisible Children, which she lauded, and then she lamented about the little twinge of guilt that pricked her upon hearing about Uganda. She was looking for consolation. I didn't give it to her, really, just told her that, yeah, a lot of people feel guilty while taking river tours in light of such circumstances (in rough paraphrase).

Today I took a tour. I toured an IDP camp, led by a young woman who had lived there for two years. Her village was only a kilometer away, but she wasn't allowed to live there. She told me of struggles with overcrowding, with money, with food, with alcohol, with rebels. It was an enlightening tour, though sad. I think Mitchell (my new roomie) and I are going to try to raise the money to put her through nursing school. More on that another day.