Gift of Peace

In mass every morning, before celebration of the Eucharist, we shake each others’ hands, saying “obusingye bwa mukama abe ‘ naiwe” or “peace be with you.” I used to think about whether or not those I shook hands with had used the latrine without washing and about how during the Ebola epidemic a few years ago, people had to stop shaking hands before communion. We don’t, however, only share bacteria with each other. In our palms, with all those complicated nerve endings, we extend to each other, opening up; vulnerable. Through this, we give peace.
Henri Nouwen says that true hospitality is the sharing of our poverty, our emptiness. This Last week, I visited my father’s friend, who is a British urologist, in Kasese. I was able to witness a prostate removal, a C- section, several post- operative fistula patients, children whose stomachs and intestines had been burned through by cholera, and several patients living with leprosy. He shared with me his experiences in Iran, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Britain, and Uganda. His wife spoke about the long nights and longer days that he worked during days as a general surgeon and about the fact that none of their children want the same. I also visited a friend who is interested in medicine and we talked about our hopes and the future—and our fears. We had no solutions to offer, no advice. Only our mutual quests—and in that openness, in that poverty; peace.