Fruits of desperation

Last night, I had dinner with a new friend from LA. He leaves town in 2 days, but introduced me to another who will be around for another 2 months and left me a bag of bite-size Snickers that will be around for another 2 hours.

It so happens that we had attended the same church in LA for some time, but our paths never crossed until now, in Kampala of all places. Somehow, there wasn't sufficient overlap in going to the same church in the same city in the same state in America. There were always too many people, too many options in who to meet and greet.

But here, far from home, beggars can't be choosers. The ex-pat community is surprisingly fluid and welcoming. Granted, there are those who will exclude wherever they go, but for the most part, people treasure others who can understand and commiserate. Relationships between like-minded people deepen quickly; other relationships hover on the surface but are nonetheless maintained. Firebrand issues such as religion and politics are discussed with civility and tolerance. The foolishness of burning bridges over differences of opinion or personality is generally recognized and avoided.

And beggars find gems that choosers overlook. I've come to enjoy after 7 interactions people who I would've dismissed after 3 at home. The initial "click" (or clique) has become less important, if at all. The things that matter - I want to help, I care about Africa, I'm homesick, I stick out like a sore thumb, I don't know how to respond to beggars, I miss [insert comfort food], I feel totally overwhelmed - are real and readily confessed.

Desperation may not be the best foundation for healthy relationships, but some of the qualities that desperation begets - patience, tolerance, compassion, empathy, transparency, bite-size Snickers - surely are.