After college, I moved with some other recent graduates to a fairly rural town in Eastern Uganda.
When we would meet local folks for the first time, they would not infrequently toss the word mpolampola, often translated as “slowly, slowly,” into the exchange.
“Wait, what?” I would think. “How did that make sense as part of this conversation?”
But it makes perfect sense. It is a fantastic reminder for a Westerner generally, and especially one encountering a new place and culture.
Moving too quickly, either outwardly or within our own heads, we miss the remarkableness of where and when we are living.
Moving slowly, though, we can experience the richness of the vulnerability of life, particularly at a transition.