A Glimpse

Updated: Apr 15

Author: Yitao Sarah Ning

Author Affiliation: University of Virginia School of Medicine

VJM Spring Edition 2026

Cutting through the heat of the midday sun, a cool breeze rustled the leaves on the tree that Shakira and I sat under. My gaze was fixed on the distant corn stalks, swaying in response to the wind. Shakira and I had been talking, or jazzing as she liked to say, while we waited for our ride back to Mpunde Village. We had just finished interviewing a pair of siblings about their experiences with depression and stigma in the neighboring village of Miru. Shakira and I were laughing over my Luganda pronunciation. Reaching a natural pause in our conversation, we sat in comfortable silence.

After some time, she asked if I would miss this place once I returned home. Looking towards the fields, inhaling the smell of earth and smoke, and hearing the soft bleating of goats, I realized I would. Therefore, I was surprised when she laughed at my response and pressed me for honesty. Clarifying my answer, I admitted that bucket showers, pit latrines, intermittent power, and unrelenting dust had been a challenging adjustment when I first arrived but that I had also found an unparalleled peacefulness in village life. She nodded in agreement.

Shakira was from Uganda’s capital, Kampala, a rising senior at university studying Public Health, and a self-described God-fearing woman. Her parents were separated. While tradition dictated that she should follow the Muslim culture of her father, Shakira chose to be a Born Again Christian like her mother. It was a point, she shared, of major contention on her father’s side. Because of this, Shakira said she would never marry a Muslim. We discussed perceptions of manliness in our respective countries, the diversity within Uganda, and the expectation of marrying within your regional culture to maintain bloodlines. I admitted that my father would never approve if I wanted to marry outside our culture, even though I felt more American than Chinese most days. We talked about racism in America and China and how she would not consider moving abroad due to a fear of racism creating hate in her heart. Though saddened, I understood her point.

That afternoon, we talked and talked about topics I had only broached with my closest friends back home. Learning more about the nuances of Ugandan culture, I felt grateful for Shakira’s honesty and the afternoon we shared. Whenever we reached a point that challenged us, we would take a moment to pause and process, before asking for clarification or inquiring more. Sometimes, we just needed a moment to think about how we would verbalize a feeling, such as when our opinions about the role of women in society diverged despite being on similar career paths within our respective countries. Shakira believed her future husband would decide her role, and I remember the discomfort that belief created within me. It felt like a contradiction – to her education, her career goals, and the decisions she made within her family. Through our continued conversation, I began to appreciate the complexity and ambiguity of her beliefs, to understand the tension of individuality within the confines of culture and status quo.

There were other ideas we disagreed on, but by choosing to see each other in the best light, with good intentions, we could respect our differences. We learned to acknowledge the imperfections in our thinking, in our cultures, and celebrated the ways we tried to improve. At the heart of our friendship, we saw aspects of ourselves in the other: two women, sensitive yet strong, trying to define their identities in vastly different cultures. If anything, I wish I could have been as forthcoming as Shakira, as vulnerable. She directed the conversation, almost as if she could sense my apprehension regarding certain topics. Her efforts allowed us to learn from each other and grow as people. Now, as I prepare to leave Mpunde for my life in St. Louis, I take with me the friendships I have made, the stories I have learned, and the extraordinary opportunity I had to glimpse through the eyes of another.