The minibus station in Kampala is one of the craziest, most chaotic places I have ever been to. It’s a huge dusty lot in the centre of the city, crammed with minivans honking and revving and jostling for space and a mass of seething humanity shoving and pushing and trying to get to where they want to go.
This boy was one of the many hawkers there, selling food and drink, batteries and pens, snacks and chewing gum, but his megawatt smile and happy-go-luck demeanour set him apart. I bought some peanuts, took his photo and he waved me goodbye like I was his new best friend.
I never caught his name. I didn’t get the story of his life or ask how he kept up such a cheerful demeanour amongst the dust and fumes and noise. But if there’s such a thing as karma, I’m sure this kid has done alright.