He doesn’t come to our porch and trade full bottles of milk for empties like the old days at home. James is not dressed in a crisp white uniform or driving a truck.
He rides up to our gate on his motorcycle (Boda), takes out a jerry can, and fills up a container with fresh milk. The container is brought to him by one of the children who live in our compound.
James has 23 cows on his farm outside of town that he milks daily before making the rounds throughout Gulu. The simple things in life still bring a smile to my face.