BlueBerry Muffins Making More Sense

Me with the Fellows taking a picture with the Mayor of Burlington Vermont after a meeting in front of the City Hall. #YALI2015

        My love for blueberry muffins dates back from the first time I stepped out of the beloved continent Africa in September 2009. Hong Kong has always had a way for me being my first over seas destination. It wasn't long before Starbucks came calling and wow served warm and fresh. It was definitely the biggest muffin I had ever seen. It seemed like it was staring at me, only that it looked way more delicious than I could care. Thinking that this was a delicacy only to experience on these such trips, each time it has become like some kind of ritual whenever I travel. Only that this time,it has just gotten a little more interesting.

        I am currently in Hanover at Dartmouth college Hanover NH USA as part of the annual Mandela Washington Fellowship YALI. A President Obama initiative aimed at re-positioning young African leaders with potential to to become influential right from the grassroots with purpose driven actions that empower communities through Business, Civil Society and Public Management.

 It's been three weeks and believe me there can never be a better program like this one. We are twenty five at Dartmouth college from seventeen countries and we all had a weekend with local families as a home stay session meant to expose us more to the American culture. This gave me a chance to go blueberry picking
Coming from Uganda, we sure do have our fair share of the fruits.

     I mean talk of the tastiest Pineapples, Mangoes you name it. Blueberries though, are native to North America and only come second to strawberries in popularity here in the USA.  

I was in my zone, my little world face to face with the real reason these special muffins get their identity. It was more than a chance to pick fresh fruit. It was an experience that stirred my imagination. I was now in sync with what made this particular delicacy matter. This leadership fellowship is testing me to the core and looking from the American perspective and culture, it is clear that the nations we admire as Africans have consistently celebrated such moments like Blueberry picking. I wasn't alone in the field, the pleasure of three more family members that hosted me for two nights two teenage boys Fin and Mark, Their dad Paul and Liz happily did the same and making sure I was enjoying it just as much as they did. The passion, unity with each of us filling up our containers with these lovely fruits made me to think. Does it matter how much we all pick? At the end of the day, we bring all of it together proud in the knowledge that this united us and without it may be my next Blueberry Muffin wouldn't test the same.