The Unseen Emotions

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfil the law of Christ.” – Galatians 6:2

It’s a beautiful day outside—finally, the rainy season has ended, and the sun is shining hot! The air feels fresh, and there is a sense of renewal in the atmosphere. It has been a busy week for us all as we wrapped up the school year on Friday. There was so much joy and celebration as the children presented everything they had learned—from poems and cultural dances to drama performances and more. It was a day full of laughter, pride, and connection. I found myself reflecting on something that has been a deep cultural learning curve for me: the way emotions are expressed—or not expressed—in Ugandan culture.

For someone who grew up in a culture where people openly share what they’re feeling, Uganda has been a puzzle. People here rarely show their emotions publicly. If someone is upset, they’ll likely greet you with the same calm demeanour they use when they’re content. Happiness, anger, sadness—it’s all kept close to the chest.

I used to think this restraint meant that people were disconnected from their emotions, but I’ve since learned it’s far from the truth. Ugandans feel deeply; their emotions are just hidden, like a treasure locked away, only shared with those they trust the most. This cultural norm stems from several layers of history, tradition, and values. In many Ugandan communities, maintaining harmony is crucial. Openly expressing strong emotions—whether anger, sadness, or even joy—can be seen as disruptive. People are taught from a young age that keeping emotions private helps preserve relationships and avoid unnecessary conflict. It’s also a way to show strength and resilience. In a country where many people face daily struggles, from economic hardships to personal loss, revealing vulnerability can sometimes feel like admitting defeat. There’s another layer to this: the value placed on social reputation. In Uganda, the concept of “saving face” is deeply ingrained. Losing your temper or showing too much sorrow in public could be interpreted as a lack of self-control or dignity. This is especially true for leaders, who are expected to set an example by maintaining their composure, no matter the challenges they face.

For someone like me, who thrives on emotional honesty, this was a steep learning curve. At first, I couldn’t understand why people didn’t speak their minds or why there seemed to be a wall between their feelings and their actions. But as I spent more time here, I began to see the beauty in their way of handling emotions. It’s not that they suppress what they feel; it’s that they’ve learned to process emotions privately or in trusted circles, rather than wearing them on their sleeves.

Still, I wanted to foster a space in our school where people could feel safe to share more openly. Vulnerability, I believe, isn’t a weakness—it’s a bridge to connection. But building that trust wasn’t easy. For years, I felt like I was trying to draw water from a sealed well. Conversations were polite but rarely dipped below the surface. Confrontations were avoided at all costs, even when they were desperately needed.

Over time, little by little, things began to change. I started by sharing my own struggles and emotions, even when it felt awkward. I let my team know when I was overwhelmed or when something had upset me. At first, there was an air of discomfort—they weren’t sure how to respond. But eventually, they began to open up too. A teacher would quietly admit to being nervous before a presentation. A staff member would come to my office to share their frustrations about a personal challenge. One moment that stands out was during a staff meeting when someone unexpectedly shared how the pressures of home life were affecting their work. Their voice wavered, and the room grew quiet. Instead of judgment or dismissal, I saw something beautiful: empathy. Others in the room nodded, some murmured words of encouragement, and one even offered to help with their responsibilities.

This shift reminds me of Galatians 6:2, which says, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfil the law of Christ.” It’s a simple yet profound command. We weren’t meant to bear life’s weight alone, to hide our struggles from one another. When we share what we’re carrying—whether it’s joy, grief, or uncertainty—we lighten the load, not just for ourselves but for those walking alongside us.

One of the most beautiful things about this verse is its balance. It doesn’t tell us to fix each other’s problems or to take on every burden as our own. Instead, it calls us to walk together, to support one another through life’s challenges. That’s what we’re learning to do here.

As I watch the children playing under the bright sun, their laughter echoing through the yard, I think about the quiet burdens they may carry, just like their parents and teachers. But I also think about how far we’ve come—not just in what we’ve achieved as a school, but in how we care for one another. And so, as the sun sets on another vibrant day, I’m reminded of God’s perfect design for community. We were never meant to walk this journey alone, but to reflect His love by carrying each other’s burdens and lifting one another in grace. Here, we are learning that true strength is found in vulnerability and that Christ’s love shines brightest when we walk side by side, offering compassion and support.

Ugandan culture has taught me the beauty of resilience and the strength in quiet dignity. But it’s also taught me that there’s a time to open up, to share, to let others help shoulder the load. Together, we are learning to carry each other’s burdens, one step, one day, one story at a time.

There is so much more to come, and I can’t wait to share it with you!

With Love Dana