By Elizabeth R.Auma K

As I stood by the roadside at Kalerwe Market one evening, I observed the power of human connection. In that moment, I learned a lesson no trade policy classroom could ever teach yet one that could make trade policy far more meaningful and effective.

A little girl, no more than three years old, was happily eating a biscuit. As she enjoyed it, another child passed by with her mother and sister. The second child noticed the biscuit and instinctively stretched out her small hand in silent request.

The girl holding the biscuit hesitated for a moment. The other child slowly walked on, looking back with the unmistakable look of someone who wished she had that biscuit in her mouth. Then something beautiful happened. The little girl with the biscuit ran after her and placed the biscuit in her hand. No “thank you” was spoken, yet gratitude filled the moment. Her mother, who herself looked tired and hungry, smiled warmly and thanked the young giver repeatedly.

Standing there, I was reminded that we do not always act selflessly because we know someone or out of obligation. Often, we act because the humanity within us responds to a need. Moments like this remind me why I am called to sit in places of responsibility and service, spaces such as trade policy. These positions may carry honor, but their deeper purpose is service. They exist so that decisions made in boardrooms and policy documents respond to the needs of people we may never meet.

Behind every policy decision are small traders crossing a border, the farmer seeking access to markets, the parent trying to provide for the children. Just like that little girl with the biscuit, the measure of what we hold, small or big is not in possessing it, but in recognizing when it should be shared.

I believe that we who are entrusted with policy formulation or implementation do not merely hold authority but the responsibility to ensure that the systems we design serve people selflessly, people beyond our immediate circles.