Costa Kiggundu came to mind when I read the Star Tribune's Aug. 28 editorial ("Shut down the Clinton Foundation").
She is a woman I interviewed in 2008 in a gritty slum of Kampala, Uganda. As I always do when people in other countries grant interviews, I began our meeting by saying: "I plan to ask you many questions, so it's only fair for you to do the same. Is there anything you would like to ask me?"
Over the years, no interviewee has turned down that offer. Do I have children? Do I like their country? What is my favorite food? How old am I?
Kiggundu sat silent, then posed a more serious question, one that was urgent for her and millions of others around the world: "What will happen if you stop sending the drugs?"
By "you," she meant Americans operating through government programs and private charities and foundations.
By "the drugs," she meant the HIV treatments that were keeping her alive — as well as the malaria treatments that were helping a little girl down the rutted dirt road from Kiggundu's home. By inference, she also meant therapies that were protecting others in Uganda and beyond from the ravages of various diseases.
I had no ready answer for Kiggundu, because I knew her fears were justified. So very much of the humanitarian work Americans do around the world depends on dubious political realities back home, shifting foundation priorities and cycles of trendy causes.
Yet so many millions of people around the world are staking their lives on that shaky ground.