Small Things are Beautiful.

I have been away for quite a long time, and on my second visit to South Sudan, I have seen things from a very different point of view.
And yet I have still learnt so many things on this journey, things that reminded me why I love journeys, in all their forms. Journeys are the only thing (well, maybe not only but THE) that takes you away from home, or to home, and along the way show you so many things that make you grow. We can all probably grow from watching things pass by us, but there is a certain dimension that journeys bring to the whole picture. Other than the physical act of going, journeys physically transform us and show us options we sometimes pretend not to see.
On this journey I met a man. A man I have heard about for such a long time, read about and longed to see. He founded the HOLY TRINITY PEACE VILLAGE, KURON, about which we were going to make a documentary.
The first time I visited this peace village, I came back sure that I wanted to do a documentary about it. I talked to the people concerned and finally, many months after we talked, they have made it possible for me to go back and do it. But this is not about that documentary, this about that man.
Some say he has done this work because he was a Bishop and Bishops are men of god, they always do good. But I grew up among men and women of god so I know different when I see it. There are many things that went wrong (not on the journey actually, the journey could never have been better) but about this whole process. Yet if there is one thing I won't forget is that man. He has done peace work, he participated in peace talks during the days of Garang and the SPLA and still does, he founded a peace village in the middle of the wilderness where a people that knew nothing other than themselves saw diversity lead its way to them...and yet he is the humblest person I have ever met.
I come from a family of bulls, and believe me I have seen people prove to be important. But the humility that clothed Bishop Paride Taban was overwhelming. Over the days we spent with him, I came to realise that sometimes a journey can be as simple as meeting someone different.
And now, as I face lots of people, sometimes close to me, sometimes just work colleagues, fighting to show how poweful and how big they are, I keep remembering the light, encouraging words of that BIshop. "It was a small thing... small things are beautiful. You are small too, and you are very beautiful". And I keep smiling, thinking, there is no need to worry about big things, even the smallest outcome will be fine. It will be beautiful.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When the dead help with fiction.

So most of March I was thinking about my grandmother Nyamwire, my dad's mom. Considering she's been dead for a long time, some of my uncles freaked out when I told them she was visiting me in my dreams. I was told to go and pray, blah, blah, blah. To which I replied that I'm trying to decolonise my mind and to stop listening to the demonising of everything traditionally African. Before colonialists arrived, I told them, our religion depended highly on contact with the dead. One of my uncles was so shocked by all this that he just changed the subject. But a cousin of mine was very intrigued and she told me to keep listening and see if maybe grandma had a message for us. A week later I went on a writing retreat in Lira and embarked on my first feature film. There is a character in the story who's the backbone of the protagonist and a symbol of love and protection. I was struggling so much with her back story because she's a Munyankore woman who lives in Buganda. I di
Read more

The Lovely Ghosts Of Bagamoyo

The Lovely Ghosts of Bagamoyo. By Patience Nitumwesiga The journey to Bagamoyo started with me missing my flight. So I walk onto the departures entrance and the clerk asks for my flight name. I give him my ticket. He takes one look at it and says “checking in for precision Air is closed”. I don’t believe him. For a brief second I think he’s joking. But you know how airports are. You miss your target and everyone moves on. Like it doesn’t matter that you’re trapped in one ‘time zone’ and they are rolling on with the globe. It’s like death. Just because one person somewhere has stopped breathing doesn’t mean the world will stop and mourn them. After a while, partly because the clerk has moved on to other people without hesitation or a care in the world about what I’m supposed to do, but also because enough time has passed for it to sink in, I move away. Through the glass, I can see the people I’m supposed to travel with still sorting their baggage but I’m unable to join them.
Read more

YOU AND I

YOU AND I. Let’s start by stopping and looking around:   There is no one watching. And even if they were, Let’s just let them watch And go on ahead. Let’s ask some questions, and give each other answers. Let’s clear our doubts, it’s only fair. Let’s not be afraid of talking and asking. We are yet so young, we need no wrinkles. We are frightened, some times, I guess, But let’s just break free Like rain from clouds. Let’s chat about our past, And dream about the future. Let’s tell each other stories, we’ve just began. Let’s not make the mistakes our forefathers made, Let’s not regret, we know what we want. Let’s not be fixed to the rules of the past, Let’s craft our own rules and break them if we like. Let’s dart to the square, when we hear the drum, Let’s drum ourselves when the drummer gets weary. And let’s dance to the drums when our hands get tired. Let’s grab a taxi away from town. Let’s stroll on the hushed path and feel the cool b
Read more