Rebel in a Bubble

Riding Bodas in ‘outside countries’ Recently when a friend of mine learnt that I was spending a night in Juba waiting for my connecting flight, he said we cannot fail to meet, for it is unforgivable to not meet fellow Ugandans when one is in ‘outside countries’. I laughed so hard but somehow I actually knew exactly what he meant. There is something so special about meeting a human piece of home when one is away, even if it is as close by as south Sudan. This reminded me of a boy I met on that fateful journey. Angel and I had decided to just sit and watch people as we waited for the police to check our bus and it was taking longer than we had anticipated. Then we met him, and he told us his name was Robert Ndahura. He looked reserved, but when he greeted me and stood next to me, I thought he was rather interesting. Angel and I later sat next to him when we moved closer to the bus, hoping they would notice how impatient we had grown and finish whatever was delaying the set off...

THE GIRL WITH THE TWO BABIES I have heard of stories about immigration. I have seen touching stories about Mexican “illegal immigrants” in the US on Aljazeera. Those painful moments when a family is thrown away as if they were only stones, not even worthy enough to be pebbles, causing no stir in the water at all, in the big sea of this federation of continents. Many times I found myself thinking they were only stories. And when something is a story, no matter how real it is, it is not part of our reality. Even if it is presented in 3d. People find a way of removing their 3d glasses when the images are getting too close. We keep our illusion intact, that it’s just a story. But somehow that day, all those shields came tumbling down and there I was, in the moment, in the story, witnessing challenges of immigration. There was this woman on the bus. Many people had developed a kind of dislike for her by the time we reached the border because she got out of the bus every time it s...