Rebel in a Bubble

I WOULD LIKE TO WALK NAKED. On my recent visit to Kuron, in South Sudan, I found myself thinking how nice it would be if I walked naked? The people we visited are the Toposa, a very neglected tribe in   the south east of South Sudan. They are a sister tribe to the Karamojongs of Uganda and the Turkana of Kenya. They are quite a big group scattered all over East Africa, from Uganda to Ethiopia. Apart from being pastoralists, they are often known for not wearing so much. They are usually adorned in multicoloured beads and wrappers that they either wrap around their lower half or tie across one shoulder. Many sub tribes of this ethnic group in many countries have adopted the culture of clothes, even though they are usually the last ones in each country to shade off the traditional dress code of their ancestors. The Toposa of South Sudan however, have not yet fully embraced this stage of evolution. The very first people to wear modern clothes are the school girls and boys at t...

Feeling like a fool. So recently I make my way into the police station, to report a case. There were several officers in argument about I don’t remember what, and one of them offered me a seat. And to him I poured my unsettled heart, and he listened quite intently, and later called his colleagues to attention. “So this lady here,” he starts, in Luganda, I don’t know whether he thought I didn’t understand Luganda but it didn’t matter later because when I intercepted later in Luganda as well he still continued. “This lady here is reporting a case about someone that’s calling her.” “Does he threaten you?” asks one of them. “No, but-” I try to explain again. “He tells her sweet things. He vibes her” the officer I talked to comes in, smiling a little and the rest of the male officers look at me. “But lady,” one of them says, “women are meant to be courted. He is courting you”. I am thinking, Jesus Christ! “Yeah,” another one says. “Maybe he liked your eyes. You have beaut...

Let me break free let me bend the tree and see if it hurts to treat those hearts like little balls bouncing off walls falling down the drain or should I refrain??? perhaps it's true they have no clue no hearts in their chests all there is to the test is a struggle to be known in the end to be blown never to find any equal to their kind

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 tal...

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...