Thank you for sharing this powerful story with us. Could you tell us about what inspired you to write it? The title of my story is, “Safe Passages.” The reason I chose to write this story is because, although I added some parts, it is based on how I experienced challenges during the entrance in Nakivale camp, and how my arrival in Uganda was a solution to many of my family’s problems. What messages do you hope your readers will take away from your story? I would like readers to learn from my story about how war can destroy people’s lives through the loss of people’s properties and livelihoods. My story is not a fiction but the real life of what children like me are experiencing in these war torn countries. And I want my readers to understand how hard it is and to feel that they are advocating for peace across the globe so that no more children can endure these circumstances anymore. What, from your perspective, is the point of storytelling? Why do we tell stories, what do they do for us, and what purpose do they serve? The point of storytelling to me is, I gain new knowledge from it. Sometimes we tell stories to have fun, and sometimes we tell stories because we believe that there is a lesson in stories we tell that people can gain from them. Some stories make us enjoy and others make us remember the hard times we have experienced. Then they give us some hope. Did your story change over the course of your participation in the storytelling workshops? How? Yes, because it opens the thinking capacity of my brain and it makes me enjoy sharing my story. I changed my story by selecting words that can be globally understood and revised passages to make them strong and touching. How does your story offer an alternative path, point of view, or way forward? How does it speak to the possibility of an otherwise? It speaks about the challenge I experienced with me and my family, and how Nakivale camp of Uganda brought us a hope for living when we stepped foot in it. My story also offers perspective on how wars are affecting all aspects of childrens’ lives from education to social life and even their safety to go on living.
Safe Passages, by John Fadhili
It was a bright morning. I was lying in bed in a room built of uncooked bricks. Nothing but a plastic sheet for protection. My mother, my little brother and my sister still heavy with sleep in the rooms beside mine when my dad’s frantic voice pierced through my dream, “Pack all your bags!” he yelled. “We must go!” I couldn’t imagine what could make dad scream like that. I leapt out of bed and went outside in the compound to see what was taking place. Shocked, I looked upon a sea of bodies. The space was quiet, lifeless. People had already fled. I moved nearer the dead bodies, and saw familiar faces. One was a boy I studied with from nursery school, up to grade four of primary school. I remembered carefree days playing football and sharing lunch with this boy, whose body now lay limp on the ground. I was terrified to see someone dead from gunshots. I was scared to see children orphaned, women and men widowed, most of the village properties destroyed. I first became aware of the war between M23 and the government of Democratic Republic of Congo when I was only nine years old, but I never thought it would hit so close to my own home. We were forced to make a decision to flee the country we had invested our lives in, since the war was still taking place and had no sign of stopping. I went to my bedroom to pack all my necessary things. Tears flowed down my cheeks, soaking the collar of my shirt, my heart sick with sadness as I spotted a toy car given to me as a gift for my first birthday by Peter, another friend who was now dead. We gathered outside once everyone had finished packing their things. Still morning, my family and I took a hidden route. We did not know our destination. We had no choice but to leave for the fear of being killed in the violent attack. Although we didn’t know where we were going, we knew we had to keep moving forward together. We walked all day and night. We shared what little food we had, along with stories of our past and hopes for our future, as we navigated unfamiliar forests. After walking for hours, we met some people on our way who were bushmen. We tried to communicate with them, hoping they might help us. But they did not understand what we were telling them because they didn’t know the language we were using. Realizing there was no time to improve our communication, we humbly continued on our way. We walked all day without stopping. When it was evening, we all decided to have a rest for the night before continuing our journey early the next morning. We slept in a terrible condition. We had no blankets or bedding, and my mind was racing, haunted by the images I’d encountered mere hours earlier. The next morning, we woke up and thanked God for waking us although we slept in a bad condition. My father told us to remain in one group as he was going to go ahead to scout the way. Surprisingly, he came back running, calling to us in a loud voice that there was a lorry picking up people to take them to Nakivale Refugee Camp. We rushed toward the lorry and arrived in time to board. I stepped foot in Nakivale among the maize and banana plantations in the inky dark of a cold, still night. I still live there with my family today. I am grateful. Safe passages persisted. An awful day survived, in my now distant home. This story was peer reviewed by: Liam Hancock
Interview with Franklin
Thank you for sharing this powerful story with us. Could you tell us about what inspired you to write it? I chose this topic because this is something that has happened to me in my life and I know that it happens to other people too. Someone proposed to me that he loves me and I didn’t feel the same. He showed me money so that I would have lust for it and agree to have a romantic relationship with him. Through that experience, I decided to write this story to advise people, especially young men and women, that lust shouldn’t guide you to do something that you don’t like or to do something that doesn’t come from the bottom of your heart. Whenever you do something because of lust, not because you like it, know that there is a negative consequence. I hope people will benefit from hearing this story. What messages do you hope your readers will take away from your story? I hope my readers will learn how to say no to things they don’t want, resist bad influences and make choices that are good for them so they won’t regret their decisions later in life. What, from your perspective, is the point of storytelling? Why do we tell stories, what do they do for us, and what purpose do they serve? Storytelling helps us to share, connect and learn from each other over experiences, ideas and events through spoken word or written text. Stories also inspire, teach, heal and bring people together, making our experiences more meaningful and relatable. Storytelling helps connect with others and feel less alone. Did your story change over the course of your participation in the storytelling workshops? How? Over the workshops, my story changed a lot. At first it was a basic and emotional account of what happened. But through the workshops I learned to add more details that made my story more interesting. I learned to tell my story more clearly and to describe things so that the reader could picture them. I became more confident in sharing my personal story. I’m proud of how my story turned out. How does your story offer an alternative path, point of view, or way forward? How does it speak to the possibility of an otherwise? My story shares a powerful lesson that saying no to what is wrong can mean saying yes to a brighter future. It shows that you don’t have to give in to temptation or pressure, even when money is involved. Most importantly, it highlights that love shouldn’t be tied to money, and that making choices that align with your values is crucial. My hope is that readers will be inspired to think carefully about the choices they make.
