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.
Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists
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
The Proposition: For Love or Money, by Franklin Rhushenge
I was coming home from football training one brisk January evening when I met a tall, brown man with dreadlocks on his head. He was wearing a white shirt and a jacket. He spoke in a high voice, like a woman, but anyone could tell that he was only pretending because of the deep bass of his voice. He greeted me and introduced himself. He said that his name was Kelly, and that he was gay. Kelly was very open to me about the fact that he was a gay because he knew that I had already recognized him through his dressing and his voice. I also introduced myself, and after speaking for a while, I asked Kelly what made him become gay? Kelly laughed at me and told me that he was born this way. He said he didn’t think any person could change himself to become gay. I told Kelly that I know a lot of men, some of them my friends, who are now gay, but they were not before. A lot of men have become gay, specifically in Nakivale Refugee Settlement, because they heard that gay people were being supported and relocated to Sweden. Kelly listened to my story. Then he told me that despite my observations, there are people who are born with homosexual feelings. I listened to Kelly’s thoughts very carefully and I came to understand his perspective. Then I asked Kelly why he had called me and stopped me. He said this was not his first time seeing me. “I have been seeing you passing here and I have been really attracted to you and the way you behave,” he said. “You are a very polite boy,” he added. I asked him how long he had been watching me and learning that I’m a well behaved and polite boy. “I have known you for a long time,” he said, “I have been studying the way you are. And I realized that you are a polite boy.” I thanked him for the compliment and told him that I should go home. He said no, he had not finished. The reason why he had called me was that he wanted to be in a romantic relationship with me, he revealed. And if I agreed, he said, he would take charge of me. Then he showed me a bundle of money. As I looked at the bundle, my heart started having lust for the money, and I started hearing a voice in my heart telling me that I shouldn’t skip that money. But I heard another voice telling me that love doesn’t cost money. So I started fighting with the two voices in my heart and I eventually defeated the voice of lust. I told Kelly I was not ready to be in a romantic relationship with him and I went home running. When I reached home, I was very quiet. My mother asked, “Franklin why are you so quiet today? What is the problem?” I told her, “I don’t have any problem. I’m just wondering how I performed in the exam and our results are soon coming,” I lied. My mummy said, “are you not sure on how you performed?” “I’m very sure that I will pass, but I can’t miss the fear,” I told her. I did not tell my parents or my friends what happened to me because I feared if I told them they would force me to go and report Kelly to the police. I never wanted this. Kelly once told me that he lives alone and he doesn’t have relatives nearby. I thought if I reported him he would be imprisoned and have no one to take care of him. That is what made me have mercy upon Kelly. After three months, when I had forgotten about the incident, I saw Kelly on the way to the library. He called to me, “Franklin, come!” I approached him. “How are you Franklin? Long time. Where have you been? I have been really missing you.” “I’m just around bro, and I’m fine.” “I had been seeing you passing here every day, but since we last had a conversation, I no longer see you passing this way again,” he said. “That day we had a conversation,” I began to explain, “you proposed to me that you love me, and you said you would take charge of me if I agreed, and you showed me a bundle of money. I honestly don’t want to be in a romantic relationship with you, but if you kept on showing money I was afraid I would agree because of lust for the money. That is why I no longer pass this way, because I fear I will agree to what I don’t want.” “There is a proverb that says prevention is better than cure,” I told him. Kelly laughed at me and asked why I don’t want to be in a romantic relationship with him? I told him that I’m still a student and I’m first focusing on my studies, and I continued on my way to the library. I went to the library thinking that now Kelly will never persuade me again to be in a romantic relationship with him because I was very open to him about my feelings. The following day, early in the morning at 7:00 AM, when I was in a running marathon, I heard a voice calling me from behind.: “Franklin, Franklin.” I looked to see that it was Kelly calling me. I didn’t say anything. I kept on with my marathon. When I reached home I was very stressed and scared. I was asking myself what Kelly wanted from me. I avoided traveling the way I used to travel because of him. I was very clear that I didn’t want to be in a romantic relationship with him, but he didn’t stop following me. I felt scared and insecure because he didn’t listen to my request. I decided to
