Chrinovic

Thank you for sharing this powerful story with us. Could you tell us about what inspired you to write it? I wrote this story because of the life we’ve been living in a bad condition. My family couldn’t afford our basic needs in the big City of Goma where I was raised. When you’re not able to afford basic living you can be misled or end up in the street with your whole family. At a young age I was inspired to share these experiences one day. I thought coming to Uganda was going to solve my struggles but realised the opposite was true when my struggles multiplied. What messages do you hope your readers will take away from your story? I want my readers to learn the way to live in community with people. I also want my readers to think about how to walk and protect yourself from dangerous crews and incidents. I want young people especially to learn from my story and think about how difficult it can be to live in poverty but the most important thing is to be thankful with what we get. 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 for me is like a conversation between two people where one is explaining to the other what he saw happening and what can inspire a positive change to him. Storis allow us to reflect on things that happened and how past days have included both joyous and terrible incidents. Did your story change over the course of your participation in the storytelling workshops? How? Yes, I changed my story to make it more powerful and I had to make some adjustments to give it more sense in the English language. 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 is all about me and my family. I hope my story helps people to learn to accept and live with their families even through difficult times.

When I was twelve years old, in 2017, my family and I fled from Democratic Republic of Congo due to food insecurity. We came to Nakivale Refugee Settlement in Uganda to start a new life. Every night, once we had arrived in Nakivale, my older sister Arcange, my younger brother Chrisalem, my younger sister Reiyone and I would sleep together in the living room on a mat, covering ourselves with one blanket. Our parents would sleep in the bedroom. Life seemed like a movie to me at that time. We ate food that was barely enough, and we would all cry as we ate. There was no joy in our hearts. After finishing our meal, Arcange would wash the plates, then we would sit silently in the living room like we were under a spell. No words. No laughter. One night, I got tired of sitting inside and went outside to get some fresh air. Filled with deep sadness I sat outside for two hours, lost in thought. When I returned, we all sat in the living room again, silently. No words, no laughter – just staring at each other. Another evening, my father decided to show us a video. It was a Tanzanian comedy and we tried to watch it. When I saw the food that my mother prepared and brought into the living room, my heart ached – it was ugali, which is boiled maize flour, and sardines – food I despised. I had no choice but to eat it. After finishing, once the plates were cleared, we sat there again. My father asked me that night why I couldn’t endure and be strong. I remained silent. I couldn’t sleep because I was filled with anger. In the middle of the night, I heard a voice calling my name, “Chrinovic, Chrinovic, Chrinovic.” I was startled awake to find my father, he was asking me to wake up and wake my younger siblings as well. He told us to get ready to go to the office again. (We went to the office every day in order to try to obtain our papers that would allow us our freedom.) We all got ready. I fetched water and went to the bathroom to bathe, and my younger siblings bathed in different areas. After finishing, we all set out, taking with us a man named Papa Sami, who was to guide us to the office. We walked along New Congo Road until we reached a soccer field and crossed it to get to the office where we were supposed to receive our papers. We waited from morning until evening, but nothing happened. The offices closed, and we left, hungry, taking the same road back home. We dropped Papa Sami off at his house, where he encouraged us not to give up and to come back the next day. We thanked him and walked home, exhausted. When we got home, my mother told me to start preparing the food. I was so frustrated, but I did it anyway. I tried to light the fire, but it wouldn’t start, so I had to find some dry grass. When it finally lit, I started cooking maize flour while my mother prepared the vegetables. The younger children were in the living room, either sitting or lying down, but no one was asleep. The food was ready, and we started eating together. After eating, my sister, Arcange, cleared the plates and we started talking about what we had seen at the office. We laughed and talked for a while in the living room. Eventually, we got sleepy and went to bed, not realizing that soon our lives would change. We would feel joy again. * Later that night, at 4:54 am, I heard my mother crying. I didn’t get up. I listened as she continued crying in pain. My father took her outside. They went to Mama Pastor’s house. Later, they went to the hospital and I stayed behind with my younger siblings. I remained awake until morning. At 7:30 am, my younger siblings woke up. Reiyone, still very young, went into the room and didn’t find my parents. They asked me where our father and mother were, and I replied that I didn’t know. My other siblings started asking where our father was too, but I didn’t know what to tell them. I told them that our mother had gone to wash clothes, and they all cheered up. I started doing the house chores, sweeping and washing the dishes, trying to keep my mind and my hands busy. Soon, my father came back. He looked happy. We asked him where our mother was, and he told us she was on her way. He then called me aside and told me that our mother had given birth to a baby girl. Her name was to be Angel. He gave me some money and asked me to go to the market to buy food because people would be visiting. I went to the market and bought goat meat, beans, rice, flour, charcoal, and cooking oil, and then returned home. When I got home, I found many people there, including Mama Pastor. I gave the food I had bought to one of the women to start cooking, and I stayed outside, feeling emotional and reflecting on the fact that since we arrived in Nakivale, I had never had a proper meal – this was to be my first time eating a good meal! I had the birth of my baby sister to thank for it. * After five years of suffering, soon after Angel’s birth, we moved into our own home. It was large, it was better than the first one. It was also time for me to start working, but I didn’t know what to do. While sitting in my room, my friend, Innocent, came over and asked how I was doing. I told him I was okay, but he insisted that I didn’t seem okay. I