I woke up in the beautiful morning. I thanked God and took shower then got dressed to go to the market. I saw a family. In that family there were two sisters who were teaching their mother. Their mother never had a chance to go to school which means that she could only speak their local language She wanted to learn how to read and write. She asked them kindly to teach her and they accepted. But they never thought that one day they could teach their mother. They were surprised the way their mother believed in them. Then they started to teach their mother from the alphabet like A,B,C… Mother say A , Mother say B. Their mother could repeat and although sometimes the mother could fail she never gave up. She kept on repeating because she knew that one day she would know how to read and write. And the two sisters were young and were teaching their mother with respect and kindness, no matter how many times the mother failed they never bothered her, even when their mother couldn’t understand easily what they were teaching, the two sisters knew that failure is never final. To fail and to succeed are all part of a human life. Their mother believed in them that through her children she would know how to read and write.
refugee
Deep Observation, by Iragi
Here I am; standing in the middle of our beautiful market called New Congo. Business is running smoothly where people are selling and others are buying. There is much noise because it is Friday. The funny thing about our market is that you can’t have way to pass; so you need to create your own way when you need to go somewhere. Here we see locals, refugees and even others who are neither of the two coming for business. Here you can get whatever you need to buy but only if it is Friday. Here I am seated near a shop in the middle of New Congo market. With my good peace of watermelon eating and enjoying as my sister is bargaining with the seller. I love coming to the market because during the covid time we couldn’t be allowed to come and buy anything. I love our market.
Deep Observation, by Gedeon
In Nakivale, between basecamp and Kitiaza, nestled between rolling hills and verdant fields, there lies a water point that serves as the lifeline for the women of this tight-knit community. A weathered stone well, encircled by a ring of smooth-worn earth, stands at the heart of the village. Its edges bear the imprints of countless feet, a testament to the ceaseless pilgrimage of women who gather here, carrying not just empty containers, but hopes, dreams, and the sustenance of their families Each morning, as the first light of dawn gently kisses the horizon, a procession of women emerges from the thatched-roofed huts, their laughter and camaraderie woven into the fabric of this ritual. They come armed with jugs, pails, and buckets, each vessel a testament to the unique story. It carries a legacy of generations who have drawn from this same source. As the women gather around the well, a sense of unity pervades the scene. Conversations ripple through the group, an exchange of stories, advice, and laughter that binds them in a sisterhood forged by the shared purpose of securing water for their families. With practiced hands, they lower their containers, the creak of the pulley system harmonizing with their soft chatter. The water, cool and clear, gushes forth, filling each vessel with life-giving sustenance. Drops cascade, creating a symphony of liquid music that resonates with the women’s laughter and chatter. It is a melody of resilience, a harmonious tribute to their unwavering dedication. Yet, beneath the surface, there lies an unspoken understanding. These women bear not only the weight of their containers but also the aspirations of their families. They are the keepers of this essential resource, its guardians and stewards. With each trip to the well, they fortify the foundation upon which their community thrives. As the sun ascends higher in the sky, the women depart, laden with their precious cargo. Their steps are sure, their burdens carried with grace and purpose. They return to their homes, where the water will quench the thirst of loved ones, nourish the crops, and weave itself into the fabric of daily life. In this water point, I witnessed not only a source of sustenance but a reservoir of strength, unity, and unwavering determination. It is a place where women come not only to fetch water but to replenish the very essence of their community’s existence. This unassuming well is a testament to the indomitable spirit of these women, whose footsteps echo with a legacy of resilience, and whose hands hold the promise of a better tomorrow.
