One evening, my family and I were having a family meeting and discussing my studies. We discussed the idea of registering me for a new school and I was happy to hear that. I hated my current school. My best friend Ganitha, a fellow student at my current school, disappointed me very much. I trusted her to the extent of sharing my deepest secrets with her. Then she began giving those secrets away and spreading lies about me. She made the whole class, and even my teachers, take me as a bad girl. Let me tell you what happened. It was a Monday afternoon a few months before our family meeting, when everyone went home from school. I went home to bathe, then I went to bed and slept. That same evening, Ganitha told her mother she wanted to come to my house, and her mother gave her permission. Instead of coming to our place though, she went to her boyfriend’s house. She went back home at 7pm and did the same thing for three more days in a row. On the fourth day, Ganitha’s mum came to our house. She found my father in the saloon and asked him where her daughter was. My daddy responded that his daughter was sleeping, and he hadn’t seen her daughter that evening. My father said that maybe her daughter came here when I was sleeping. They woke me up and called me to ask if I had seen my friend. I told Ganitha’s mother that I had not seen her daughter. And then she left, as that was the only question she wanted to ask me. On her way home, Ganitha’s mum found her daughter and asked her where she had been all of that time? Ganitha lied and responded that she came from our place. Her mother said, let us go and ask together. Moments later, we heard a hard knock on the door. I answered and Ganitha’s mum asked me again if Ganitha had been there. I said no, and her mum thanked me and told me not to be her friend again if I want to be a good girl. Then her mum started beating Ganitha. Then the next day at school, I greeted my friend, but she didn’t respond. I asked Ganitha why she wouldn’t speak to me. She told me, do not speak to me again, I am no longer your friend. I asked her why and she said it was because I had betrayed her yesterday. But how, I asked. Ganitha said, “you should have said that I was there.” I told her I couldn’t lie even though she is my friend. I said that I am not perfect, but I can’t lie to someone older than me like my own mother. Ganitha said, “if you can’t lie, then don’t be my friend again.” I told her okay, no matter . After that, Ganitha started spreading lies about me. She said I’m a bad girl. She said that I became pregnant and had an abortion. I had one friend who was loyal to me and came to tell me all about what Ganitha was saying about me. I thanked her for the information. When I saw Ganitha again at school, I approached her. I said we are all girls, why are you spreading lies about me. She didn’t respond. When I reached home, I told my dad that I wanted to change schools. When he asked me why, I responded by saying because of Ganitha and what she is saying about me. He told me to first finish the year, then he would change me to another school. I said “Thank you Daddy.” And he answered, “You are welcome, my only daughter.” When I started my new school, I tried not to be excited about friends and to focus on my studies instead. I was too worried about what happened before happening to me again. But then I was seated next to a girl who surprised me in a good way. She showed me that she had good behavior and she told me that not all friends are bad. She used to come and sit with me when it was break time and started talking to me, telling me stories and asking me many questions, like what do you like, where do you live, and how old are you. So I told her where our house was located, my age, and that I love dressing hair and singing. I found out her name was, Shalotte, and she liked singing and she enjoyed our conversation. One day, on the weekend when I was home sitting in the saloon watching TV, I heard a hard knock on the door. I went to see what it was and I found it was Shalotte. I welcomed her inside the house and we started watching TV together and discussing our studies. When she said she was going home, I told her I would escort her. As we were leaving, I found her head was too dirty. I asked her, why is your head like that while I’m here? I said, let me first dress your hair before you go and she agreed. After she went home, everyone was asking her, who dressed your hair? She responded by saying my best friend, and she can do yours too! Many people said yes to this so she brought me new customers. One day I asked Shalotte, “Where do you go to pray and worship God?” She said no where, and just like that I invited her to our church. She agreed to come the following Sunday. That Sunday, Shalotte did not come by herself, but with all of her elders and youngs. She said she loved our church and came the next Sunday and the one after that. Then she decided she wanted to start singing with us at church. I took her to practice and she started singing with us. Now
refugee
A Little Girl in the Village, by Rukia
Amina lived with her mother, Mrs. Bimbo, in a small village surrounded by lush green forest and winding rivers. Mrs. Bimbo was a kind and gentle soul, loved by all in the village for her warmth and generosity. Amina and Mrs. Bimbo shared a special bond and their days were filled with laughter and adventure. They would spend hours exploring the forest, collecting herbs and berries, and helping their neighbours with their daily chores, all the while dreaming of a garden of their own. One day, a very wealthy man named Mr. Peter moved from the city of Kisangani in Democratic Republic of Congo, to Amina and her mother’s village. One Monday morning, when all of the other children were in school, Mr. Peter saw Amina fetching water from a nearby stream. Wasn’t she supposed to be in school, Mr. Peter thought to himself. But he did not say anything. On Tuesday, when all the students were supposed to be in school, Amina was once again at home doing chores. “Hello little girl, how are you?” asked Mr Peter. “I am fine sir,” Amina responded with surprise. Amina was not comfortable talking to strangers and she stepped backward, almost making her way indoors. Mr. Peter said, “Wait, l don’t bite. I am just here to have a word with you.” Amina smiled nervously. “Why are you not in school?” Mr. Peter asked. “My parents did not have money to put me in school, sir.” Mr. Peter shook his head and asked where Amina’s parents were, and if they were inside the house. Just then, Mrs. Bimbo came out of the house and greeted Mr. Peter. “I heard you do not have money to put this young girl in school,” Mr. Peter said, “I am here to help.” He continued, “Can you please allow her to follow me to the city where I will take full responsibility for her education?” The truth was that Mrs. Bimbo was struggling to make ends meet. Amina’s father had passed away when she was just a baby and Mrs. Bimbo worked tirelessly to provide for her daughter’s needs. Despite her efforts, the two of them often went to bed with empty stomachs. Mrs. Bimbo requested of Mr. Peter, “Sir, why not give her the education here in this village, sir? She is my only hope and I would not want her to be far away from me. I don’t want anything to happen to her.” Mr. Peter promised, “Don’t worry, I give you my word she will be fine.” Mrs. Bimbo agreed and, after two days, Mr. Peter and Amina made their way to Lagos, the biggest city in Nigeria. They arrived at noon and Amina was very happy when she got to Mr. Peter’s beautiful house where his wife, Madam Sophia, was waiting. “Who are you?” Madam Sophia asked with an accusatory look. “Good evening, madam,” Amina said. “And what is good about the evening?” Madam Sophia retorted sharply. Immediately, Mr. Peter stepped in. “That is Amina, the little girl whom I was telling you about over the phone while I was in the village.” “Yes, what about her? Did you tell me you would bring her with you? What is she doing here?” Madam Sophia asked with anger. Mr. Peter explained that he offered to help Amina and provide her with an education because her family was in need, and she and her mother was always kind and generous. The next day, Amina woke up to see a pile of dirty clothes. “Go and wash those clothes in the basket!” Madame Sophia demanded. The demands did not stop. Amina was not fine, but she was determined to manage the situation so that she could finish her education. Eventually, Amina paid off her school fees and was able to return home. She returned to a surprise. Mr Peter had bought a garden plot surrounded by lush green forest for Amina and her mother. They were able to expand their garden, hire helpers and start a small workshop to produce jam, sauces and spices. Mrs. Bimbo was overjoyed to see her daughter’s dream to be an agricultural entrepreneur taking shape. She had always known Amina was special, but now the whole world was recognizing her talent and hard work. Two years later, a representative from a prestigious agricultural university visited their garden. He was impressed by Amina’s innovative techniques, sustainable practices, and high-quality products. He offered Amina a full scholarship to study agricultural science, which she happily accepted. With Mr. Peter’s help and her own determination, Amina changed her family’s life from nothing to something. She never forgot his kindness. This story was peer reviewed by: Iago Macknik-Conde
My Hustle, by Rebecca Radjabu Resca
My story starts when my parents, my sisters and I decided to move from the Democratic Republic of Congo in the province of Kisangani, to Uganda. We found ourselves in Nakivale refugee camp due to wars in our country. After having lived in Nakivale for three years, when I was thirteen years old, a thief came to our house to steal our property. The thieves entered the house through the window of our parents’ bedroom. As they went to leave, after they my dad heard them and said “hey you guys!” When they heard him, they decided to make Dad quiet by hitting him on the head with a big piece of tree. The thieves were caught by scouts who were in place to protect the neighborhood, and then taken to the police station to be punished by the law. My dad was taken to the hospital. I sat under the tree in our compound crying. I wondered how I was going to get school fees for myself if my father didn’t recover quickly. While I was crying under the tree, my two younger sisters, Esther and Plamedie, came to me and said “sister be strong, our dad is gonna be fine.” I responded, “my sisters, who is gonna feed us and pay for our school fees if our father doesn’t recover quickly? Yes they supply us food, but it doesn’t mean that we will everyday live with posho and beans. Our bodies need a balanced diet.” After going to school without paying my school fees, the teacher chased me while my dad was still ill in the hospital. I decided to leave school and started to steal from others in order to get a small amount of cash for domestic use. One day on my way to church, I met with a girl dressed in a yellow dress. “Hello,” said the girl. “Hi, how are you doing today?” I replied and continued on my way. She called after me, “Sorry sister, do you remember me,” she said. I told her I did not. She then said, “I am Mary Ngongo Djuma, your best friend from Kisangani, whom you were studying with.” Hoof! I heavenly breathed and directly hugged her tightly, not willing to leave her again. Because I was rushing to church, we decided to leave each other for that time and agreed to meet after church service. When I found her again, we talked a lot and reminded each other about our lives in the DRC. “Do you still remember teacher Marcel?” asked Mary. “Yes, why not,” I responded. “That is the teacher who made me cry in school that I will never forget in my life.” “What happened again?” Mary asked. “I’m not recalling what he did to you.” “Oh my goodness! Really, Mary? I see that your memory is not good!” I laughed. “He refused me to move to go to the toilet” I reminded Mary. “Then Marcel said, ‘Rebecca can you stand,’ and I said no through my building tears as the rest of the class looked at me with laughter in their eyes. “Oh I had completely forgotten about that funny moment,” Mary said. “I am so sorry Rebecca!” She continued, “I also laughed at you that day, but it was only for fun.” I could laugh about it too as I reminisced with Mary. We talked for a while longer about our previous lives in DRC and we agreed to meet again soon. After this day, Mary and I met regularly, and became close friends again. During this time, my dad finally recovered and continued with his work. One day, about six months later, my younger brother, Messiah, the third born, came to me and said “sister, dad said that you got a chance to be paid school fees at a private school in Mbarara town!” I replied, “You fool stray cat! Can you stop dreaming about that?” While I scolded my brother about his silly ideas, I saw my dad and mum coming happily down the path. They exclaimed, “Congratulations our dear! You and your friend Mary Ngongo Djuma have a high chance of being paid school fees in Mbarara town!” I couldn’t believe my brother was right! I never waited for my parents to finish explaining. I rushed to Mary’s home so that we could enjoy that moment happily together. After one week, we packed to leave Nakivale refugee settlement and go to Mbarara town. My mother and my siblings were crying for me to leave them. Since we were all born we had never stayed far away from each other. Mary and I reached Mbarara town, and started schooling after resting for about a week. Mary and I enjoyed school together in Mbarara town. We loved the environment and the town and our studies were going well. After studying there for two years, I had a very serious accident on a motorcycle. Due to going and returning everyday because of a health condition, I was required to be a day scholar. I used to suffer from asthma so the school administration decided to pay for me to take a bodaboda for coming and returning to support my body condition. After my accident, when my parents were informed, my mum was almost dying because of her love for me. Mary was also in shock seeing her friend in that condition. My mother and father came to Mbarara and found me on an oxygen supplier to keep me alive. After three weeks, I recovered and started schooling again. After two weeks back at school, the president of the Republic of Uganda, Yoweri Kaguta Museveni, announced that we were all in lock down due to COVID-19. We all were told to return to our homes. One day when I was sitting home, Mary came and told me, “My dear I have a place where we can try to sell a few things so we can be able to afford something of our
