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On The Road

A few months a go I got a new job. My job involves a lot of driving, we cover a good amount of Southern California, so far I’ve worked in San Diego County, Orange County, Riverside County, San Bernardino County, Los Angeles County and Ventura County. Each of these counties consists of dozens upon dozens of cities, you would be surprised where some are located. I got scheduled to go to Lake Arrowhead, I had never been to that area, so I didn’t really know what to expect.

My phone was dying so I took and exit in San Bernardino and went to a gas station. I needed a new charging port and cable. I set the GPS and got back on the road. After a few minutes on the highway I saw a sign that says welcome to the San Bernardino National Forest. In my head a little discomfort hits me, the earthquake had just hit the day before and it’s summer high fire advisory is on. I started getting really worried because the GPS was telling me I still had about an hour to go more.

I kept going. the elevations kept rising. The higher I got my legs began shaking, seeing the windy roads and other drivers zooming passed at extreme speeds – increased the shaking. In my mind I continued wondering, what would happen if I got stuck in this place. All those Hollywood films San Andreas and 2012. My mind started playing games on me. I pulled over to take a breath and stretch my legs.

A little breather, gave me perspective on elevation but my mind kept playing games on me, mentally I’m cursing out my dispatcher, “why the hell would she send me out in theses areas, does she know black people don’t go out in the woods.” I started paying attention to the people in the cars passing me, I didn’t see a single black person. then a truck passes with a huge TRUMP flag on the back of it, and I’m like “oh man, not this part of town.”

The roads kept getting windier as I got closer to the job site, I really felt uncomfortable, finally I reached the job site and saw my truck was at 25%, luckily I had a gas can with about a gallon in it. I took it right away and poured it into the tank. The customer wasn’t home so I had to do the job at my own discretion. I started out by rushing so I can get out of there then at some point I just paced myself and became a bit relaxed, I continued working calmly, until a truck passed by and everyone in the truck was staring at me with that what are you doing HERE look, the discomfort returned. I rushed to get out of there.

On the way down, I remembered a gas station I had seen on the way up. I made sure I didn’t miss it. I stopped to fill up and actually took a deep breathe again and I actually laughed at myself. I realized I had been caught up in a mental game all day and I didn’t even realize all the beauty around me. The amazing views from being in such a place. On the way back down I actually took my time, I made a few stops to just admire the scenery and take in the fresh mountain air.

When I got to the bottom, I told myself I have got to go back to this place and actually enjoy it, maybe go with friends and do a photo/video shoot, it’s an amazing place. My job is tiring and time consuming but the absolute best thing about it, is that it’s gotten me to see many hidden gems of Southern California and Lake Arrowhead is surely one of them.

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Uncategorized

Take a break

Someone once said “taking a break is necessary to help re-engage your perceptions,” in this fast-paced modern society a break is something that’s regularly ignored, misused and misunderstood, because a majority of us are doing what we have to do to get by, not really because we like it. At the beginning of this year I started a morning, daily and weekly routine. I would wake up every morning and go for a run, I started out with a few laps then increased until I was doing double the amount I started with. I would also write every morning about my daily experiences and to top it off I would publish a blog every Tuesday. I did it for about a month. Eventually it got to me.

The morning run routines were making me feel healthier and in great shape but after work my body would be so tired and just ready to shutdown I would shower, eat and go straight to bed. I was going to bed by 9:00/10:00pm and be up as early as 4:45-5:45am depending on where I’m working. At some point my body would just not want to get up. I would stare at the time on the alarm and just lay there I wasn’t as determined anymore, work was killing me.

Eventually I had to figure out an escape from the mundane, my escape became a usual trip to pick up material from the local hardware store. The most amazing thing about these places is that they have so much variety of materials to steal your imagination and make you forget about all the stresses of the day. Even if I’m not dealing with plants I always make it to these sections to just ease my mind with the aromas and atmosphere of the plants and flowers, the garden section can have you thinking you are somewhere out there, in nature.

I just couldn’t do it anymore I had to take a break from work. I’m thirty now, I’ve given a couple of years to working and not seeing much difference in my life, this is the time I need to take a break from the world I need to remember to live my purpose. Being away from work, Has helped me start focusing on my work, I feel like I’m beginning to regain myself back, I haven’t yet started running but I started walking about 1-2miles a day, and working on some writing ideas, which I hope to continue doing. This is my first blog in a couple of months. It feels great to be back!

Categories
Africa Travel

A Matter of Time

On the eve of my 30th birthday. I was in Nairobi, Kenya trying to stay warm. It was August and Southern California was in it’s hottest temperatures but Nairobi for some reason even a blanket wasn’t enough, felt more like an inland empire winter (normal temperatures outside, but very cold indoors). I had plans to meet with some friends that day in Nairobi town but it became too challenging due to the cold and the distance, so we decide to put the meeting on hold. My siblings and I were in preparation for a trip we had been talking about since 2017. We were headed for the coast.

A few days back while at Bidibidi Refugee camp in Northern Uganda, our sister called from Nairobi and told us that she would be booking the train tickets. We found that morning the train was all booked. After a heavy breakfast, my brother and I headed for downtown Nairobi to try and book bus tickets. We had no idea how busy the trip to the coast was. After going to two bus stations and finding out that they were sold out, we started kind of worrying, seemed like possibilities for going to the coast was thinning. As we walked out of the last booking station, a man working there decides to walk us to another bus station, he told us the wait for buses were about two days for most places but this other station although it wasn’t as fancy as the other ones he guaranteed us that at least here we would be able to get the tickets, and sure enough, he was right. We got the tickets.

Nairobi, unlike Kampala, is a fast city. Here people like to walk and they walk fast. If you don’t know the City you can get lost easily. Navigating our way back to the matatu I saw a man get hit by a taxi although it wasn’t life threatening, it was still an accident which the taxi driver didn’t even acknowledge, he just drove off as the man yells and bangs on the taxi. We made it back to our sister’s place and rested for sometime before it was time to get on the road. Roughly around 6pm we boarded the matatu and headed back to town. We got to the station and had to wait for awhile, there was an old bus parked in front of the station. My sisters were depressed, did we get the budget bus? Then a cleaner looking bus pulled up and another group boarded. I can only imagine what was going on in my older sister’s head ‘we going to the coast in that? this raggedy looking bus, is it even a bus, looks like a tank.’ Finally, our bus showed up and everybody sighed with a gentle smile, at least this one.

*matatu – a minibus, local public transport*

My brother and I had the front seats, on the left side of the driver. That night midnight I turned 30 on the bus. I remember my siblings wishing me a happy birthday as the driver overtook trucks and other buses on the way, at scary speeds. It was a magical feeling seeing the sunrise that morning as we were pulling into the outskirts of the city, I was filled with so much joy. Until this point I had heard about this place since I was a child but to actually reach here, felt like a new chapter in possibilities. Finally, Mombasa at last, what a beautiful city. The streets look like magazine photos from the 1950’s -1970’s Africa. Black and white pavements, blue and white buildings from what seemed like the colonial era and prior, alongside new more modern structures, encompasses the city. The sound of Islamic prayers from a distant mosque echoes. Varying degrees of Swahili spoken on the streets. The people overall felt genuine, and the tuk-tuk drivers were welcoming, and very useful in helping with navigating around the city.

*tuk-tuk – 3 wheeled motorcycle, a common mode of transportation.*

The day we arrived there was a marathon happening. Traffic jam was heavy on all the normal routes to our destination, Diani Beach. Me and my brother took one Tuk Tuk and our sisters were in the other. Out of all of us, only our brother had been to Mombasa and that was years back, so even his navigation wasn’t absolute. Within 5 minutes we got separated, our driver used a short-cut, to avoid the traffic, I got a bit worried when we were separated, eventually we all met at the line for the ferry. Standing in line with my huge backpack, my sister leaned over and told me “keep your eyes open, there’s a lot of quick hands.”I stepped up my defense mode, kept my eyes open, and nothing happened. We boarded the ferry took a few minutes to cross. The ferry was packed each crossing back and forth was full, easily over 300 people. After reaching the other side we had to climb about 20 steps to reach the top then board a taxi to Diani beach.

We finally reached the hotel and settled for a bit. After lunch we headed to the beach, we had no idea that it would be a 20 minute walk, it seemed much closer. Being raised in Southern California I’ve gotten too used to being by the ocean, the ocean always makes feel a great sense of freedom, it makes me feel limitless and insignificant, the ocean brings me back to my center. This trip to East Africa, I had been landlocked for a while in Uganda, and I felt like I was suffocating I needed that breath of fresh air; a release. As we walked I was overjoyed by the smell of the ocean in the air, I couldn’t wait to get there.

When we reached the ocean, I was overwhelmed by how beautiful it was; so magnificent that I lost myself in awe. I drifted into a daydream, imagining myself living there; by the coast. This was a place of imaginations and dreams. No palm trees only coconut trees on the beach, people relaxing on the beachside, vendors selling clothes, arts and coconut cocktails, the vibe here was just right. As my feet sunk in the white crisp sand, I saw tourists windsurfing, getting ready for scuba diving and some being sold to take a camel ride. As for me, I was submerged in amazement, I stared across the ocean as I took a deep breath, I just wanted to just acknowledge being in this ancient place. I finally stepped foot in the salty water and I felt it embrace me. Before leaving I dipped my head in that water, my locs (hair) needed to reconnect with this part of the world. I felt a deep joy and sadness at the same time.

The next day we would spend most of the day at the beach. The most amazing phenomenon I’ve experienced in East Africa is that everywhere I went when I meet any Rasta it’s always nothing but respect, we click and bond as if we’ve known each other before. Locs to me have always been a spiritual journey rather than a fashion statement and usually, not always; when you meet people with locs they are on a spiritual journey and are usually conscious and free minded. I’m always happy to connect with rastas anywhere and everywhere I go. I connected with a few in Mombasa, unfortunately, we didn’t take any pictures together.

The last day we were all sad to be leaving, we went back to the beach for the final day. As I went in the ocean to say goodbye, I promised that I’ll be back, and next time for a longer period of time. I got a bit sick on the way back, but I couldn’t regret the journey. This was one of the most significant birthday experiences I’ve ever had in a while, I felt a deep spiritual acknowledgment of who I am, and I also gained precious memories I’ll never forget. When we boarded the bus we were all so tired, but I made sure I kept my eyes open, I kept looking at the city until I couldn’t see it anymore then I went to sleep. Mombasa, your joy moves me. See you soon, it’s only a matter of time.

Thanks for reading.

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Education Uncategorized

Mental Playgrounds

Remember that cliche we always say, “Education is the key.” Well, Bob Marley said, “If I was educated I would be a fool.” I think his point was that education isn’t about gaining riches or the degree, not tools of manipulation and self-indulgence, rather it is lessons of life enrichment. In this decade education has become a huge subject of debate, especially in the African communities from the continent to the diaspora, the realization and resurfacing of so much information about who we are, our history, and our contributions to societies around the globe which has never been acknowledged.

[Bidibidi Refuge Camp, Uganda. Aug. 2017]

I recall in middle school learning about “World History,” we spent a huge chunk of time studying Europe followed by the Middle East and Asia. I had fun learning about the historical contributions of everyone and when we finally got to Africa for the whole continent, we spent less time than we did on Greece alone, or China and Japan combined. I was furious I asked the teacher, “how come we are only spending such a short time on Africa,” with a straight face an educated man told me that, the reason for why we were spending a short time is because “Africans never wrote their history down.” I was young and didn’t know much but I made a decision to go to the local library and try to find anything on Africa that I can bring to class to help us get a bit more; than what was written in the textbooks.

[Bidibidi Refuge Camp, Uganda. Aug. 2017]

Over the years I would go on to learn about African American Scholars, Caribbean Scholars and African Scholars whose works would wake up that curiosity I had about knowing where I come from. I would always recall, that 8th grade World History Class.

In 2017, while in Africa, at Bidibidi Refugee Camp in Nothern Uganda. I was walking around the camp with a good friend, he was showing me around and sharing about his personal journey and his yearning for education, we ran into a young boy between 7-9 years old. He was pulling rocks in a plastic container. We stopped and asked him what he was doing, he said that he collects rocks and sells them. I told my friend to ask why he was selling the rocks, the kid’s answer made my eyes tear up. The kid said he was saving up so he can go to school. I wished I could do something to help him, I told myself I’ll try to do what I can, even if I don’t have it, I’ll try to find a way for someone else.

[Bidibidi Refuge Camp, Uganda. Aug. 2017]

I have always found education to be biased and misleading at times, unless its provided by a not-for-profit educational facility, a community lead/run school or if you are lucky to find that one teacher who is not afraid to challenge the curriculum in the traditional system. The teacher who throws away the syllabus and teachers from their own experiences, and also learns from the students, those are people I’ve always revered. My only hope is to help as many youth chase their dreams, hopefully along their personal journeys they find those teachers who awaken them to fulfill their purpose in life and at the same time make a living, without losing who they are.

[Larem Foundation, Gulu. Uganda]

Below is a Go-fund me page for Larem Foundation, a non-profit organization providing early childhood education to children in Gulu, Northern Uganda. Most parents in these types of regions never have the luxury of getting their children early childhood education. This is truly a rarely occasion and a worthy cause. Please, help us reach our goal, so that we can build two more classrooms and a playground for the children. Thanks in advance for your support.

[Larem Foundation, Gulu. Uganda]

Thanks for reading.

Click here to support Larem Foundation.

https://www.gofundme.com/two-classrooms-for-larem-cdc

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Becoming, a dreamer!

Somebody once told me that music is a young man’s game. I’ve heard people’s stories of how they struggled in pursuit of their dreams and to some extent their perseverance gave me some type of comfort that perhaps I too might get where I’m trying to go. When we were young we were frequently asked what we want to be when we grow up, sometimes the people asking us didn’t really care about our answers but they just want to steer us in the direction that they thought suits us. Maybe they were right in some case but not always.

[Kampala, Uganda Sept. 2018]

in the summer of 2006 after completing high school we had a small graduation party at my friend’s place and his father’s friend went around the table asking us what career we are going to pursuit, now that we are done with high school and onto “real life,” everyone answered and then it got to me. I said “I wanna be a Director and a Screenwriter.” He replied, “arts” he paused then continued “Of all your friends, you are going to have the greatest challenge, by the time you actually start making moves in your career most of your friends would of already been settled, but don’t think about that, your path is going to require lots of creativity and creativity takes time.”

I had no idea what that really meant. So that summer, I jumped into an expensive private school with no guidance. I threw myself into a deep hole not knowing how I would climb out of it, I followed that dream until the doors of Brooks Institute of Photography and film were shut in my face. I collapsed, asking myself “was this actually my path or was I just listening to other people.” I was somewhat naive still and believed that some how I’ll make a fabulous project that would take away all the problems I face.

[Los Angeles, Ca. March 2018]

As a child in a vintage Africa I recall, going to the movies was a thing we did for holidays especially Christmas. People would dress up in their best outfits, early morning they would go to church, return home for lunch, then go walking and eventually end up at the movies at some point. “The movies” was a hall with a television and a VHS player and we would pay to watch action films. My brothers took us to the movies I think it was around Christmas 1990/1991. I watched my first film “The Big Boss” starring Bruce Lee. Immediately I was transfixed and I knew I wanted to be an actor from that moment forward. I had no idea what the film was about let alone the what it was called but I vividly remembered certain scenes especially the last fight scene and when Bruce surrenders that was ingrained in my brain forever.

My primary school (Elementary/middle school) days were filled with going to the movies every weekend and telling stories of those movies to my friends during class. I would become very popular for reciting the films to my friends, they would gather to hear the stories, we would bond over films. During the weeks I would collects cans and sell them to a lamp maker to make money for the movies, I had to watch at least two to three films. Sometimes I would get lucky my uncle would let me stay in his theater and watch movies all day. I was avid in all the action films that were shown, sometimes I watched them more than three or four times. I wanted to be an actor, no matter what!

[Bidibidi Refugee Camp. Yumbe, Uganda. Jul. 2018]

In America as a young refugee in middle school, when asked at school what I wanted to be when I grew up, all the kids laughed. The teacher would say “you can’t be an actor unless you already know someone, do you know someone in the film industry?” I felt my world shrink, the answer was always “No.” I thought reaching America for sure my dreams of becoming an action star would be realized but it got further and further. So I decided I would direct and write my own movies so at least I can be in them too, after all Jackie Chan was doing it, and many greats have done it, maybe I can be the African version. So I pursued the filmmaker’s dream.

[San Diego, Ca. Mar. 2015]

After dropping out of the prestigious film school (which no longer exists). I was young, dumb, broke, in debt and had no “useful experiences”, according to society. I moved back to a small town where opportunities were so scarce I felt myself drowning, the only thing that kept me going was martial arts, and then I rediscovered music. I had always loved listening to music but the art of creating music came a little later, it was sparked by some friends in high school, who helped create space for music in my heart. I had no idea that music would comeback to uplift me. Music reminded me that I’ve always wanted to be a performer. I got on stage and performed, and when some people told me that it wasn’t good, I didn’t care, I took the criticism and kept growing. Eventually music started opening up the world to me again. I felt like I was doing something along the path I was supposed to be on.

In December 2010 I lost two friends who were instrumental in my musical journey at the time. Once again things pushed me astray, I became so disoriented that I forgot about the art. I still have difficulty trying to speak about my friends or myself. I kept trying musically but the material I was creating didn’t feel like what I wanted to say, part of me was still immature to the content I wanted to speak on in general. It’s been a decade plus since high school and I’m still scrambling to piece my life together, the words of that man still linger in my mind. I haven’t given up on art, although I’m not exactly a young man anymore I’m still pursuing this journey both in music and film, only time will tell whether my dreams bear fruits or not, regardless I’m happy I chose to follow my heart, the people I’ve met, the experiences I’ve had and the stories I’ve heard, have all made me realize more than ever that I’m on the right path.

[Los Angeles Ca, Nov. 2018]

Thanks for reading!

Follow my journey at Kujieleza.com and Instagram @Adhimamusic let’s learn from each other and grow. #Mbele.

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Teamperature

These last few years the temperatures in California have been rising and dropping to ridiculous levels. These past few days have been in the hundreds, extra hot reaching around 115 where I live but today has been the lowest so far it’s 90 degrees. A great accompaniment for these temperatures is tea!

This morning I was piecing together verses for my songs then decided to make tea for breakfast I didn’t realize how hot it was until halfway down the cup, I realized I’m sweating like I’ve been running a marathon. I started wondering what is it with Africans and tea. I recall my mother once saying “If I come to your house and you don’t offer me food at least give me tea, that’s all I need.” I have been trying to talk about tea in my blog but just didn’t know how to inject it in my world of randomness, so today we are here.

On this baking summer morning, drinking tea, not iced tea, hot tea the African way, I wish I can do it differently perhaps I’ve gotten lazy but aren’t we all; my preparation was easy I just warmed up the water, poured it in my cup and dropped the tea bag in it, added 2 tea spoons of honey and voila, definitely not the way it used to be made by my mother and grandmother when I was a kid in Uganda.

Over the years in learning about better health and nutrition I got more interested in tea, the consumption of tea took on a different meaning for me. As a child we drank mostly black tea, but now I would never make black tea for myself or anybody else I usually prefer green tea, mint tea and different herbal teas. When I started my tea journey and intentionally changed my consumption from mainly black tea to the other options that’s when I realized how tea made me feel.

Today as an artist/musical performer I even value tea more, it helps me warm up my vocals and get me prepared but also keeps me busy as I’m working on my lyrics. Tea is an essential part of my life and I can’t wait to share more with you all, for now I’m gonna cool off and get some music done, thanks for reading!

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Uncategorized

Confessions 

It’s been a while since I have blogged. Well, I have been back in Southern California since September. My three month trip to Uganda turned into four months due to ticketing errors which I didn’t mind, but since I’ve been trying to figure out how to weave everything together from my experiences. The problem with having too much on your plate at once is that things can get overwhelming and you involuntarily start procrastinating and eventually just nothing gets done. At all! I was doing too much now that I think about it. 


[Southern California] 

I have been working on songs for my album “Mbele” which I’ve been working on for nearly 3 Years. I honestly don’t know why this album has taken me this long. I almost released it twice but when I got close to the deadline it just didn’t feel ready, both times. So on this trip I was piecing together some lyrics for the album, which actually helped. Besides working on lyrics, I was also developing some screenplay ideas. 


[Nairobi, Kenya] 

The thing is screenplay and lyrics are pretty different, so to flip mentally between the two consistently after sometime you brain just gets exhausted. So blogging was supposed to be a way to free myself and just share my experiences. Eventually it became harder too. 

After awhile I found myself not wanting to deal with anything that made me sit in one place for awhile I wasn’t having fun, part of the joy of traveling is having fun and learning through the experiences you share. I decided I just wanted to enjoy the rest of my trip. Typing was casted aside, the camera became too heavy, sometimes I would even leave my phone.  


[West Nile, Uganda]

When I landed in LAX I still felt like I was in Africa, it took me about a month for my sleep cycle to adjust, I think my creative energy is also almost readjusted. I confess that I didn’t do as much as said I would. I confess that I didn’t post as much as I should of, I confess that I didn’t work as hard as I promised. I confess that I shall to better. Note to self. 


[Southern California] 

Look out for more African experiences, tea, music, film, art, and history. 

Insta @Adhimamusic 

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Categories
Africa Travel

Gulu

You have seen it on YouTube. Invisible Children‘s campaign video “Kony 2012.” The sensation that took over social media then disappeared.  In the video, the children being abducted were from Nothern Uganda mostly from a city called Gulu which is about 110km from the Southern Sudanese border. I heard of Gulu ever since I was a little child, the horrifying stories limited my vision a bit but it didn’t stop me I always wanted to see Gulu. I had no idea how beautiful it actual was.

We started the journey from Kampala at around 9am. When the drive started I fell asleep then woke up in a town called Migyera there we had the chance to stretch our legs and get breakfast, chai, sambusa and chapatti, the best Chapattis ever! As I was waiting outside the car for everyone, I spotted a mango tree. Quickly I recalled how in the States whenever you went to the store, a single mango can cost anywhere from $.99 up to like $2. When I shared this with people in Uganda some were shocked and others were surprised.

Gulu, the road seems to get longer and longer. On the map Uganda doesn’t look this big. Green, green and more green, so beautiful. Stephen Marley’s “Made in Africa” a perfect theme song for the drive as we cross miles and miles of beautiful landscapes and walking faces, the song reminds us that theres more to learn about Africa.


The speed bumps on these roads are so huge that if you had a dropped-down street racing car, you might end up suspended on the speed bump, no wonder ‘The Fast and Furious‘ franchise hasn’t come to Uganda yet. Uganda fans are waiting lol. Uganda is well known for agricultural production of matooke (green bananas), corn (maize), sugarcane, tea, wheat, sweet potatoes and peanuts,

We reached Gulu around 12:45pm. The city is on the rise. Gas stations, skyscrapers, shopping centers, you would think you never left Kampala. We went to a certain village in Gulu where my friend’s family originated from, and it was there that I saw how beautiful Gulu is, yes the roads are still under construction and there’s still development happening, but the raw beauty, the people, the language, the mangoes and just how beautifully green it was. I felt it, I was really home, Africa.

Follow my journey on Kujielezablog.com and Instagram @Adhimamusic

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Uncategorized

The Village

I spent a few days in the city then we had to go to the village to lay a close family friend to rest. In the village I found life, the trees spoke in vibrant color tones. The chickens ran wild and free, children played, learned, ate and interacted with Mother Nature on a daily basis. The village was life. 

I would spend so much time staring at random plants and trees. The cornfields were a reminder of my childhood, how I would go farming with my grandmother. 
At night I would stare at the stars, I never knew so many existed in the sky.


People told me tha adjusting to the village life would be so hard, quiet contrary I felt safer and warmly welcomed in the village than in the city. The life in the village valued hard work and it valued life in itself. 


I can’t wait until I go back again to the village. 


Follow me on instagram @adhimamusic for more info contact me at kujielezablog@gmail.com

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Uncategorized

At Last 

In Brussels I saw a lot of Africans at the Terminal, I felt it, I was close I was almost home.  In excitement a man from the previous flight saw me and asked “Are you also going to Accra?” when I said “no,” I could see a disappointed look on his face. There was a lady with her son, the son kept running around the terminal and she was speaking Rwandese to him, she greeted me very warmly with a gentle smile, mama Africa.  

When we finally boarded I had an empty seat on my left and on the right was this really sweet Mama from Gulu. We had a nice introduction the plane took off and I fell asleep. I remember being woken up for food, this time I chose the fish, surprisingly it was not bad, it was better than the chicken I had on the previous flight. 

The Mama from Gulu shared with me her stories about her life, she lived in Germany for 42 years and she’s finally in the process of resettling back to her home village, I was inspired. When she told me she does farming I told her I would like to visit her hopefully during this trip and she warmly welcomed the idea. 


Flying over Mama Africa I was filled with excitement, finally we landed at Entebbe international airport in Uganda. I was smiling because for the first time in awhile everybody I saw looked like a family member I know. At the gate an airport employee told me welcome home, I said thank you, it’s been awhile. I’m back!