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lost hopes in the dust of refugee concentration camp (standard:Inspirational stories, 597 words)
Author: DhiblaweAdded: Sep 18 2014Views/Reads: 819/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
here is a true story about a young boy i met in one of the refugee camps in Uganda where i am apparently working with UNHCR as volunteer..he was exceedingly bright and intelligent but circumstances of life has buried him in the concentration camp......
 



I am now living in a refugee settlement near the border of Rwanda,
Tanzania and Uganda. I am one of UNHCR field task force deployed to 
implement field activities at this settlement. 

Although I take pride at what I am doing here as a strong believer of
humanity and although I enjoy the natural landscape of this place that 
looks splendid at dawn and the glitter of the moon on it on a moonlit 
night is as astounding as it is breathtaking But underpinning this is 
the inability to communicate with anyone above a certain level. 

I feel a deep sense of isolation intellectually and mentally. I turned
to the confined walls of this room but could not hear what I had to 
say. So I moved outside the walls and looked at the stars and wonder is 
there someone else up there looking up into his or her sky wondering 
and feeling the same way that I do. The discourse is very mundane, 
shallow and confined to social chit chat about who did what and which 
taxi speeds and who did what on the local soapie. 

One feels sort of stranded on a little island in a sea of ignorance of
greater matters or greater consciousness. One wants to run but where to 
go becomes the question. I stood looking at the stars on a clear night 
and wondered about the cluster of stars on M17 and within that the 
million stars that comprised the constellation of Hercules. I wondered 
who could I share this with; these meanderings of my vacuous mind. 
There was no one there! I looked at the hills that we scarcely knew or 
explored and wondered of the brilliant creature down there that 
generated their own light and lived within enormous pressures that 
caused them to explode when rising to a certain height. Was there alien 
life forms down there I wondered; who do I share this with? Then one 
day I met this little boy with a very friendly face and curious eyes. I 
asked him what he studied. He mentioned something that I, for the life 
of me, couldn't grasp. Then he went on to explain the relationship 
between the sun and energy as a food source and as energy that drives 
humans. Now this I could grasp; we then had an interesting conversation 
that touched on the universe, galaxies suns and stars. In his eyes I 
saw a kindred spirit and felt a sense of connection and sadness; he had 
such a curiosity that one could imagine him on the spaceship that Jul 
Verne had written on but then soon he will be swallowed up in the 
mendacity of refugee life and his thoughts will be confined to the 
daily struggle of life in the settlement and the hustle of life that 
dictates the means of getting a food and shelter in the camp. As I 
drove away I felt a deep sadness as I looked back in my rear-view 
mirror and saw the friendly face with curious eyes following the car 
with tear and a million questions in his eyes. Another Einstein left in 
the dust of camp; another genius perhaps or another loss for Africa. I 
could have wept at the things that have been done to us by our past and 
present oppressors. We still pay the price in lost dreams. The cry of 
this young boy echoed in the hills but anything I do couldn't help him, 
my mind is still with the friendly face with curious eyes who stared at 
my receding car wistfully.


   


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