|lost hopes in the dust of refugee concentration camp (standard:Inspirational stories, 597 words)|
|Author: Dhiblawe||Added: Sep 18 2014||Views/Reads: 819/0||Story 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. Tweet
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