Slums of Kampala,
Uganda
Think
how you may about these slums, their streets frightening, ghettos pocked by
sudden violent spaces, with a smell of hell amidst a bright day.
How
come, I ask myself…how may it be that I do not remember myself here; I do now….
as a child, walking barefoot perhaps on broken shards of glass, going on open
latrines hoes, sewage in the front yard; the way of flies at a festival
It
is how it is here in Natete, Nakulabye, Bwaise, Kawempe, Kamokya, Kasubi,
Kawala, Kikoni, Kibuye, Kansanga, Namuwongo, Kinawataka,
Perhaps
since my being lacked fullness here; I had to forge a different direction;
beyond my birth borders and the evening sun above these ghettos….
I
must have gone far away from here, I must have grown up in the land of concrete
spaces; skyscrapers made of diamond and washrooms made of marble, beautiful
lawns, properly lit streets and people with smiles as white as snow. But I
still remember myself in these slums…as if this morning I remember my mother
here, I remember my first steps here!
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