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My name is Filda. I came from northern Uganda in 1989. I have been here now for 17 years. I came with my daughters but I lost my husband. I have worked for Asylum Welcome and have founded BK LUWO, a Ugandan community women’s group based in East Oxford. I have many friends here in Oxford. But I miss my country.

(Photo: Rory Carnegie)

I miss my country.

I miss the spacious fertile land where anything grew, giving an abundance of free fruits, vegetables, cereals, and pulses just at the price of one's labour.

I miss the varieties of affordable organic food in the village market.

I miss the open fire, with young people singing, playing instruments and dancing and the lively Sunday church services.

I miss the weather; the sunshine and the red red earth.

I miss the time when everybody helped everybody else.

I miss the abundant cool spring water, at the cost of bringing it home.

I miss my farm and my animals, my banana trees, my sugarcane, my orchard. I miss the river that bordered my farmland, where my children swam.

I miss the flat clean rocks on which I dried my cassava and did my washing and where we would sit and watch my son and husband fishing.

Above all I miss the belly laughter that doubles you up; African laughter, which there is no stopping. You do not laugh our laughter.

If there were no guns my country would be a paradise.