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.