‘Evil
disguised itself and walks besides us under the mid-afternoon sun, darkness no longer its only haven.’ Evelyn
Guest Blogger; Anonymous
I’m not
much of a writer. I journal, if that counts. So I am honoured and humbled to
have been given the chance to feature on My Beautiful Sweet Friend’s Blog.
I like to
think of myself as more of an explorer because I love to be in places that not
many would willingly go. More than that, I Love to know peoples’ stories, how
they got to where they are and all that. I was lucky enough to have met some
people who were more than willing to show me a different side of Kampala.
I went through
slums, saw a lot of people, a lot of drugs, and smelt a lot of burning plastic
and it was eerily quiet. And everyone was so angry; angry with the injustice,
with the Government, and some with God.
One of the
friends who took me to these ‘dodgy’ places had always been talking about
leaving the country. When he finally got a chance to go to South Africa, he
hopped at it and called to tell me. I didn’t ask too much because honestly, I
had so much going on in my life (I’m ashamed to admit).
Well, its
half a year later and we are sitting in a small restaurant type place...you know
the ones with plastic table covers, always dark yet somehow always crowded…And
he begins to narrate how His ‘Uncle’ (We all have those) told him about the
work in South Africa, the money, the freedom and all things ever dreamed of.
He asked
him for about 400,000SHS to get him a Passport ASAP and another 400,000SHS to
get him a Visa in a day, to which my friend happily obliged. Of course he ended
up having to pay much more for all the ‘necessities’ because as his
‘Uncle’ put it, he ‘just wouldn’t have the time’ as work was to start
immediately upon his arrival. Now, for the more seasoned traveller, all these would
be RED SIGNS screaming RUN!! For the less seasoned one however, it was simply
too good to be true.
Passport
and Visa in Hand, having forked over his savings and most of his parents’
earnings, (almost up to 3 Million, possibly more), he boarded the flight to
South Africa. As with most of these stories, it was actually too good to be
true.His new passport was taken from him ‘for safekeeping’ and he watched in
confusion as his ‘Uncles’ friends proceeded to manually remove his visa ( who
knew that was even possible). He was told he wouldn’t need it anyway since he
was probably going to stay a really long time.
Himself and
many others were put in the back of a truck and taken to a city they didn’t
know, and put to work in a garage, a warehouse and other places he said weren’t
worth mentioning, just never the one he was promised.In a few days, he had gone
from having a home, a community and familiarity, to being homeless, stranded
and completely abandoned. He was paid 5 Rand a day which he had to hand over
for a corner in a room to sleep, and even though he had known poverty at some point,
he says he could never have imagined such a place existed, especially not after
all the wonderful things he had been told before going there.
He called
his ‘Uncle’ by the hour, to ask him what was happening, if this was just
temporary, perhaps it was a mistake; and each time the phone went unanswered,
he felt his heart drop even further and his hope disappear.
Each
sentence filled me with dread as to what the following days held. Would he be
used as a sex slave? Would he be beaten? One thing is for sure, he is different
from the friend I had before he left.
Yes, Thank God he made it home, I’m still
not sure how because he didn’t seem ready to talk about it. As he wistfully
recounted the story with tear glazed eyes, I wondered how many more like my
friend are still out there.
Sadly, his
story is so unrelatable and in fact so unbelievable to those he tells in his
Community, that many are convinced he stole the money, went abroad and went
through it so quickly that he had to come back. After all, anywhere but Uganda
is Heaven, and success out there is a given. Since his return he has felt
guilty, ashamed and deeply regretful; as though this injustice were somehow his
fault.
He is now
back home working for 450,000SHS a month, 14 hours a day and still dreaming of
the day he leaves this country, never to return. He is still trying to pay his parents back
for all the money he begged them to loan him.
Why am I
telling you this?
I’m telling
you this because that ‘Uncle’, and many like him make a business out of this
modern day kidnapping. He is doing the same to so many like my friend knowing
that there are still many desperate to leave the country; so for now and a
while to come , his ‘business’ is a lucrative one.
I’m telling you this because this is just
another form of Slavery. With his Eyes Wide Open, my friend was taken from his
Home, made to work in hopeless, degrading and unbearable conditions that he was
only lucky to escape.
I hear
countless stories of people saying ‘I was supposed to go to Dubai’, ‘a guy got
me a job in Germany’, ‘I’m leaving to work in Paris, I know someone there’… And
I wince at the thought of their fate being similar to that of my friend, with
possibly worse consequences.
I want my
country to flourish, to change and to grow Desperately… but sometimes I wonder
when that change will come. When will we be able to go to the Police and report
‘Uncle’ and have the case seriously followed up? When will a woman be able to
report domestic abuse and have a response other than laughter and even more
abuse? When will our country be a place people run to, as opposed to running
from? I wonder… And what can I/we do to bring this change.
I lay here
most nights thinking and wishing, pondering and praying, With Eyes Wide Open.
