But my journey, like the threads of a carpet, has many colours. Where to begin? I didn’t mean to come to this place. I landed in Tanzaniawith my three children on a repatriation mission. But somehow when I reached Uganda, my spirit told me to stay. I have travelled from Entebbe to Kampala. Fort Portal to Gulu. Mbale to Jinja Lira to Ishaka. Kabale to Pader. I’ve lived in villages, towns and cities. I have felt a deep connection to the land. And the Nile, the mysterious river that seems to flows up. I enjoy sharing the experience of first time visitors to Uganda, overwhelmed by her beauty. So when Babaluku invited me to accompany M1 back to the source, I knew I couldn’t miss. We woke early, with the call to pray and cockerels screaming. Small children walking to school like baby chicks, all yellow. With speedway driving we reached our destination. And waited. The jam already started, the fumes rising. We moved to another urban location. Drank coffee or tea, ate kikomando (japati and beans). We broadcasted to the Builders Lane Radio and TV, live on Whats App. Early morning messages of hope. This is how it goes. It’s all about the flow. An acceptance of reality not defined by time but by energy. Eventually, we rendezvous with our visitors. Our first stop, the market to eat local food. Travelling is tiring. We’re hungry. We eat until our bellies are full. Sweet food from fertile ground. We wash our hands and lift the drums. They bring the attention of the crowd. Intrigued and curious. The cypher begins slowly at first. Sypda MC waxes lyrical introducing the proceedings. We are a spectacle of kitenge and tattoos. Magical. We get back on the bus. We’re going ‘down by the riverside’. I pick lemongrass and give it to our visitor. Ella is her name, she is an ankh wearer. Her’s is tattooed on her throat. I wear mine on my finger. In silver. Like the water
‘Let me smear it all over’. Its pungent aromatics trigger memories. This is the reconnect, it’s happening. Slowly we are opening. We board the boat, accompanied by the drums. I dip my fingers into the water. It moves like the sea, licking the side of the boat. The drum announces our arrival. The first heart beat brings us back home. We step on to stony shores. I remove my shoes and feel the sharp cornered stones digging into my soft soles.
Souls.
I am returning through the door of no return. There is reggae playing. The African freedom fighters now called Jamaicans sing songs of redemption. Am I making sense? I feel like I’ve stepped into a vortex, The Nile swirls like boiling water. This thread is red like blood, but the Nile washes away my blues. Tears come. They fall into the Nile’s healing waters. It’s not sadness I feel but…… Euphoria. Deep gratitude and happiness, reconnection is in progress. We leave for the last location. Along the main. Dj and speakers, ready for the microphone messengers. Its loud. We form a circle and get ready to ride the beat. The people come to stand with arms folded. The children feel the vibration and gather to get a closer look. Energized, freestyle we dance around the cypher. Microphone in hand. The reconnection is complete. Everything looks different. How I see myself, the world, the movement.