Reminiscing: Fleeing my homeland and seeking refuge in Kakuma refugee camp

By Emmanuel Malual Makuach, Kakuma Refugee Camp, Kenya

Friday, 22 December 2024 (PW) — As a fledgling journalist, my journey to Kakuma refugee camp has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Fleeing from my country, leaving behind everything I held dear, I embarked on a quest for safety and a new beginning. Upon my arrival in Kakuma, one of the largest refugee camps in the world, I was struck by the maze of makeshift homes and the vibrant resilience of its inhabitants. The camp, located in the heart of Kenya, acted as a microcosm of diverse cultures, each with their stories of struggle, resilience, and hope.

One of the most impactful experiences I encountered was the food distribution days. The queues stretched for miles, and the anticipation was palpable. Watching men, women, and children standing patiently under a scorching sun, their eyes filled with a mix of hunger and gratitude, left a lasting impression. The meager supplies provided a lifeline, albeit temporary, in this vast sea of uncertainty.

The nights in the camp were not without its challenges. As darkness fell, the camp transformed into a realm of heightened caution and vigilance. The presence of the night police patrols painted a contradictory picture of both safety and restriction. While the patrols aimed to maintain order and prevent crime, they also evoked mixed feelings, reminding us of the limits of freedom within the confines of the camp.

Every day, I encountered powerful stories of survival and resilience among the individuals who called Kakuma their temporary home. Their collective struggles and unwavering spirit reminded me of the strength of the human spirit in the face of adversity. It is my mission to shed light on their experiences, amplify their voices, and bring attention to the plight of refugees around the world.

As a journalist, I believe in the power of storytelling and the ability to bridge gaps. Through my words and images, I hope to awaken empathy, ignite conversations, and inspire action. Together, we can build a world where compassion knows no boundaries and where every individual, regardless of their circumstances, can find solace and a sense of belonging.

A Day in the Reception Center: The Long Wait for a Ration Card

As I stepped into the crowded reception center, I found myself amidst a sea of hopeful faces. Each person carried their own story, their own hopes and dreams for a brighter future. The feeling of anticipation hung heavily in the air as we all waited to be called forward, one by one, to obtain our ration cards

Little did I know that the wait would test my patience and resilience. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, as hours ticked by while we anxiously shuffled forward, inch by inch. The faint chatter, the restless shuffling of feet, and the occasional cries of restless children filled the room, echoing the collective anticipation that consumed us.

Among the common questions asked by the officials at the reception center was one that seemed to matter greatly – “Are you married?” This query acted as a determinant for the allocation of ration cards, as family sizes played a significant role in the distribution process. The sense of vulnerability and the weight of personal circumstances became apparent as individual stories unfolded and intertwined.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, it was my turn to face the officials. As I approached the counter, a mix of relief and anxiety washed over me. The official scrutinized my documents, processed my information, and eventually handed me the precious ration card. It was a tangible symbol of survival, representing an opportunity for sustenance and stability amidst the uncertainty of life in the reception center.

The subsequent allocation of ration cards based on family sizes shed light on an underlying reality. Larger families faced the challenge of stretching limited resources to meet the needs of all members, while smaller families often struggled with an overwhelming sense of loneliness and isolation. The distribution process highlighted the complexity of balancing equity and individual circumstances in an environment of scarcity.

Through the experiences shared in that reception center, a vivid tapestry of humanity unfolded before my eyes. Each person had their own journey, their own reasons for seeking refuge and longing for stability. Amidst the complexities and challenges of the day, one thing remained clear – the resilience and hope that propelled us forward, even in the face of uncertainty and prolonged waiting.

As I reflect on my day in the reception center, I am reminded of the strength and determination that binds us as human beings. It is through sharing these stories, shining a light on the struggles and triumphs of those in similar situations, that we can foster empathy and understanding among people. Together, we can strive for a world where access to basic resources and dignified living conditions are not just hopes, but realities for everyone.

A Day of Food Distribution in Kakuma: The Wait, the Bags, and the Journey

As the early morning darkness blanketed the Kakuma refugee settlement, I awoke with a mix of anticipation and weariness. Today was food distribution day, an important event that offered sustenance and a glimmer of hope in the face of adversity. My friend had instructed me to bring three bags, emphasizing their importance in securing a sufficient quantity of food. With that advice in mind, I embarked on a journey that would both challenge and enlighten me.

The clock ticked past 4:45 am, and I made my way towards the distribution center. The roads were dimly lit, making the path ahead seem treacherous. Yet, I heeded the advice to keep my phone safely tucked within my pocket, ready to connect with my loved ones once the event concluded. However, during the distribution process, no calls could be received due to the system’s limitations. It was a small sacrifice in the pursuit of sustenance.

Arriving at the distribution center, I joined the throng of other eager individuals, armed with my three bags. My expectations were high, as I envisioned these bags would be filled to the brim with food provisions. However, reality soon set in. With each bag representing a mere fraction of sustenance, it gradually became apparent that the quantity of food would not match my initial hopes

The distribution process began, and as I reached the assigned station, I discovered that my portion consisted of 13 kilograms of maize, lentils, and sorghum in total. Additionally, I received half a liter of cooking oil, intended to last for two months. While grateful for any assistance, the stark reality of making these provisions stretch further than anticipated surfaced. It was a reminder of the challenges faced by refugees, and the resilience required to navigate them.

Leaving the distribution center, my steps felt heavier with the weight of the meager provisions I carried. However, I refused to let disappointment consume me. I saw the determination etched on the faces of those around me, their unwavering spirit shining through. This shared experience fostered a sense of community, a reminder that we were all in this journey together.

As the sun began to rise, casting a warm glow over the settlement, I reflected on the challenges of the day. The limited resources and the overwhelming demand emphasized the need for humanitarian aid to bridge the gap. However, amidst it all, I found solace in the collective strength and perseverance that united us as a community. We were not defined by the scarcity, but rather by our resilience in the face of it

This story is a testament to the unyielding spirit of individuals in Kakuma and similar settlements worldwide, who find hope and determination even in the face of adversity. It is a reminder of the urgent need for compassionate action and support, so that every person can flourish and access the basic necessities of life. Together, we can strive for a world where no one goes to bed hungry and where every person’s journey is met with dignity and opportunity.

Mourning the Loss: Uniting in Grief and Seeking Justice for Bol’s Tragic Demise

The community of believers was shattered, enveloped in an overwhelming sense of sorrow and disbelief. We had gathered as mourning hearts at the graveside of Bol Thon Chuol a beloved member of our community whose life was cut short by a cruel and senseless act. The pain etched on every face mirrored the depth of the tragedy we were grappling with. Together, we sought solace and strength amidst the shattered fragments of our emotions.

Three days had passed since Bol Thon Chuol was reported missing, leaving us all in a state of anxious distress. Hope gradually diminished as the news of his body being found, lifeless and discarded, reached our ears. The weight of grief consumed us, leaving the air heavy with a collective sadness that was difficult to bear.

As Nyarweng  united community, we stood shoulder to shoulder, embracing one another’s pain, determined to honor Bol’s memory and demand justice.  Community leaders took on the mantle of organizing the  burial and funeral, in Kakuma Refugee camp, rallying us together in solidarity. In their thoughtful guidance, they sought to provide comfort for Bol’s mourning family and offer support to those grappling with the injustice inflicted upon him. The somber atmosphere was intertwined with shared determination, as we vowed to stand against such  brutality  and protect the sanctity of life within our community.

Amidst tearful eulogies and heartfelt words, the stories of Bol’s life unfolded before us, painting a vivid picture of a kind and gentle soul. Memories of his infectious laughter, his unwavering kindness, and his capacity for empathy filled the spaces that grief had carved within us. Bol’s departure left a void impossible to fill, a void that would forever serve as a reminder of the preciousness of each life and the urgency to safeguard them.

As Bol’s body was tenderly lowered into the ground, a hush fell over the crowd, a profound silence that echoed the weight of our collective loss. Yet, in that poignant moment, seeds of resilience began to sprout within our hearts. We recognized that our mourning would fuel our determination for justice. We would not allow Bol’s memory to fade into the backdrop of forgotten tragedies. It was a pledge to stand together and seek answers, ensuring that Bol’s tragic demise would not be in vain.

Our community, forever changed by this heartbreaking event, emerged from the funeral with a shared resolve. We would rise above sorrow, united in our pursuit of justice and healing. Awareness campaigns were initiated, shedding light on the pressing need to protect the vulnerable and advocate for a justice system that upholds the values we hold dear. Bol’s legacy would serve as a beacon, propelling us forward as we worked tirelessly to prevent such tragedies from befalling others.

The story of Bol’s untimely passing remains etched in our hearts, an indelible reminder of the fragility of life and the imperative to nurture a society where compassion and justice prevail. We carry the weight of his loss as we march forward, demanding change and refusing to surrender to despair. Bol’s spirit lives on within us, urging us to build a future where every individual can experience safety, dignity, and the right to exist without fear.

Hong Kong, a dreadful incident known as the Sunday Teargas unfolded,

Leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of its witnesses. It was a day that began like any other, the city bustling with its vibrant energy. Little did anyone know that this would be etched into their memories as one of the most tragic events they would ever witness.

The streets of Hong Kong murmured with whispers of despair as refugees, burdened by the weight of their uncertain futures, roamed the concrete jungle seeking solace. Stripped of their homeland and opportunities, their dreams faded like distant echoes. Desperation grew, and with it, the tensions that simmered beneath the surface.

As fate would have it, a routine encounter between the refugees and the local police took an unexpected turn. The police, tasked with maintaining law and order, sought to apprehend one of the refugees. It was a seemingly routine occurrence, a brief moment in the grand tapestry of events. However, on this day, destiny insisted on weaving a different story.

The air grew heavy as emotions sparked, colliding like volatile particles. Frustration blended with anxiety, painting a chaotic tableau across Hong Kong’s streets.

The echoes of pleas for understanding merged with the wailing sirens, creating a dissonant symphony of discord.

The clash between the refugees and the police erupted like an irrational storm. The once-civilized streets turned into a battleground, resonating with the raw energy of discontent. Tear gas filled the air, adding a thick haze to the already tumultuous scene. Voices of anguish filled the void, drowned out by the chaos that ensued.

The images captured by courageous onlookers documented a tale of anguish and heartache. In the midst of the commotion, faces etched with despair could be seen, pleading for empathy amidst a sea of indifference. The mixed emotions of anger, frustration, and helplessness swirled like a tempest, leaving wounds that cut deep into the soul of humanity.

As the sun descended, casting long shadows over a city in turmoil, the once-vibrant streets of Hong Kong fell silent. The aftermath of the Sunday Teargas settled like a heavy blanket, suffocating hope and reinforcing the stark reality faced by refugees and the marginalized.

The terrible events of that fateful day would forever remain etched in the collective memory of Hong Kong. It served as a stark reminder of the existing disparities, the need for compassion, and the pursuit of a better world. It prompted introspection, triggering a societal soul-searching that sought to heal the wounds and create a more inclusive future.

Though the scars may linger, there is hope that the lessons from the Sunday Teargas will sow the seeds for change and resilience. For in the darkest moments, the human spirit often finds the strength to rise, seeking solace in the belief that a brighter tomorrow lies ahead.

Hong Kong, a dreadful incident known as the Sunday Teargas unfolded, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of its witnesses. It was a day that began like any other, the city bustling with its vibrant energy. Little did anyone know that this would be etched into their memories as one of the most tragic events they would ever witness.

The streets of Hong Kong in Kakuma Refugee murmured with whispers of despair as refugees, burdened by the weight of their uncertain futures, roamed the concrete jungle seeking solace. Stripped of their homeland and opportunities, their dreams faded like distant echoes. Desperation grew, and with it, the tensions that simmered beneath the surface.

As fate would have it, a routine encounter between the refugees and the local police took an unexpected turn. The police, tasked with maintaining law and order, sought to apprehend one of the refugees. It was a seemingly routine occurrence, a brief moment in the grand tapestry of events. However, on this day, destiny insisted on weaving a different story.

The air grew heavy as emotions sparked, colliding like volatile particles. Frustration blended with anxiety, painting a chaotic tableau across Hong Kong’s streets. The echoes of pleas for understanding merged with the wailing sirens, creating a dissonant symphony of discord.

The clash between the refugees and the police erupted like an irrational storm. The once-civilized streets turned into a battleground, resonating with the raw energy of discontent. Tear gas filled the air, adding a thick haze to the already tumultuous scene. Voices of anguish filled the void, drowned out by the chaos that ensued.

As the sun descended, casting long shadows over a city in turmoil, the once-vibrant streets of Hong Kong fell silent. The aftermath of the Sunday Teargas settled like a heavy blanket, suffocating hope and reinforcing the stark reality faced by refugees and the marginalized.

The terrible events of that fateful day would forever remain etched in the collective memory of Hong Kong. It served as a stark reminder of the existing disparities, the need for compassion, and the pursuit of a better world. It prompted introspection, triggering a societal soul-searching that sought to heal the wounds and create a more inclusive future.

Though the scars may linger, there is hope that the lessons from the Sunday Teargas will sow the seeds for change and resilience. For in the darkest moments, the human spirit often finds the strength to rise, seeking solace in the belief that a brighter tomorrow lies ahead.

The author, Emmanuel Malual Makuach, is a South Sudanese journalist and researcher on the role of social media trigger in conflicts in 2013 and 2016 in South Sudan. He can be reached at malualmakuach77@gmail.com.

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