Together we walk in sisterhood

I remember that day in October 2007 quite vividly. She held my hands tightly, and her voice became a whisper. I could see her face turn colour, and I felt chills down my spine and felt this was bad news. It seemed like eternity before s finally hang up, and her first words were barely comprehensible, “there is a curfew”.

Here I was barely a month into my work in Southern Sudan, and the idea of a curfew just spelled doom for me. I had never in my lifetime experienced a curfew. The announcements of the curfew that were made in the streets escaped our attention due to the language barrier (Arabic) and we had not had access to internet that day. We just held hands in fear and wondered what next? We started thinking practically, and we realised that we barely had drinking water so we decided to take a walk to the shopping. Outside the gate, our neighbours warned us that there is to be ‘no movement’

“We just want to get to the hopping centre, about 500 metres away?” we explained to them. Juma, one of the men looked at us with pitiful eyes, am sure pitying our innocence as he explained that even the shops are closed and nobody is supposed to make any movement outside their home. We just held hands and hoped all will be well and started thinking and hoping for better days.

A thudding knocking at the gate sent us into panic until Magdalena, a Sudanese woman friend who treated us as her daughters called out. She hurriedly assured us all was well and informed us the reason for curfew. She had sought permission from the army men guarding the area to make sure we were well. She clasped or hands and made us feel we will be well, talk of a loving mother far from home. I will never forget the feeling I had that day and the feeling of ‘want to be home back home’

Unfortunately when back in Kenya in December 2007, the worst post elections violence erupted in 2007/2008. I was in trauma, dazed wondering what I can do to make a difference. I felt very insignificant and my experience though short lived in a post conflict nation made me even more wary. The high moment out of this depression for me was when we went as an organisation (YWLI) to distribute sanitary items to women, girls and lactating mothers in the IDP camps. At one time while in Molo (Rift Valley) the older women, were so happy with the lessos we gave them that they broke into a dance that I will never forget. As I joined them in the dance, I realised that in sisterhood we walk, we stumble and rise up and walk! It made the violence more manageable, the strength of sisterhood. After what we went through together, Justa has remained a very treasured friend.