Reflections on the last year of my twenties


Keeping on moving

That’s what a friend called me when I made a sarcastic comment about one of those forward “Alerte! Alerte!” messages every Burundian is probably used to (and a bit tired of) getting by now. The message was about a neighborhood under police siege, but someone who isn’t quite a master of la langue de Moliere had written it. So, yeah, I made fun of the form – not the content – and my friend didn’t like it. He said I was missing the point.

But… I understand him. I was speaking from a position which I’m aware makes me seem detached or disconnected from everything that’s going on. I’m not in Burundi anymore. A few months ago, my life was threatened and so I packed my bags and left. I fled. Ni hatari.
My friend, who’s still in Burundi, doesn’t know exactly how and why I left, and being aware that I’m not living a typical refugee life, I can understand his attitude towards me.

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