Three girls, friends, more like sisters with different parents, all beautiful, all talented. However, all unfortunate to be growing up at such a place, at such a time.
It was 1987, towards the end of the Ugandan bush war a period characterized by violence, hunger and poverty. Kisakye, Aidah, and Tusiime lived in Ankole in western Uganda.
Kisakye (19) was the oldest and most beautiful of the trio. Her mother had run off with a lover shortly after she was born. Her father had since joined the Resistance Army. When Obote army found out that her dad was one of the rebels, their house was burnt down and she was forces to live with her cruel aunt who was a prostitute and a drunk and who made her life a living hell. A few weeks to her 16th birthday news had reached them that her father was shot dead in a face off with the Langi soldiers just outside Bunyoro. Since then, Kisakye only aim was to get out of Ankole, out of Uganda, just leave and not return; whatever the cost.
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Aidah (16) was the youngest and the recluse among the girls. Taller of the trio, she had the most beautiful eyes that carried pain and a longing that most people couldn’t understand. However she was an excellent singer with a a voice that would make the singing cisticola weep. Her mother died giving birth to her and her father was a drug peddler who was either too busy with business or too high to notice his fast growing adolescent daughter, he couldn’t wait to sell her out in marriage and make some good money out of it. Aidah was quiet most times but would only come out of her shell when around Tusiime and Kisakye they were the only ones who could make her talk freely, laugh, and explore her mist magnificent voice. She mostly comported with Kisakye though, Kisakye had been like a sister to her. It was Kisakye who had taught to use pieces of fabric during her monthly flow, it was Kisakye who introduced her to boys, taught her to fend for herself and not care about her disdainful father. So, like Kisakye, she loathed Ankole and wanted to be rid of it.
Tusiime(17)’s father was also murdered by the rebels a year ago . She lived with her mother and little brother. Tusiime had soft and fluffy hair (which she always made ‘fro’) and beautiful white teeth (a total contrast with her dark complexion). She had a jolly aura about her, she loved to sing and dance and hang out with her best friends, she always smiled and made sure to get smiles out of people around her. However her ever smiling nature was her way of escaping the sadness that engulfed her world.
The trio were awesome singers. They called themselves The Free Voices. They would meet every evening and sing their hearts out. It was what kept them together, what kept them going, what gave them joy. Although Tusiime’s mother made them come out in church to render a number a few times, Kisakye had a another alternative to invest their talent in better than singing in overcrowded tents filled the stench of sweat and hysteric shouts of Hallelujah (her thoughts only).
To be continued…….
Editor’s Note: A captivating story told by a Nigerian young graduate who has not stepped into Uganda neither has friends from that country but with the power of imagination and skill weave together a compelling traditional African story. TOM is a writer that is in a class of her own. Watch out for her every week.
