“I don’t want to live backwards.

I try not to think about Uganda too much: About my grandmother who was like a mother to me, because my mum had died when I was very young. About going to school and about art, my favourite subject. About the three men in soldier uniforms who came to our house one night and told my father to get into their car. About waiting for him to come back home and finally realising that he wouldn’t. About that morning when my grandmother came to my school and told me that she had found my older brother, dead, and that I had to run away from Uganda and never return. Or about my last call home to my grandmother when I was on the run in Turkey, before I lost my phone with her number on it.

I have so many questions: Where did my father go? What happened to him? Who killed my brother and why? Did it have something to do with my father, or with politics? But nobody told me and I have to accept that I will never know. If I keep thinking about Uganda, I will never be happy or successful here.

So I look ahead. Whenever I feel sad, I put on some music and try to block out my old memories. Instead, I think about the future: About how the friends I made at the refugee camp are like siblings to me and make me feel happy. About getting a job in logistics management. About God, who knows everything. About creating a new life.

Everything will be okay.”