The first time we harvested, it felt so good to win; to hold the entitlement of our achievement. The veggies we grew were for family consumption, but soon we realized we could commercialize our small space and sell to others. We took our produce to market and people liked it.
Africa
After some of our dancers were mistaken for thugs and killed, my mom urged me to pursue something else. Today, my fashion designs have been recognized by Beyonce, Bruno Mars, and other celebrities.
I rushed home, but there was nothing left—not even my house. The water had washed away virtually everything. My family was nowhere in sight. I couldn't believe the scene before my eyes.
While imprisoned, I mobilized other prisoners to know their rights. I believe in people’s power; that's why I decided to become an ambassador of hope, even behind bars.
They had murdered hundreds of thousands of people, cutting them into pieces with machetes. I was surrounded by soldiers and my fate seemed sealed, but I prayed to God to help me.
In this Instagram generation, everything is so fast and so quick. You want your tree to be 10 feet tall by morning. However, nature moves at its own pace, and growth takes a little longer.
I teach possibilities. Dreaming is possible, and I let children dream in my class. Hundreds of children have passed through this dance program. They’ve learned much more than just steps; they’re dancing their way out of hopelessness.
As I researched tango, I discovered a much more intense emotional connection than I had known until then. I realized that tango is much more than knowledge of a well-executed technique. I think it has to do with the connection of souls through time, and that it can happen in any corner of the world with people from different cultures.
I silently prayed, waiting in fear for whatever was about to happen. A few minutes later, I felt a sharp pain in my genital area as my flesh was cut off. They gave me no painkillers or anesthesia as they cut; the pain overwhelmed me, and I lost all my strength.
Wherever we looked, we turned up nothing. The hours stretched on, and my anxiety and fear grew. I just kept wishing over and over they would appear or that we would get through to them by phone. We didn't search for them in a morgue, as I could not imagine or think of their death.
Within a minute, I felt the bus sliding toward the left and almost instantly, it overturned completely into the river. Screams filled the air, with many calling the name of Jesus Christ to save us.
My neighbors heard me screaming and called the police. They found me in a pool of blood with a severed hand on the floor. My other hand was almost detached and could not be saved.
All of these achievements have come because of, not in spite of, my rural upbringing. Those tough lessons allow me to be of service—not just to women and children, but to an entire nation.
They shoved us into the waters, shouting vulgarities as we crossed. I thought we were going to die, attacked and torn apart by the crocodiles who called the river home.
Our target was not the poor, who are buried like dead animals covered with soil. We liked the graves of the rich, covered by a raised, cemented slab.
The men took advantage of our desperation and ignorance, using us for their pleasure and paying nearly nothing.
Many of us cried like little children—We had lost everything we worked for our entire lives.
Out on the street, I saw that someone had spray painted “Gay Journalist” in big letters across my car. I felt myself sink down into what would become months of depression.
We were so poverty-stricken that our village considered us social pariahs. We would go begging for jobs around the neighborhood and instead be chased away, beaten, and even spat on.
One night, we all slept hungry, and I came home the next day to find my mother crying. It was then that I decided that my hands would change our story, and ventured into boxing for money.
He's a newsroom mortician where the stories are deadly and funerals are feared.
After Graduating with a First-Class Honors in my Bachelor of Education, I am now a champion for women’s rights in West Pokot.
In our community, you are either a man or a woman. I grew up as a man due to my community’s expectations and having been born in the 70s, a time when no one knew about intersex people. I was therefore forced to live and act like a man.
Hospital bills, fraudulent doctors, poverty and COVID-19 all contribute to a rise of impoverished teen mothers with nowhere to turn.