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After years of intensive smoking of cigarettes since 1979, James Mogga, a gardener with one of the hotels in Juba, South Sudan said he left smoking in 1989 in Oliji, a refugee camp in Adjumani, northern Uganda.

He shares his experience as explained to the New Nation how he began smoking in 1979 during Amin’s regime in Kasese, western Uganda.

“I started smoking in Kasese in 1979. I began with a cigarette called Sweet Menthol nicknamed “Saidia Malaya” (Assisting Prostitute). Why?
Because girls too liked it because it smells nice like chewing gum,” he recalls.

“From Sweet Menthol, I graduated to Rakes filter cigarettes where I was a professional smoker then till Amin was overthrown and we went to Congo, former Zaire where I lived for five years as a refugee.”

He says that in Congo he was tricked by a fellow colleague and smoked opium which made him to behave as if he was mentally not alright until he was fined for mistakes he committed unknowingly.

“My friend in a drinking joint gave me a cigarette called Lezar–at the time I did not know he had emptied it and filled it with opium. I smoked and felt something in my head,” he narrates.

According to him, he started hearing something and suddenly a wild animal appeared and he ran inside and got a panga (a machete-like tool).

“I got the panga and started cutting down the bananas where we were drinking the locally brewed alcohol. I cut the bananas till the owner came, so when he asked me I said there was a wild animal to kill for food.”

He adds that the owner arrested him and took him to the hospital to establish what was wrong but the medics found out that he was not sick but drunk. So what he did was due to the influence of alcohol.

James narrates that the following day, he was fined 100 Zaire, the currency used during late Mobutu Seseseko of Zaire, a lesson he was taught.

From 1985, James continued smoking until he came to the Sudan. Then he stayed in Kajo-Keji, his ancestral land until, after two years’ time, he again went to Uganda as a refuge because of the war between the Sudan Peoples’ Liberation Army and the Sudan government.

In Oliji refugee camp

He says they had drank and smoked till late, so he went home and the following day. He had wanted to smoke again, only to find that there was no cigarette after thoroughly checking his pockets.

“I went asking from neighbours but all had nothing and I headed straight to the shop. I had 20 shillings with me but the owner of the shop had no loose money for change. I proposed to leave the 20 shillings and go with the cigarettes but the owner said he does not like keeping my money. Then I insisted that I should be given the cigarette and pay later again it was rejected.”

James further narrated that he went home disappointed and decided to go for a long call to ease himself so as to nurse the discontent.
As he walked a distance and began squatting down, he luckily got a leftover of a cigarette by some who had defecated and disappeared.
When the refugees were first settled in the camps, they had no latrines but just defecate in the open “Matar.” Matar means in Arabic the airport where they go and empty themselves.

“I was pleased to see the leftover of the cigarette and took it very fast and started smoking. I smoked twice and the third one, the fire from the cigarette accidentally entered my tongue and burnt me seriously prompting me to throw it away,” narrating while laughing and sipping his white bull beer a bit in one of the bars in Juba.

According to James, it was the start of his new move to quit smoking as he thought and asked himself why he was smoking and a self-imposed slave to mare cigarettes.

“I entered inside and told my wife about leaving cigarette. She laughed and doubted my move. I collected all the papers in the room used for rolling cigarette and burnt them in presence of my wife. Since I decided to say no to smoking,”

He continues “I was feeling out of place for a period of two weeks and just staying indoors like a sick person. If the urge comes, I take coffee. After the two weeks, I lost interest and when fellow smokers come, I refuse to join them,”

Asked on the government’s directive to ban smoking in public places countrywide, James welcomes it saying people should respect others and where to smoke.

“Smoking shames people because even the rich borrow cigarettes from the poor and in public; smokers go hiding in bathrooms, toilets to smoke.”

The Ministry of Environment has banned smoking in public places, according to an order that came in this month covering the entire country and aims at maintaining a healthy environment.

Places listed are government institutions, airports, seaports, hotels, restaurants, cinema and bars.

Violating the order will be considered a criminal offence and the perpetrators will have to pay of fine of SSP500 apprx USD 150.
James still drinks alcohol but he says he will one time abandon drinking like how he dealt a big blow to smoking.

He also said last April, he got paid and drunk all his money with co-workers which prompted him to switch off his phone for three days to avoid calls from children since they wanted school fees paid.

“I then pressurized those with my money to pay back so as to pay the fees for my children which I luckily did.”

By Moi Julius

Star Africa
The Corporate Weekly
CDC

It’s all pomp and glory as the world welcomes the year 2015. Faithful from all over the globe last night gathered in places of worship to bid goodbye to the year 2014 and to usher in another year of possibilities. The year 2015 comes amidst challenges from the previous year and everyone waits to see how the year will take its course. The events which were broadcast live saw the nation host several gospel artists from all over the world with the Groove party held at the Kasarani stadium hosting a South African gospel artist, Solly Malanghu and local artists, Willy Paul, Size 8, Pitson, Bahati and others. Among other artist at the TSO event was Christina Shusho and local artists. At the shout of the word 2015, fireworks, celebrations and jubilation rent the air in honor of the New Year.

In Kenya, the situation isn’t different; people thronged places of worship to give thanks unto Almighty God for yet another year. The country’s leadership wasn’t left behind as politicians joined other Kenyans in celebrating the birth of yet another year. The president and commander-in-chief of the armed forces was on his toes to deliver a message to the citizens, seconds after the new year was born. While speaking at the state house, President Uhuru Kenyatta thanked every Kenyan for the great job they did in the previous year. Dubbing it a year of possibilities, the president indeed expressed great belief that there are going to be numerous possibilities in the New Year. He called on all Kenyans to be part of the development agenda and to be mindful of each other’s security.

The church leaders as well gave preachings that ushered everyone into the New Year. Nevertheless, as some Kenyans went to churches to pray, other citizens joined to cross over while at social places. The clubs at the city center were fully parked as celebrities also entertained their followers. The Machakos Governor as well joined his county residents at the Machakos people park in which people enjoyed some cool reggae music from different artists. However, after ushering the new year, Kenyans now await to see what the new year brings on board. It may have been an enjoyable moment last night with everyone staying up to late. Already the teachers’ strike is on and it only remains doubtful if the New Year will come along with goodies to woo the teachers to get back to class. Even as Kenyans get to celebrate today, the celebrations may be short-lived with calls to get back to work beginning the second day of the month. As for pupils and students, it’s now not about the New Year but more precisely about school.

Even as the nation experiences adversities, it is believed that the New Year will come along with solutions for these problems. It is indeed a time that the leaders need to unite to work together to achieve development goals. He time for ethnic divisions should now be over. It is a new year with new things.

Letter by Morris Cerullo

Daily our algorithm-frazzled synapses are bombarded with self-help memes, cat videos and outraged politically correct protest (anti-) propaganda, all surely designed to infotain our Kardashian-raped, Cowell-infested sensibilities.

Whilst bemoaning the fact that anything consumptively enjoyable will either bankrupt or kill you, we are also unremittingly told that either Iceland or Denmark for the 16^th year in a row enjoys the highest standard of living in the world–with countries like Ebola-ridden Sierra Leone or corruption-addled Turkey languishing in the Hades/purgatory lowlands of the list.

These quality of life or happiness indices invariably seem to be gleaned from fairly small public polls (there’s a deadline to meet, right? Can’t ask everyone), and revolve around standards such as number of TVs per household, number of foreign holidays per year, number of naked saunas on the 2^nd floor etc.

None of these standards ever seem to apply to a more mature appreciation of contentedness (happiness is a far more subjective term). Contentedness would mean a more rational quantification of acceptance of reality, adult realisation of expectations, and essentially an understanding of the value of things beyond materialism or capitalism.

With that last word, your brain may begin to glaze over with ‘oh here we go, tedious neo-Marxist rant approaching’. Understandable with as many conflicting and contradicting online articles out there as viruses. But not the case here, because this doesn’t come from politics, old or new. It comes from a question as to what defines the term ‘happiness’ as some kind of secular catch-all, and a further realisation of the fact that that end clearly isn’t enough.

Spirituality is alive and kicking, and pouring like Dove-scented sweat from the online pores of nearly every single one of your post-marriage ‘friends’, whichever sex they may be (though the heterosexual blokes in that bracket do still tend to go on about Nigel Farage/Alex Ferguson/Jeremy sodding Clarkson a bit more.)

This new online spirituality-spreading is the teenies version of Jehova’s Witnesses, tugging Prince along behind them in a hessian sack while they trouble the hard-working folk of south Yorkshire during their cosy fireside evenings. The thing is, this vague spirituality – I like that it’s vague, by the way – represents as much clutching as just about, tantalisingly out of reach straws as any of the other religions, including (especially?) the Abrahamic ones.

No one will ever get where they want to be by wanting anything – but that doesn’t rock too well in the desperate straits our late-capitalism finds itself in. More Danes (could be any number of Scandinavian countries to be honest, judging by the polls) choose to cut their life expectancy short due to the fact that comfort is reasonably worked for, expected, and then – then what?

Conflate that with a chronically sensitive disposition and access to anything else you might need/want, and psycho-spiritual trouble awaits. Your regular Turk, living his or her life through perpetual generations of struggle and low expectations, compounded by the actuality of a divine being who (reassuringly enough) does not appreciate questioning, rarely has the luxury of suicide. Getting though the day is hard enough, let alone allowing for the bored, existential angst of self-imposed oblivion.

Column by Sean Bw Parker

The year was 1997, the place was a slum area called Los Guidos, in San José, Costa Rica. Around 100,000 families live in very poor and sometimes inhuman conditions. Families are large, most are single mothers with 5 to 7 children of different fathers. Around 85 percent of the families are illegal Nicaraguan immigrants. It was a normal Tuesday afternoon when 3 years old Pedro was outside playing. His mother inside the small “house” was doing her households. After a few hours she called her children in and Pedro is no longer outside. His brothers and sisters started looking for him with no results. Soon neighbors join the search. Night falls and the anguished mother files a report with the local police.

It takes hours before the police start the search but finally they do, and the local news start showing Pedro’s pictures in case someone has seen him.

Days go by and no results. Pedro has vanished. Nobody saw anything or heard anything. The mother is interviewed by the local news, and all she does is cry and ask for some information that will allow her to see her son again. Weeks go by and neighbors stop helping and looking. The case is open but it goes into one of the thousands of files of the OIJ (equivalent to the FBI in Costa Rica). Pedro’s mother keeps visiting the OIJ office every month to see if there is any news. The answer is always the same: “No news–we contact you if there is any changes.” After some months people forget and lose interest in the case. Everyone moves on, except Pedro’s family. For them life is never the same, Pedro is missing and they have no idea what happened to him. A mother always wonders, “Is he cold? Is he alive? Is he well? Is he hungry?” and a million more questions go through her mind.

It has been almost 18 years since this unfortunate incident happened. What is worse is that this incident happens every day in all countries of the world. Millions of children go onto a list of missing people and when there are no results they remain there, just in a list. Now more than ever we have the capacity to join forces and have an international database with updated pictures of how these millions of children would look like. Systems that make it easy for others to report any information anonymously. But we are not well organized, and the truth is that these children remain there… on the list.

Last week the Nicaraguan government sent an alert saying that they might have found Pedro. Seventeen years later. His mother traveled to the neighbor-country for a DNA test, and unfortunately the test was negative, the young man was not Pedro.

It broke my heart to hear the mother talking on the local news still asking for any information like the first day her son disappeared. It made me think of all the families that have gone through this tragedy and how they could support each other not only at a local level. My question remains if this happened in your family when would you give up? My answer is NEVER.

Letter by Kadyja Brealey, Costa Rica

History is usually written by the winners, not by the losers, and the way in which the history of slavery has been represented, for the most part, is as abolition, the triumph of abolition. So we’re trying to think again about that way of writing the history and put the whole slavery business and the wealth it produced and the people who were involved in it back into British history.

If you read what we call against the grain of some of these histories, you can find the mediated voices of the enslaved.

An interesting example of this would be the way in which a very famous narrative of a black enslaved woman, Mary Prince, was produced by the abolitionists as a form of propaganda in 1831.

This woman was living for some of this time in the area absolutely around Bloomsbury where her owner, John Adams Wood, had a house. Although it’s apparently in her voice telling her history, she tells it to a woman who transcribes it, and it’s then edited by the secretary of the anti-slavery society. So it’s made appropriate for an abolitionist audience.It’s telling a particular, it’s a particular way of telling the narrative, which can give us some access to the experience of the enslaved woman, but only some.

We can’t take it as simply authentic. That this is what Mary Prince said or thought. Trying to read between the lines is a very important way of trying to get access to black people’s experience, but this is work that it’s very, very important to do, and particularly important for women since, you know, they’re even less recorded.

In 1833, when slavery was abolished in British Caribbean and in Mauritius and the Cape, 20 million pounds was paid in compensation to the slave owners because they were seen as having lost what was called their property, the enslaved men and women who they had bought or who had been born in captivity on their estates.

And of that 20 million pounds, which was paid out of taxpayers’ money, nearly ten million stayed in Britain. So there were a very substantial number of slave owners in Britain who made substantial claims on that money and, therefore, had a large cash influx at that time.

The poet Elizabeth Barrett, who became Elizabeth Barrett Browning, was the daughter of a very significant Jamaican slave owner, and she had very, very complicated feelings about slavery and the slave ownership, and she was not sympathetic to slavery, but she was very well aware that the family money came from slavery, and, indeed, she inherited money on that basis. And she wrote a poem in the 1840’s which she wrote, in fact, for the American abolitionists called “The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim’s Point”, and in that poem, she tries to imagine being black.
So there are many powerful lines where in the poem, in the voice of an enslaved woman, “I am black, I am black.”And this is a woman who is raped by her white master,bares a child, cannot bear the fact that her child is the product of rape, kills the child, and calls on the enslaved to rebel.So it’s a very, very dramatic poem.Yet this woman, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, you know, who imagines all this, her own life is made comfortable financially by her family wealth, and she was not opposed at all to the principle of compensation.

She thought it was right that the slave owners were compensated because property was property, and if you lose property, it should be compensated. So that just gives us one of those complicated glimpses into what it meant to be totally implicated in the slavery business and yet to have very ambivalent feelings about it.It’s been hard for Britons to think about the extent to which slavery has shaped our history,and there are many physical remnants of that.The country houses that were built on slaving wealth,the art collections that were accumulated by slave owners,the ways in which sugar became an absolute essential part of the diet of the entire British population from the 18th century onwards,the ways in which British financial and commercial institutions have actually been built on Atlantic slave trade and slavery, and, of course, that’s a long time ago, but those are the roots. And then there’s the political legacies and the kinds of hierarchies of racism.

The ways in which contemporary racial thought has many in flexions from this long, long history. It’s those legacies that we’re pursuing through the 19th century, through our work on the compensation records, and where we want people to think about that because of the present, because of the present, and the ways in which these formations have been part of what it is to be a modern Britain.

By Ahmed Kotb