His name is Aggrey.
Aggrey has been ‘living’ at my home for the past four days. He’s the temp watchman, brought in by the regular guy, Martin, who traveled to Arua this week to visit his sick mother.
Last night, I noticed Aggrey’s strange gait. He doesn’t walk with a limp, but he’s bent to the right and hunched over like he has something to hide. His right arm is always in his pocket, attached to his thigh, it seems. Everything about him is lopsided, even the smile he flashes when I say hello. Continue reading ‘I’m Done Something Bad’













Your Insomnia