Memoirs of a Musajja

He was born and bred in Musajjaland but basajja never considered him a bonafide ‘son of the soil’ and like Wyclef Jean sang in ‘peace God’ when he died his life was not even worth paperwork. He grew up learning that he was different. He was not bothered in his existence but there was no doubt amongst his hosts that he was also not welcome. He was the Musajja. As a result of his confusing and often compelling economic history, he was left with no option but to wander the entire expanse of Musajjaland trying to find one place that would make him comfortable, the search for a home.
L-R : Rwandans busy sorting coffee ;The current Rwandan is more interested in what you have to offer
L-R : Rwandans busy sorting coffee ;The current Rwandan is more interested in what you have to offer
Times Reporter