Her name is Fatmata. She is an African mother. And this is her story.
So you think you feel good about what unfolded south of Canada’s border on Nov. 4?
You should see the party in Africa.
There has been dancing in the streets, public holidays and general high-fives from nationals to diplomats to expatriates, all convinced that, as one Ugandan paper put it, “America is reborn.”
I discovered that this hugely popular novel, with sales now somewhere around a million, has caused a tempest in our community. And it’s left me wondering: is it just me, or is something fundamentally and horribly amiss in our courtyard?
Recently travelling back from Canada to Uganda through London, England – capital of history’s most influential empire – I got some renewed perspective on global leadership and change and how, in politics, there’s nothing like old-fashioned fear to move things along.
We’re in the middle of East Africa’s savannah, about to be eaten by nearby lions.