Ruth Ayoo

Migration Story

I Am Nyar Sakwa Uyoma, Daughter of the Lake I am Luo. I am nyar Sakwa Uyoma, from Bondo. And my address starts with water. Our story starts the way all Luo stories do, with Ramogi. From Bahr el Ghazal we walked with cows and songs. We passed Uganda, we passed Busia, and when we reached Siaya, Jok’s sons divided land like they were sharing ugali. Alego took the plains. Ugenya Sakwa took the wetlands. And my Sakwa? We kept walking until we saw the lake. “Here,” we said. “This is Uyoma. Where the water meets the sky.” That’s how we became people of the shore. Usenge, Bondo, Maranda. We are Sakwa, but lakeshore Sakwa. While our cousins in Ugenya were planting rice, we were mending nets and watching the wind. Uyoma people are known for three things: fishing, schooling, and speaking our minds. My grandfathers could argue about tilapia prices all morning, then go to the lake in the afternoon. My grandmothers could sell omena, raise children, and still find time to sing at church. When missionaries came with books, we said “leta.” We sent our girls to school. Today you’ll find daughters of Sakwa Uyoma as teachers, nurses, lawyers, and captains of business. But we always come back home. Because no city can replace the smell of rain on Lake Victoria. To be nyar Sakwa Uyoma is to carry patience and depth. Patience, because the lake teaches you to wait. Depth, because our stories are as old as the water. Migration wasn’t running for us. It was choosing. We chose the lake. Today I may live far, but my name still finds me. “An nyar Sakwa Uyoma.” It means my people followed the water. It means I carry waves in my voice and sunrise over the lake in my heart. I am modern, but I am also ancient. The lake raised me. The women before me made me strong. And the story continues with me.

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