There are some people you meet and they leave a taste in your mouth. It is not the taste of cherries or strawberries or anything defined really.
They leave your presence but leave traces of theirs behind; pieces of a puzzle, dots to join, some effect that jogs your mind for two seconds or so….”Who is this girl? Where have I seen her before? Do I know her from somewhere? Is she one of those people I am supposed to know?”
This is the precise feeling I had when I first saw Elsie Muhonja. Back then I was completely at loss of any titles to her name or anything essential about her apart from the fact that we lived in the same hostel. Yet from that afternoon when I saw her walking across the stretch of grass outside my hostel to the few other times