Thriving Through Trials

There is a place and time that rekindles my hope, the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights in The Gambia. I first came here last year, and returning this time feels like stepping once more onto sacred ground. To be surrounded by advocates, survivors, and reformers who share the same longing that justice should flow like a river, is both humbling and energising. Even those from government delegations, tasked with defending what is sometimes indefensible, seem to sense the gravity of this space. Their faces, often serious elsewhere, carry an unspoken respect for the conversations unfolding here.

Landing in Banjul past midnight, I was met by an official who led me to a taxi I hesitated to enter — not for fear, but for its condition. The driver smiled warmly, the kind of smile that hides both fatigue and resilience. I asked whether his car was allowed on the road during the day or only at night. He laughed and said, “Only at night.” We both smiled, and I silently prayed the engine would survive the 30-minute journey. It did. Somewhere between the bumps and the darkness, I remembered that faith ought to apply not only in church but also in trusting a fragile car to carry you safely toward purpose.

At 2:30 a.m., I reached the hotel only to discover that my check-in time was 11 a.m. I laughed at myself, my first independent booking after many trips arranged by my ever-right and knowledgeable wife. I bought another room for the night, proud to have tried and grateful to have arrived.

The Commission sessions were intense. From the DRC minister’s plea for peace, accompanied by a heartbreaking video of unimaginable war crimes to Sudan’s painful testimonies and Egypt and Tunisia facing hard questions, every voice carried both sorrow and courage. The emotional waves swung from grief to glory in seconds. At times, human rights work feels like mission impossible, yet we pursue it not because it is easy, but because it matters.

As I prepare to leave Banjul, tired yet inspired, I hold close what this gathering reminded me: justice work is holy work. It may not be loud, or perfect, but it is faithful.

I came. I spoke for refugees in Malawi. I asked questions. I encouraged someone. And in return, I was reminded that hope, like justice, flows best when we dare to believe it still can.