My name is Aho Kiangan. I was born in a hut by the river being fed by the water fall. The river’s water traveled by my home all the way to the open sea. As a boy, I frolicked in the cold water and bathed in its welcomed freshness. The river and the water fall are my origins. But I am the water long under the bridge, long lost in the sea. I was fifteen when I left knowing then as I know now, there was no going back.
This is my story in snippets. Moments. Anecdotes. All colored by my biases and self indulgence. I am not a politician nor an important man nor one that must be remembered. I am one soul who was fortunate to have lived, to have experienced happiness and pleasure, to have known the significance of pain and the justice of struggle and failure.My knowledge was borne not of schools and institutions but of the streets and the kindness of strangers. Of hope unending and the willingness to take what I could render. Of my imperfections and the temerity to get up after each fall. And the honesty I can only call my own without shame nor chest beating pride. More than loving myself, I am at peace.
My name is Aho Kiangan. This is my story.