MWANZA, June 23 -- IT was August 2014, a month I will never forget. The month when the crossing at KigongoBusisi stole from me what I could never recover.

I had left Dar es Salaam in haste that day, carried by FastJet towards Mwanza. A family emergency was calling me home.

But when I landed, I found no connection to Bukoba. The next flight would be the following day.

I could have stayed the night in Mwanza, but the urgency in my heart pushed me to find another way.

I boarded a bus bound for Kampala that morning, a promise of getting home the same day. And so began the journey.

When we reached Kigongo, the ferry was on the other side. And so we waited. There is something about that waiting. It is heavy. It presses down on you.

The su...