Returning Home and the Shocking Reality (July 7th)

In the past when I stayed in the village, after supper each night, Daddy Gulu would tell me stories from his past. From someone who has cheated death on many occasions, dating back to Idi Amin’s time, I would listen in silent awe to these stories. The stories, however, that would most sadden me, were those from before the war. Daddy’s eyes would moisten ever so slightly as he would describe to me his home village, the one they had to flee. He would talk about the vast amount of land they had, how his children could swim in the nearby river – which also offered plentiful fish, plus the amount of livestock and crops they had left behind. Many people in Acholiland can not remember peace. And to hear the stories of someone who could, would break my heart, contemplating a livelihood lost.

Yesterday, for the first time, I went to visit their home. It was not a journey I would have contemplated two years ago while I was here, particularly without an armed convoy, but yesterday we drove the 70 or so kilometers from town, to Awere, the true home of my Ugandan family.

The drive out was quite surreal, as they pointed out the hotspots along the road – e.g., “This is where most of the big ambushes occurred”, “that is the hill where Kony (LRA leader) was based for a long time”, etc. I also saw the forest where Alice Lakwena, one of the original leaders of the northern rebellion was stationed for a long time. And as we got closer to my family’s home, I saw places from Kony’s childhood – where he lived, where he was an altarboy and where he went to school. I also saw the huge boulder, from which he disappeared up to and reportedly received the “Lakwena” spirit. These are all places I have read and heard a lot about, but to actually see them was fairly eerie.

I was high on adrenaline on the way out, from a combination of fear and excitement. There were very few other cars on the road and I think I only saw about 8 in total on the way there and back. Most of these were “pick ups”, with 20 or so Internally Displaced People (IDPs) being ferried from the camps to town, with a couple of armed soldiers sitting in front. I was also witnessing so many signs of peace that I couldn’t believe – smaller IDP camps were being built closer to peoples homes, children were walking around and people had resettled in a few areas plus in some areas people were planting crops, once again being able to access their land.

As we reached “home”, however, the reality of the conflict hit me hard. As Daddy showed me where their land was, and described what had once been there, I had to hold back my tears. It was pouring with rain, so we couldn’t walk onto the land – plus the army have camped on some of it and probably wouldn’t have allowed us. So we drove up a little further to the local market that was adjoined to an IDP camp. People started squealing with excitement as they recognized Mummy and Daddy, and most couldn’t believe they were looking at Jolly – who they had last seen 20 years ago as an 18 year old girl. The rain was still bucketing down, but we started walking through the IDP camp, slipping on the mud, as they looked for relatives, neighbours and friends. The conditions of the camp was very poor and I can only imagine how hard it must have been for Mummy, Daddy and Jolly to witness people they know and care about, living like that, so close to the vast openness of their homes.

My optimism from the previous day was quickly dissipated. While people are living in the camps, the problems of the north are far from over. My conscience would not let me take close photos of the camp, as it did not seem correct to document peoples suffering so obtrusively. I ask you to just imagine the worst possible living conditions you can – that is what I saw, that is how people are living, and that is another major factor why people are dying (the rate of death in northern Uganda is reportedly 3 times that of Iraq).

I am now in Kampala for the weekend as my Mum arrived today (yay!). Heading back to Gulu on Monday or Tuesday. Hope to post more from there.

Hope all's well,
Amy

PS. For those interested, some quick IDP facts from northern Uganda...
- I have read different estimates of numbers but they range from 1.6 -2 million people in northern Uganda are displaced by the war (this is about 90% of the population)
- Essentially they are like refugee camps, but as the people haven't crossed an international border, they do not receive 'refugee' status, and thus do not fall under the protection of the UN High Commission for Refugees
- Many people were forced to move to the camps due to a government order in 2002 in which they were given 48 hours to leave their land, without any provisions for relocation. People left land, crops and livestock behind and only brought with them what they could carry on their heads.
- The camps have been sites of gross human rights violations, including massacres by the LRA (rebels) and human rights violations by the UPDF (Ugandan army)
- Because the huts have been built so close together, fires have destroyed many homes, as if the grass thatched roof of one hut catches on fire, it quickly jumps to neighbouring huts
- People from the camps have strict curfews, which if they break, they are suspected of being rebels
- In short, it is a living nightmare.

Some photos (not so clear due to the rain and taking most of them from the roadside)















The Home of My Ugandan Family, identified by the trees that once surrounded their house.















The boulder on the right hand side, behind the trees, is where Kony received his spirits



(more photos to come - again having trouble uploading)