Hi there— this blog is about some of the people I encountered at the Imvepi Refugee Settlement in northern Uganda. It shares some snippets of their stories. I do not want to sugarcoat what I heard, saw, or felt in my time with them… and so, this is my disclaimer:
DO NOT READ AHEAD IF STORIES OF MURDER, SEXUAL ASSAULT, ABANDONMENT, OR HOPELESSNESS ARE TRIGGERS FOR YOU.
First, I would like to say that our time volunteering with ChildVoice at the refugee settlement was absolutely incredible. The workers there are almost entirely from within Uganda, and it is their full time job to help these refugees. They aim to restore the voices of children who lost them because of war. They CARE so much about the people they are working for, and it was so breathtaking to see them put forth the amount of effort they did every single day.
ChildVoice sought to not only give child mothers (mothers who themselves ARE children) hygiene products and classes, but also to empower adolescents who had to stop receiving an education due to their circumstances. They provide individual and group counseling to refugees, and they organize many activities for refugees to participate in— including dance, song, and drama competitions. They co-hosted many big events such as a World AIDS Day conference and a women’s march to promote the end of gender-based violence in the workplace. ChildVoice works every single day to make sure that refugees have a “reasonably good life.” I got to participate in all of these things firsthand.
The Imvepi Refugee Settlement re-opened a little over 1.5 years ago to accommodate the influx of refugees pouring into the country. It is located in northern Uganda, fairly near the borders of the Democratic Republic of Congo and South Sudan. While many refugee camps in that area have people from many different countries, the refugees at Imvepi are 98% South Sudanese. They approximate there are about 76,000 refugees at the camp, with more continually arriving. It is one of the smaller refugee camps in the area, but it actually referred to as “Imvepi Refugee Settlement” because it is more permanent in nature.
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I cannot even imagine what people must face to decide to flee their home. They grab what they can, and they run. They don’t look back. They know what horrors lie ahead, but they know that immanent death faces them if they stay. So, they run.
“Hi. What is your name?”
M: “Mary.” *
“Hi Mary. Is this your son?”
M: “Yes.”
“He is beautiful.”
M: *Mary smiles.*
“How old is he?”
M: “Five months.”
*long silence*
“How old are you?”
M: “Seventeen.”
“When did you leave South Sudan?”
M: “Three years ago.”
“So, when you were fourteen?”
M: “Three years ago.”
“Did your parents come here with you?”
M: “They stayed.”
“They stayed in South Sudan?”
M: “They didn’t want to come. They stayed.”
“Have you heard from them?”
M: “Not since I left.”
*long silence*
“So, what do you like about the refugee camp?”
M: “I don’t know anyone.”
“How long have you been here at Imvepi?”
M: “Over a year.”
“You should meet your neighbors! I’m sure they would love to get to know you.”
M: “I don’t know any of the women here.”
“Well, what do you like to do?”
M: *Mary sarcastically laughs and looks away*
“What do you do during the day?”
M: *looks at her son*
“Do you like being a mom?”
M: “Yes.”
“What is your favorite part of your day?’
M: “I do nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
M: “I do nothing all day. But I think I’ll be able to go home soon… to South Sudan.”
“You mean you don’t do anything all day long?”
M: “Yes.”
“What would you like to do?”
M: “Will you buy me sandals so I can sell them and make money?”
“I’m sorry, that’s not why I’m here.”
M: “I’d like to have a business for sandals, but I don’t have money to buy sandals.”
“That’s a good goal. Can I connect you with vocational training?”
M: “I’d like to make sandals.”
“That’s a great goal.”
*long silence*
M: “I should be able to go home soon. Once the fighting stops.”
“Yes I hope so.”
M: “Can I go now?”
“Yes, Mary. It was good to meet you.”
*name changed for privacy.
That was just 25 minutes of one of the days I spent at Imvepi. A ChildVoice worker set up two chairs under a tree, and put me in one, and Mary in another. She told us to talk and walked away. This is how the conversation went. And it broke my heart.
At 14 years old, Mary left her country, her parents, and everything she knew to try and escape death. She hasn’t even heard from her parents in years, and definitely is not sure if they are alive. She feels isolated and depressed, and her only hope is the war ending so she can go home. She hasn’t connected with the other refugees and is raising a baby by herself now. Mary is only 17.
Mary is one of 76,000 in this refugee settlement alone (with hundreds of thousands of refugees in surrounding camps). Her story is just one. There are so many others… like the 19-year-old who just wants to go back to school, with both a six and a two year old daughter, whose husband is an alcoholic. Or those in marriages because they were raped by the man and then were forced to marry him. Or those who have a 1st grade (or less) education who don’t see any value in any more education or in working.
The worst moment at the refugee settlement was when Tori and I got invited to a drama competition between two South Sudanese blocks. We traveled deep into the settlement, took our seats, and watched in horror as these “highly humorous dramas” played out in front of us. Hundreds of South Sudanese refugees packed into the small room to watch.
They told the stories of what it was like for them to escape South Sudan into Uganda. One was about a family of three (mom, dad, and daughter) who tried to flee the war and cross the border. The soldiers caught them, and the dad and mom clung to the daughter in desperation trying to protect her… but the soldiers ripped the parents off of her, and proceeded to take off their pants and take turns gang-raping her.
Tori and I sat in silence and in shock as the crowd of South Sudanese onlookers around us ERUPTED in laughter. It took MINUTES for their laughter to cease, and many of them were brought to tears by how hard they laughed. I was absolutely disgusted at the scene in the drama I had just watched.
The drama continued. The family eventually made it to Imvepi, the daughter was pregnant but didn’t have AIDS, and once she had the baby, ChildVoice helped her have supplies to take care of it AND helped her get a good job after she went through vocational training.
That wasn’t the only drama. The others included gang rape, murder while trying to escape South Sudan, people getting HIV, etc. They portrayed the absolute violence people experienced while still in South Sudan. They portrayed the horror of trying to leave. And then they portrayed how ChildVoice helped them, and turned their lives around.
My soul was empty. I couldn’t even pretend to smile as the crowds ROARED in laughter around Tori and I. These were the worst dramas I had ever seen. How could someone EVER laugh at them?
That’s when it hit me. These dramas were funny to the people around me because these ARE THEIR STORIES. They can relate to them on a deep, deep level… and they’re trying to acknowledge the reality of what they went through. These dramas were a place of healing, and realizing that they weren’t alone in their experiences. And so, they laughed as my heart was ripped out of my chest.
I looked around at the babies in the room— how many of them were a product of rape or gang rape?
I looked around at the people in the room— how many of them watched a close loved one be brutally murdered right in front of them?
I couldn’t breathe. And to be honest, I still can’t when I think about what I saw, and about what I heard.
But I’m glad they do dramas as a form of counseling. I’m glad they know they’re not alone, and they’re on the way to healing.
But I’m broken to know that this is their reality… and that it is still happening as people continue to flee the war. New refugees arrive every day.
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I am forever thankful for my time at Imvepi Refugee Settlement.
I am thankful I can better understand the absolute horrors refugees go through.
My heart is broken for them.
But I am thankful I got to spend part of my life serving them, listening to them, and loving them.
And I am eternally grateful for organizations like ChildVoice, who go in EVERY SINGLE DAY, and try to take the most broken and hurt people in the world and give them a reasonably good life.
Thank you ChildVoice.
Thank you World Race.
