Stories of War

Within the lines and across the expressions…

          a story is told throughout the faces of Northern Uganda.

A story of heartache…a story of great loss…a story of survival…

I’ve spent the past couple months serving throughout Northern Uganda, in Lira, Gulu and Pader – all with different but similar stories to tell. Northern Uganda fell victim to atrocious rebel attacks in a war that lasted twenty years. And as I walk down the city streets, into mud hut villages and shake hands with the survivors, the region seems to be exhaling with the realization of a 4-year peace.

But they are never far from their stories.

Stories of…

…children robbed of their childhood

…boys turned into child soldiers

…girls raped and abused

…parents murdered in front of their children

…grandparents burned inside their homes

When Nancy was twelve, her concept of struggle was totally different than mine. In 2003, she was abducted from her home at night, along with 9 other siblings and cousins. The rebels targeted her home after being informed of two things. First of all, a teacher (her father-Santo-also introduced in my last blog) lived there, which to them meant he worked for the government. Second, they were informed that there would be many children there. The rebels came to the house around 11:30 that night. They threatened the bomb the entire house if they weren’t allowed in, so the mother opened the door. Santo had left that very day to stay at the university, so he wasn’t at home. If the rebels had come one day earlier or later, he would have been killed. Everyone was tied together and taken away. Nancy said she was crying hysterically, but they threatened to kill anyone who cried. The rebels took all of the belongings from the house and dragged the children into the night. The mother was dropped off and allowed to return home because she had Robin (a small baby at the time). Out of the ten children taken from the home that continued with the rebels, the youngest was six. The commander told them that they wanted Santo to pursue them so that he could be killed. The kids were smeared with a black vasaline-type substance so that they could be identified by other rebels in the event of an escape. This marker meant they would be killed on site. They then began their walk to Sudan.

Andrew is Nancy’s brother. I’ve also gotten very close to him. He has a large part in this story, as well. Andrew was ten when the rebels came. The ten children were separated into different groups. Andrew was with some of the other children, but not Nancy. Andrew had a special job. He was basically one of the commander’s personal slave. He carried his equipment, gun, and food. They were given very little (if anything) to eat most of the time. Typically, two cups of beans was split between his group of twenty other abductees. The rebels had no regard for human life. If they came across a river that needed to be crossed, someone would be pushed in to gage the depth, which usually resulted in drowning. They were frequently beaten by canes for being “lazy”. They were walking to Sudan to train to become soldiers. Yes, I do mean walking to Sudan. At one point, Andrew said he was too tired to keep going. His feet, ankles, and legs were swollen greatly. Running on barely any food, he had enough. He sat down and refused to keep walking. Keep in mind he is ten years old at this time. The commanders threaten to kill him if he doesn’t continue. He tells them that they’ll just have to kill him because he can’t do it anymore. An older abductee (around thirty) had a similar response with exhaustion. Without thought, they killed him with a machete. Andrew guesses they let him live because he was the coveted luggage carrier. He finally got up and continued walking.                                                                                                                  

But perhaps the greatest story is yet to be told…