Pader Part II

For the past week I have been out in the villages of northern Uganda (Pader District) doing the data collection for my thesis. This time, however, I opted for local transport deep into the heart of the former war torn region – by bicycle.

For those of us who were raised in peaceful times and places, it’s hard to imagine the terror that the Acholi (the people of Pader) faced and how they continue to struggle with the psychosocial impacts. For example, it only mildly occurred to me as I set out for home 20km away just as the sun was setting that only a few years ago, such an endeavour would have meant almost certain death by the LRA. At first I wondered why people today were horrified that I would start a ride at that hour (people offered me spaces in their homes to avoid riding), beyond the usual fact that you simply can’t see anything after dark as there is no electricity and the roads are littered with potholes, domestic animals and other common hazards (including the odd speeding vehicle).

The road I was travelling, and had been travelling much of the week, was the site of some of the bloodiest days in recent Ugandan history. It was one of the areas that the Ugandan forces curiously didn’t defend, some locals arguing that it was because it was considered beyond hope and therefore not worth risking the loss of soldiers. As a result, nighttime was a period of sleepless terror. Homes were raided, children were abducted, and in many cases the children were also forced to watch or participate in the brutal killing of their parents or community members. Anyone on the roads even just as the sun was setting would surely have been slaughtered. In fact, rising early in the morning would reveal a path of dismembered bodies along the road of those who chose to risk travelling in darkness when they thought they would be able to pass undetected, or because they simply were caught out when darkness fell.

As I rode through the encroaching darkness, I remembered the stories I had heard and thought how liberating it must be for people to now be able to have cooking fires burning in the evening.

On this evening, I watched as large groups of women carried water and goods on their heads as they headed home. They laughed and joked with each other, shouting funny comments at me as I passed. Men huddled around a candle in some of the villages drinking and playing cards, or shouting and laughing about life’s adventures. Children still ran about playing tag or screaming “Mundu!” (white person in the local language) as I passed (we really do glow in the dark by comparison because people could easily identify me from so far when I could barely see the road in front of me). Life was loud at this time as most people finally had some free time after a long hard day. Even the night animals sang loudly and cheerfully.

It was just more evidence of Ugandan’s resilience and desire to move beyond the past.

The moon was rising and the stars were brilliant. Lightening was flashing off in the distance signalling much needed rain.

In short, it was simply beautiful. Peaceful. I rode on, taking my time.

Uganda has come so far. While poverty and many of it’s subsequent issues are still prevalent, on this night, those issues seemed to disappear and I fell in love with this magical land once again.

RAIN!

I can almost hear the ground sucking up the moisture, even as rivers of water flow in every direction. The rain has finally come. It's our first real rain in months.

This morning, I was speaking to a guard at the bank who was lamenting just how dire the situation is here without rain. Crops have died. People are dying. We pondered what humans could do in such situations. How we really are at the mercy of nature. For him it was particularly troubling because the cost of the few goods in the markets had skyrocketed. The drought is hitting Sudan, too, he said, and richer folks were driving to Arua to buy up all the goods at inflated prices to ensure they got them, pushing the items beyond the reach of locals.

I can only imagine that guard is now smiling from where he stands at his post, enjoying the rain as it drenches us all.

Bucket are lined along any sort of roof eve in order to collect this liquid gold.

I can hear children laughing and adults singing and playing music.

Its really amazing how something so simple can bring such joy. The smiles on peoples faces, even if they are huddling in doorways and their fires have gone out, is something to behold.

It's a magical day to be in Arua.

Absence

Maybe I should first explain my absence from posting before I get deep into this one. The truth is, I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed. Here in northern Uganda, things are rough for people: the famine is intensifying due to the ongoing drought; wages are minuscule for locals if they can even find a job (most working people make about $1 a day); malaria is rampant and people can’t afford the meds to fight it, killing many children everyday; and everyone looks at the foreign community as someone who can save them from this, someone who can lift them out of poverty. Everyday I want to empty my wallet because I don’t feel I did enough, I couldn’t help everyone with my hands or skills. But on top of that, I am being asked by large NGOs and the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) to shift operations to Southern Sudan and the DR Congo (DRC) because the need is greater there. I can barely keep up here and I know there is more need there…

…breath…..

That is what goes through my head every few days. One day I am seeing progress and hope and feeling fantastic. A few days later I am feeling overwhelmed and wonder if I am being effective (or how to be more effective). Repeat.

It’s the cycle of aid work, really. For some it sends them packing for home, for others it makes us work harder. Our big challenge is to avoid burnout. For me, I turn off my computer, grab a football (soccer ball) and go out and play with community members. Other days I just go for a long walk deep into the villages and chat with folks in broken Lugbara and English.

What gives me strength is that I get to hear the incredible stories of resilience, strength and survival. I hear about families. I am told how happy people are that Peace For All International (PFAI) is here since most NGOs have left for Sudan and the DRC; how they feel valued and not forgotten. I get to play with timid children who run up, yell, “I’m fine how are you?” and then hide, or others who dare come and touch the hand of the white person (many children fear white skin because they were told that albinos would eat them, and to them we all look like albinos). It’s in those moments I remember why I am here.

It’s true, things aren’t as bad here and the need is greater elsewhere, but the need is here too and I am proud of PFAI for keeping things going here. That’s not to say we aren’t planning a way to start operations in Sudan and the DRC, but we won’t just close shop here. We can’t leave these people behind when some are just getting their feet on the ground and are perilously close to falling back into dire situations (see, even my degree of need has changed – Uganda is poor, but not dire. South Sudan and the DRC are dire).

One thing that is limiting us is funding. We are desperately trying to find funds to keep projects going and begin to shift to other areas of need. Most major funders won’t fund Uganda anymore because it is “doing better than other places.” True, but like I said, it is perilously close to falling back into the old pattern of conflict and extreme suffering.

On that note, if you know of anyone who might be able to spare a few bucks, or a great aunt who has some extra money, or you work for a company that is looking to donate to a charity somewhere, please let me know (and visit our online donation page at www.canadahelps.org ). PFAI is registered in Canada and can give tax receipts. Our website is www.peaceforallinternational.org, but it is still a work in progress. We have spent nothing on admin (not a good long-term strategy, I know) so our visuals are poor, but our work is tremendous.

I also wanted to say thanks to you all for keeping up with these stories and following my sporadic musings. I will do my best to be more regular (and more interesting) in my posting. This week I am off to the villages in Pader District where there is no power or running water, so I won’t be able to post, but I will take notes and write when I get back. I am working with youth on a development plan for-youth-by-youth. The areas I am working in are places where youth were regularly recruited as child soldiers, but now are trying to find their place in the community. They are also trying to deal with the violent incursions of the tribal group neighbouring their territory. Since many only knew violence, their reaction is to retaliate or join the government military to fight the tribal forces. It’s an interesting group of people.

Best to you all, and stay safe.