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.