The effects of war
I am constantly amazed at how my life before has lead me to
where I am now.
I use to work for The Salvation Army as a social Justice
co-ordinator. I cannot begin to even tell you how many talks I gave, how many
sermons, how many articles I wrote or books I read on child soldiers –
particularly the battle going on in Uganda.
To now not only live in the
country, but in one of the towns that was so greatly affected is like coming
full circle.
Many of you may remember that Uganda has been the home of
one of the longest running wars in history.
Kony was a rebel who took power of Northern Uganda from 1986
till he was driven out in 2005 after nearly 2 decades of atrocities.
He was well known for kidnapping children and brainwashing
them to be killing machines.
If you’ve heard of
child soldiers – Kony made this his main source of soldiers and really gave new
meaning to the horrors of war.
He raided villages at night – kidnapped children, boys to be
soldiers and girls to be the wives of his young soldiers and many
sold into sexual slavery.
He would mutilate/hack body parts of people or murder the
families left behind, burnt villages to the ground and often forced children to
kill their own families before they left – ensuring these children would have
no reason to try and escape.
He’d then forced them to walk for days and days, signalling
out the weakest and the strongest. Many died before they would even reach their
destination.
Many of the organisations that helped to rescue children,
and rehabilitate child soldiers have been one’s I have supported over the years, organisations that I encouraged others to support
– long before I met Rob and long before I ever came to Uganda.
This place held my heart even before I knew it.
I had the opportunity on my first trip 4 years ago to meet
with child soldiers who had been rehabilitated with the salvation army, one who
had gone on to become a teacher, and was now studying medicine. His stories I
can still remember so clearly, how these children live with the things they
have not only seen, but also the things they were forced to do – is very hard
to imagine.
Even today although Kony has fled the country ( still to be
caught!!!) the effects of his reign here still exists. I read in the paper a
few weeks ago the stories of two child soldiers who only just returned home
after 15 years away. Both were tragic stories.
And this week on the news they followed a man who had only
been 8 when taken from his village. His nightmares follow him everywhere as he
thinks of what he has seen and been brainwashed to do over the last 20years. As
he talked about his fear of having to look his mother in the eyes, he was like
a scared little boy – he asked “how can they love me after what I have done”?
Of course his mother
wailed with joy when she saw him, but the pain for her was visible as she saw what war had done to him physically - his bones were crushed as a
punishment for trying to escape many years earlier. But for him the greatest affects are on his character, his emotions, his soul..... I thought of the journey ahead as the mother would discover her son who was now a man - was not the same boy who had been taken all those years ago.
The joy of that day of his return, would soon be lost as he tried to rediscover who he is, and where he fits back into the village and family life.
You could see that he understood this - his family had yet to see that the days ahead would not be easy just because he had now returned.
We happen to live in Nth Uganda – a place that was very much
a part of this conflict.
Children from the outlying villages would walk into Lira
before dark and sleep in the shop fronts, hoping to miss the rebels who would
raid the villages at night. Come morning – they would walk back to the
villages.
This went on everyday for years and years.
Lira was home to one of the biggest displacement camps for
victims – but even these places were not safe from the rebels with a major massacre
taking place there.
For me these stories had always been stories of a faraway
place, and now to be living here – I am constantly amazed as I look around and
try to imagine how only 8 years ago this place would have felt different.
Most of the adults and teenagers here would remember very
clearly what life was like then. With many families being personally affected.
For Rob he grew up hearing about the war, but also
being so far away from it. Growing up in a village without tv and power, most
Ugandans didn’t even fully understand what was occurring in their own country. Rob certainly didn't till he went to high school.
This was when Rob started to see the effects of the war when
he attended high school with former child soldiers. Young man who suffered from
nightmares and sudden moments of violence. Boy’s who had been ripped from their
childhood, brainwashed and trained to be killers. Rob always wondered how life could
ever be normal for them again.
Although this country is a much safer place now that Kony
has fled the country, the affects still linger.
The displacement camps were shut down a few years ago, to
try and force the traumatised people to leave and go back to their villages –
not knowing what they would find.
There remains one child soldier rehabilitation centre In
Gulu – still helping men and women to pick up the pieces.
Although at first glance it would seem that war never
happened here, there are reminders in the lives of the people who call the
North home.
Recently I was reminded of this tragedy on a very normal
day.
Rob and I were travelling back from one of our farms in a taxi car. ( a normal
car and you buy a seat in it)
Rob was sitting to a young man probably not much older than
him. After some time we got talking, and he proceeded to tell us where he was
from.
A place between Gulu ( the hub of the war) and Lira. Rob asked was his family
affected from Kony.
What proceeded was a heartbreaking story of how war affects
people.
The rebels came into his village one night and ransacked homes,
burnt huts and took people. He and his brother managed to escape being taken
that night.
They had family in the town so it was decided the boy’s
would go and stay there to be safer. The young man we spoke to who was around 9
at the time went first.
In the few days that followed before the next boy could be
sent the rebels returned. His brother was kidnapped as a young teenager – his mother
was murdered and their hut burnt to the ground.
He was left alone. Can you imagine this??
The way he shared his
story was in a way of showing no particular importance. He did not realise the
impact his story had on us – he spoke in way knowing that he was not alone. He
knew that 2 million other families had experienced the same thing through the
hands of Kony and his army.
He had no idea that for us, particularly me it was
a story that seemed so far from anything I could ever imagine – something out
of a horror movie. But for him, it was simply his story.
I wanted to hug him but knew that this wouldn’t be
appropriate – this was his past and he spoke with vacant eyes as he shared. I
tried to hide the pain in my eyes as I didn’t want to cause him to go deeper
into the pain of his past.
His brother managed to escape after 3 years.
He returned to the village and is still there today, but
lives daily with the horrors and nightmares of war.
Their family ever affected by this war.
His story touched me – reminded me that we do not know
people by looking at them, he seemed like a really carefree, happy guy.
He reminded me that humans can be horrific and selfish and
evil.
But then as he went on to share of how he has overcome his past - he also
reminded me there was hope – and that even through tragedy – there is hope in
the darkness. You can find freedom.
That the human spirit is incredibly strong – especially when
they have a faith.
Although his family had been through so much, he also shared
of God and faith and the future. I heard him often throughout the journey
singing songs to God with a joy that few Australians really know or ever
experience.
Although for him and his family and so many other people we
come into contact with everyday,(even those who don’t share their stories), the
effects of the war are still here – the scars are still visible.
But those scars don’t
only point to the tragedy these people have seen – but also to the incredible
strength of the Ugandan people – and their hope that God’s heart broke for them
too, a reminder of how people can overcome.
Scars are an interesting thing - we can have emotional or physical scars and often they are painful reminders of times gone by and they follow us wherever we go.
Physical scars are something I can relate to – for many
years as a young teenager I hated my scars. Particularly the ones that were
visible – I didn’t like wearing shorter dresses or skirts. Until one day my
mother wisely reminded me they weren’t scars but battle wounds. They were my
battle scars. Evidence that yes my body is not made the same as others and can
often be a cause of great suffering and pain – but they are also a reminder
that my spirit is much stronger than my body and that I have overcome.
I have been much more open to my scars since that day –
changing my mind set to see my scars, not only my physical ones but my
emotional ones too as not something to hide but something to celebrate – that I
have overcome.
Why in the west do we so quickly hide our past – our scars?
As if we are ashamed of our story – of our journey. Ashamed that we have endured pain?
This man shared his story without any shame – he knew these events had not been
his fault, and saw how now, they made up his story – the good and the bad. He knew his past didn't define his future - but added to the journey that is life.
I am always left with the question – why in the west
whenever bad things happen do we blame God.... and doubt his existence?
Why do we hide our pasts instead of sharing our stories as
examples that there is hope after suffering, after pain?
I get very frustrated when people think here that because I
am white – I have much to teach them. When in fact it is these people who
should be teaching us! We have so much to learn in the west. I have so much to learn!!!
When bad things happen people know here that it is not the
hand of God, but the work of evil people and much darker forces.
They understand that even though Kony an evil man who did these
horrific things in the name of God – that it certainly wasn’t GOD who wanted or
caused these things to happen.
They understand that God is a God of love and that His heart
breaks when they suffer.....they can see God is with walking with them even in
the most horrific circumstances? And these people have experienced things we
will most likely never experience in our lifetime.
And yet they find hope..... they see hope.............. why
can’t we???
