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Friday 16 December 2005
 

IRIN Web Special on Life in northern Uganda
"when the sun sets, we start to worry..."


L I F E   A T   P O I N T   Z E R O
Labongo-Layamo camp in Kitgum District
Labongo-Layamo camp in Kitgum District

"The people in the camps are very poor. I mean, the life is horrible. The people here are not living, they are existing. They are next to dead."
Charles Uma, the chairman of the Gulu Disaster Preparedness Committee.

Over 1.2 million people in northern Uganda live in protected villages and camps. Some went there voluntarily to escape LRA attacks, others at the instructions of the authorities.

In Acholi, the area that has borne the brunt of the rebellion in the north over the past 17 years, the camps are home to between 70 and 80 percent of the population. The number of people in each camp varies greatly. As at September 2003, Pabbo, the largest of the 33 camps in Gulu District, had about 50,000 residents, while Olwal and Olwiyo camps held approximately 25,000 and 2,050 respectively.

As the insecurity spreads, more and more camps are built. Labongo-Layamo, just outside the town of Kitgum, was set up in August 2003. It already accommodates over 12,000 people, mainly from the Labongo area in Cwa County, whose residents had long resisted calls by the government for them to relocate.

Life in the camps is one of abject poverty. Food is short, and many infants suffer from malnutrition. Water is scarce since camps often do not have enough boreholes. There is little access to health care. In some camps there are schools, but not enough teachers. Moreover, school life is constantly disrupted by the insecurity.

IDPs complain that life in the camps has had a disastrous effect on their society. Signs of social breakdown include high levels of promiscuity, substance abuse, unprotected sex and increased numbers of child mothers, they say. As people stay longer and longer in the camps, what is left of their dignity is gradually eroded. Disrespected by the traumatised youth, forced to look on, powerless, as their society is turned inside out by violence and fear, some of the older adults become mentally ill, according to camp leaders.

While the authorities say the residents of the north have been relocated for their own protection, the camps themselves have become LRA targets. District officials in Gulu said that between April and July 2003, rebels burned four camps in the district alone. Pabbo was attacked 17 times between January and July of this year.

Children at the Kilak Corner IDP camp
Children at the Kilak Corner IDP camp in Pader

The rebels tend to view the inhabitants of the camps as enemies, as government supporters and, during raids, they sometimes leave written threats, ordering the IDPs to leave the camps or die. Rebels also attack convoys bringing supplies to the camps. As a result, relief organisations generally do not travel to the north without military escorts, which limits the extent to which the camps can be supplied.

The sense of insecurity among the residents of the north has also been heightened by the fact that the rebels have managed to raid areas on the outskirts of major towns.

The accounts and photographs in this section focus primarily on the situation in the IDP camps. The accounts also give an idea of the effect camp life has on the inhabitants of what used to be the granary of Uganda.

James, camp leader in Kitgum District

We were forced to leave our village, because the insecurity had become worse. Our problems started when a girl from our village who had been abducted five years ago escaped from captivity. She was the wife of Vincent Otti [former LRA second-in-command]. Otti sent a message to the village demanding that his "wife" be returned to him. When the elders ignored him, Otti threatened to burn the whole village and kill everybody. We felt threatened, because he is very notorious. He massacred a lot of people in his own village in the Atiak [Kitgum]. So we began to move to this camp. The girl was handed over to the government for protection.

We chose this place because it is near a military detachment. There are some soldiers who come here at night. But they are too few. We have asked the commander to increase the security, but nothing has changed. They [rebels] have not attacked this camp yet, but they are talking about it. We heard this from abductees who returned from captivity. We don't feel safe. At night, many people walk to Kitgum town to sleep in the mission hospital and other public places. People have waited for a solution for long and in vain. They have decided to take this life as if it is normal.

We have received very little help. Some people sneak back to their homes to get food, but that is too risky. Some have been abducted. Even what you manage to get is very little, because we are always on the run. Many people in the camp go without a meal. As the dry season approaches, there is fear that nothing will be left to eat.

All these children have been out of school since January. All schools were closed due to rebel activities. I don't know what will happen to them. They should be promoted to the next class next year, but they have not covered this year's syllabus. All the 15 schools in Labongo sub-county have been displaced.

There is still no water supply in the camp. There is only one borehole shared by the entire camp population. The borehole is very congested. We request any NGO if they can help us with a clinic. It could help our children. There is a lot of malaria and coughing. There is also a lot of malnutrition due to poor diet. There are very many people with HIV/AIDS-related illnesses. We need also household items such as utensils, blankets and jerry cans. The rebel activities in the villages were so severe that even the household things were taken.

Elijah (70), resident of an IDP camp in Gulu

I was born in Awac [about 20 km northeast of Gulu town] in 1933. I had to leave my land in 1989. I've never gone back. Instead, I've been forced to move from place to place. This camp is now my home. I know I will die here.

I had 14 children. Some are dead. Most of them died in camps. They were killed by rebels. We didn't even bury them; we left them where they had been killed. The situation was really bad. Only four of them are left. This war has affected us in many ways. I've lost my children, so I don't get the help I had before. I am weak and I can't work for myself any more.

At night, my eight grandchildren sleep in the bush with no blankets. I don't know where they sleep, and they always choose a different spot. Not even your mother is supposed to know your hiding place. Rebels always force parents to show them where the children are hiding.

Life in the camp is very bad. I am seeing a lot of new things that I never saw before. I prefer to die than to see any more of this life. These children live like wild animals. They have to be alert all the time. Their morals are changing. We don't see the respect we had with young people any more. During the day like this, we are relaxed. But when the sun sets, we start to worry. We don't know what can happen.

We hardly have anything to eat. Before this war, Acholi people were not used to depending on relief food. We did a lot of things on our own. Now we can't do the same things we did to survive. Even the food WFP shares out will go to the rebels if you don't hide some of it. They always tell us that it is because of them that we receive humanitarian food. So they have to take the food away, because it does not belong to us. When they don't find food, they get very angry.


Severely malnourished child being weighed at a therapeutic centre in St Joseph’s Mission Hospital, Kitgum. Most of the malnourished children treated there come from IDP camps

We hear gunshots all night. We are always on our toes. Anytime, anything can happen, and we might be forced to move again.

Terrence, a nutritionist in charge of the therapeutic feeding centre for severely malnourished children at St Joseph's Hospital, Kitgum.

The number of children we receive with severe malnutrition is so high we are overwhelmed. The hospital's accommodation is overstretched. St Joseph's Hospital is the only referral centre for both Kitgum and Pader districts. There are so many severely malnourished children that the hospital is unable to run a supplementary feeding programme. We currently accommodate 160 children. [Pointing] All these grass-thatched and tent structures have been erected in the compound because the centre has no additional accommodation. Some of the patients sleep on the verandas because there is no space.

Most of the severe malnutrition cases come from the displaced people's camps. The biggest problem is in the new camps. They have not started taking food there. Due to lack of transport and insecurity, most of the cases are brought here too late, and the children die immediately. We are trying our best to help those who make it. In July this year, we had a 43-percent mortality rate. This has now been reduced to 14 percent.

We have also run short of nutritional milk. This milk [F75] is in Kampala [the Ugandan capital], but the problem is transportation. The roads are not safe. Due to the high insecurity, the nutrition formula needs to come in a security convoy. The hospital can't hire vehicles from Kampala, they are too expensive, because it is a risk they are taking. We only depend on WFP and UNICEF [United Nations Children's Fund] donations. Other donors are afraid to come in because of ambushes on the road.

Mothers here also have their children in quick succession. For the last 18 years, there has been no programme to sensitise the population on family planning, so the people stick to their traditions. They have nothing to give the children. Their goats and chickens have been finished by rebels.

The authorities tell you there is no problem here, but the people on the ground are suffering very badly. There is nothing left in northern Uganda. That is why they [the rebels] went to Soroti [eastern Uganda], where they still have food, cattle and goats in the villages.

Risper: "We don't sleep in our huts"

Risper in her unfinished hut
Risper in her unfinished hut in Labongo-Layamo IDP camp, Kitgum

Risper's husband died in July 2003 of an AIDS-related illness, leaving her with three children. The youngest is two years old and seriously ill. She could not find anyone to help her build the hut. "Everybody wants money," she said. For a man, building the hut would normally be a one-day job. She had been at it for days. "I am not strong enough to finish the work quickly," she said. "I also have other responsibilities." After working on the house, she had to cook the children their only meal of the day. The only ingredients she had were a cup of sorghum flour and some green vegetables. "We will eat and then find a place to sleep. We don't sleep in our huts," she said.

Following Chapter
- Waiting for the light

[Ends]

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[Photo Credit: OCHA/Sven Torfinn]
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© January 2004, OCHA/IRIN.
All photographs in this Web Special taken by Sven Torfinn © OCHA/Sven Torfinn

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