a pilgrimage of sorts

This Pilgrim's Progress (even further)

Previously, I had tried to summarise my reflections as far as the end of our first day in the town of Gulu, approximately half way through our visit to Uganda. In the eight posts prior to this one, I have written about my record of a single day - the visit to the Pagirinya Refugee Settlement, how I tried to capture something of the stories we heard in my notes and photographs. Those stories of the five people we spoke to and the wider discussions with the camp administration and Church leaders are still close to my heart.

The pictures I took that day were the first ones I worked on when back at my desk, and they have also been the ones I have spent most time looking at and showing to other people. The experience in the camp and that of meeting the individuals was not harrowing in itself, but as in those classic films, the emotion is best communicated by what is not seen or said. The expression in the eyes of the ladies we spoke to told us everything we needed to know. The exact details, therefore, were secondary. To have intruded uninvited further into their trauma, grief and imminent losing of hope would have been to desecrate the very stories we were wanting to record.

This day was by far the highlight of the visit; the hours spent in the camp came to be a rare and privileged time. The wonderful moments still to come on our tour would feel like they had been earned by the time spent being physically present and emotionally vulnerable in the settlement. My powerlessness to change the situation matched theirs, although I had the significant advantage of being able to go home afterwards.

One of the common complaints in the West is that of compassion fatigue. We have seen these types of images so many times they wash over us, but I am glad I am not a professional at dealing with the trauma of the refugees we spoke to because it allowed me to stay in that moment of being present long after I had left the camp and returned to my normality. 

I want to ask myself where there can be any hope for Africa? Is there an inevitability of a cycle of violence as wave after wave of 'internal strangers' await their time to gain revenge, or capture power? As we were arriving back in the UK, news started to filter through of the arrival into Uganda of refugees from the DRC who had crossed Lake Albert. Even if the violence and refugee crises are solved then the incipient corruption would seem to leave the continent hamstrung.

For me, the hope for the future of Africa (at least in the recent history of Uganda and the current situations in South Sudan and the DRC) has to be its people. The age profile of these nations is hugely tilted towards the young. The pain in the eyes of the ladies we saw in Pagarinya was in sharp contrast to the light we could see in the faces of the boys who joined us in Opi Tiberius' small home.

This was true also in the determination and compassion we encountered in men like Francis, one of our drivers, and those who we had heard singing on our first full day from the AYF. Sadly we ran out of time to be able to go and see Francis' work in the slums of Kampala - maybe next time...

I had approached Pagirinya with a sense of bracing myself to record to the best of my ability whatever distress and suffering I found in that place. Yes, there was pain, but there was also a beauty - the servant-heartedness of the Church leaders, the dignity of the women and the resilience of the children.

In the month since my return my reading and the ongoing work of processing the photographs has forced me down different avenues of reflection and recollection, but the time in the camp is the memory that has stayed freshest; not because of the scale of the pain, but because of the simple humanity of the resilience we met face to face.

 

Refugee stories 5 - Opi Tiberius

After talking with the group of women, we walked further into the block in the camp, and down to a brick built dwelling which had been put up for elderly or disabled refugees. Here we met Opi. We gathered in his main room and he had a bedroom behind a partition wall. As we talked to him, small children came and sat with us.

Opi had led a difficult life in South Sudan. He is blind, and so struggles to get by - his mother is now 92 and so couldn’t really help him. He was originally from the town of Loa, about 18 km north of Nimule on the main road to Juba.

He had very poor eyesight, so had been for medical treatment in Juba many times, but since 2000 he has been blind. Despite his blindness, he used hooks to catch fish. His community in Loa left together and so he couldn’t stay on his own. He was able to get to the border by car. He has four family members, including his mother and his sister, in the camp with him. As we spoke to Opi, he told us that his sister, now 61, was at a funeral service. Her daughter had died the day before in Juba during child-birth and a service was being held in the camp for her.

Opi arrived in the camp in July 2016, but no medical support was available for him. He had been taken to Kampala for a check up where they confirmed that the irises in his eyes are now dead, so he will not be able to see again. He has to rely on people to get water for him, so sometimes it can take 2-3 days for enough water to be collected for him to bathe properly. Opi learnt English when he was still able to read. He had been a Pastor, preaching the word of God in Loa. He sang to us a song in Ma’di, Arabic and English which said how Jesus never fails.

His sister Nora arrived and greeted us on her knees in the traditional manner. She is now Opi’s main carer. He is desperate for a solar powered MP3 audio-Bible in Ma’di, has native tongue, but they are prohibitively expensive.

As we left and made our way back to the vans, we passed his mother sitting on a rug in the minimal shade provided by the eaves of her hut. She clasped her hands together in greeting, but didn't speak. She looked tired beyond even her long years and yet despite her family's sufferings she showed no sign of self-pity, instead she wore a dignified resilience.

Refugee stories 4 - Betty Simon

When we spoke to her daughter Jocelyn, Betty had been 7 km away cutting long grass for roofing and insulation. One bundle of the grass takes about an hour to cut, and it required 30 bundles to roof a round house. They also need to buy bamboo to make the roof supports for the grass to be attached to.

Betty has two boys and we had met Jocelyn her daughter. A second daughter is sponsored by an NGO called Far Reaching Ministries, and so is at boarding school in Kampala. Betty also has the care of a small child, the daughter of a relative who left the child when she remarried.

In Nimule, Betty had been a farmer. When they heard that soldiers were coming, her husband Simon Tako tried to return to Nimule from Juba but he was killed on the road, so Betty and the children left Nimule empty-handed.

After reaching the camp she had the problem of building a house, but now she is struggling to get money for school fees and buying clothes for herself and her children.

We took a photograph to show some of the bundles of reeds that Betty had been to collect. Behind the reeds is a tarpaulin shelter and behind that is a typical thatched roundhouse.

Refugee stories 3 - Mary Kide

Mary came from the village of Opari in Pageri County. Initially, when asked about her life in South Sudan she replied that she was too traumatised to talk about her family.

She left Opari and headed to Pageri after all her property was taken by soldiers. She then set out from Pageri to the Ugandan border. As she walked, the children became very tired and it rained heavily. On the second day she reached a UN reception camp at Elegu on the border. The UN met her but she had to wait another five days there. There was no shelter, so they sat in the open in heavy rain.

The UN sent vehicles to collect them and she arrived at Pagirinya in July 2016, so she has witnessed the camp grow right from the beginning. Now she has no means of sending the children to school, so they stay at home.

In South Sudan, Mary’s husband had been a farmer and Mary would sell his produce in the local market. Her husband had been shot dead in their home, so she was left with her two sons; Samuel Ganyi, now 13, and Mangisto Glad, now 14.

She is also struggling with the problem of finding money to buy clothes, as the children’s clothing is now torn.

Mary showed us her hut which was made with the UN tarpaulin’s she was given and then insulated with the reeds from the surrounding area.

Refugee stories 2 - Foni Margaret

Margaret, pictured here with her daughter Madoong Gift, lived in Pageri but she moved because of the war. Civilians were continuing to be killed and soldiers were, as she put it, “grambling” - taking property by force. She had seen people start to move south to Uganda; they were not talking, but simply leaving their homes behind. Eventually Margaret followed them. Her husband remained in South Sudan whilst she travelled south with their two children. She has heard that he has now moved north to find some safety in Juba.

Margaret has no money and no way of communicating with her husband, so she has no choice but to remain in the camp.

She too is struggling with the reduced food allowance - it is not enough for her and her children. Her husband’s sister is not registered yet, and so she sharing her reduced food with her. Waiting for the monthly rations has become her main occupation. She has no real way of earning extra money to buy additional food.

In South Sudan, her husband had been a builder and she had worked as a cleaner. Once in the camp people have to work for free; one helps another build their shelter, the other cooks food in return but there is no money to share.

The trauma that the refugees have experienced makes them feel ill in their homes.

Margaret has no money to pay to send her children to school, so she is trying to start a small business to make what she can. Bread baking is a common small enterprise. However, Margaret is starting to lose hope of returning to Pageri - the town is now empty. She would return if peace came and others went back too. The UN does not allow the refugees to integrate with the local Ugandan population and they are preventing people returning to their homes.

Refugee stories 1 - Jocelyn Sura

Jocelyn is from Nimule and arrived in the Pagirinya Refugee Camp in July 2016. Nimule is a large town just north of the Ugandan border, so she has been in a refugee camp for 18 months only 25 km from her home.

She travelled south to the Ugandan border in a large group but the journey was difficult; there was no food and it rained heavily as they travelled to the UNHCR reception camp.

The refugees were met at the border and were kept waiting for 3 days before they were transported south to Pagirinya. The group that had travelled together were kept together.

Jocelyn is still at school; last year in Primary 6 and she is 16 years old. She is with her mother, but her father is dead. As we were talking to Jocelyn her mother was away from the camp gathering thatching materials to improve the dwellings.

Jocelyn, as all the refugees, is allocated 6kg of maize per month and this is not enough. This is UNHCR policy due to the number of refugees and the restrictions on funding. 12kg of maize per month was initially provided which equates to the recommended daily calorie intake needed for an adult.

Jocelyn said that people in the camps are starting to lose hope because there are so many rebel groups in South Sudan and so negotiating peace is very difficult. Additionally, once in the camp it is hard to integrate into wider Uganda.

Even in and around the camp it can be unsafe for women. Jocelyn’s mother was walking a considerable distance to find suitable reeds for roofing. Although many of the men were either killed or had decided to remain in South Sudan to protect their property, those who were in the camp had little to occupy themselves with, which had led to incidents of sexual assault and domestic violence.

We met Jocelyn’s mother, Betty Simon, later in our visit.