Lukodi is a small rural community, about 20
km north of Gulu, along a dirt track that means it takes a good 45 mins to
drive there.
In 2004 it was the site of a massive IDP
camp for internally displaced people who were fleeing from the Lords Resistance
Army. These people had been told that they would be safe at the camp, which
composed hundreds and hundreds of mud-huts all packed tightly together, and
with a battalion of Uganda soldiers at the centre to ‘protect’ them.
On the 19th May 2004, a young
lad who had been abducted from home and was now serving as a child soldier for
the LRA entered Lukodi pretending that he had escaped from the LRA and was
returning home. Word got out, and many people came out to greet him and celebrate
the return of one of their own.
Unfortunately it was a trap!
At the same time as the lad was pretending
to be the returning son, three groups of highly armed LRA rebels were
positioning themselves around the IDP camp, and a fourth one was on its way to
a nearby fort of Uganda soldiers so as to prevent them from coming and helping
protect Lukodi.
As darkness fell, the LRA attacked from all
sides. Bayonets, guns, grenades, fire – all were used to attack the IDP camp,
and the soldiers who were in the centre found themselves trapped and unable to
assist.
Families were herded into huts that were
then burned to the ground, anyone fleeing was shot on sight – by nightfall the
stench of death was everywhere.
The next day those who had managed to
escape tentatively returned to bury the dead – but no one stayed for long, for
fear of the LRA rebels coming back to finish what they had started.
Today, we visited the site of the Lukodi
massacre. A simple stone cross marks the spot that was the centre of the camp
where the killings took place, and we heard from Kennedy, one of those who
survived the massacre and now serves on the local community committee. He told
the story quietly, matter-of-factly, and without judgment. It was painful to
listen to, as it always is; indeed I hope that listening to stories of mans
acts of total inhumanity against each other will never stop being painful.
So this is what I am doing – telling the
story. Sadly I know that massacres like Lukodi continue to take place,
and it seems that humankind will never learn, but that is no reason to not try
and make a difference, and in honour of all those who died on the 18th
May 2004, in a rural part on northern Uganda – I’m certainly going to do my
best.