Lukodi – an untold massacre

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 19^th 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.

Kennedy finished by making one plea – that we tell the story of Lukodi to others, so that all those deaths will not be in vain but will help to remind people that wars are never good, never the right answer, and that we should all do what we can to pursue peace wherever we are.

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 18^th May 2004, in a rural part on northern Uganda – I’m certainly going to do my best.

Being in Gulu – a dream come true

I first heard about the town of Gulu many years ago, ie in the 1990s, through the work of Christian Aid, of which I have been a lifetime supporter.

At the time, there was an appalling war in the north, with terrible atrocities being carried out by Jospeh Kony and the Lords Resistance Army, in particular agains the Acholi tribe for which Gulu district is their tribal homeland.

No one was safe, but particularly vulnerable were teenagers who lived in rural areas, as they were seen as a ‘soft target’ for the LRA to abduct and use as child soldiers or war brides. As a result, for these teenagers to have any hope of surviving, they had to go to the towns each night to seek places of safe refuge.

Christian Aid was involved in their usual 'high-quality but shunning the glory' way in supporting a local grass-roots partner who ran shelters for these teenagers or ‘night commuters’ as they became known. Life-saving shelters that allowed teenagers to live to see another day, and I remember reading about this project and praying a 3-fold prayer: that one day the horrors would be over, that peace would return to the area and that I would be able to go to Gulu myself.

The first two parts to the prayer have been increasingly answered for a while now, and today the final part was answered, as I am writing this in Gulu!

I am here with Robin, a good friend and qualified counselor from back home who is spending the next 3 days delivering counseling training workshops for a local NGO. This organization, I Live Again Uganda, is Acholi-based, was set up by a Gulu couple Benson and Ruth Ocen, and focuses on providing trauma counseling for Acholi people still living through the traumas experienced back in the days of the LRA. The demand for counseling , all these years on, is still incredibly high, and I’m delighted that we can input to the work of ILA by helping to build their capacity in this way.

I’ve known about ILA for a few years now, as they also have a base in Acholi Quarters in Kampala, where they also do trauma counseling, as well as providing support for families wanting to relocate back to the north. So I’ve known them as another link to Gulu, but until now the ability to get here has evaded me.

But looking back it is very evident how God has had it all sorted for ages – not that I should be surprised by that, let’s face it, God’s timing is always perfect isn’t it. Chatting with Benson and Ruth today- who lived through the war, can remember the night commuters, and were thrilled to hear of my prayer all those years back - this is clearly the right time for ILA regarding increasing their capacity for counseling. Just in the past few weeks they have done some outreach work into villages and people are coming forward like never before for counseling, both victims and perpetrators – the time is right for having increased numbers of people able to respond to that need.

So, I’m delighted to be here, I’m looking forward to the next few days, and I’m excited to see what God has in store as the bigger picture to all of this, as I have a feeling that this isn’t a one-off visit, but that this will be leading to a deeper involvement for me and or Robin and or the organisations we each represent.

Hungry In Solidarity

As some of you will know, this week I am taking part in a ‘Give It Up for 125’ challenge. It is to raise awareness, and funds, for the Bristol-based charity One25 (www.one25.org.uk) which works with vulnerable and abused women, many of whom are caught up in drugs, prostitution and other street work.

It is an incredibly inspirational charity, doing some really great work with those who, for a myriad of reasons have found themselves living on the edge of our society and yet who deserve so much more.

I have chosen to give up solid food for 125 hours, and as I write I am just over 3/5 of the way through the challenge. I’m still doing liquids, and due to the number of mayoral duties going on, and the amount of energy required, I am allowing myself a cup of soup, a smoothie and a mug of hot chocolate each day as well as water and tea. But I have to say I am longing to actually chew on some food again, and the number of times my fingers have subconsciously wandered to the biscuits, fruit or any other bit of food sitting around!

This little piece is me reflecting on what I’ve learnt through taking on this challenge, and in so doing partly just reminding myself why I am doing it, but also using it as a way to raise awareness

The main learning point: a reminder that food is not just what staves off hunger pangs, but it also fuels the body, helps keep the energy levels up, helps the body keep warm, and helps keep concentration levels up. Everything has been harder work this week – due to the lack of food – even writing this is taking longer than it normally would.

I’ve also been reminded just how much I take access to food for granted – how lucky I am to have a lifestyle that means we can afford to go to the shops and buy food as regularly as is needed, and even more to buy the foods I fancy rather than only the cheapest options available.

To have cupboards with food in them, rather than cupboards whose bare shelves are a stark reminder of the food not present

Through all this my recurring thought has been: what must it be like for those who don’t have easy or regular access to food? How do they cope? How do they function? How do they have the energy to get everything done?

And if you add on top of that the fact that many will be enduring various other issues as well: homelessness, struggling with addictions, caught up in violent and abusive relationships, unemployment….

And its all happening just down the road – in Bristol, and in every other city in the UK. This isn’t something happening on the other side of the world, its happening here.

It all drives home just important the work of organisations like One25 is – their unconditional, holistic, ongoing support for women who need it most. If Jesus were here in Bristol, He’d be right down there with these women, showing them unconditional love, and One25 are demonstrating Jesus through what they do.

As I write this I’m hungry – but I’m glad I’m hungry, because I feel as though through my hunger I am drawing a little closer to those women who, through no fault of their own, need the support and love of Christ – and who can receive it through the work of One25.

If you’d like to show you care as well, please sponsor my last few hours of foodlessness:

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/helenharrison8