Acholi visits – 2 consecutive days, 3 very different conversations

I’ve been into Acholi Quarters twice in the past 2 days, and in that time have had lots of conversations with different folks about different things, and done a few PhD-related interviews (more on them another time) but 3 conversations in particular stand out.

The first happened yesterday and was a conversation with a number of the co-operative that I liaise with for all the Acholi-Quarters activities that I, and CRED, am involved in. The conversation yesterday was at the request of Harriet, the co-operative co-ordinator, who asked me to chat with the members about the importance of savings. The savings scheme has been up and running in the group for quite a while now, and initially there was great enthusiasm for it. But slowly by slowly, the enthusiasm waned a little, and as a result several of the members struggled to pay school fees at the start of term.

So, Harriet asked me to chat with the members about savings, and remind them of why they should save, the benefits and the challenges of saving, and the practicalities of their particular scheme. Knowing that the members between them actually knew pretty much all the information that they needed, I chose to ask lots of questions to draw the information out of them, rather than giving them a ‘lecture’.

The conversation that ensued was great, and by the end of the session, the enthusiasm for saving seemed to have picked up again. Obviously, the proof of how good the session was will come when monies deposited for savings starts to go up again, in a sustained way. But, it was good to at least get the thought processes going and inspire some improvements from current practices. 

 

The second conversation was with a more select group of ladies who were wanting to chat about an idea they’ve had for setting up a new income generating scheme. It’s all to do with making soaps, gels and perfumes, and apparently it is a market that is growing rapidly over here. The ladies present were so enthusiastic about the scheme, and there were some great discussions about identifying the market, developing a product that is just a bit different from all others so as to stand out from the crowd in a good way, different roles for different members. Again, I asked pertinent questions to ensure that the conversation was wide-ranging enough to cover all aspects of the scheme. I also threw in some thoughts re business plan, team work and other generic aspects, as I certainly can’t speak into the process of soap and gel making!!!

That conversation was so lovely to be part of. The camaraderie, the team spirit, the generating of ideas, the enthusiasm – it was all fab, and included the sort of hope and dreaming that you might find in any start-up group who are batting ideas around, whether sitting in a plush office space, or in a coffee shop sipping latte’s, or as we were, sitting on the floor in a little room, with all the sounds and smells of informal living swirling around us. It was great, and I look forward to journeying with the ladies in this.

 

The third conversation was a much sadder affair. Two weeks ago I heard about a young mum, who had 4 children under 9 years and was only 24 years old herself. The two youngest of the children were twin girls, just over 2 years old, and 2 weeks ago one of the twins died. The remaining one was also sick, but seemed to rally a little, and was discharged home. Sadly, today I heard that this twin also had died in the early hours. Not surprisingly the mum is devastated and feeling completely broken. To add to the pain, the landlord had thrown them out of their home, and so she is now living nearby but in a different community where she doesn’t know anyone. The ladies from the Acholi community are supporting as best they can, but it’s much harder when there is a main road to cross between them and her and her two remaining children.

It’s hard to know how to respond in situations such as this. Obviously prayer is one way, and sitting and listening and being alongside is another important act. But I’m also aware that I can afford to pay off the hospital and related fees. However, is that the right response? Is it insensitive to ‘flash the cash’ in that way, or is it helpful, as it removes the additional worry and burden? My rule, in situations like this, is always to quietly and discretely discuss the financial issues with trusted individuals, and this time was no different. As a result, an appropriate response has been made, and I thank God that He has given me the resources to be able to help at this time.

My prayers go out to the mum, to the remaining children, and to the community at this time. I feel so honoured to have such a strong friendship and bond with the members of this group, and to be able to sit with them, to journey with them, to weep with them, to laugh with them, and to pray with them. May that journey continue for us all, even when the miles separate us.

Reflecting on a recent World Food Programme announcement

I’ve just returned from a few days up-country carrying out some interviews for my PhD. The interviews were with women who are residing in one of official refugee settlements run by UNHCR in collaboration with the Government of Uganda. The women have all fled from South Sudan at some point in the relatively recent past, and have their own personal experiences of conflict-caused trauma. I did three interviews on each of two consecutive days, and one thing of note that occurred between the first three interviews and the second three interviews was an announcement made by the Settlement officials on behalf of the World Food Programme.

Disclaimer: What follows are my personal reflections, and not the official reflections of any organisation named.

The announcement made was that the World Food Programme (WFP) is to be ending its food distribution programme to refugees in June 2023, ie in less than 4 months. Not only are they ending food distribution, but they have also announced that they are not going to replace food provision with cash payments, as had apparently been suggested in a previous announcement. NB, apparently new arrivals at a camp will still get food provision, as will those registered as elderly or disabled.

For the refugees, this announcement is huge, and the mental health implications are massive. The refugees rely on WFP food parcels to keep them going. Whilst there are occasional small shops / streetside vendors around where they can buy other food stuffs, these are limited in number and food items. Access to employment opportunities are also hard to come by and so earning money is not easy and people live on a day-to-day basis. Certainly, there aren’t enough employment opportunities for the number of refugees that exist, either in the settlement or in the nearby townships. The land that the settlement is on is really rocky, as the photos below show, and most of it is not suitable for farming and growing food stuff, even if the refugees did have land rights to be able to farm it. But, they don’t have the land rights, and so yet again they are scuppered.

 

The WFP says that the reason for stopping the food distribution programme, which is a global policy, and not limited to just a few refugee settlements is that it is moving towards a model of functioning that focuses more on sustainability, whereby it promotes sustainable livelihoods programmes, and skills training. This all makes sense, but the reality for the refugees in the camp I was visiting is that the programmes aren’t set up yet, and as far as food production goes - even if refugees started planting tomorrow, the rains aren’t really coming until April, so no food will be available to be harvested by June.

In the course of one announcement, the future suddenly started to look very bleak for those living in the settlement. Having fled from the war in South Sudan, some to get away from the fighting, some to get away from the lack of food, there is an expectation that some refugees will now consider whether to return home and hope that they can make things work there, rather than struggling in a refugee settlement in a foreign land. Maybe that’s another part of what the aim is; to weed out those who have fled just to get food rather than those who have fled as their lives really were in danger.

The expectation is that mental ill-health issues will increase and the need for psychosocial support will grow. Suicide rates have been coming down at an encouraging rate in the areas of the camp where this psycho-social support has been available, but what might happen now that people are fearful of how to cope when the food provision stops? Organisations exist that provide psychosocial support and trauma counselling, but how do you counsel someone who is starving? How do you encourage them to have hope for the future, when they can’t see where their next meal is coming from?

The announcement by the OPM lasted only 30 minutes or so, but the impact of it will last so very much longer.

Cultural aspects relating to the South Sudanese refugee interviews

I had a couple of very interesting conversations last week, as relating to my PhD interviews, but with regard to cultural practices and traditions of South Sudan, especially as pertaining to the position of women.

In each conversation they spoke of how, in South Sudanese culture, the main role of the women is that of production. Production of babies, production of food, and then caring the children. There is no need for them to be educated, as you don’t need to educate someone who is primarily there to produce children and grow the food. The men’s key role is to protect the family, the land and their tribe. Some of the men do have a job, but it would predominantly be running a business, or working in an office etc, not anything that involves working the soil.

I heard how, in many cases the women are almost treated like reproductive animals. They have no say in anything,  are not allowed to be involved in any decision making, even when it is with regard to their own personal issues. They often have no say in who they marry, and so can find themselves to be one of many wives to the same husband. They are often treated with very little respect and honour, if at all. Gender-based violence is a big issue and if they upset the husband then it is considered perfectly acceptable to beat the woman as much as he, and his fellow male relatives, think is appropriate. Given that the children are being raised in this culture, it is quite possible that the boys are raised to think the same way, so that the mother gets very little respect from her sons.

As mentioned above the girls rarely get any education. The older girls must stay home and look after the younger children, and in so doing get the training required to become mothers when they are married off to the man of their parents’ choice. The girls, and therefore women of South Sudan consequently tend to be illiterate and uneducated which has a bearing on their knowledge about many things, including their human rights.

This is all part of the background to the life that they leave when they flee from the war. Yes, they are fleeing from the bullets, and the rebels. They are fleeing from a land that is politically unstable, and where food security is hard to come by. But unknowingly they are leaving behind a very degrading and oppressive culture, and stepping into a society that shows more respect for women, where girls go to school, where men and women work together, where women can be leaders, and where the rights of women are respected.

The implications of this transition from the South Sudanese culture to the Ugandan culture is not insignificant. As the South Sudanese women start to see an alternative life being lived out by men and women in the host community, it opens their eyes to the reality of life back home. And that in turn can lead to feelings of discontent at the thought of returning to South Sudan if / when it becomes safe enough to do so. But at the same time, they are South Sudanese, they have a tribal heritage that is theirs, and there are family members who they have left behind.

For some women, the saying ‘blood is thicker than water’ might hold true, and, when the time is right, and things are safe enough, they may well return home. Maybe they have a husband who they love, who gives them some respect, who takes an interest in the children. Maybe they will hope that they can have a good conversation with their husband and open his mind to letting her have a bit more freedom.

But for other women, who are from abusive, oppressed marriages, where the move to Uganda has sparked a new way of thinking, a new hope for her future, a relief from the beatings and abuse at home – for these women, returning to South Sudan might not be such a straightforward move. 

Each individual will have to work out in her own way, based on her own situation and circumstances. I pray that each has the courage to be able to do what is right, and that each has the peace of knowing that the decision made is the right one for her and her family.

In my interviews, I am asking the women how they make sense of wellbeing against the background of having to flee from the war. As I think about the kinds of lives, and people, that they left behind, it highlights that nothing is that straightforward, and that the multi-faceted, overlapping aspects of life, tradition and culture will all weave an interesting web for me to navigate.

Interviews in northern Uganda – insights on the week

 This past week I’ve spent a few very memorable days with the team from I Live Again Uganda (ILA), up at their most northerly programme in the Lamwo refugee settlement. ILA have a wonderful team of trauma counsellors who go up to the settlement every week, leaving home on the Monday morning and returning by the Friday, so that they can spend time supporting the refugees, all of whom have fled from the war in South Sudan. The support that they give centres around their Empower programme, and includes group counselling, one on one counselling, and other psychosocial support.

They work with the adults, with the youth and with the children – no one is left out, and they spend a week at a time with an identified community block, ensuring that the teaching and support can go deep enough to have long lasting benefits.

 

Whilst I was there, I interviewed 6 South Sudanese refugee women, all of whom have engaged with the programme, as part of my PhD research. I was interested to find out more about how women who have experienced war and conflict, and fled their country as a result, understand or move towards achieving some sense of wellbeing.

The stories that I heard, the reflections that they had, the insights and knowledge that they were willing to share with me – all of this left me with a profound sense of deep privilege, that they were willing to trust me enough to engage in the interviews, to open up, and to talk about experiences and memories that at times were clearly very tough.

The six women were all of different ages, with different family situations, different experiences of the South Sudan war, and to a certain extent different reasons for fleeing from it. They are from different tribes and I wish I could say that they have had different educational experiences. Unfortunately I can’t – none of them have been to school, either because of the war, or in most cases, just because they are girls, and it was deemed unnecessary for a girl to get an education.

But as I sat with each of them in turn, on a quiet rocky hillock away from the grass and mud huts that they live in, I noted time and again just how much their resilience shone through. They quietly stated what had happened in the past, openly and with as much detail as they felt comfortable to share, but without animosity or a desire for revenge. 

 

Each of them spoke in turn about the challenges that they face in the camp – access to food and other basics, trying to ensure that their children can access education and so have a better start in life than they personally had, trying to create opportunities to earn some small monies to be able to get clothes and other extras. One lady spoke of her disabled daughter. Another had lost both parents and was bringing up her young siblings. Some spoke of marriage issues. And underlying it all were a host of cultural expectations and challenges that they are having to navigate. 

 

But there was no animosity, no anger – just an acceptance of what had happened, and a desire to move on, to put the past behind them, to forgive those who had hurt them so that the poison of unforgiveness can’t take hold, to focus on the future.

Much of this way of thinking, they all acknowledged has come about as a result of the trauma counselling and Empower programme that ILA carries out. Through a series of talks and interactive sessions, the team take the participants through the whole programme, and as the individuals put their learning into practice, so the changes start to be seen.

The ladies told me of some of the benefits that they have experienced as a result of the programme: sleeping better, head feels less crowded, less stomach pains, more energy for their children, better community spirit, less inter-tribal tensions, more hope for the future.

It was a real privilege to sit with these ladies and hear their stories. The next stage of my research is to write the interviews up and analyse them. The ultimate aim is to produce a piece of quality research that does justice to these women who are at the heart of it, and which draws attention to the incredibly strong, resilient, wise and thoughtful individuals that they are. Their voices rarely get heard. My aim is to change that, and this past week I’ve taken a decent step towards achieving it. 

 

Honouring little Natalie: 2020 - 20

 When I gave birth to Natalie and Rozzie, my twin daughters, I had all the expected support from medical and midwifery staff that we in the UK, and most other highly developed countries, assume to be their right, including a bit of time in SCBU for Natalie.

And as they grew up, we continued to have that support - and when Natalie needed an operation at a few months old, it all happened in a straightforward way, and free at the point of delivery thanks to our wonderful NHS.

When I was in Uganda last year, and visited Acholi Quarters, I was introduced to Nalango, a 24-yr old single mum of 4 children, the first born being 8 years old, and the twins about 15 months old (no-one could remember exactly when they were born). Nalango is a member of the Acholi community group that we support, and she told me the names of her twin daughters with a big grin on her face - Natalie and Rosa (note the similarity to the names of my twin daughters!)

Yesterday I went to Acholi Quarters and, amongst all the different aspects of conversation, I was told that Nalango was at the hospital as her little twin daughters were unwell. Apparently the girls were both suffering from an undisclosed illness, possibly related to malnutrition, and one of them was unresponsive and on oxygen. Not surprisingly, the mum was really worried, and the community also. 

As we chatted about the situation, I was told how the members of the group were taking it in turns to take meals across to mum at the hospital, as there is no food served there, and how they were also looking after the oldest lad who was staying back at home to be a 'presence' in their small, one-room home. Community spirit at its best.

Last night i heard that little Natalie had died during the later afternoon, diagnosis undisclosed. 

As I processed the news, one of the additional aspects of it that really struck home was about the financial aspect of this for Nalango. Not only does she need to pay a hefty medical bill (no NHS here), but she also needs to find the money for a vehicle to bring the body home for burial. So, at this time of raw grief, Nalango has this as an extra worry. 

The community always comes together at times like this, and this occassion will be no exception. But it's another reminder of just how fortunate we are in the 'global North', and how much we take the various aspects of state support for granted.

Rest in Peace Natalie.

Praying for Nalango, and little Rosa and the other siblings as they process this terribly sad chapter in their lives, in their own ways.

 

Getting ready to go back to school – Acholi style

 

I visited Acholi Quarters today (Saturday) to catch up with the lovely friends there who play such a key part in my love of Uganda. Several of the usual group weren’t there, as they were out doing what they could to earn some extra money ahead of the start of the new academic year on Monday.

For several years now, various UK folk have been supporting some of the Acholi children to go to mainstream school. We have 20 that we support in total, ranging from a couple at the start of their academic journey through to one who is entering her final year at secondary school, and is the first person in her family to ever achieve this.

The way in which we support is that we pay 75% of the school fees for each child (or 100% if they are a total orphan). This level of support was as requested by Harriet and Miriam, the two Acholi ladies that I liaise with regarding all input that we give. Although we could give 100% to all, it was preferred that we only do 75%, so that each family has the opportunity, and responsibility, to raise the balance (or ‘top up’ as they call it). In so doing, the parents have the dignity of knowing that they are helping their children go to school, and there is also the responsibility of saving enough money during the months to ensure that they do actually have the top up ready to be paid at the start of term.

The parents are also responsible for paying for the ‘educational requirements’ that are needed for the child to be allowed to enter the classroom – uniform, school books, pens, shoes. Again, the reasoning for us not covering this cost is to encourage dignity and responsibility, and discourage a culture of dependency.

Today, when I visited, I was chatting with some of the older children who are soon to return to school. At various points in the conversation, they were telling me with great pride what work they had found in order to get their ‘top up’. One did a waitressing job for the school vacation, another spent a few weeks selling water at the side of the road to passing cars and pedestrians. One helped his gran in the quarry with breaking up stones, another did some portering at the market. What was evident from all was how good they felt about having been able to raise their own funds, and not have to rely totally on charity. Some who had younger siblings (whether by birth or fostered) also raised enough to help their parents cover ‘top up’ for the younger ones. NB: Before you think that this is child labour, bear in mind that these children are all 15 / 16 year olds, and employment laws are very different here.

As is so often the case, I came away from Acholi Quarters with lots to think about. In this case one of the points of reflection was the effort that these young people put into being able to go back to school. For them, school is a privilege, not a right. For them, school is the way to get an education that means that they have more chance of getting good employment that will help them climb out of the poverty that has been their experience for all of their days so far. For them, they will do what it takes to be able to get to school each day – and I wish them well in it all.