The answer lies in the problem: despite how advanced, how wealthy, and how many opportunities there are in the U.S., so many people are forced to go without, and there are always going to be bigger and more powerful players at work who do nothing but benefit from keep the downtrodden, well, down. They’ve been rewarded for taking advantage of the little person for too long; they’re entrenched. What we need is a complete system overhaul, and it may be cynical, but I don’t see that happening. I can’t content myself to working tirelessly in a system that has no hope for real change. For now, I do my part, volunteering, donating clothes and money when I can to worthy groups and foundations, and spreading the word about wrongs that need righting, but I’ve lived in America for far too long to truly believe I can really make a difference. In the developing world, power is constantly shifting, and as slim as the hope can be, maybe, just maybe, if I can be in the right place at the right time, I can help the right person come to power, I can help the people have a voice, I can make sure a system can be put into place which is representative of the rights of each and every individual. Of course, no system is perfect, but at least in the developing world, there’s always hope for something better, where at home the cycle of greed, selfishness, and manipulation seems (and has thus far been) perpetual.
This is why I chose to study in Africa, rather than in Europe: eventually, I want to be a human rights activist. I’m probably going to spend a good portion of my life living and working in the developing world, so it made sense to make a post-conflict study a part of my undergraduate education. It’d be a good experience, I thought. It’ll make me look like a serious candidate when I apply to grad school for development studies, I thought. I fully expected to be changed by this experience; what I didn’t expect was to have my entire outlook on international aid turned upside down.
That’s not to say I had a rose-colored view of aid work to begin with; at Knox, one of my favorite professors is really, really good at making sure we’re intimately informed about how often NGOs and international organizations such as the UN or the World Bank tend to hurt more than help (and that’s if they actually do anything at all). But it’s one thing to read about how NGOs often fail to connect to root problems in a conflict area, and to see the devastation left in their wake firsthand. That is my daily life here in northern Uganda. It’s incomprehensible to me how millions of dollars could have been sunk into Gulu, yet those psychologically damaged from the war are left to wander the streets, homeless and begging for money, and the city is filled with orphans with no means to attend school receive an education, let alone keep from starving to death. Domestic violence and alcoholism are at an all time high. During the war, just five years ago, over 170 NGOs flooded Gulu alone. Now, with Joseph Kony on the run and a relative peace having been restored to Uganda, less than 30 remain. This is supposed to be a time of recovery and reconstruction; now, more than ever, the Acholi people need help, yet there’s none to be found. Where have the NGOs gone?
NGOs have been a daily part of Ugandan life ever since the conflict began in 1986 when Museveni, a military man from the west of the country, overthrew the administration of Obote II. Kony was no madman at first; in fact, he enjoyed a relative popularity with the northern Acholi, who immediately began to suffer under Museveni as he sought revenge for the wrongs committed by the Acholi during the previous administrations (the Acholi are by no means innocent in this conflict. As is typical in developing African states, the violence is cyclical. But, that’s another story). He seemed to be the lone voice of the Acholi people, speaking up on their behalf and fighting for their rights. However, it soon became apparent Kony was more than just an Acholi warrior, fighting for his people’s rights as Ugandan citizens. Kony began raiding northern Acholi villages, pillaging for soldiers and supplies, slaughtering thousands of innocent men, women, and children along the way.
As the LRA grew in strength, Museveni decreed the northern villages be abandoned, that the people move to designated camps – the IDP camps that still exist today, more than twenty years later. Those who remained behind risked being branded as an LRA sympathizer and killed by the national army, called the Ugandan People’s Defense Force (UPDF) or killed outright by Kony’s men for not having already joined the resistance (i.e., being “bad Acholi”). Museveni argued the forced migration was to weaken the LRA, and perhaps this was true. However, it was one more way for Museveni to exert his strength over the Acholi people. They had little choice; thousands of Acholi families packed up what little they had, and moved into the camps.
Conditions were atrocious. Both food and medicine were in short supply. Disease was rampant. There were many instances of both torture and rape at the hands of Museveni’s men as they searched for LRA sympathizers. Being in the camps didn’t even protect the Acholi from LRA raids; it was never the case that there were enough guards to sufficiently protect the camps, and therefore the camps were no safer than if the Acholi had remained in their villages. In fact, many argue that being confined to the camps was worse, because if one was living there, they were deemed by the LRA as supporters of Museveni, and further suffered the wrath of Kony.
It was here that NGOs enter the picture. Bent on alleviating the food and water crisis in the camps, they swooped in and began doling out packages to anyone who would take them. They brought in medicine, and treated the diseases when they could. To raise money at home, they painted the picture now understood by the international community: that Kony is a madman, that people are being killed, that we must help. That Museveni forced the people into the camps on fear of death was conveniently omitted from fundraising events in the Western world.
The conflict went on for longer than anyone could have anticipated; 20 years later, and there was still fighting in Acholiland. By now, camp life was the only life. People had grown up in the camps, knowing nothing but the handouts from white NGO workers. Men had been forced to abandon their livelihood, their way of providing for their family, and been moved into a wholly demeaning role in Acholi culture. To cope, they turned to alcohol, selling or trading the packages from NGOs for drink. To solve this problem (and to empower women in the meantime), aid workers began giving their packages to women. This, however, only fostered more contempt within a household. Men, feeling even more emasculated, would simply beat their wives and take the packages anyway, creating even more violence within the camps alone.
Kony fled to the bush in Sudan, and then the DRC. Peace talks began in 2006, and again in 2008. A relative quiet fell over northern Uganda. And with that quiet, the Acholi were told they could finally return home. With that decree, NGOs, even the UN, closed up shop as soon as they could load up their Land Cruisers, leaving a very broken community in the dust as they pulled out of Gulu Town.
In Gulu, one of the epicenters of the war, there are no psycho trauma centers designed to help victims and ex-combatants recover from the war. The poverty here is apparent everywhere. Even men and women, with jobs and homes, find it perfectly acceptable to expect to receive something from every white person they pass in the street. And it’s not laziness, or selfishness, or greed. It’s twenty years’ worth of experience. The people here have been taught to think that way.
I know hindsight is 20/20, but with everyone working here in Gulu, how could no one have seen this coming? How did everyone just show up and treat the symptoms, rather than the problem – the camps themselves? Where was Museveni’s condemnation for treating his own people like animals? Where was the outcry on behalf of the people who were suffering just as much the abducted? Despite all the help given to them, despite the hundreds of aid workers that took up residence in northern Uganda, despite being the center of this decades-long conflict, the Acholi were always alone.
Honestly, there are times when I feel like the situation is hopeless. I can’t go back in time and change what was done, and I don’t know what I can do to help now. But, when I take a step back, it becomes a little clearer. Being aware of my identity is my greatest strength: I am a white, female Westerner. There is literally only so much I can do in a culture where I can never blend in and being a woman limits the scope and range of my power and influence. Accepting my limitations on the ground is the first step to success.
The second is utilizing the inspiring strength of the Acholi people; despite decades of violence, in which they have been both the victims and the perpetrators, they remain. And they are not resentful of their country – on the contrary, one of their deepest wishes is to heal, to recover, and become a part of Uganda. While there may be parts of this state they wish could be changed (like the current administration and the damage caused by the NGOs), they have not given in to despair. They carry on. There are people here who want nothing more than to work to rebuild the north and truly unite Uganda – I’ve seen them, heard them speak, and talked to them at length. The skills they have to offer are invaluable to the recovery effort. They know how to relate to the community because they themselves are Acholi; they speak the language, know the customs, and understand the frustrations of the people. No matter how much I study the conflict here, I will never be able to know it better than them, and they are the ones who would know best where to apply aid and how to do so. It is this grassroots set up which would re-establish trust in the north. It is my responsibility, and the responsibility of all Westerners, to connect these people with benefactors in the West, for it is our strength to drive the funds that would get this work done.
Finally, and this is a mantra often repeated, inter-agency cooperation is key. It does no one any good to have three or four different agencies working toward the same goal, and against one another to get there. It is a waste of time, energy, and funds, and is nothing but a strain on the people who are supposed to be benefitting. Saying, “everyone needs to work together” is one thing. Policy changes will only come once aid workers begin to actually step up, make concessions to one another, and agree to work together.
No Westerner can come in and say, “This is how it should be done.” Time and time again, these presumptions have proven to be the undoing of good work across the world. With these ingredients, real, sustainable aid might finally be possible in northern Uganda. And if giving aid is really what aid agencies are all about, shouldn’t this be the goal?
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