Lee Webster, from our London office, is joining women activists, all survivors of rape, who are embarking on a four-day march from their home in the conflict-affected north to the capital Kampala to meet their politicians and say enough is enough. They’ll be joined by more than 1,000 people on the streets of Kampala, including a national pop star (Mariam Ndagire), to send a strong message to the government to end sexual and gender based violence. These are her reactions and thoughts from Uganda.
Blog 7 - 1st December
Blog 6 - 30 November
Blog 5 - 29 November
Blog 4 - 28 November
Blog 3 - 27 November
Blog 2 - 26 November
Blog 1 - 25 November
December 1st 2009
It’s World AIDS Day today, a pertinent day to be in Uganda, a country which has been recognised for its efforts to stem the tide of HIV. Still, in Uganda, nearly 6 per cent of the population is HIV positive. I’ve noticed here though that there’s an openness to discuss HIV that I’ve not encountered in other places.
I think about Florence again. Her husband was HIV positive and died during the war. When Florence herself discovered she was positive, she understandably panicked, thinking of her ten children and the ten orphans she cares for. But there was hope for Florence, as she explained:
“I talked to other women in the women’s group [run by a local CARE partner in Pader], and they helped me to accept my status, to not be ashamed. I started to take anti-retrovirals and until now I am strong, and am able to earn a small living and care for my family.”
Today we travel south with the caravan. After marching through Pader, Kitgum, Amuru and Gulu, 336 activists are traveling to Kampala in a variety of colourful coaches. My favourite bus echoes the positive feeling of the caravan, with a big sign on the back saying “Yes we can”. Indeed, with the force and sheer will of these women, anything seems possible.
It’s a five hour drive, in the searing heat, and I’m diverted by the sign of baboons sitting in the road as we cross the Nile. I use the rare opportunity when chief organizer Judith has to sit still for a few hours, to pump her with questions about the campaign, its aims and CARE’s work on gender based violence in Uganda. She’s keen that our collaboration continues, so we’re going to discuss with Grace and key partners how Voices Against Violence in Uganda and in the UK can develop together.
30 November 2009
I had terrible nightmares last night. Haunting, terrifying dreams where people I love and trust attacked and hurt me. I woke up in a cold sweat, petrified.
I wept with relief when I realised that they were just bad dreams. And then I wept some more when I remembered that for the women in the Caravan violence is not just a nightmare, it’s a daily threat and all too often a reality. I have to admit that the thought of another day of interviewing women about their experience of violence filled me with dread. But not being the defeatist type, I gave myself a stern talking to!
The women I’ve now been traveling with for four days are choosing to share very personal details of their lives with me. They are trusting me with their stories, speaking out so that others can know about the problems faced by women in Uganda. The least I can do is write it all down.
So with renewed strength (and an extra cup of coffee) I join the procession around Gulu town. Gulu is the largest town in the area, and the crowds come out to cheer us along. I feel a familiar campaigner’s sense of belonging and purpose as I march alongside the women who I’ve come to like.
Back at the school field where today’s event is taking place, I’m by now used to the format of the day. Speeches by CARE partners, politicians and police chiefs are interspersed with dances, songs, poetry and drama performances, all sending out a strong message of non-violence.
Even though I know the format, I never tire of listening to the contributions (with the help of my fabulous translator, James Ojok). Women and men speak from the heart about their work to protect women, support survivors of violence and change attitudes. Today the words of Irene Anena catch my attention. Irene is 29 and works as a Gender Based Violence Project Officer for the Diocese of Northern Uganda (a partner of CARE Uganda). They provide psychosocial support and case management for survivors of violence. She makes a strong speech to the assembled dignitaries and activists:
“Despite the improving political and security situation in the northern region today, women still suffer the consequences of war. Sexual and gender based violence has been recognised as a weapon of war, destabilising entire regions and populations. Yet the use of gender related crimes are never an issue in most peace agreements”.
As I head to the hotel for a meal with the ever-growing number of partners and activists, I remember that it’s my last day in northern Uganda. Tomorrow we head to Kampala, with the important mission of presenting a petition on protection from violence to the Ugandan parliament. I’ll miss the north though, and it’s with mixed feelings that I go to sleep for the last time (at least for now) in Gulu.
29 November 2009
“Violence against women is spoiling the little peace we have had in northern Uganda. Did our mothers and sisters not suffer enough during the war?” So asks Carolina Lanyero from Acholi Religious Leaders Peace Initiative, one of CARE’s local partners in Amuru. It’s a very good question.
We’re in Amuru, it’s the third day of the caravan of women, and our numbers are growing every day. And every day more women jump up to dance whenever there is musical entertainment. I get the sense that the women are becoming more confident in their surroundings; the caravan is becoming their caravan. And it’s breaking down barriers. More and more I see women activists from small villages dancing with women councilors and dignitaries. The women are also more used to having me around, and more willing to talk about their lives.
I spend the morning speaking to women, and hearing their stories. I’m learning that in the aftermath of a conflict that broke down families and the very fabric of society, domestic violence has become an accepted norm. It’s tough listening to the women’s stories, and I’m really concerned to write everything down faithfully, and make sure they fully understand how we use their stories to raise awareness and influence opinion in the UK and internationally.
I needn’t worry. The women speak frankly and openly, and although their stories speak a sad history, they are also full of hope. Fifty-eight year old Florence Okello tells me how she has become an ambassador against violence in her community, after her in-laws violently attacked her after the death of her husband:
“I am proud to say I have helped ten homesteads where violence was prevalent. I talk to the families and explain to the man why they should change their ways. Sometimes they listen, sometimes they don’t. Change is slow, conflict damaged our society. If the man doesn’t listen, I try to talk to a close friend of his, sensitise this friend about violence, and then ask him to speak to the perpetrator. Sometimes a man will listen to his friend more than he will listen to me.”
I like Florence a lot, she’s warm and friendly, and later we dance together, causing much amusement to the assembled crowds of children, who I guess don’t expect to see the white lady dancing!
The activists are excited about the trip to Kampala, the weight of expectation in the air is enormous. As 38 year old Angela Akong tells me, “I haven’t been to Kampala since I was a child. If I get chance to speak to the government, I will ask them to pass laws to protect women from men’s violence. The government needs to join hands with other agencies, and everyone must work together until women are safe”.
There’s a lot of hope that things will change. I know from long campaigning experience that change is usually slow. I hope the women will persevere until they get it. From the determination in their voices, I expect they will.
28 November 2009
Today we’re in Kitgum, a small town about an hour’s drive from Pader. Two coach loads of women have joined us from Pader, and today another coach of Kitgum women will join the caravan. Today’s march through Kitgum town centre was exhilarating. Local women came out to clap, cheer and dance us along our way.
James and CARE’s local partners helped find me some people to interview about their experiences. I spoke to Sabina, a 31 year old woman from Kitgum. Sabina and I have two things in common: we’re the same age and we both campaign for an end to violence against women. She’s married with four children, and cares for her sister’s 6 children. Her sister was beaten to death by her husband, so Sabina has good reason to join the Voices Against Violence campaign.
I ask Sabina about the war. She looks sad as she remembers: “During the conflict, women experienced a lot of violence. Originally I come from the region that borders Sudan, there rebels used to cut women’s lips, to stop them talking to the government. Armed men would come in the night, take women into the bush and rape them, then threaten to kill them if they reported the attack”.
Sabina’s account highlights again the fact that the women of Uganda have experienced more violence and trauma than most of us will know in our lifetime. I chat to Judith about this, and she’s determined that the issue needs to be raised at every level, from the family and the community, to local police and social services, to local, national and international governments and institutions.
The community is exactly what Judith has in mind when she tells me I’m joining her and local community leaders on a live Acholi language radio talk show! I wonder if she’s for real! I’ve been in Uganda for 5 days, speak absolutely no Acholi, and wonder what I could possibly have to contribute.
Judith reassures me that it’s good coverage for CARE, that I can speak about what we do in the UK and at an international level, and that it will add interest to the show having me there. So, there you have it, Lee Webster, Ugandan radio star!
As it turns out, it was rather a fun experience. It was just a little chat with DJ Francis, that for the most part I couldn’t follow, in a non-soundproof studio. Every so often, someone would turn to me, switch to English and ask me a question. I’d answer hoping it sounded vaguely sensible and fitted in with the theme of the show.
Judith seemed pleased with the turn of events, and apparently many people were trying to phone in with questions, although we only had time to hear from three. Radio is a powerful tool of communication in northern Ugandan communities, so I hope that the messages of non-violence and access to justice were being heard across Gulu district.
27 November 2009
Today our journey continues from Gulu to Pader – an hour and a half by road, dodging potholes and wandering cattle on the way. Our party has grown. Jenny (the photographer I am traveling with), Grace and I have been joined by Judith, CARE Uganda’s sexual and gender based violence (SGBV) focal point, and James, a local consultant who’s been hired to translate from Acholi to English for us.
It’s great to meet Judith, I’ve spoken to her on the phone several times, and I’ve heard her speak passionately about SGBV in a film made by CARE Uganda. She’s just as energetic and assertive as I’d imagined, and spends the journey talking rapidly on her mobile phone to local officials, police and women’s leaders, addressing last minute organizational issues calmly.
James is a wealth of information. Not only is he an experienced translator, he’s doing a Masters degree at Gulu University in Conflict Resolution, and has encyclopedic knowledge of the history of his region. In half an hour, he puts into context what I’ve spent weeks trying to read up on and understand. It’s not a pretty story. Northern Uganda has been caught up in the conflict between government forces and rebel uprisings for many years. Innocent civilians became the targets for looting, kidnapping, torture and rape. As is usual in conflict, women and children were disproportionately affected. 1.8 million people in Uganda were forced to leave their homes, many congregating in overcrowded camps by the main towns.
The long lasting impact of conflict is brought home to me when we reach Pader. I talk to a group of school children while I’m waiting for the day’s proceedings to begin. Bill (“as in Clinton”) is fifteen and attends school in Pader. He’s clearly a bright and inquisitive youngster, and immediately starts quizzing me on Manchester United and Arsenal. I answer his questions best I can (not being a football fan) but his next question floors me.
“Is yours a peaceful country?” he asks seriously. I am momentarily lost for words. That in his short life, one of Bill’s main reference points is conflict saddens me greatly. I don’t know how to answer, and give a very inadequate “Yes, more or less” then change the subject. I need to be more prepared to speak to people about the reality of conflict, I wasn’t quite ready for this.
All of a sudden, musicians, dancers, a sound system and stage appear. Several women smartly clothed in colourful African dresses start to shuffle papers. Whilst I’ve been chatting, marquees have been erected in the school field, and buses have transported around a hundred local women to the scene.
The day aims to raise awareness of violence against women, to mobilize local people and to send a strong call to action to the local government. Local women councilors, artists and musicians, representatives of the police, local traditional and religious leaders, and a national MP, Franka Akello, have been invited. It all starts with a march. As a long-time activist on women’s rights, I love marching! So it’s a huge privilege to join the hundred women, and some warmly welcomed men, and march through the town of Pader. The women wear t-shirts that say in English and Acholi, “Happy families, happy lives, choose to be non-violent”. Some women wear shoes, and some don’t. Most don’t speak English but smile warmly and chat via James. A band at the front plays a marching tune, and the women, some old, some young, some with children on their backs, march to show their opposition to violence.
On our return, a series of speakers talk about SGBV, a young female musician, Olivia Lanyero sings a message of non-violence, and local politicians give their views. The sun beats down mercilessly, and the attendees gather under the marquee roofs, but everyone listens attentively.
The MP, Franka Akello, tells the crowd: “I grew up in a poor family. My mother looked after 22 orphans and had no money to send me to a good school. I went to primary school, studied hard and managed to go to secondary school. There I was the first pupil to pass with first class, and got a bursary to study at university. Please, families of Pader, think of the futures of your daughters, send them to school, invest in them for their future lives”.
Later I’m honoured to meet Franka Akello. It’s a ray of hope that in Uganda, which has experienced such disruption through conflict, Franka, and other women like her, have overcome the multiple barriers to rise in public life. I hope she’s been an inspiration to the women campaigning against violence in Pader today. She certainly inspires me.
26th November 2009
According to an article in today’s New Vision newspaper, a total of 12,829 sexual violence cases were reported to police in 2007. This led to only 28 convictions. 8,512 of the cases are still pending enquiry. It’s a stark reminder of the scale of the problem that the campaign is up against.
We’ve driven to Gulu, in the north of Uganda, where much of CARE’s work on gender-based violence takes place. Robert, who drove us here in the CARE truck, has worked for CARE since 2000. He laughs at me when I say I’ve worked for CARE for 7 months.
Grace has instructed us to be ready at 7am tomorrow – for the journey to Pader, where the official launch of the Voices Against Violence campaign will take place.
25th November 2009
The first moment I really know I’m back in Africa is when a shimmer of pink catches my eye through the plane window, and I turn to see a beautiful sunrise on the horizon. I think sleepily about warm days and sunshine, it’s been a long flight.
When I get off the plane in Nairobi, it’s raining and cold. So much for sunny days! I immediately panic about my lack of waterproof clothes, my hasty scan of the internet for weather in East Africa had yielded favourable reports, and I’d brought light summery clothes.
After a short wait at Nairobi airport, I’m on the plane to Entebbe, Uganda’s international airport, an hour from the capital, Kampala.
As I take the final leg of the journey, I reflect on the fact that I’m arriving in Uganda on November 25th, the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women. Violence against women is no small problem in Uganda, and it’s no coincidence I’m arriving today, I’m here to take part in CARE’s Voices Against Violence campaign with women activists in the north of the country.
According to Grace Kirembe, manager of CARE’s Transforming Lives initiative in the north of Uganda, violence against women is widespread. “Most women here are survivors of violence, sadly its commonplace in northern Uganda”, she tells me. Grace and her colleague Judith have worked with local women’s organisations to organise a ‘caravan of women’ to travel around northern Uganda raising awareness of violence against women and women’s rights, and then to Kampala to present the government with a petition, demanding that the government listens to grassroots women and takes action to combat violence. I’m here to share experiences about campaigning, to collect the stories of women so we can alert the world to their struggle, and to capture the events – and I’m traveling with internationally-renowned photographer Jenny Matthews.
I’m really excited to be here and feel really privileged to take part in the women of Uganda’s campaign. But I feel the weight of responsibility of my trip. The women are not campaigning about something distant or abstract. They are campaigning about rape, which has happened to them, and continues to threaten their lives. Who am I to worry about staying dry, when they have to worry about staying alive?