William Odinga Balikuddembe – DDRN

Namokora: Revisiting a Forgotten Massacre in Northern Uganda

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Tue, 21 Apr 2026 15:51:26 +0000

In Uganda, it is now forty years since President Yoweri Museveni captured power, and he has ruled ever since. When his National Resistance Army (NRA) fought its way into power in January 1986, unease swept through Namokora — a remote community 500 kilometres north of Kampala and the birthplace of the ousted president, Tito Okello Lutwa. Seven months later, that unease turned to horror. A brutal massacre unfolded, claiming 68 lives. Bodies lay unburied for weeks as scavengers tore at the remains. Nearly four decades later, the cries for justice still echo unanswered.

Researchers at Gulu University are now revisiting the incident, documenting testimonies from survivors, witnesses and victims’ families as part of efforts to preserve the historical record and inform ongoing discussions about recognition, justice and reparations.

Testimonies

Seated outside the house where he lived as a young man in Guruguru village, Atanansio Oyet, now 61, recalls the experience vividly.

“On the morning of August 19, one soldier whispered that we were going to be killed. Soon after, the soldiers formed two lines from our detention room to a parked lorry, beating us with clubs, gun butts, and kicks as we ran and climbed aboard. You had to grab a hanging rope while those already inside pulled you up. As we left Namokora Centre, a woman at the back held her head in her hands. Suddenly, she jumped off and ran into the bush. Another man jumped too, but he fell badly and couldn’t move. Then a few others and I jumped. The soldiers in the escort car behind us opened fire, killing people — those running and those still in the lorry,” narrates Oyet.

Oyet was rounded up from his home on August 15 in what appeared to be a random operation. He was taken to a small church room in Namokora trading centre, where others from Namokora and neighbouring sub-counties were being detained. They were subjected to torture during interrogations about guns and soldiers from the toppled regime. When he eventually returned to his village, it was deserted. His family and neighbours were hiding on a hill known as Akara. They remained in hiding for three months, venturing cautiously back to their homes only to harvest food.

Uthant Okot was only 16 and a boarding student at Kitgum High School when the massacre occurred. His father, Yonah Yesalom Okot, was among those killed — despite being an NRA collaborator and the Resistance Council III (RCIII) chairman for Namokora Subcounty under the new regime.

Yonah had fled Uganda’s capital Kampala after the overthrow of Lutwa. Having lived in the city for many years, he spoke both Luganda and Swahili. This made him the first point of contact between the NRA — reportedly commanded by Captain Matovu, whose name suggests he is a Muganda — and the Acholi-speaking community of northern Uganda.

“The NRA soldiers arrived around April or May 1986,” recalls Okot. “Our people feared there would be retaliation. Many had fled — some to Southern Sudan — but the soldiers came with a friendly approach. They would even play football with the kids here.”

For months, the soldiers seemed friendly, and people returned from hiding. But in July, an ambush on NRA troops by remnants of Tito Okello’s Uganda National Liberation Army (UNLA) reportedly took place at a centre called Akilok in Namokora sub county. It shattered that fragile calm.

The massacre

“Once some NRA soldiers were killed in the ambush, everything changed. Between August 10 and 15, they began rounding up villagers from Namokora and nearby sub-counties. Whoever they saw was now considered a rebel. They went on a rampage — killing people, raping women, and destroying granaries. Those they arrested were packed into a small church room at Namokora Mission — men and women alike,” said Okot.

August 19 was a Tuesday, a market day in Namokora. People had come from surrounding sub-counties, including Orom, Omiya Anyima, Kitgum Matidi, Wol, Omiya Pachar, and Lagoro. Around 100 people were forced onto the lorry. This included those already detained in the church, as well as others who had just been rounded up. The massacre unfolded about 1 km from Namokora Centre, at a place called Wii Gweng, when some captives began jumping from the truck.

Twenty-eight people were killed at this spot. Among them was Okot’s father. Okot’s uncle, James Akena, who had been arrested with his brother, survived the massacre despite major injuries. After his escape, he lived in an abandoned house for two weeks before being rescued and taken to Kalongo Hospital in Agago District.

The smell of death hung over Namokora for weeks, until an Italian missionary priest, Fr. Tarsicio Pazzaglia, mobilised some people in the neighbourhood, collecting and burying the decomposing bodies in a mass grave, today marked with a monument. Other killings occurred away from this site, with some who had escaped the truck being pursued.

The long silence

What followed the massacre was even greater chaos, fuelled by the subsequent rebellions of Alice Lakwena’s Holy Spirit Movement and Joseph Kony’s Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). For two decades, northern Uganda was engulfed in violence — marked by more massacres, kidnappings, and the mass displacement of almost the entire Acholi population into internally displaced people’s camps. The memories of Namokora were buried under years of hardship, where mere survival became an achievement.

The quest for justice

But those memories resurfaced during the 2011 general elections, when one of the survivors aspiring for LCIII chairperson of Namokora Subcounty placed the massacre at the centre of his manifesto. Charles Onen was a boy when the killings happened. His uncle, Ben Nyeko, was killed, and his parents fled with him to Kalenga (then a subcounty, now a district).

“When I went into politics in 2011, the Namokora massacre was the main item on my agenda. I told people that if you elect me, I will make sure our people who were massacred get justice. They elected me,” said Onen.

Under Onen’s leadership, the survivors and relatives of the victims formed the Namokora United Relatives of the Massacred and Survivors Association (NURMSA), officially launching it in 2012. They unanimously elected Onen as their chairperson. Their main aim was to honour the dead and seek justice for what had happened — justice they primarily hoped would come in the form of compensation.

They drafted a constitution, compiled lists of victims and survivors, and set out to lobby and agitate for justice. They also began holding annual memorial prayers, the first on August 19, 2013, reportedly attended by more than 1,000 people.

Politics

What Onen had hoped would be a turning point instead deepened local political tensions. The massacre issue was swallowed by local political feuds, which Onen believes helped keep it invisible. In 2016, he chose not to seek re-election for the Namokora LC3 seat and also stepped down as NURMSA chair.

“That [NURMSA] was the beginning of real threats to my life. I met a lot of resistance from the district chair, Luka Nyeko, and the area Member of Parliament, Henry Okello Oryem. The only person who supported me was Beatrice Anyar, then Woman MP for Kitgum. During the memorial service, I told people: ‘I am making my will today. No one should take my body to my father’s home. Let my body be buried close to the victims.’”

Ironically, one of the people he accuses — Oryem — is the son of the late President Tito Okello, has ancestral roots in Namokora, and has served in the Museveni’s government since 2001. He currently holds the position of Minister of State for Foreign Affairs (International Cooperation).

“They intimidated me. They would use anonymous numbers to send threatening messages: ‘You are fighting the government. We shall deal with you.’ They organised to remove me from power. Even leaders from my own subcounty opposed me. Government programmes were withheld from me. Even Northern Uganda Social Action Fund 2 (NUSAF 2) support did not reach us. I had to take another step. I became very tired — every day was a fight. After I was removed [from the NURMSA Chair], the LC5 chair took over but died. His vice took over, and that one dropped the initiative.”

Efforts to reach Oryem were unsuccessful, as he did not respond to requests for an interview on the matter sent through his known telephone number.

The current push

The NURMSA mantle is now carried by Uthant Okot, who lost his father in the massacre but worked his way up to become the District Agriculture Officer for Kitgum. He was elected chairperson in 2023 during the annual memorial prayers, to serve a three-year term.

“We verified and updated the lists. We have 28 who died at the Wei Gweng site, 40 killed within the subcounties, and 31 survivors. We are now spreading our tentacles. We have taken the issue to the Chief Justice, Owiny-Dollo, whom we met in June 2024; to Lillian Aber [the current Woman MP for Kitgum and State Minister for Relief, Disaster Preparedness and Refugees]; and to the DISO and the RDC — they all know our issue. Even Nobert Mao [Minister of Justice and Constitutional Affairs] is now in the know,” says Okot.

Expert perspectives

Dr. Stella Laloyo Apecu, Chief of the Institute of Peace and Strategic Studies (IPSS) at Gulu University and Head of the Centre of Excellence in Transitional Justice and Refugee Studies, says the government’s failure to provide reparations for the Namokora massacre reflects a culture of impunity.

“This is one of the neglected transitional justice sites in the Acholi sub-region, just like Atiak and Mucwini. It was the NRA that caused their pain, and that same institution remains in power. It is also clear that what happened was payback because this was Tito Okello’s home area. Whatever happened was intentional — not a mistake. It was a clear act of revenge.

“Because it involved the ruling government, people even fear to tell their stories. The survivors are now elderly, and some have already died. The government needs to provide reparations. It has taken far too long,” she says.

Dr. Agatha Alidri, a Senior Lecturer in the Department of History at Gulu University, and one of the researchers documenting the testimonies, says the Namokora massacre reflects the broader challenges that have shaped Uganda’s post-colonial governments and their armies.

“At the centre of this is ethnicity. The massacre reflects Uganda’s deep-rooted north–south political divide. It highlights how ethnicity continues to shape both the armed forces and the state.

“The fact that it happened in the home of a former president speaks volumes. Innocent people were killed, and the government must remain accountable. The reality is that the NRM government, whose army committed the massacre, is still in power. It carries the responsibility to ensure healing,” she says.

Will justice come?

Onen, the man who initiated the push for accountability and compensation for Namokora victims and survivors, remains hopeful that the momentum built under NURMSA will eventually yield results.

“I have invested a lot in this cause at a personal level. We prepared a position paper on the victims, and I have made sure the documentation reaches all the relevant places. I am confident that one day this will bear fruit,” he says.

While Onen remains hopeful, whether justice will come may ultimately depend on the willingness of the Ugandan state to confront unresolved chapters of its own history. For the survivors of Namokora, the passage of time has not erased the memory of what happened — only the urgency of addressing it.

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda, and the Chairman of Uganda Science Journalists’ Association (USJA).

Study Reveals How COVID-19 Made Young People in Northern Uganda More Vulnerable

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Wed, 31 Dec 2025 15:19:02 +0000

COVID-19 may now feel like a distant memory for many Ugandans following the full reopening of the economy in January 2022, yet its impacts remain visible in the social and economic hardships they exacerbated. In northern Uganda, recent research from Gulu University shows that adolescents and youth were among the most affected.

The study, Consequences of the COVID-19 Pandemic for Youth and Adolescent Reproductive Health in Northern Uganda (CONSCOV), found that the pandemic and its control measures—such as lockdowns and prolonged school closures—increased the risks of sexually transmitted infections (STIs), unintended pregnancies, early marriage especially among girls, and gender-based violence.

Beyond these reproductive health impacts, the study also exposed underlying social issues that often go unnoticed, including the increasing vulnerability of boys and a widening parenting gap. The study found that many parents had stepped back from their roles, assuming that teachers were responsible for their children’s wellbeing since most of their time was spent at school.

The study, conducted between April 2022 and March 2025 in Gulu City and in the refugee-hosting districts of Adjumani and Obongi, was carried out by a consortium led by Gulu University with the University of Copenhagen, Gulu Regional Referral Hospital (GRRH), and Reproductive Health Uganda (RHU). It was funded by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Denmark.

The study’s approach combined data collection with reproductive health education, counselling, and, in some cases, testing and treatment. These services were delivered by health professionals, with particular attention to vulnerable groups such as street children and sex workers.

“Uganda, like much of Africa, has a very young population. This research targeted young people and their reproductive health—an area that is often neglected. If we neglect their reproductive health, their future is doomed,” said Dr. Agatha Alidri, the Project Investigator (PI).

“We hit our target and went beyond it. We reached more than 6,000 adolescents and youth, including refugees. We engaged with 30 schools in the two refugee-hosting districts, yet our initial target there was only 10. The demand for CONSCOV services was overwhelming,” she added.

The findings:

Increased Fertile Ground for Infections

With schools closed, adolescents and youth who had previously been protected by structured learning environments suddenly had more idle time, fewer safeguards, and greater exposure to risky sexual behaviour. Economic hardships compounded this, heightening the risk of transactional sex.

Data from GRRH, for example, showed a steady HIV prevalence of 3% among individuals below 19 years in Gulu City from 2019 through the lockdown years of 2020–2021, before dropping to 2% in 2022. In Gulu District (rural Gulu), prevalence was 1% in 2019, then rose to 2% and remained steady through 2020–2022. It was, however, noted that most young people in that age bracket were not testing for HIV. In addition, movement restrictions during the lockdown prevented others from reaching hospital for testing.

That stated, statistics on pregnancy and abortion highlight increased unprotected sex, which raises the risk of STIs such as gonorrhoea, syphilis, HIV, hepatitis B, genital herpes, and human papillomavirus:

The number of girls aged 10–19 years from Gulu District attending their first antenatal visit at GRRH rose from 1,122 in 2019 (pre-lockdown) to 1,150 in 2020, 1,261 in 2021, and 1,403 in 2022, before dropping to 1,019 in 2023.
A similar trend was observed among women from Gulu District aged 20–24 years: first antenatal visits increased from 1,377 in 2019 to 1,477 in 2020, 1,597 in 2021, and 1,774 in 2022, before declining to 1,492 in 2023. This trend could mean that after the lockdown more girls were now able to access SRH services.
Data from the RHU facility in Gulu revealed sharp increases in post-abortion care: from 1,051 cases in 2020, to 1,626 in 2021, peaking at 1,755 in 2022, before falling to 1,295 in 2023 when the country had returned to normal.

These figures, though alarming, tell only part of the story. Illegal and unsafe abortions remain common in Uganda, with many young people seeking post-abortion care only when severe complications arise. As a result, the true scale of unprotected sexual activity and its consequences during the lockdown years is likely much higher.

Gender-based violence

Gender-based violence—manifested in rape, defilement, incest, forced marriage, domestic violence, and other forms—was already widespread in the region, which continues to struggle with the legacy of a two-decade war that left communities fragile, with material losses, disrupted livelihoods, and deep psychological scars.

COVID-19 restrictions forced learners and their parents to stay home. Families lost income as jobs and businesses were disrupted, creating severe social and economic stress.

Communities reported increased GBV among adolescents and youth, driven by substance abuse (alcohol and illicit drugs), idleness, economic hardship, and weak parental supervision. Prolonged confinement also exposed young people to frequent parental conflicts and, in some cases, household violence.

Cases of defilement were reportedly very high but widely underreported due to stigma and, at times, parental preference for informal settlements, often involving payments from the perpetrator. Even so, despite movement restrictions, police records still captured significant numbers.

At Amuru Police Station, for example, defilement cases rose from 35 in 2019 to 57 in 2020 and 85 in 2021, before dropping to 58 in 2022—indicating increased rates during the lockdown years. While Gulu, Nwoya, and Omoro did not exhibit the same rising trend, their numbers remained high: Gulu recorded 102 cases in 2019, 84 in 2020, 71 in 2021, and 45 in 2022.

Domestic violence also surged during lockdowns, with both children and adults experiencing physical and psychological abuse. In Gulu City, for example, recorded domestic violence cases rose from 248 in 2020 to 407 in 2022.

Schools among hardest hit

COVID-19 disrupted Uganda’s school cycle for nearly two years, exposing learners, teachers, and school managers in northern Uganda to severe social and economic challenges. Many learners did not return when schools reopened, some teachers left the profession, and several schools did not reopen at all.

Urban schools experienced lower attendance after reopening, while peri-urban and rural schools reported increased enrolment. This shift was partly due to families relocating from towns, as sustaining urban livelihoods became difficult during the lockdown.

Learning loss was widespread. Many pupils reported forgetting previously learned content or struggling to comprehend new material. At Atede Primary School in Gulu City, for example, when learners were asked to complete the sentence “When I returned to school after the lockdown…”, more than 60 percent said they had forgotten what they had learned or now found learning difficult.

Early marriages and teenage pregnancies increased substantially. In refugee-hosting areas such as Obongi and Adjumani, some schools established breastfeeding corners to support girls who returned to class while nursing babies born during the lockdown.

School infrastructure—including buildings, benches, and tables—was vandalised during the prolonged closure. Many teachers turned to alternative sources of income, and some have since abandoned the profession entirely, opting to work in the informal sector as motorcycle taxi riders or roadside vendors.

Other key findings

Researchers also found that many schools lack the capacity—both in staffing and infrastructure—to provide adequate Sexual and Reproductive Health (SRH) education and support. This gap leaves adolescents and youth vulnerable to early pregnancies, unsafe abortions, sexually transmitted infections (STIs), and broader social risks such as school dropout, gender-based violence, child marriage, exploitation, and substance abuse.

The boy-child, traditionally regarded as the pillar of the household, now experiences harsher parenting, fewer educational resources, and limited emotional support compared to girls. Many boys struggle with self-expression, low self-esteem, and disengagement. While affirmative action for girls has been essential in addressing historical inequalities, it has unintentionally left some boys feeling unsupported and disempowered.

At Laliya Primary School, researchers observed that girls were significantly more expressive than boys during an open interaction with Upper Primary learners. More than 20 girls actively participated by answering questions or making comments, whereas only one boy spoke, even after extensive prompting.

Out of the 50 schools visited, the only exception was Pagirinya Secondary School in Adjumani, where boys demonstrated confidence and participated equally with girls. According to the Refugee Desk Officer for Adjumani, Mr. Titus Jogo, this was partly due to the presence of many partner organisations implementing activities in the Pagirinya settlement. The school is easily accessible as it sits just a few metres off the Atiak–Adjumani road.

The study further revealed that many adolescents and youth avoid health centres because of rude or insensitive behaviour from health workers. As a result, they turn to informal sources of care, including drug shops and herbalists. Health workers who participated in the research acknowledged that the training and experience gained from working alongside university researchers had transformed their approach to service delivery.

“I have learnt that it is not the number of patients that matters; it is the quality of the service. We have learnt to give time to clients. We have learnt to go deeper into the problem of the patient. We have learnt to critically listen to them,” said Richard Musasizi of GRRH, as quoted in a policy brief by the research team titled “Health is Social: Uganda’s Health Services Require a Client-Friendly Approach.”

The researchers are now publishing a series of policy briefs to communicate these findings, offering recommendations that span family, community, and school practices, as well as national policy reforms in health and education. Their broader message is a call for collective action at all levels of society to safeguard the well-being of adolescents and youth. The full set of policy briefs will be accessible through the Building Stronger Universities (BSU) website in January 2026.

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda, and the Chairman of Uganda Science Journalists’ Association (USJA).

The Middle East: Uganda’s New Garden Where ‘Everyone Wants to Try Their Luck’ (2:2)

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Tue, 28 Mar 2023 11:27:02 +0000

Joanna Ndagire, who was trafficked to the Middle East in 2017, and worked there as a maid, is now an activist against human trafficking. She says that the main push factor for young women into the Middle East is the [economic] “situation” in Uganda. “Most of the women or girls who go there to work have no option – the only option is to move [away from Uganda]. You reach a point of no return, whereby you have done everything. You have worked hard. You have not been paid. Life is hard, very hard. Then you decide, ‘let me go there and suffer, after all, there, they will pay me’”, says Ndagire who volunteers with the John Paul II Justice and Peace Centre. She creates awareness on human trafficking and provides support to its victims.

The new head of the household

Obika says some women are finding ‘a kind of strength and independence, and livelihood’ from migrating to the Middle East. “Someone will say ‘what’s the difference, suffering there and the suffering I am going through at home?’ Some of them are coming from abusive relationships. They are coming from homes where they are seeing brothers, sisters and mothers struggling to a point where they are not sure where their next meal is coming from,” says Obika.

Through their Middle East exploits, some women have gone as far as buying and owning land. They have built houses where typically, their mothers, siblings and children live. They send back home money to look after them. In this case, they are clear heads of the family, challenging the long-held notion, which is still being taught in schools in Uganda, that the man is the head of the household.

In some circumstances, spouses agree that the woman goes to the Middle East to work and support the family.“We are finding a lot of women becoming breadwinners. They get support from their partners. The partner says: ‘okay, it is two years. You can go. I will look after the home. Go, send money for children to go to school, because my job brings little income’, or, ‘I don’t have anything.’ So, that is an option,” Obika says.

“For me, what is really impressive is that agency that women begin getting when they make the choice to go, that ability to choose this path. This is a different time in history. Some have started businesses, and then one year, two years, they collapse – but it is not like they’re giving up totally now. That is more reason to go back, get capital and come and invest again. They seem to have the idea so they want a second chance, to do it right,” Obika adds.

“The New Garden”

Traditionally in Uganda, women till the land and grow food to feed the family. Today, with increased education, population, socialization, urbanization, globalization and other factors, there are certainly more work and life options for them to consider.

“It is a comparison. You can have a garden and till it, get food and then feed your children. The era seems to be a bit different, the context is different. Now, with the Middle East being close – close in a way that people can afford an air ticket, that you can get a job where the boss pays for the ticket for you to go and work for two or three years – it seems to open up possibilities.

“They know about the slavery, but that bravery to think that maybe for me it will turn out okay, I think it is really something that we should also begin to understand – that these young women have this ability to choose their life path, what they want to do with their lives, because something doesn’t seem to be working at home. Maybe their education level is an issue, the jobs are not there, there’s too much competition, but they also want to see nice things, they want to step on a plane, we may take those things for granted”, says Obika.

Stepping on a plane

Stepping on a plane will look like a simple thing in some societies or families, especially in the developed world, but for some people it is the motivation to leave home, to have an experience away from home.

“The Middle East has made it possible, because it seems so close and more open than the dream of going to the US or Europe. That possibility to go and see the beauty somewhere else, to be close to wealth and say, ’yeah!’ Then you call people and say, ‘I am abroad’, and take pictures. The world is now more open. It is open to many people. Domestic work [in the Middle East] is one way that can close that gap, that aspiration, and then you now begin to look at the livelihoods. It’s a completely different era. So, we can look at it in this context where the Middle East opens up a lot of possibilities for us, for women, to do a lot of things, and achieve” Obika says.

Who uses the money?

While some are happy that the money they earn from the Middle East has taken them a step ahead in life, they have built houses, educated their children, and even started businesses, there are also disappointments for many.

“We have found many who have been disappointed that the money they were sending never actually reached its target. You send it through a friend and the friend diverts it. You send it through a brother, the brother uses it to build his own house. That just breaks them down” Obika says. “You have gone to do something, but you are trying to stay connected. You are telling them ‘let my money go towards this’ but you really have no control. You still have to trust and depend on somebody to help you achieve that, and then you are disappointed.”

The researchers also state that the expenditure for those women can sometimes be inevitably high, as they try to support their needy relatives back home. “There are a lot of demands from a lot of relatives, and therefore often the money is gone much faster than expected. It is difficult to start a business that survives for very long. I would say that the problem is not just about the job, but it is also a problem that their salaries are not high for the work that they do”, says Mogensen.

More men happier than women

There are suggestions, as the study continues, that more men are happier with the outcome of their Middle East work than women. Many of the men we have spoken to seem to have positive stories about their going to the Middle East. Once I asked a gentleman whom I have been following since 2019 “how come I have not found a man saying negative things about their experience?” and he told me”‘it is because men know what is taking them there. They go, they work, they send money to their wives. You know you have a target, you achieve it, and then you come back home, and that’s it”.

“A number of women go when they are actually girls, very young, with a lot of excitement. They have not done this before. They get money which they think is a lot. Sometimes they spend it on relatives, other times they spend it on things that don’t build them, financially. One woman said that some girls don’t plan. They get boyfriends through social media who promise to marry them and then they eat up all their money. All of a sudden they are broke and they are planning their next trip back to the Middle East,” Obika says.

Women: The new champions

Overall though, there is a changing trend, with women becoming champions of families and heroines of their communities in Uganda.

“You find that the way the household is set up, it is run by the woman – rented or built by the woman. She has put her relatives there – her mother, sisters, and then children. They may be her children, sisters’ children. There are many people there. The household head is that woman in the Middle East. She is sending the money. She’s making the decisions. There is no man there!

“Women are taking charge of a lot of extended family issues: burial arrangements, you see that it is women sending contributions; marriage, you see that it is women sending contributions,” says Obika.

Why the women’s journey to the Middle East will continue

When I ask Fatuma if she is not worried about her marriage since she stays away for long she says that she worries, but asks rhetorically, “What is the importance of being together when you are failing to make ends meet?”

“I talk to my man and reassure him of the goals we are looking at. If you understand each other, things work out.” Fatuma says. “There are no jobs [in Uganda]. If you get a job the wage is very small, compared to what we earn here. With our economy and all its challenges, you fear for your future and that of your kids. You see time running out and you have gained nothing year in year out. You compare yourself with your friends who have been successful and you of course will want to go back [to the Middle East]. That is why you see many girls are dying in the hands of the Arabs but many more girls are coming in. Everyone wants to try their luck.”

Unemployment is the biggest challenge, says human rights activist Mariam Mwiza, the Executive Director of Overseas Workers Voice (OWV).

“They have to find a way of putting something on the table. Those who return home, especially those trafficked out of the country, sometimes find themselves at a level worse than they were before they left. The environment is harsh. People are expecting you to be better than them, to help them. You think that maybe when I go back, I can make things work,” says Mwiza.

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda

The Middle East: Uganda’s New Garden Where ‘Everyone Wants to Try Their Luck’ (1:2)

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Tue, 28 Mar 2023 10:32:32 +0000

Ugandan women continue to flock to the Middle East mainly to work as maids, despite harrowing tales of enslavement, torture and discrimination. In fact, many go back for a second and third stint, even after they have spoken very badly about the way they were treated while they worked in homes there.

Researchers Dr. Julaina Obika of Gulu University and Prof. Hanne Overgaard Mogensen of the University of Copenhagen are interested in finding out why these women are choosing that path despite such working conditions. Their study seeks to establish the impact of labor migrations from Uganda to the Middle East on gender relations and livelihoods in Uganda. So far, their findings show that while there are plenty of negative stories, the livelihood influence of Middle East labor on some families in Uganda is significant, and women are increasingly taking on the role of head of the family in a society that is traditionally patriarchal.

A typical experience

Fatuma [not her real name], 29, describes her first attempt to work in the Middle East as “a nightmare”. Her ‘escape’ in 2018 from a house in Dubai, after serving 10 months on her two-year contract, was movie-like:

“One day she [the boss] forgot the keys in the kitchen lock. It was in the morning and most of the family members were still asleep. I pulled out the keys, ran to the basement where my room was, picked up my bag which was always packed, returned to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. I went to the living room where she was and I told her ‘if you want peace let me go peacefully. Take me back to the office [labor agency] or else I will be forced to use this knife on you’.”

After making her point, and with the keys in her hands, Fatuma ran out of the house, leaving her employer in shock.

“I think because of the fear of what I could do next, they called the office and they quickly took me there. The office already knew about our issues because I had complained many times but they were not helping me,” she tells me.

Fatuma, known to her relatives and friends as a very humble and friendly person, had left behind her partner and a baby of fourteen months to join the ever-increasing number of young Ugandan women going to the Middle East to do domestic work.

Immediately when she entered the house to start her new job her phone was taken away from her, so she could have very limited communication with her people, through her employers’ phone.

“That made me feel so lonely in that house to the extent that I developed suicidal thoughts. She [the boss] had eight grandchildren whom I was forced to take care of, but I was not allowed quality time [phone calls] with my own child. It was tormenting!” Fatuma says.

Her plight over those months included verbal abuses related to her race, being given little food, working for abnormal hours and, although her contract indicated that she was to work in one house, she would be forced by her employer to work in three other houses where her employers’ daughters were married.

Fatuma’s employer had not paid her for three months by the time of the knife incident. The agency told her to use that money to buy Fatuma a flight ticket.

“I returned home. I had planned my escape months earlier. It reached a point where I had become rebellious. If they told me to do something that was not in my contract I wouldn’t do it. So, they started to lock me in the house and my boss would keep the keys on herself,” she says.

In 2021, however, Fatuma returned to Dubai, again as a laborer. This time she was working for a cleaning company. Again, she left behind her partner and their baby of only eight months.

Researchers’ questions

“How come they are choosing this [work in the Middle East] as an alternative or a pathway for livelihood? Why is domestic work in the Middle East becoming a very attractive choice for a lot of women?”, asks Dr. Obika. Those are some of the questions in the researchers’ probe. It is important to note that the young women I interviewed for this article are not among the researchers’ respondents.

Between 2016 and mid-2022, over 220,000 Ugandans left for work in the Middle East. 85 percent were domestic workers, with women taking up the larger share of 75%. Those figures do not include workers who left the country illegally.

The labor export sector has become an important revenue source for Uganda with the country’s tax body receiving 30 US Dollars per worker requested by a foreign agency while local labor companies pay 2m Ugandan shillings (approx. 535 US Dollars) each for a license. By May 2022, Uganda had licensed more than 230 labor export companies and over 400 foreign recruitment agencies.

Annual remittances from Ugandans working abroad amount to 1.3bn US Dollars – more than half of that (700m US Dollars) comes from those working in the Middle East. The sector is estimated to annually generate for the country tax revenue of 4.5t Ugandan shillings (approx. 1.2bn US Dollars).

Context of the study

Dr. Obika and Prof. Mogensen began their research in 2018 and it should have ended in 2022, but due to Covid-19 disruptions, they received an extension to 2024. Their study is part of a wider DANIDA-funded project, Imagining Gender Futures in Uganda (IMAGENU), which is looking at marriage, partnerships and changing gender relations in Uganda. Different studies are going on under four subthemes: Livelihoods, Education, Child filiation and Health (reproductive and mental).

“Hanne and I are looking at the work package on livelihoods and we zeroed down on this growing trend of women, especially young women, going to the Middle East in search of jobs,” Obika says. “We are following the two components about this decline in marriage and then our sub study about migration.”

Between them, the researchers have interviewed over 50 men and women who have made the journey to the Middle East and they have closely been following the stories of 11 of them for more than three years.

“It is important to say that we look for themes recurring in these people’s lives, but not for statistical significance. We primarily look at how they manage to continue life once back in Uganda – what has this experience in the Middle East done for their livelihood options also after they return”, says Mogensen.

Geographically, they are focusing on northern Uganda, specifically the districts of Gulu and Pader, but they also bring in comparison with Eastern Uganda – Tororo and Jinja districts – as well as Kampala, which is the hub for the women in transition to the Middle East. They began their study focusing on women, but later included men for accuracy.

Obika says: “When you talk to a Ugandan about work in the Middle East it is like a synonym for slavery, torture, discrimination, racism, you name it. We talk to people all the time and they tell us exactly these kinds of fears that they have. What we have found is that despite negative press and the stories that are so much on social media, some of the young women we have spoken to have gone, come back and then are trying to go back again. And our question is why?”

The answers could be diverse. But livelihood is, certainly, at the center of this journey from Uganda to the Middle East.

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda

Bamboo for SDGs: A Test for Uganda’s Nascent Industry

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Mon, 09 Jan 2023 18:29:43 +0000

Giant bamboo towers over the security wall surrounding the home of a former minister in Kampala, making a dominant spectacle in a neighbourhood of dwindling greenery. Artistically, the tall culms and thick green leaves represent a developing country’s dream of a greener economy.

Before Flavia Nabugere Munaaba was in 2011 exposed to the value of bamboo, she had plans to convert her fairly large space in Busega, on the outskirts of Kampala, into a hotel. Today, more than 20 species of bamboo, including the Giant (Dendrocalamus giganteus), are at different stages of growth in that space, ranging from seedlings to mature plants.

“Right now I am a bamboo farmer who is also an entrepreneur. I am not only growing bamboo. I am also spreading the gospel about bamboo and telling people the values of bamboo,” says Munaaba, a former Woman Member of Parliament for Kaliro District (2011-2016) and Minister of State for Environment during the same period. She is currently the Secretary General of the Uganda Bamboo Association (UBA) which has more than 300 individual and a dozen corporate members. The association’s offices are within Nabugere’s enclosure.

Bamboo in Uganda mainly grows in protected areas such as national parks where it covers a combined 54,533ha. The total acreage of bamboo growing outside those areas is not known, but the number of people picking interest in farming bamboo is on the rise, albeit with little knowledge about the plant and its potential.

Many Ugandans still perceive bamboo as a wild plant, and many a farmer fear it can conquer their productive lands because of its aggressiveness – although this aggressiveness mainly applies to the running type, and not the clumping one. This fear may be attributed to lack of knowledge about the different bamboo types, species, and how to manage them. The promoters of bamboo growing, however, speak of its enormous potential for socio-economic and environmental benefits.

This is an excerpt from an article on the website of the Research Program on Forests, Trees and Agroforestry (FTA): “Managed sustainably, it [bamboo] could help many countries reach their global land restoration, climate change and sustainable development commitments.” FTA is a programme of the Consultative Group on International Agricultural Research (CGIAR) and, apparently, it is “the world’s largest research for development program to enhance the role of forests, trees and agroforestry in sustainable development and food security and to address climate change”.

Bamboo benefits

Bamboos are fast growing plants belonging to the grass family. Traditionally in Uganda, bamboo has been used in construction, crafts, furniture and among some communities, such as the Bagisu in eastern Uganda, bamboo shoots are a delicacy and a major part of tradition. Reports, however, have it that bamboo has over 10,000 documented product uses. At Nabugere’s home, and certainly the home of the UBA, is a mini permanent exhibition of some of those products including charcoal, vinegar, tar, liquid soap and different kinds of furniture. The known benefits of bamboo broaden to include soil and water conservation, acting as wind breaks, provision of sustainable renewable energy (especially because of its fast growth compared to trees) and acting as carbon sinks. All these aspects point to its potential to reduce poverty among communities and foster sustainable economic growth.

Uganda’s strategy

Supported by the FTA and the International Bamboo and Rattan Organisation (INBAR), Uganda developed a ten-year bamboo strategy and action plan which was launched in 2020. The strategy focusses on the management of bamboo resources for economic, social and environmental benefits. In short, the strategy is aimed at helping Uganda to develop her bamboo industry. The mission of the strategy is: “To build a robust bamboo industry in Uganda by sustainable management of bamboo resources and high value addition, contributing to gross domestic product growth, green economic development, job creation and enhanced ecosystem services”.

The targets outlined in the strategy are quite ambitious. For example, Uganda’s Forest Landscape Restoration target is 2.5 million hectares by 2030 and 15 percent of this will be through planting as well as managing bamboo. In the short run – between 2019 and 2024 – the target is to plant 70,000ha of bamboo and restore 15,000ha of natural bamboo. Between 2025 and 2040, the strategy envisions an additional 230,000ha of planted and 60,000ha of regenerated natural bamboo. And by 2030, Uganda’s net value of the bamboo trade at farm gate price should reach USD 508.4m.

How to get there

Among the guiding principles, the strategy is to be “private sector-led and market driven”, with the government institutions playing a supportive role. But as the situations stands, there is a general lack of knowledge on bamboo among Ugandans. In fact it is acknowledged in the strategy that “there has been minimal effort by government and the private sector to promote bamboo growing in the country”. To get the private sector into the lead of the bamboo industry will require significant national and international commitments.

The Dutch-Sino-East Africa Bamboo Development Programme, implemented in Ethiopia, Kenya and Uganda, and now in its second 3-year phase (2020-2023), is so far the most visible intervention in Uganda. It aims to “transfer knowledge, technologies and policy experiences from Europe and Asia to help develop the bamboo sector” in the three countries. The programme is funded by the governments of the Netherlands and China, with co-funding from Uganda coming in form of human resource, office space, equipment and other contributions.

The second phase has a budget of about USD 1.1m (for Uganda) and it is expected to benefit over 28,000 people. There is a target to restore 5,000 hectares of degraded land with bamboo as well as “enhancing sustainable management practices for 5,000 hectares of bamboo plantations and farms”.

The first phase, which cost about half a million dollar, was conducted between 2016 and 2019 and it among others looked at conducting bamboo resources assessments, market conditions assessment, capacity building, development of technical guidelines for bamboo processing, raising awareness and building partnerships between China, Europe and East Africa.

Michael Malinga, the Coordinator of the programme says they achieved most of what they set out to do in phase one and the second phase is building from the first. Activities in the second phase include development of bamboo courses for technical institutes, nursery establishments, exchange visits within the country and in Africa, research, value chain development and creating awareness.

“At the moment we have created a lot of awareness about bamboo. The problem is that Ugandans want to see when someone is successful and then they join,” Malinga says.

Andrew Kalema Ndawula, a former journalist and now an agroforestry farmer, who was also a national coordinator for INBAR, says Uganda’s bamboo sector is very young.

“The sector is in its infancy”, he say. “Slowly by slowly people are getting to know bamboo. There is a shift from total ignorance to increasing awareness among the public. We still have a long way to go in creating awareness, and we need to give technical support to those who are joining the sector.”

Kalema has been growing bamboo at his Talent Agroforestry Farm in Nakaseke, central Uganda, since 2012. He has 20 species of the plant at his farm and sells up to 50,000 seedling a year – that is on top of other products such as bamboo poles, vinegar, and charcoal which he uses as fertilizer at his farm and also sells some of it to small scale pharmaceutical producers.

It appears that most of the work towards a vibrant bamboo industry in Uganda has been done in the last one decade. Munaaba says that by the time she became the State Minister for Environment there was a desk in the ministry in charge of bamboo but there was “nothing going there”.

She embarked on promoting bamboo after her visit to a bamboo expo in China in October 2011, where she was impressed by what the Chinese were able to do with bamboo. Thereafter, she sent several delegations to China to learn about bamboo. She also participated in writing proposals for bamboo promotion in Uganda. But by the time the Dutch-Sino East Africa Bamboo Development Programme started she had lost her sit as MP and also her ministerial post – her further participation in the sector would eventually come through the creation of the UBA, registered in May 2017.

Research into bamboo

The bamboo strategy gives direction towards Uganda’s desired bamboo industry, but a lot of research will need to be done along the bamboo value chain – from identifying and multiplying suitable species for different areas and different purposes to value addition and, of course, markets for bamboo products. At the moment research activities in bamboo in Uganda, as measured against its potential contribution to sustainable development, are still scanty.

The National Agricultural Research Laboratories (NARL) has since early 2021 been researching into raising planting materials through tissue culture. This is mainly because bamboo flowers once in many years, making it difficult to raise enough seedlings from seeds. But also, it is difficult to raise seedlings for some species through cuttings. The researchers are currently looking at one specie (with support from INBAR) but envisage more research work as the sector attracts interest from both public and private sectors.

“We are at the tail end of this research and we are confident we will get the results,” says Dr. John Adriko, a researcher at NARL. “We first want to raise the planting materials then we can later go into other types of research. We can do extraction of different phytochemicals. We may not go into the furniture and so forth because our lab is more of a biotech lab. Furniture and the rest will be for other groups.”

Other institutions, including the National Forestry Authority (NFA), the National Forestry Resources Research Institute (NaFORRI), the Uganda Industrial Research Institute (UIRI) and the Centre for Energy and Energy Conservation are doing research in different aspects especially on bamboo value addition. But generally speaking, the bamboo sector in Uganda is under researched.

“There is a general problem when it comes to research. As a country we don’t set the agenda. The research is being supported by foreign organisations which may have their own agenda. Our interests are often overlooked. As a country, we have to do our own research, looking at our own needs, if we are to develop this sector,” says Ndawula.

Uganda needs USD 118m for ten years to stimulate and facilitate the development of its bamboo industry, according to the strategy, but the former minister of Environment, while she appreciates the steps taken so far, including the national strategic plan, she is skeptical.

“The biggest failure is by government failing to put money into the venture,” Munaaba says. “They agree it is a good venture. They agree it can increase incomes. They agree it offers a quick environmental fix. But they are unable to put money there. To get that political will is a big challenge.”

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda

South Sudan: Interaction of Refugees and Their Hosts in Uganda Could Foster Peaceful Co-existence Back Home. But When?

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Sun, 11 Dec 2022 13:55:02 +0000

In Adjumani town, in the West Nile sub region of northern Uganda, a relatively big structure sits enclosed in Paridi stadium, just a few metres behind the southern goalposts. At its entrance is an inscription in bold letters: “Refugee and Host population Empowerment (ReHope)”.

In the middle of the building is a hall suitable for cultural events such as music, dance and drama. On the left side is a restaurant and kitchen area. On the right and at the back are washrooms and a number of office rooms.

“This is ideal. We just need four of these rooms,” says Assoc. Prof. Charles Nelson Okumu of the Faculty of Education and Humanities, Gulu University. His colleagues, Assoc. Prof. Lioba Lenhart, formerly of Gulu University’s Institute of Peace and Strategic Studies (IPSS), and Prof. Susan Reynolds Whyte of the Department of Anthropology, University of Copenhagen, nod in agreement.

The facility and two smaller ones – of washrooms and changing rooms – were constructed in Paridi Stadium with funding from Japan for sports, social and economic interactions for refugee and host community youth, according to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). It was officially handed over to the Adjumani District local government in April 2019. Its dusty floor and empty rooms, however, clearly show that the place is not in use.

The professors want to establish what they call a “Forced Displacement Documentation Centre” in Adjumni district where people can learn about Madi culture, the hospitality of the Madi people, and the history of migrations especially between Uganda and Southern Sudan. A meeting between the professors and the leadership of the district on April 6 proposed the Paridi structure as one of the options to be considered to house such a centre.

Adjumani is close to Uganda’s borders with volatile states the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and the Republic of South Sudan. It is traditionally inhabited by the Ugandan Madi people. At the moment, however, more than half of the district’s population comprises refugees mostly from South Sudan. There were 245,071 refugees by the end of March 2022. The host population, in comparison, was 237,400, although this data, from the same source, is of January 2021.

Uganda’s refugee policy allows refugees to move freely, have access to plots of land, access to education and health services, and they can even establish businesses or seek employment. The professors’ project is in two phases: Research on forced displacement in Adjumani District, which is now complete, and Establishment of a Forced Displacement Documentation Centre in Adjumani town. The centre will be some kind of museum with books, photos as well as audio and audio-visual clips of stories of forced displacement and the hospitality of host communities.

“The purpose of the project is to recognize and appreciate Uganda’s alternative approach to dealing with refugee flows, which is grounded in the local communities’ receptiveness and their perception of refugees not as burdens but as chances for fostering development. This is accomplished through participatory studies among the Madi hosts and refugee communities in Adjumani District and the establishment of a documentation centre in Adjumani town with space for exhibitions and archives,” the researchers say in their project documentation.

There are 19 refugee settlements in Adjumani and all of them are on lands donated by the local people, led by clan heads and chiefs. Some settlements are reported to have more than 50 tribes. The most dominant of the tribes include the Dinka, the Nuer and the Madi of South Sudan. Some of these tribes, for example the Dinka and the Nuer, have a history of hostility between themselves stemming from competition for grazing land and water for their animals. Back in South Sudan, ethnic tensions fuel fighting from the local to the national level thus creating an endless flow of refugees into Uganda. Ironically, when they reach Uganda, they have to live together in much more confined spaces in refugee settlements.

Defusing hostility

“When they first arrive here they are difficult to handle. A Nuer and a Dinka’s urine cannot mix. A Murle and a Madi don’t want to collect water from the same water point. Even lining for food, a Nuer does not want to line behind a Dinka and a Dinka does not want to line behind a Nuer. But we show them our way of life. We tell them how we expect them to live on our land,” Says Paulino Vusso, Chairman, Adjumani District Elders’ Forum (ADEFO). Vusso is a Madi of Uganda who was also once a refugee in South Sudan (then Sudan). Following the overthrow of President Idi Amin in 1979 almost the entire population of the Ugandan Madi had to flee Uganda for fear of attacks by anti-Amin forces and other tribes as Amin was believed to hail from the West Nile region. Vusso is a member of the research team led by the three professors. When the documentation center is established, ADEFO will be a leader in its management.

In June 2013, Vusso was part of a party that welcomed refugees and negotiated with clans to partition some land for them to settle on as a civil conflict in South Sudan resulted in massive departures to Uganda in the following months and years. ADEFO would later support efforts to ensure that different tribes could live together peacefully in the same refugee settlement.

In addition to local initiatives, the elders’ forum, with support from international organisations, including the Danish Refugee Council (DRC), organised joint meetings, cultural galas, joint prayers and football matches among approaches to defuse the cultural tensions between the different tribes of refugees.

“We formed peace committees in all the settlements, brought together their cultural leaders and involved our chiefs. We told them ‘we gave you this land to settle on for free. Don’t spill blood on this land. Don’t misbehave on this land.’ And with the cultural galas we had no winner or loser. We just wanted them to do things together and this really worked in defusing the tensions between them,” Vusso says. “I am very happy now when I see children dance together – a Dinka performs the dance of a Madi, a Madi performs the dance of a Dinka!”

Adapting to a new lifestyle

William Awiyo Angelo Ibrahim Elia is a Madi from South Sudan. He was working in the Public Service and Labour Office in Torit city but left in 2016 amidst violence. His settlement, Agojo, is predominantly Madi and to their advantage, they share cultural similarities with their hosts, the Madi of Uganda. But in the settlement are other tribes including the Acholi, Lalubo, Kakwa and Toposa. Elia says they are now coping well together. There are even intermarriages occurring in and outside the settlements.

“Here we have become one family but back home the situation is different. As I speak now there are tribal fights back there. The Dinka raided and stole cattle from the Murle and hid it in our (Madi) land. The Murle followed up and recaptured their cattle. Now the Dinka are blaming the Madi and there is fighting there,” Elia says.

Simon Mayik (58) left Sudan in 2014. He is the chief of the Nuer in Alere refugee settlement, Block B1. The block has Dinka, Nuer, Madi and Kuku living together. Mayik is expecting two grandchildren to join him soon after his son joined rebel ranks in South Sudan while their mother disappeared mysteriously. This means he will now look after six children who are not biologically his.

Mayik observes that among the Nuer, it is mainly the women and children who move to Uganda because, unlike the Dinka, who are close to Uganda’s border and can easily move back and forth, the Nuer are further away. Most of the men have to stay back to protect their territory and belongings. Mayik does not think he will return home any time soon.

“We have to adapt to the situation here. Before the war we were OK but now you can’t think about going home,” he says. “In Alere our objective is to raise together the children of South Sudan so that they will bring change when they go back home. We don’t want them to be divided like the case is at home in South Sudan.

“We gather together our young people, our youth, and we tell them they have the opportunity to get educated together here in Uganda. We don’t want any more to divide ourselves along tribal lines. There are situations when everyone practices their own culture but the most important culture we are talking about now is unity,” Mayik says.

Mayik adds that in the schools their children are attending there are no major conflicts. “They are staying there peacefully because they identify themselves as Southern Sudanese. They have even forgotten the conflicts of their parents. Even when they are playing football they are mixed up. Schools and Sports have become major uniting factors for us.”

Dropping facial marks

Vusso observes that even some traditional practices, such as scarification, that are used for identity among certain South Sudan tribes are fading away within the settlements.

“The Dinka, the Nuer, the Anyuak, for example, are all tall. The distinct facial scars would help them identify their own during tribal fights. The children born here don’t have those scars. The practice is disappearing. I think this is because they are now exposed to a different kind of lifestyle here in Uganda, which is in a way part of an advanced world. Here they are assured of protection and safety,” Vusso says.

The UNHCR says that with 2.3m refugees, South Sudan’s refugee crisis remains the largest in Africa. There is also another 2m people who are internally displaced for a country whose total population is just over 11m people. The Adjumani Forced Displacement Documentation Centre will be a centre for learning. Stories of Uganda’s hospitality and changing attitudes among South Sudanese of different tribes, as they focus on unity, should inspire change for a more peaceful South Sudan. The million-dollar question is: At what rate are the attitudes changing to bear any significance?

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda

Uganda’s Acclaimed Refugee Policy: The Difference Between What is on Paper and Reality

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Tue, 16 Aug 2022 08:05:59 +0000

Uganda is described by many in the humanitarian circles as one of the friendliest countries in the world to refugees. Some reports, such as one from the Norwegian Refuge Council (NRC), state that the East African landlocked country, which hosts the largest number of refugees in Africa – more than 1.5m by May 31, 2022 – is “a pioneer in integrating refugees and giving them full rights”. Another Another report, from the UN’s Africa Renewal Magazine, refers to Uganda’s open-door refugee policy as “the most generous in the world.” And, according to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), Uganda’s Refugee Act 2006 “unquestionably constitutes the most progressive refugee law in Africa.” While Uganda maybe credited for a policy that allows refuges freedom of movement, rights to education and health services, as well as access to life sustaining activities such as farming or doing business, the life of a refugee in Uganda is not as comfortable as it may be portrayed.

Hunger

Adjumani District, in the north of the country, is home to the highest number of refugees – more than 235,000 (by June 30, 2022) of them spread out in 19 settlements. The general picture here is of refugees hardly integrated and surviving on the bare minimum, their landlords or hosts feeling ignored and pushing for recognition and benefits, and an elite class – representing the government and aid agencies – suspiciously looked at and envied by the locals for its status.

On a hot afternoon in May, Simon Mayik, a refugee from South Sudan sits directly facing me during an interview conducted under a huge tree in a church yard in Alere Refugee Settlement. I ask him what challenges he faces. He turns his narrow eyes away from me, stirs meekly at food supplies covered in the church yard with tarpaulins, and turns to face me again.

“Hunger,” he tells me. “You can see it from my appearance. We don’t get enough food.” The food he just stirred at has apparently been in the yard for five days, guarded there as residents await an official announcement about its distribution.

“Our stay here is OK. Socially we are fine – sharing everything [including water, health and education facilities]. Security, we have. But hunger! Without food you sometimes feel you are about to die,” Mayik adds, speaking to me in Arabic through a translator.

Since 2014, refugees in Uganda have been allowed to choose between receiving food rations as their monthly sustenance or a cash equivalent. By now, 55 percent of them has gone for the cash option, according to Patience Akumu, Programme Policy Officer (Editorial and Corporate Improvement), World Food Programme (WFP).

“When we give you money it gives you liberty to choose what to eat. If you grew beans and I give you money, for example, it means you can spend the money on something else. That is a more dignified way to respond to your needs,” Akumu says. “It is also more convenient for us to give assistance in cash because we are not carrying food. We avoid all the logistics associated with food, and the risks. And with shrinking aid we really would rather give assistance in cash. I hope one day we shall be at 100 percent cash assistance everywhere.”

Those still choosing food rations do it because that way, they feel more food secure. “One of them told me that ‘when food is there I am sure I will have something to it but money – it can just disappear’,” Akumu says.

Food or cash?

Whatever the choice one makes, it is a rock or a hard place.

WFP provides food to all refugees in settlements – 1.2m out of the total 1.5m. Owing to funding shortfalls, however, the rations have over the last few years fallen from UGX 60,000 (USD16) per head to UGX 31,000 (USD8), and now to UGX 19,000 (USD5) for some people like Mayik. In short, each of Mayik’s family member receives a meagre daily allowance of UGX 630 (USD0.16) to cover all their daily food needs.

“We have reduced rations over the past few years from 70 percent to 60 percent and then later on to 40 percent [based on one’s WFP calculated basic food needs]. Initially we would just do a general ration cut. We did an analysis and found out that refugees are not at the same level of vulnerability. Starting in October 2021 we started to give assistance according to levels of need,” says Akumu.

“Most of the most-vulnerable are in northern Uganda and West Nile. We kept them at 60 percent or even increased to 70 percent in case they were very vulnerable. In south western Uganda the assessment showed that they were relatively less vulnerable – not that they have everything they need – but when you look at their food basket it is better, so we reduced them to 40 percent. As we implemented this prioritization, the ration adjustments according to vulnerability, we also discovered that even in the south west we were disproportionately affecting the extremely vulnerable so we started targeting our assistance even in the south west – the sick, elderly, disabled, those with chronic conditions, they are being pushed back to 60 percent,” Akumu adds.

Resource challenges

In 2021 the WFP gave refugees in Uganda up to USD 35m in cash and close to 80,000 tonnes of food. Right now, Akumu says, the agency needs USD 297m to be able to cover the next six months. “If we are not able to get this money we will not be able to respond to refugees effectively,” she says. “Covid 19 coincided with the time donors had reduced their support to Uganda for refugees. The pandemic has complicated the aid terrain, then Ukraine [war with Russia] has made it worse. The donors have to respond to Ukraine, Climate Change, they have to respond to old crises, they have to respond to Covid-19. So, I guess the donors are also having a hard time.”

To try achieve food security, some of the refugees rent small pieces of land from the locals at between UGX 30,000 and 50,000 a year for cultivation. Mayik grows maize and sorghum. But, he says, sometimes the harvests are very poor and, other times, they are duped into hiring land from which they are later chased by other people who claim to be the real owners.

“It is not easy here,” Mayik says, and goes silent for about 10 seconds, certainly recollecting the lifestyle he lost when he was forced to flee South Sudan eight years ago. “Back home I used to grow a lot of food. One harvest would take me through two years. I had 127 heads of cattle but I lost all of them. The rebels, the government soldiers, would all torture you and take your animals.”

Policies backed with resources

In the article “Uganda has a remarkable history of hosting refugees, but its efforts are underfunded”, Dr. Evan Easton-Calabria, a Senior Researcher at the Feinstein International Center, Tufts University and a Research Associate at the Refugee Studies Centre (RSC), University of Oxford, says that “despite rights on paper in Uganda, refugees still struggle.”

She states: “Although refugees in Uganda are economically diverse – one study even identified over 70 different types of livelihoods activities by refugees in Uganda – for many in settlements, subsistence farming is their primary livelihood. But, despite plots of land being provided in settlements, many don’t have enough land to farm on and soil quality is often low. This means that, for many, farming is no longer a viable livelihood. This shows that liberal refugee policies, like those promoting self-reliance in Uganda, must be backed with adequate resources if they are to be more than just words on paper.”

Whose refugees?

In Adjumani settlements, each refugee family is officially allocated an area of 20 by 30 metres on which they can set their temporary home. The settlements I visited, Agojo and Alere, sit on poor soils or rock that you can hardly grow anything in your little yard, and the space is too small to keep animals. As the refugees base here to receive humanitarian handouts, and eke out a living in any way possible, there is a conflict over them between their official hosts, the Government of Uganda, and their unofficial hosts, the Madi people who gave them land where they are settled.

This misunderstanding mainly stems from a perception from local chiefs and elders that officials of the Office of the Prime Minister (OPM), which is the government’s office in charge of refugee affairs, and others in the local government and humanitarian agencies such as UNHCR, are benefiting from refugee programmes while the landowners, the “hosts”, get nothing – not even recognition.

Unlike in several other settlements in Uganda, where the land belongs to the government, the land in Adjumani was given voluntarily to the refugees by locals through their clan leaders. Forced migrations between northern Uganda and South Sudan date back to the 1900s. The major influx in the recent years started in 2013 following fighting between President Salva Kiir and his deputy Riek Machar two years after South Sudan gained independence.

“South Sudanese refugees have been coming here during difficult times – just like we were also forced to move into South Sudan in the early 1980s. When they returned to Agojo in 2016 we welcomed them back. We gave them land to settle on for free – from the road up to Linga Stream. We have stayed with them since then but the OPM has never said thank you. What has been done in the community is this water tank, nothing else,” says Modesto Dima, the leader of the Palemo clan, as he points at the tank in his backyard from which the nearby community fetches water.”

Rex William Angarasi, the leader of the Pagirinya clan says it is within Madi tradition to keep some reserve land for people escaping disturbances in other places. Pagirinya Refugee Settlement is one of the most populous.

“We are following in our forefathers footsteps. We sat with the clan elders and agreed to give them a portion of land. We hoped that they [OPM, UNHCR] would give us projects; that we would for example grow crops and UNHCR buys from us to feed the refugees. That does not happen. Last year the various clans identified some land on which we would grow crops together with the refugees and we gave OPM and UNHCR our proposal. We have received no response. Instead of taking our offer they went to a private individual and hired land for refugees to cultivate. We are saddened that despite our offers, there is no specific project that targets us, the land givers, so that we can also feel good among our brothers and sisters [the refugees]. I have sat in three meetings about this and nothing good has come out of them.

“These refugees come here because of us. We are staying with them. They may stay here for 50 years. But the people who come to visit them, for example the donors, stay up there – talking to government officials and they ignore the real people who are hosting the refugees.

“We have heard that they want to lease the land. We don’t accept that. It is like they want to take our land so that they can bring refugees from wherever and at any time they want. When we sat with OPM we agreed on them settling refugees here, not leasing land. OPM took minutes and promised to give us a copy but they have never. We are very suspicious of them.”

There are no formally binding documents between the OPM and the landlords. The elders and chiefs say they drafted an MOU which OPM did not sign. “The common man gives land with a good heart. The learned man crooks. This is the problem with refugee things,” says Paulino Vusso, Chairman, Adjumani District Elders’ Forum (ADEFO).

The OPM stopped registering refugees in Adjumani in 2016, apparently because the number had become high, to the extent of surpassing the local population. But some elders think refugee handlers are taking refugees somewhere else for other motives.

“They say the Madi don’t have any more land for refugees which is a lie. We, who gave land, have never said that we don’t have more land. They want to take the refugees somewhere else but the most peaceful place for them is Adjumani,” says Muhammoud Doka, General Secretary, ADEFO.

Sharing natural resources

As if to add salt to injury, sharing natural – including grass for thatching, wood for construction and energy, as well as grass for animals – has brought conflicts between refugees and their hosts.

“The refugees now assume that the land has become theirs because OPM is giving them that impression that it is the land the government has given them. They are deliberately not made aware that it is the chiefs who gave permission for them to settle on the land free of charged. Now the OPM and UNHCR are giving refugees cows, goats. They cross and graze on the land that we didn’t given to them. There is a problem between us the host community and the OPM,” says Doka. “When you go to where the Dinka have settled they have more cattle than the hosts. The way they graze is also different from ours. They feed their cattle on our crops. They cross the border with their cattle claiming it is for bride price. When you stop them they call OPM and OPM calls the police. They are well connected.”

Benefit sharing

One of the most contentious issues on the part of the hosts is benefit sharing which is talked about in refugee programmes. While the district leadership moves for equal sharing, from 70 percent for refugees and 30 percent for the host community, the chiefs and elders say that they don’t know what is really being shared, and where the share of the host community is taken.

The problem, however, could be with major communication gaps, or a lack of accountability on the part of refugee programme implementers. Titus Jogo, a Refugee Desk Officer based in Adjumani, recently told researchers from Gulu University and the University of Copenhagen that the district local government receives the community’s share and it is basically for social service delivery.

“The 30 percent goes to the district, not necessarily to the communities where the land was got from. The condition which we agreed with the landlords to settle refugees there was for the locals to access social services. For the last 10 years we have been doing roads and other things. When resources are given, for example for digging boreholes, the local government determines where such resources are most needed,” Jogo said.

Peter Buol, also a refugee from South Sudan, and the Chairperson of Alere Refugee Settlement, says the host community’s share is not visible in the community. “When the host community is seeing us they put that anger on us. The 50 percent is not seen in the community and it is not even coming to us. Maybe it ends up in the hands of a few.”

Uganda’s handling of monies involved in refugee programmes has not been without questions before, as a 2018 audit revealed gross mismanagement that led to the loss of tens of millions of dollars.

Benefit for landlords

Ben Anyama, the Adjumani District Local Government Chairperson admits that there is, indeed, no direct benefit for the landlords. “We are trying to negotiate with OPM. They give the land free but they are given nothing,” Anyama says.Anyama also confirms that there were proposals for the central government to lease the land where refugees are settled but the district authorities rejected it.

“We totally rejected it and we shall continue to reject it. We shall not accept this land to go to the central government. For example in Adjumani the refugees are even more than the local community. Once we give away that land it directly implies that we don’t have land left,” Anyama says.

Conclusion

Uganda’s receptive hand to refugees has won her international fame, but the refugees are far from leading a comfortable life. And with a world facing different global crises including pandemics, Climate Change and war, support to them could dwindle further. But they badly need it!

“For us in Uganda we say, and this is the theme for this year’s World Refugee Day: ‘Wherever they are, wherever they come from, whoever you are’, you have a right to safety, safety with dignity, which includes the right to receive support in case you have been displaced,” Akumu says.

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda

26 August 2021: Uganda has a remarkable history of hosting refugees, but its efforts are underfunded

28 November 2018: Audit finds UN refugee agency critically mismanaged donor funds in Uganda

More on DDRN.dk about refugees in Uganda:

Sexual violence against refugees – South Sudanese women and girls in the Bidibidi settlement, Uganda, by Elena Mante June 2, 2021

Uganda’s Unique Refugee-Hosting Model: Between Reciprocal Innovation and Challenges, by Lasse Juhl Morthorst, February 10, 2020

“It is a lonely space”

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Sat, 13 Nov 2021 14:02:22 +0000

Twenty-year old chef Amina (not real name) is as beautiful as they come. She speaks with melodic intonations and when she smiles, she bears the look of a happy girl. Behind that, however, is a life of emotional ruptures that, until recently, often resulted in self-inflicted injuries and suicidal thoughts under the cover of dark solitary nights.

Having lost her mother at the age of three and father at five, she was picked up by one of her late father’s friends. He was rich and he enrolled her in one of Kampala’s high-end primary schools. She was, however, to endure an abusive childhood which included physical and mental torture as she changed from one family to another, and from one school to another.

In 2017, at just 16, while she lived and studied in a town in western Uganda, she was one evening thrown out of the house by her auntie and dumped at the roadside bus stop. Darkness fell. Stranded, with no idea where to go, she later fell asleep. In the middle of the night, three men subdued her into forced intercourse.

“It is a whole ball of emotions from then to now. It is like ‘does my life make sense? It doesn’t. Does it make sense? It doesn’t make sense’. That is where I am. Sometimes I am OK, sometimes I am not. Sometimes I don’t know what is right or what is wrong. I am just there”, she tells me during a lengthy conversations. At one moment, as she narrates her story, she breakdown in tears.

Amina was able to complete Senior Four a few months after that fateful night. She was supported by an uncle through a catering institute and she was able to get a job at a posh restaurant in Kampala but all through that time, she was struggling mentally. Those around her could hardly understand it. If they did, none of them bothered about it.

“From 2018 to 2019 my mental health was at another level. I was crumbling down in my own thoughts. It was getting worse every day. I became so reckless; I had wounds everywhere, self-inflicted. Then the drinking began.”

In March 2020, a COVID-19 induced lockdown took her to one of the worst levels of her mental problems.

“Things got terrible. People were laid off. I wasn’t but then my salary was cut. We came from 14 chefs to three in a very busy kitchen. I was doing work of, like, six people. I had issues with the head chef and I nearly stubbed him. My mental health was degenerating every day.” Eventually, in August, she resigned her job. But that led to a new lifestyle which included smoking, massive drinking and sleeping with men for money.

In March 2021, Amina’s new employer noticed that she had a mental problem and hired a therapist for her. She completed her therapy at the beginning of October and she says she is now in a much better mental shape.

“It has been a whole journey since March. It could be worthless if you don’t put in the effort. I wanted to stop the crying, the self-pity, I was always feeling worthless because of the rape. I wanted all that to stop. During this period, I have met people, a few good people. They have made me appreciate the person that I am. Every single morning is about praying and trying to be better. I am still on medication because I have sleeping problems, I have illusions, panic attacks – though I have not had a panic attack in two month. Other than that I have learned to manage the situations in a good way. Back then I would just get drunk, smoke it out, go home, drawn in self pity and hate the world for my problems,” she says.

The ignored killer

Mental illness is one of the most ignored, if not least understood illnesses in Uganda. Mild and moderate levels are hardly noticed as illnesses. At extreme levels, it is surrounded by deeply rooted cultural myths – with most people seeing it as social-cultural phenomenon other than a health issue.

Amina is among the very few who get professional attention in a country where up to 40 percent of the population is estimated to suffer a mental disorder.

“Our society has a lot of stigma and I think this is because mental health has not been prioritized in terms of human resource and funding. Fifteen years ago when I told people that I wanted to become a psychiatrist they said ‘you will become mad’. Even now it is the same perception,” says Marjorie Mukisa, a medical doctor and passionate mental health advocate. Mukisa works with the NGO Servir Foundation and she is the Central Region representative of Uganda’s national youth coalition for Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).

“We have a lot of misconceptions about mental health. People don’t know that mental health has a spectrum. There are people that are mentally healthy. Then mild, moderate, and other people may have severely mental illness. Many of us are on that spectrum but we don’t even know,” she adds.

Uganda’s delivery of mental health services has been described as inadequate. An estimated 90 percent of the mentally ill in Uganda do not receive treatment. Only one percent of Uganda’s expenditure on health goes towards mental health. And in a country of over 42 million people, there are only 50 psychiatrists with most of them based in Kampala, at the country’s only mental health national referral hospital, Butabika.

Access to treatment is more in urban centres than the rural, and it is mainly for a few who are in elite settings and also have the financial ability. Butabika handles far beyond its capacity, up to 1000 inpatients for a 550-bed capacity facility.

Private psychologists or therapists are extremely expensive. “They charge between UGX 80,000 (USD 22.5) and 100,000 (USD27.8) per hour. That is a lot of money. Patients can only do one visit and they don’t return,” says Moses Ssemakula, Executive Director, Mental Health Focus Uganda.

Most extreme cases of mental illness, if not ignored and left to loiter on the streets and in villages, are taken to traditional healers or churches for spiritual rituals.

“Urban people can easily access Butabika, the few who can, but of course its capacity is limited. The urban people also understand mental health better. When you go to the rural areas it is tragic. You still have people being tied up, being locked in rooms, people being beaten to death because they believe they are demon possessed – that is still there in urban areas but it is worse in the rural settings,” Mukisa says.

Uganda in 2018 repealed the colonial Mental Treatment Act to now the Mental Health Act 2018. The act among others provides for mental health treatment at primary healthcare centres. When the provision of other health services is inadequate, as it is, however, mental health will certainly not go above the prevailing standards.

Covid-19 and mental health in Uganda

The onset of COVID-19 in early 2020 came with new challenges. First of all, in April 2020, the Ministry of Health directed 14 regional referral hospitals to convert their mental health units into Covid-19 Treatment Units (CTUs). While ministry was responding to a crisis, its directive could be interpreted as low prioritisation of mental health.

Indeed, as reported by the local media, there was confusion in a hospital in northern Uganda with mental health patients forcing their way back to their former place and mixing up with COVID-19 admissions. Another hospital in the same region, according to the press report, did not heed the ministry’s directive as it has for long been battling with a lot of mental health issues as a result of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) conflict.

Secondly, a number of the mentally ill already undergoing treatment also contracted COVID-19. They had to be isolated from the rest, yet they could not be taken to CTUs. Space constraints are enormous even at the national referral hospital.

Thirdly, COVID-19 and measures to control its spread including extended lockdowns since March 2020 have thrown more people into mental health problems. Many have lost jobs, businesses have collapsed, gender-based violence has increased, schools remained closed and more young girls are getting pregnant. At the same time, more youth are getting involved in drug and alcohol abuse as a result of staying out of school.

There is no report on the impact of COVID-19 on mental health in Uganda as yet – the last survey on the prevalence of mental health in Uganda was done 20 years ago – but mental health practitioners fear mental health illnesses have gone to unprecedented levels.

“All age groups have been affected by COVID-19, apart from may be those who are three years and below because those ones are yet to get to realities of life. From the school going age to the very aged there are so many cases. The youth are the most affected – many are not working and they are not studying. They indulge in drug and alcohol abuse. I normally go to Butabika and I can tell you most of the cases that are coming in now are as a result of Covid-19,” Ssemakula says. “The government has put in a lot of effort to handle physical wounds of individuals. But when it comes to mental health, with all the budgets that were passed for Covid, mental health was not given priority. Many people have committed suicide because they don’t see any future ahead of them. There is nothing to give them hope”

Mental Health and SDGs

Mukisa has another way to stress the impact of COVID-19 on mental health in Uganda, and it is through the SDGs.

“Among the SDGs we have Zero Hunger, No Poverty, Gender Equality, Quality Education, and Good Health and Wellbeing: Learners are not going to school. Their parents are not working; many of them have lost their jobs, their income. Girls are getting pregnant at 15 and below, that is before they are physically or mentally ready to bear children. There is no money. People are frustrated. There’s a lot of gender based violence going on right now in our society and it is more against the women. A woman who is being abused is not okay, mentally, and she’s raising children in that abusive home. There is a whole generation of mental health problems that are coming on top of the ones that already exist. All these issues – the education, the unemployment, the poverty, the hunger – go to mental health in the long run, if you look at it.”

It’s a lonely space

Mental health in Uganda is highly stigmatised and this is not only against the victims but also those seeking to give them help. While many families may treat mental health problems, especially severe and genetic ones, as a curse, it is common for the public to scorn those who fail to cope with daily life pressures and eventually fall to mental illness.

Scarcity of reports and statistics on mental health in Uganda indicates that this is an area which is under-researched. “It is still a virgin area for research. That means it is not being prioritized in terms of funding, so there’s no research, and therefore there’s no information to appropriately inform policy,” Mukisa says.

“As an individual in the mental health space in Uganda, you get drained. It’s a lonely space. You find that there are so many people you have to reach but you have very little time or even the funding is not there,” she adds. “I think, all this goes back to lack of information, stigma, and bias which might go hand in hand with stigma.”

There is hope

The government’s review in 2018 of the mental health law means that there is recognition of the country’s mental health challenges. The number of NGOs involved in mental health is increasing, so there is increased awareness about mental health, as well as increased support to victims. But, until there is enough investment in public awareness about mental health, most cases of mental health in Uganda will still go untreated.

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda
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Live webinar: The impact of Covid-19 on the mentally ill
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Visiting homes to interact with mentally ill patients

Mental Health Focus Uganda team interact with caretaker at Masaka Hospital

Mental Health Focus Uganda

The lost teenagers – Mary Mutesi

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Thu, 11 Nov 2021 14:19:34 +0000

On a cloudy morning in Buwenge town, in eastern Uganda, Mary Mutesi (not her real name) sits quietly under a tree and thinks about her life. At just 16, she has almost lost all hope of becoming the professional adult she ever wanted to be. The closure of schools in Uganda since March 2020, as part of the interventions to control the spread of COVID-19, has changed her from the innocent student she was then to a lost teenager.

“I wanted to become a computer scientist. But I don’t expect to go back to school – I really don’t,” she tells me.

Mary’s mother dumped her when she was just three months old and has never resurfaced. It is her maternal grandmother who has raised her. Mary has never seen her father and claims no one among the people she lives with knows him. Her schooling was being supported by an auntie whose retail business in Kampala is among those that have collapsed following COVID-19-induced lockdowns.

Mary was in Senior Three when schools closed in 2020. When they reopened in March 2021 for semi candidate classes, a year after they were closed, she was among those who did not return to class. Her auntie did not have money.

Confessions

In June 2021, all academic institutions in Uganda were closed again following another wave of COVID-19. A few days after that closure, at a house party near her home, a cosy encounter with a stranger left Mary pregnant.

The subsequent abortion, organised by a female friend of hers aged 21, went terribly wrong and required major attention in a hospital.

“I was treated but now and again I get tremors through my body, especially on the side of the heart. I don’t know if it is as a result of the abortion or the treatment,” she tells me. “I may smile but I am not well, I am confused. I am not at school, I am not working, and I am not ready for marriage. I would have gone for a short course in fashion and design but still, there is no money for that. I am, basically, lost.”

A few metres from Mary’s home lives Rose Naigaga (not her real name), aged 19. She was in Senior Two when the lockdown started in March 2020. Two months later, she was impregnated by a man who already had a wife and three children.

“We were not schooling. We were just roaming about. I got pregnant but I didn’t even know that I was pregnant. I thought I was just ill. It is a friend of mine who noticed it and told me that I was pregnant,” Rose tells me. “I have seen a number of my friends during lockdown. Some of them are pregnant while others have given birth.”

Rose’s abortion – in a country where abortion is illegal and punishable by imprisonment (save on a few grounds) – involved the use of herbal concoctions. It nearly killed her.

The crisis

Mary’s and Rose’s stories are a representation of the crisis Uganda’s children and youth, especially girls, are going through as schools remain closed.

When all academic institutions were closed in March 2020, over 15 million learners were sent home. A partial and staggered re-opening was started in March 2021, only to close the schools again three months later.

There is yet to be a detailed report on the impact of COVID-19 on children and youth in Uganda by the government or any organisation, but reports from different sources paint a grim picture.

More children have joined exploitative paid labour from which many are unlikely to come out while many girls have gotten pregnant, produced children, and some have been given away in marriage even when they are under age. This all comes with risks of contracting sexually transmitted diseases and death through unsafe abortions or child-bearing complications at a tender age.

Prior to the pandemic, one in every four Ugandan girls below 19 became pregnant. Busoga sub region, where Mary and Rose live, has one of the highest rates of teenage pregnancies and child marriages in Uganda but most cases go unreported and therefore undocumented. In a number of Ugandan communities, early child marriages are used as a source of income for families. On the other hand, reporting defilement or rape is considered not only as an embarrassment but also an opportunity to get money from the offender. Deals are often negotiated outside the legal system. With the pandemic, which has kept girls across the country out of school, the situation is expected to be worse, and visibly, it is.

Within just four months into the lockdown (March-July 2020), Busoga had reported more than 600 cases of teenage pregnancies, according to the United Nations Population Fund (UNFP).

In Kitgum district in northern Uganda, over 1,500 girls below 19 had visited a hospital for antenatal care in just three months (March – June 2020).

Between January and April 2020 the police reported nearly 4,500 cases of defilement. The Uganda Police’s annual crime report of 2020 indicates that 14,230 girls were defiled between January and December, up from 13,613 in 2019, representing a 3.8% increase.

As we wait for a detailed study, we can, perhaps, get a clue on the extent of the problem for the girl child from public perception. A survey conducted between December 2020 and June 2021 by the NGO Twaweza shows that 79 percent of the respondents are concerned about the rate of teenage pregnancies during lockdown.

With schools remaining closed, UNICEF’s Chief of Education in Uganda, Nabendra Dahal, describes the situation for children as a crisis.

“The culture, the traditional education system, has been destroyed. Even if we open the schools tomorrow, it is just not about reopening schools. It requires rebuilding of the education system both physically and psychologically. We are dealing with a crisis,” he says.

“The education system is breaking apart, I would say, piece by piece. The school furniture is getting broken, teachers have gone into other things, the physical facilities are being destroyed, many of the children have gone into hired labour, girls have become pregnant or gotten married,” Dahal adds.

Before the outbreak of COVID-19, Uganda’s education system was already facing challenges to keep learners in school. According to UNESCO, the national average of learners transiting from primary to secondary in 2016 was at 59 percent. Dropout rates for lower secondary in the same year stood at 37.2 percent, up from 18.2 percent in 2013.

“Even before the Covid-related situation came in the education system was already grossly underfunded. In spite of many successes it was not able to hold all children, keep them in school and provide them with quality education. COVID only made an existing problem worse. There were problems of low quality, low efficiency, abuse of girls in schools, all that was already there,” Dahal says.

In 1997, Uganda introduced the Universal Primary Education programme. This allowed more learners to join primary school as tuition fees had been waived. Enrolment rose from 3.1 million in 1996 to 7.6 million in 2003. Out of those who enrolled in 1997, however, only 33 percent were able to reach Primary Seven. Most of the dropouts are attributed to high levels of poverty, with parents failing to meet other costs such as buying scholastic materials, sanitary pads and providing lunch, but also the quality of learning being delivered remained wanting with only 30 percent of learners in Primary Three able to read and comprehend a story meant for Primary Two, and 20 percent of those in Primary Seven unable to comprehend a story meant for Primary Two.

Learning and social status in the COVID-era

During the COVID-19 pandemic, the greatest impact in terms of failure to access learning has fallen on children from the poorest families – and these form the largest batch of the country’s learners.

“There are three categories of children: One, children of the affluent who can afford internet, who go to international schools, who can afford private tutors. These are not affected as such. Their education is continuing through different means.

“The second group is of those who go to private schools, but not international, and to the best government schools. There is some learning going on there. Their parents are educated and may have some money to facilitate some learning.

“Then there is a large group of children who go to Universal Primary Education. Their parents are not educated or they are facing economic crisis. There is a lot of stress at home. There is no learning going on there. This is the group which is really suffering. These are the children most at risk. They were already at risk before. Their parents were not really convinced about education but even when the parents were convinced, they had economic barriers and now the situation is completely disastrous for them,” Dahal says.

“For that, even though the government does not agree, UNICEF would like to propose that we have a social protection mechanism in place otherwise even if you reopen school they are not likely to come. Their problems are too complex. This will require a solution outside education,” Dahal adds.

Down in the ditch

February 2021 should have seen an enrolment from pre-primary into Primary 1 but this did not happen. Those who had just enrolled in Primary 1, Primary 2, Primary 3; Senior 1 and Senior 2, were only in school for a couple of months in 2020 and have hardly received any distance learning.

“These have not come to school for 20 months. It is as if they have never been to school. They must have forgotten anything they learned anyway. To get them back into the learning process will require a lot of investment. Not only have they suffered learning loss, the children who come from the most deprived families have suffered mental stress, psychosocial problems, because their parents themselves are suffering. They are going through financial distress. These children will be worst off not only academically but also psychologically when we are able to restart. They are already in the ditch. We need to pull them to the surface before we can ask them to run,” Dahal says.

Dealing with the crisis

While educationists are still anticipating and planning how to handle learners when they return to school, health and social workers are facing unprecedented challenges in helping them stay safe while they are out of school.

Mary and Rose would probably have been dead by now, after their unsafe abortions, if it were not for the intervention of an NGO called Public Health Ambassadors Uganda (PHAU). Through their peer-educators, and a network of health facilities in areas where the NGO works, they help young people access sexual and reproductive health education. Where they can, they also help rescue girls who have had unsafe abortions, at no cost for the girls.

“Covid-19 hit them very hard, especially the girls, to the extent that they are now experiencing a lot of gender-based violence because they are financially vulnerable. They are dependent on their parents or partners. They are forced to do certain things that they would not have done if they were in school,” says Florence Nabukenya, Monitoring and Evaluation Officer, PHAU.

“It is girls who are more vulnerable. They are the ones who get pregnant even when they don’t want to. Girls have no work. They roam around the villages where they meet boys and men. The lockdown has made more girls sexually active. You find her at the hospital and she tells you she should not have been pregnant but the lockdown”, Rachel Nakayega, a 22-years old peer educator in the town of Buwenge explains.

“The message I have for young people is that they should get involved in Village Health Team (HVT) meetings to get knowledge on how to lead their lives. It is their ignorance which puts them into trouble”, Rachel Nakayega says.

The Challenge is Poverty

“Everything that was low key is rising. Early marriages and teenage pregnancies have always been high in the eastern region but it is worse now. In central Uganda the cases are fewer but also on the rise, especially in the informal settlements. We are trying to support these people, the government is also trying but they are overwhelmed. The health facilities are overwhelmed,” says Florence Nabukenya.

PHAU and a few other NGOs teach young people about sexual and reproductive health, and partner with other organisations, governmental and nongovernmental, to provide young people with knowledge and contraceptives.

“What we do as civil society is to empower the adolescents to demand for their rights. We teach them what to do when certain things happen. We give them the information and knowledge so that they keep healthy and positive, and move on with life,” Nabukenya says. “Usually the health centres are overwhelmed with work. The moment you come and you are not sure about what you want they will shun you.”

Richard Musasizi is another peer educator in Buwenge town. He has been helping young people for over ten years.

“They get problems which they can’t tell their parents. Many of them fear to go to hospital. They come to me as an individual to help them. Many of them take me like their friendly parent. Some of them take me like their doctor – even when I am not a qualified doctor”.

“I have so much experience that most of them just call me by phone. They share my number between themselves. What I am proud of is preventing pregnancies. I have taught many young people how to avoid unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases. I have also helped many of those who have had unsafe abortions. I have helped them access treatment”.

“The biggest challenge I have found is that poverty is so high in this area”, Richard Musasizi continues. “Many parents for example share the same room with their teenage sons and daughters. So what the parents do at night, the kids are quick to learn. What leads them to unwanted pregnancies is that most of them don’t have information on Reproductive Health Services.

Despite local and international pressure, the Ugandan government has refused to reopen schools soon, setting January 2022 as the month during which primary and secondary school learners will return to class.

The National Planning Authority says that 30 percent of learners will never return to school due to teenage pregnancies, child marriages and child labour. And those willing return will have another huddle – accessing finances for education. Lockdowns have disrupted parents’ incomes.

“There is financial vulnerability. Their parents are also struggling. If the surviving [not pregnant or married] girls stay back home another moment when schools reopen they will definitely get pregnant, get married, it is a complex situation,” concludes Florence Nabukenya.

Also read: “My story is embarrassing but I am giving myself another chance, after I messed up” and

Vulnerable Women Became even more Vulnerable During the Pandemic and

Sex-workers in Ecuador badly affected by the economic aftermath of COVID-19

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda
SUPPORT DDRN SCIENCE JOURNALISM. DONATE DKK 20 OR MORE(APPLICABLE IN DENMARK ONLY)

“My story is embarrassing but I am giving myself another chance, after I messed up”

William Odinga Balikuddembe — Thu, 11 Nov 2021 14:17:17 +0000

My name is Rose Naigaga (not real name). I am 19 years old. I am a resident of Buwenge town, Jinja district. I live with my grandmother. I have never seen my father. And my mother lives in the city [Kampala].

I was in Senior Two at a school in Kamuli district when the President ordered the closure of schools [to control the spread of COVID-19] in March 2020.

My story is embarrassing. I fear to talk about it. But since you are from far, I believe you will not tell anyone nearby about it.

About two months after the closure of schools, I got pregnant. We were not schooling. We were just moving about. You know, when you live with a grandmother, and you finish house chores, you have nothing left to do. I used not to live here during school days. I used to live in Kamuli, at my uncle’s place. When they closed schools is when I was brought back here.

I got pregnant but I didn’t even know that I was pregnant. I thought I was just ill. I thought I would be fine. I didn’t have any idea how pregnancy affects women. It is a friend of mine who noticed it and told me that I was pregnant. She was older, in Senior Four. I was scared about everything. I was scared about the pregnancy. I was scared of people at home. She told me her auntie had medicine that could help me terminate the pregnancy.

I went with her. Her auntie gave me tea and other things boiled in a source pan. I drank. Soon after, I felt a lot of pain in the womb. Three days passed and nothing was coming out. The pain only increased. I would ask my friend and her auntie what would happen next and they were just keeping mum. One time I asked my friend and she said “handle your own issues. I was only helping you”. But I was in a lot of pain. One day the thing pooped out.

I feared to tell anyone at home that I had aborted. But I was going through a lot of pain, and I was bleeding profusely. My friend too was terrified. I was going through pain day and night and I thought I was going to die.

My grandmother found out and she was angry. She fumed. She told me to go away. She said I would not die in her home. Remember she is my maternal grandmother, not paternal. So [culturally] I cannot be buried here. She told me to walk to my paternal place. Our place is far, in Iganga, I don’t even know there because I have never been there. I only hear about it. I grew up with my grandmother.

One morning I went to the well. I was in a lot of pain but I could not even say “no”. If you live with someone, and you have angered them like I did, you have to do whatever they want you to do. I had seen one medical worker but he said he would not be able to help me. Maybe he feared that I would die from his hands – remember it was an abortion. At the well is where I met Richard (Musasizi) [a peer educator with Public Health Ambassadors Uganda (PHAU)]. By that time, from inside me were popping out rotten things. He took me for treatment.

I used to see him but I didn’t even know him. It is a friend who referred me to him. People used to wonder who that was looking after me. My grandmother one time asked about him but I just kept quiet. If someone is helping you, you don’t have to ask many questions. They might change their mind.

He looked after me as if I was his relative. I thought he was going to ask for money, which I did not have. The man who made me pregnant was poor, very poor. He was a taxi conductor. He had even run away from the town. They had told him that my grandmother was going to imprison him. He was not really old but he had a wife and three children. When he put me in trouble all he did was to take away his family from this place. I have seen him again but he now fears to get anywhere close to me, especially after he heard that he was going to be imprisoned.

I am now fine. I am healed. I even play football. These days I am just home. My grandmother has a small eating-place. She sells food. I work with her, especially washing plates and fetching water. I have no hope of returning to school. My mother got angry with me, and my grandmother has a lot of responsibilities.

My mother takes care of me, fine, but it is mostly my grandmother. My mother has been contributing to my school fees once in a while. It is mostly my grandmother who has been paying. But now she is even unwell. My chances of returning to school are very slim.

I would really love to return to school, to be like others, but that is not possible now.

Men still approach me but I am now different. I have learnt what to do. I don’t want to mess up again. I am now looking for money to go and learn hairdressing because I know I will not return to school. No one will pay for me school fees. They all got angry. I know deep inside their hearts they are very angry. And now, when I look at myself, I think I am too old to return to school.

What you have to understand is that we are not returning to school any time soon. Schools will be opened maybe after some years, maybe three years. That is why I am looking for money to go and learn hairdressing – I leave school once and for all.

My grandmother would maybe have liked that I go back to school. But because of the current circumstances, she too has advised that I learn some technical skill. What I know is that even if I return to school, I will not go beyond Senior Four. The highest I can go is Senior Four. And from what I see, those who reach Senior Four also go and learn hairdressing – so it makes no difference. I approached someone to teach me hairdressing but she asked for a lot of money, a whole UGX 400,000 (USD 112.4). That is money I have never touched in my life.

I have seen a number of my friends during lockdown. Some of them are pregnant while others have given birth. I had a very close friend. We used to walk together in this town. We were classmates. We were supposed to undergo abortion together but I was the first to go. When she saw what I was going through when I had just aborted she feared. She now has a baby. They gave her away, in a certain village. Their father abandoned them when they were young. When her mother learnt of her pregnancy she told her to go and join her “husband.” She is only lucky that her boyfriend is young; they are the same size, not like in my case. The boy was not schooling. He did not have a wife or children, like it was in my case.

I was forgiven. I now live home. I don’t want to get married now. I have a lot of plans. I want to make money. Many people here got to know about my story but I am trying to put it in the past. I am giving myself another chance, after I messed up.

I have a message for the girls who are in my age bracket. Men are cunning. He will convince you yet he has a wife. He knows very well that he is taking you nowhere. You end up in trouble, with no one to help you. I was lucky. Although I lost somehow, I got someone to help me. I would be dead by now.

Story as told to DDRN correspondent William Odinga Balikuddembe

Also read: The lost teenagers – Mary Mutesi and

Vulnerable Women Became even more Vulnerable During the Pandemic and

Sex-workers in Ecuador badly affected by the economic aftermath of COVID-19

William Odinga Balikuddembe is a science journalist based in Kampala, Uganda
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