Born During War

I came back from using the internet and found Jackie sitting on one of the outside tables looking outstandingly bored. She greeted me as usual “welcome, you are back!”, and pulled out a chair for me at her table indicating to sit. We made the usual small talk about how are days had been, and I bought a beer for me and a soda for her. After the niceties about how hot is was, and how I am slowing turning less Mzungu (white) were over, there was a awkward silence. Jackie filled it a moment or two later;

‘You know my name is Jackie Amoyne. Amoyne means born during war. In my village the day I was born the rebels had been fighting with our people. They came and eight of my family hid in our house. My mother started to go into labour, I was coming very soon. My father ran with her and took her to the empty water barrel because it had been very dry so there was no rain inside. She gave me while she was hiding in there, and nobody knew. They were fighting for three hours. My father had to jump through the window to get back to the house. There were bombs and guns going everywhere. After I was born and my mother and family ran away with me, but as they were running they met with a rebel. He pointed the gun at my mother’s heart and said ‘you should not run. Where are you going? You should go back and see what we have done’. My mother said that she was not running, that she lived in the very next village and was going home. The rebel let us pass.

When I was at school the rebels came and took all of Senior 1 and 2 (class for children aged around 15-18), there was only Senior 3 and 4 left. They took everybody. The man kept 22 for his wife, the best ones, and killed all the others (I asked who the man was, to which I was told ‘the man, him. Kony’). They have all come back now, they have many children, some of them 3. You have to be very careful with them, they have bad mental. If you say bad words to them they can be very angry with you.

In the village the rebels would come, and they would not want to waste their guns. The guns were for fighting the army. So they would hit you with hoes, and kill you in the head. Sometime they would tie you with the rope like they tie the goat, and they would tie a woman with a man, and kill the man, so the wife was left next to the dead body.

They would tie many people together, put you in a line. They killed 300. They were in a line, and they would hit from both ends, until everybody was dead. They would come and say they want women, then they would cut off their breasts and leave them. They would hold their lips together and cut them off, and say ‘you don’t talk to anybody’. They would burn all the houses.

At night if you hear they are coming to the village you go to the centre and hide, and run so fast. If they are in the centre you go the bush and you sleep. There was no food there in the bush, you had to eat some leaves, any that were instead of food. If they are in Lacor (about 7km outside Gulu) you would run and run, some people took suitcases but why? You have to just run and hide. In the village they would make an alarm if they are coming.

Since my birthday (1988) until 2004 I have struggled, always there was war, so hard.’

After Jackie had finished telling me some of the more horrible parts, she would giggle and look at the sky, tut and then tell me some more.

She paused for a moment or two and just looked out onto the street. ‘You go to sleep now’ she said. She had said all that she wanted to say.