Child to Soldier: Stories from Joseph Kony's Lord's Resistance Army

by Opiyo Oloya

  They asked me, ‘Boy, where are you coming from?’

  I replied, ‘I am coming from the stream.’

  Then one said, ‘Walk straight ahead, if you run, we will shoot you.’ I walked with them, we arrived in our compound, and I put down the water. I was told to go sit down; I went and sat down. They asked me, ‘Where are government soldiers stationed?’

  ‘There are no government troops here; they are stationed in Labora, further away from here,’ I replied. They went into the house where grandmother was sitting, and asked, ‘Do you give permission for us to take the boy to go listen to some messages?’ Grandmother did not answer.

  Three characteristics made Ringo an especially good target for the rebel movement; he was a young boy between nine and sixteen, he was an Acholi, and he was living in a village which was virtually unprotected by the UPDF. He was young enough but not too young to be trained quickly for combat. Being an Acholi who spoke the Luo language and understood the Acholi culture meant that he could make meaning of and respond to the cultural manipulations of the LRM/A. Finally, Ringo was a prime candidate for abduction because the rebels did not expect much opposition from government troops who, as Ringo indicated in his answer to the two rebels, were stationed some distance away in Labora. To alert the army in an emergency such as the one the boy found himself in would have required someone to travel that distance on a bicycle or on foot. At least several hours would have passed before there was some kind of response from the UPDF, a fact the rebels seemed to acknowledge by their lackadaisical attitude. Many children were abducted from Acholi villages between 1989 and 2006 precisely because inadequate security facilitated quick access to the villages and clean exit for the LRM/A with relatively low risk of engaging government troops.

  Ringo also possessed another quality that many young boys and girls the LRM/A rebels snatched from his village did not have – the ability to read and write fairly well. Being literate meant that he was a likely candidate for further training to serve the rebel movement in different capacities, for instance, as a secretary to senior officers, a medic, or even as an officer. Somehow his captors determined or grasped very quickly Ringo’s potential, and he was separated at the outset from other abductees.

  Ringo gained a vantage point from which to observe the dynamics of the abductees and their abductors. The LRM/A officers on location were always in control of the decision of what the next move ought to be. The group of abductees and rebels in which Ringo now found himself began walking towards Palenga, located about two hours away. Their path took them past Ringo’s home where his grandmother had sat outside all night, waiting for him. She saw him, but neither spoke to the other. It could have been by design that Ringo was made to see his grandmother again yet not allowed to speak to her. There was, however, no doubt that this phase of walking in the bush, wot ii lum, was meant to break the physical and psychological attachment the children had to their homes.

  The Abduction of the Aboke Girls and the Question of Memory

  On the night of 10 October 1996, 139 nine girls were abducted from St Mary’s Secondary School in Aboke, northern Uganda. The event would have likely gone relatively unnoticed and been relegated to the growing statistics of young victims of the long war but for the extraordinary courage of Sister Rachele Fassera, the Italian deputy headmistress at the school. She chose to follow the LRM/A into the bush at daybreak and demand the return of all her students, a perilous journey documented by Els de Temmerman (2001) and K. Cook (2007). The kidnapping of the ‘Aboke girls’ became an international issue, with the Vatican joining the campaign to have them released.

  However, what is rarely mentioned in the media reports is that, on the night of the abduction, there were many newly kidnapped children from various villages in Acholi and in Lango. One of the abductees was Ringo Otigo, whose recollections of the event provide another vantage point from which to view the drama surrounding the abduction of the Aboke girls, and the process by which they, like many other child abductees, were slowly ground into the LRM/A rebel organization as child combatants. Given his detailed account of the incident, which is supported by independent sources (Cook, 2007, 6–16; de Temmerman, 2001), there is little doubt that Ringo Otigo had first-hand knowledge of the abductions at St Mary’s Secondary School. But the date he gives for the Aboke incident contradicts the date he gives for his abduction in Lakwat Omer. According to the timeline cited in his story, the abduction of the Aboke girls occurred just days after his own abduction on 10 December 1996, probably on the 12th or 13th.. He recalled: ‘We walked to Lango within a day. I was not allowed to carry any load. They said that I would throw away the load and escape. I walked with the officers. On reaching Lango we went to Aboke School – I don’t know whether you heard about the abduction of the Aboke students – where they began abducting Aboke students at night, and then we turned around and walked back. I witnessed the abduction of the Aboke girls.’

  If he indeed witnessed the abduction of the Aboke girls, he could not have been abducted two months later, in December. However, Ringo’s confusion about the date of his abduction and that of the Aboke students can be explained by his focus on the details, rather than the dates, of events. And, since Ringo’s experiences with the LRM/A spanned many emotions and physical hardships, those events that had the most impact on or significance to him tended to stick in his mind years later. That is to say, when he remembered an event, the passage of time was not the essential marker of that event, but rather it was his immediate experience of the event itself in relation to another event that stood out. For example, he recalled being beaten while walking to Sudan, being shot at while raiding a shopping centre, being hungry and thirsty when food and water supplies ran out while on patrol, and so on. Life for Ringo, as for many LRM/A abductees, it seemed, was one long journey into an abyss of violence which, from time to time, was punctuated by jarring events or occurrences that were imprinted in his memory and that, by necessity, became markers of the passage of time in his new life as an LRM/A soldier.

  In a sense, Ringo’s use of memory is derived from the Acholi tradition of remembering in which life stories are wrapped around salient historical events that everyone can recall. For instance, the Acholi will speak of the time of kec abongo wang dako, the time of ‘I-touched-my-wife’s-face’ famine, when a severe drought killed all the crops and many people died of hunger. The famine was so named because a man whose household was in the midst of the famine woke up in the middle of the night hungry and, hoping to eat whatever was left in the cooking pot, touched his wife’s face to determine if she was sleeping. In Acholi culture, married men do not take food directly from the cooking pot, hence the man’s cautious move to check whether the coast was clear.

  The critical point, though, is that while the famine gained its name from the action of one hungry man, it also became a signpost in the collective memory, a point of reference against which other events such as births, deaths, wars, and conflicts were dated. On a cultural level, therefore, Ringo’s selective use of memory to focus on conspicuous events served not only as a milestone for the time he spent in the bush but also as a cultural trigger to help him remember whatever happened around that time. The abduction of Aboke girls was such an event, and Ringo could remember that, up to that moment, he was relatively well treated by the LRM/A. He did not have to carry big loads and was allowed to stay close to the senior officers, which provided a rare opportunity to observe and learn what made them tick.

  As he recalled it, after the raid on St Mary’s Secondary School, the LRM/A manoeuvred the now very large group of abductees into the bush and retraced its steps, reaching the border of Lango and Acoli sometime in the morning. While traversing the terrain around a simsim field, rebel soldiers guarding the rear of the walking caravan radioed with walkie-talkie that there were some white people trailing the group. The senior officer responded that particular attention should be paid to the unidentified people, and if there were government soldiers with them
, then the rebels should shoot the whites first, followed by the soldiers. However, if they were not accompanied by government soldiers, then they should not be harassed.

  Soon after, the rear guards reported that the intruders were alone, unaccompanied by the UPDF, and the order was given to allow them through. The intruders turned out to be ‘Sista Rakele’ (Sister Rachele Fassera) and a male teacher from her school. The convoy was asked to set up a temporary camp in the bush and start cooking while the leader of the operation, Ocaya Lagira, and his deputy, Oyet Bur, discussed matters with Sister Rachele. Ringo and another unidentified boy abductee were ordered to sit next to the senior officers of the LRM/A, and not to get up. Other abductees could get up and walk freely as they cooked. Ringo listened carefully to the negotiations as Sister Rachele opened with a strong bid for freeing her students – she wanted all the girls back and, in return, she would become Lagira’s wife. Lagira was not happy with such a demand, and made it known: ‘When she put forward her proposal, Lagira asked her, saying, “Would you accept if only some of the students are returned to you?” At first she rejected that notion, saying she wanted all the students to be freed so she could return with them. She was asked again, “Why do you suppose we wasted time to go all the way to your school, what do you think that was for? We were specifically sent to go fetch these students.”’

  With the negotiations deadlocked, Lagira made a radio call to Sudan and spoke to LRM/A leader Joseph Kony. The order was given to release most of the Aboke girls into the care of Sister Rachele, but to keep the others. According to the literature, 109 students were freed, while thirty were retained by the LRM/A and marched to Sudan under physically demanding circumstances (Cook, 2007; de Temmerman, 2001). From his vantage point near the officers, Ringo noted the transaction: ‘They discussed the matter on the phone, and an agreement was made, and they began separating the students – Sister Rachele would return with most of the students. In all, eighty six students had been abducted. He [Kony] ordered that forty-six students should be returned, and forty to remain with the rebels.’2

  Privy to the discussion between LRM/A commander Lagira and the courageous Sister Rachele, Ringo continued to note other details of that morning. The deal had barely been reached when the group was attacked by a UPDF airplane. Everyone scampered into the bush for safety, including Sister Rachele. The attack by the plane went on for quite a while before everyone could emerge from hiding. Sister Rachele was covered with mud from head to toe, her white habit completely soiled. She was bleeding from a wound where a sharp stick had pierced her foot. Lagira selected the girls to be retained, and those to return with Sister Rachele. Once the list was completed, he ordered some of his soldiers to escort the returnees back to the road where Sister Rachele had parked her vehicle. The LRM/A escorts were to shoot at any approaching UPDF soldiers who might attack the nun and the students.

  Over the next several days, the LRM/A rebels moved back and forth, traversing difficult terrain and covering long distances. Although he did not have a definitive explanation for why such manoeuvres were necessary, Ringo Otigo concluded that the long walks were probably deliberately designed as part of the process of integrating the abductees into the LRM/A:

  It appeared that they wanted to confuse the students before taking them to Sudan. They planned to move back and forth so that the students could not remember the direction being taken. After traversing the terrain three times, each time taking a different direction, we returned to the river for the last time and began crossing it. Some people crossed first, including the students, while we remained on the other side. After they had all crossed, we crossed after them, and then walked to Kitgum where we stayed for a long time.

  Ringo’s memory of the incidents surrounding the abduction of the Aboke girls is important not only because it confirms most of the details that researchers later documented, but also because it enables him to reconstruct these events the way he witnessed them. It establishes his state of mind at the time as he attempted to comprehend what was happening to the girls and relate this to his own situation, especially his long-term chances for survival and, consequently, how he should act and behave in captivity. What is immediately and abundantly evident is Ringo’s careful cataloguing of the details surrounding that event, his growing awareness of his environment, and his understanding of who was in control, what the ground rules of survival were, and what one needed to do to conform to those rules. Of prime importance was the need to be inconspicuous so as to avoid becoming the centre of attention, yet all the while remaining alert to the goings-on. The situation in which he found himself underlined the importance of the Acholi proverb that he had learned growing in the village – latin pa lacan winyo pwony ki ii bad deero (the poor man’s child learns while hiding on the side of the granary). In the bush he was orphaned, but that did not mean he lacked a community from which to learn the lore and wisdom of the art of survival. Paying attention to little details became a very important skill in personal survival, and Ringo worked especially hard to learn what each gesture and body language meant, or as Acholi would say, kit ma dano loko kwede (how people talk).

  Better to Kill Me Outright

  The abductees were informed on reaching Palenga that the ‘freshly abducted must move into the yard where our civilian mindset must be erased.’ Ringo was among those chosen for lwooko wii cibilan (washing the civilian mind). By now Ringo Otigo had learned in the first few weeks of his life with the LRM/A that the rebel commanders were not always predictable, and something that seemed innocent at the beginning could prove fatal to the abductees. One needed to stay keenly aware of whatever was happening in order to stay alive. A moment of inattention almost cost Otigo his life: ‘We were told, “If you were abducted, indicate if you were the only captive from your home. If two of you were abducted from the home, also say so. If you were abducted while sick, also let it be known.”’ Ringo still retained the piece of paper from the hospital on which the prescription for his chest pain was written on the day of his abduction. Such information, he reasoned, could help his cause, perhaps even gaining the sympathy of the rebels and persuading them to let him go free. He let the commanders know that he had had chest pain, and had the medical document to prove it. He was asked to move to one side. Others soon joined him, although it was unclear what rationale was being used to decide who was placed in which group. In the meantime, a group of rebels busied themselves cutting fresh sticks, which were piled by the hundreds in the yard. Ringo observed the activity with some interest, but he was not immediately alarmed about his own welfare. The purpose of the sticks soon became apparent: ‘It was noon when they completed the cutting and bundling of sticks, and separating us into lots. Altogether, about thirty children were selected and thrown down in the sun. They kicked you, and sent you sprawling in the sun. We all lay down. We were then told that all of us were intending to escape, and we needed to be beaten, and if possible, killed.’ The beating, carried out by almost half a dozen recruits for every abductee, was brutal and unrelenting. The beating went on even after the victims lapsed into coma. Ringo was beaten by five people: ‘The two bundles were all used up, the sticks shredded to pieces, reaching a point when I felt my life was gone. My entire body had gone numb, and I no longer felt the sting of the sticks. They beat me until the two bundles were gone. Two people were chosen to return to carry out more beating. At that moment, a boy jumped up to run, and was cut down by a bullet, dying beside the house.’ Barely clinging to consciousness, Ringo was given additional beatings by two others. This time the consequences were nearly fatal:

  So they beat me until all the sticks were gone, then they left me. They left us there, others were cooking. When they left me, I was told to get up and move to the banana plantation where food was being cooked. Mustering all my remaining strength, I straightened up; all of a sudden, blood broke free from my nose, my head was spinning, and I fell back to the ground. I remained sprawled in that position for some time. Blood flowed freely from my
head until it stopped by itself, then slowly, I began to drag myself to the banana grove.

  They left us there, others were cooking. For the LRM/A, the conspicuous ordinariness of cooking went in tandem with the inhumanely vicious business of beating the children to cleanse them of their civilian mindset. The LRM/A made it seem pedestrian that in the bush children’s lives were balanced on a very thin edge between being dano adana, human persons who needed to be fed food one moment, and objects that were mercilessly flogged the next. The child going through this experience needed to decide early on how to live on either side of the equation. The fluidity of experiences, which ranged from being treated well to being handled harshly, necessitated the construction of a double identity, one capable of relating to others in the neighbourly fashion of village life, and the other characterized by a hardened, self-centred outlook geared towards personal survival to the exclusion of all else. Ringo, like most of the children who lived with the LRM/A, would in time learn to deploy one or the other of these identities based on the prevailing circumstances.

  Seriously injured and weakened by the beating, which left his body covered with puffed bruises, Ringo was confused. Except for the beating he received days into his abduction, he had mostly been treated far better than the other abductees. While others suffered the indignity of carrying big loads on their heads, he walked freely without any encumbrance. Moreover, when the Aboke girls were abducted, he was able to sit beside the LRM/A officers to witness what was being discussed with the white nun. Yet, here, he was beaten to within an inch of his young life. His confusion deepened when a bush doctor approached him to offer treatment. Ringo’s frustration exploded to the surface: