Nursing her infant on a dusty pavement outside her printing shop in war-weary Gulu, Mary Amito says she isn’t convinced the recent talk of peace for northern Uganda will mean the end of 20 years of war.
”It’s going to start all over again,” she said, casting her eyes at a pile of stagnant rubbish gathering in a pothole.
”If the rebels scatter away from where they are towards us, what’s to stop them killing people, abducting children, just like in the past?”
This week, government officials, diplomats and aid workers have asked themselves the same question as a fragile truce between the government and the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) rebels seemed to teeter on the brink of collapse.
”One minute they talk peace, then they want to fight. We are tired of this,” said Amito, who lost two brothers in rebel attacks on her village outside Gulu in 2000.
A ceasefire signed in August raised hopes of an end to the insurgency led by rebels who shot, hacked and bludgeoned their way through the north’s terrified civilian population, abducting countless children to use as fighters and sex slaves.
The war killed tens of thousands of people and left nearly two million displaced and dependent on food aid.
Under a landmark truce, the rebels were supposed to assemble in two areas in southern Sudan — at Ri-Kwangba, on the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) border, and Owiny-Ki-Bul, on the Uganda border — while peace talks continued in its capital, Juba.
Though at least 800 were reported to have gathered at Owiny-Ki-Bul, and a handful at Ri-Kwangba, many others remained at large in their jungle hideouts in the DRC, including LRA leader Joseph Kony and his deputy, Vincent Otti.
Build confidence
Analysts said more time was needed to build confidence.
This week both sides lost patience, with the Ugandan army accusing the LRA of fleeing the assembly areas and threatening to re-launch an offensive and the LRA accusing the army of surrounding their fighters in Owiny-Ki-Bul.
Sweeping hair from the floor of his barber shop, a small wooden shack in Gulu market, Wilson Acel furrowed his brow as he complained that the people who have borne the brunt of the conflict for two decades now felt powerless.
”We don’t even know what is going on in those peace talks. We are just hoping blindly,” he said. ”I’ll wait for them to sign before starting the celebrations.”
At Laroo boarding school for war-affected children, many of whom are former rebel abductees, administrator Dorris Atiko described a pessimistic, resigned mood.
”We are all traumatised from this war. Children come in with fresh wounds from fighting. They have nightmares in the dormitories, waking up screaming. If the war ended, they could have hope, but we are not very confident.”
Scovia Atim Ango was abducted by the rebels when she was 16 and spent one year in the bush before escaping. She doesn’t think the rebels are serious about peace.
”I never saw anything good in them. They beat me. They made us kill. They said they won’t stop until they overthrow the government. They don’t want peace.”
Back in Gulu, as the shadows lengthened, a handful of children trekked into the town to sleep rough for fear of being abducted in their villages.
Loud hip-hop blasted out of giant speakers outside a bar, where men and youths frittered away their meagre earnings on cold beer and games of pool.
Some of those remained hopeful.
”There will be peace in northern Uganda one day, but they need to be patient,” said Dennis Okot (26), who drives a motorcycle taxi. ”Those boys [the LRA] are coming home.” — Reuters