LRA chaos

KAMPALA, Nov 30 (Reuters)

Deserters from Uganda's notorious Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) said on Friday the rebels' leader Joseph Kony had executed his deputy Vincent Otti due to Otti's enthusiasm for peace talks.

"Kony ordered Otti's execution on the 2nd of October," former LRA commander Sunday Otto told reporters, speaking on behalf of seven rebels flown to Kampala after handing themselves in to U.N. peacekeepers.

"Otti's killing sent a chill in LRA, and that's why we left, and there are very many others who are following."

Otti, regarded as the brains behind the group in contrast to the volatile Kony, was a prime mover behind the LRA joining peace talks that began last year in Juba, South Sudan, aimed at ending its 20-year insurgency.

Rumours of his death had been circulating for weeks in Uganda, with various rebel and mediator sources saying he had been arrested by Kony. But until Friday, no credible source had offered confirmation of the speculation that Otti was dead.

A mediator in the peace process had said Kony punished Otti on allegations of spying while Ugandan media have said there was a dispute over money and control.

Normality

Monday marked a month since I returned to the UK. To 'normality', whatever that might be. 'Normality' in the UK seems to be very sedate. A month has passed and nothing noteworthy has happened. I could always count on there being something to write about overseas. But back home there have been no real dramas, no emotional extremes, no bizarre events. And what perhaps would have seemed out of the ordinary here, no longer does. Perhaps my threshold has changed.

Instead, I have been enjoying the contrasts. I can lay in a bath, instead of sitting in a large bucket of water that has taken me an hour to boil. I spend an insane amount of money on gym membership to try and work off all the rich food I'm eating, instead of losing weight by sweating and having a diet of rice, eggplant and stringy chicken. I work 37.5 hours a week and accumulate time in lieu when I work over, instead of working most waking hours, most days of the week. I sit in a quiet office in a high rise surrounded by computers and people, instead of sitting in a office bombarded by the noise of local video and music shops, with children, dogs and chickens wandering by the door.

Life in Pader though has presumably continued as 'normal'. For instance, I learnt today that an Italian colleague has just died of cerebral malaria after his conditions were misdiagnosed. And the LRA are still stalling and making ridiculous demands, this time claiming they need $2 million to hold consultations with local people on traditional justice and travel around the world to research other traditional justice systems. To Argentina, South Africa and Sierra Leone. It's a hard life these benevolent people lead.

The sedate is good, but I'm looking forward to my next fix of working overseas. Which will be visiting Kolkata and Delhi in September and October. It's going to be a sensory overload. Two cities, full of life, each with fifteen million people, millions living in slums, a couple of hundred thousand children living on the streets, thousands of children being exploited and abused as child sex workers. That'll surely alleviate my writer's block.

I'm back!

So, I've left Uganda behind for a new challenge - London. Well, London with regular trips overseas to India and Bangladesh.

So I'm going from wide open landscapes of rich red soil and green bushland and grassland, to concrete stretching to the horizon and reaching for the heavens.

The open bushland extending beyond our compound

From living in a small town with animals and children rag-clad children everywhere, to a city of 6 million people and streets bustling with suit-clad professionals. From a simple life focused on the bare necessities, to a life dominated by the relentless bombardment of materialism and consumerism. From eating options so limited you lose your appetite, to supermarkets and restaurants with everything I could desire and more. From living behind the office and being surrounded by the subject of your work, to having a separation between work and life.

Making a home behind the office...

Leaving was hard. Over the past 3 or 4 months I've grown to enjoy life in Pader. I'll miss the people - the evenings sat with friends under the moonlight and star-strewn skies, the Sunday afternoons playing sport with the local kids, the friendly and familiar faces everywhere you go...

BBQing with some of the local team at my leaving party

Life in London will be different. Not worse, not better. Just different.

Pader International Airport

Where there are no check-in desks, no security checks, no duty free shops, no passenger lounges, no refreshments. Just a great view and lots of fresh air...

You still need to check in early though. Otherwise you might be caught driving up the airstrip at the same time as the plane is attempting to land.

A tribute to Willy

"Willy, Willy, Willy". You are usually only a few feet away but my calls get ever louder. Until you finally turn, oblivious to the preceding efforts to grab your attention. A face that bears a remarkable resemblence to the President. A face though that seems to have a natural warmth and smile. This, your aimable personality and your array of sons and daughter has been your job security Willy. Little do you know my angst and long discussions with your boss about hearing tests.


With your attention, we embark on another fruitless exchange of instruction and confusion. During which I ask myself yet again, "Why did I end up with a driver hard of hearing and with no periforal vision?" Thankfully, I turned the guard with one eye away or I'd be having the double the challenges.

Persistance sometimes is rewarded. Your face is illuminated with understanding. The smile and laughing 'ahhh' makes it worthwhile. But more often than not the instruction or conversation is abandoned. Sometimes because I've lost the will, sometimes because it's no longer relevant - we have already almost hit the cow or flown over the improvised speed bump log across the road that I was trying to alert you to.


That we have navigated our way around Northern Uganda, without hitting anything or breaking an axel, is something of a miracle. It's a shame conversation was so hard because I'm sure I could have learnt so much from you. From your 60 years in Uganda, travelling its length and breadth.

Quote of the day

"People say this rain is like women quarrelling; it just goes on and on, simmering away."

Odd insights from last week's funeral...

• Quote: "It is better to die than to be born. Even the newborn know this, because they enter the world crying in anticipation of the suffering."
• The person cannot be buried with any blood or red clothing on it. They must be buried in a white sheet.
• The person must be buried lying on their right hand side, facing the family's compound. Otherwise they will disturb the family.
• When burying the body, the earth must be packed down well. If the grave sinks after burial then it disturbs the person who has been buried, and the person will in turn disturb the family.
• Quote: “Death is too common now. In the past, many people would come to a funeral. Now, it is too common.”
• The mourners will stay at the burial site for 4 nights, sitting around a camp fire grieving.
• It is common for grieving women to wail at a high pitch, throwing their heads into their hands repeatedly.
• It is common for one of the mourners to be ‘possessed’ by ‘bad spirits’ / ‘demons’ and to have a fit which leaves them collapsed on the floor.

Photos from a weekend away in Murchison Falls...

Cosmopolitan Pader from the air...

(We're the compound in the centre of the bottom of the picture)

Disposable children

“I don’t think she’s going to make it. We can’t even weigh her; she’s too weak to stand up.”

The last time I took a child to hospital, the child had a fractured skull after a confrontation with a brick wielding maniac and he nearly died in front of me after a catalogue of errors by the medical staff just exacerbated an already awful situation. I was hoping it was a once in a lifetime experience.

3 years on I found myself again taking a child to hospital, a child close to death. Florence is 16 years old. You have to go back 8 years to understand how she found herself in hospital as a fragile small bundle of bones and loose skin.

When Florence’s mother herself was facing death after contracting HIV, Florence bore the brunt of her anger with the world. For reasons beyond most people’s comprehension, Florence’s mother infected her child with her blood.

Shortly after, Florence’s mother passed away and her father abandoned her with her mother’s sister. Over the course of the next 7 years, as war raged around her Florence was fighting her own battles against an increasing series of illnesses. Suspicious there was something wrong, her aunt finally took her to an MSF hospital.

The hospital’s verdict – Florence was HIV positive and also suffering from tuberculosis. She remained there for 6 weeks, slowly recovering and beginning an 8 month course of TB treatment and a lifelong course of anti-retrovirals. On a daily basis her aunt was there beside in hospital caring for her, cooking for her.

After 6 weeks, her aunt’s husband, Florence’s uncle, grew tired of his wife being away from home. Enough was enough. His wife was coming home to look after his cattle, keep his home and start preparing for the planting season. And Florence; Well Florence was a lost cause and a burden. He was bringing her home to die. That was as much as he was prepared to do. And his decision was final. He was after all the man of the house; no one else’s opinion mattered least of all Florence.

When Florence left the hospital, against the advice of the medical staff, she weighed 33kg. She was a long way from responding to the TB treatment and anti-retrovirals.

For Florence’s uncle, investing in a lost cause wasn’t attractive. So providing her with the diet necessary to fight the virus and respond to treatment wasn’t top of his agenda either.

Florence has been slowly wasting away since. Meanwhile her aunt has been looking on powerless and her uncle has been growing increasingly impatient and resentful of the burden. There is also some evidence – broken translations of conversations and bloody lips - to suggest she’s also been physically abused or caught up in domestic violence. The official story is that she fell down.

This is the Florence I met. A 16 year old skeletal girl too weak to sit up or speak, with a bloody face, lying on the floor of a mud hut in the middle of an IDP camp.

On Saturday morning I met with the uncle for the first time. He has all the trapping of wealth in the local context – he’s employed as a teacher, rides a small motorcycle, owns several cattle… Potentially, he’s an educated man with the capacity to care for Florence. But instead of being a solution, he’s the problem.

After tense negotiations during which I barely kept my desire to strangle the man in check, he agreed to let his wife accompany Florence to the MSF hospital for a week. On the condition I paid for him to hire people to look after his cattle and weed his land whilst his wife was away. This was clearly a good business opportunity for him.

Transport was the next challenge. In a recent meeting, the District had proudly announced they now had 8 new ambulances. We called. "Ah, unfortunately they’re not yet operational I'm afraid" was the response we got. So we called IMC. All their ambulances were broken; they were borrowing the single ambulance of another NGO and that was busy. What do people do if they don’t have their own vehicle?

As soon as we lifted Florence out of the car, I heard calls of “Florence” and a handful of hospital staff appeared around us. She was fondly remembered.

I wasn’t sure whether Florence was lying in hospital fighting for her life or willing it to end. Assuming the best, we started putting in place longer term arrangements for her stay and care. MSF called and said she was responding well to the improved diet and treatment. Things were beginning to look up.

MSF called this morning though. Florence had died. Their best guess was that it wasn’t TB or any other disease that took her. It was starvation. The accumulation of months of deprivation and neglect. I’m not a father but this is the second child in my care who has died and it hurts.

So today’s ‘To Do List’ looked a little different to most. ‘Buy coffin’. ‘Collect body’. By the end of the day, all the characters in this story had continued in their roles. The aunt grieved and informed me how much was remaining from the money I’d given her for feeding Florence. The uncle asked for money for a goat to slaughter and then later for concrete for a headstone. The white man continued to try to contain his anger and make sense of the situation; he contained himself to telling the uncle that he needed to make peace with Florence and send her off well. And Florence remained silent, but this time hopefully more peaceful.

Bonkers demand...

Indicted by the ICC and responsible for countless atrocities, now wanting to share power

Reportedly, the LRA high command are to demand the post of vice president on top of other ministerial positions as part of a power-sharing agreement.

"One of the issues we discussed was the issue of the vice president's post," Kony's deputy Vincent Otti told Daily Monitor in an interview yesterday. "It's in our interest [that we get] the post. We need to share power. We want a compromise in everything."

Numbers from the news...

28: The number of High Court judges in Uganda.

338,955: The number of displaced persons fed by World Food Programme in Pader.

3: The number of additional weeks given to the LRA to assemble at the Assembly Point in South Sudan, a precursor to the resumptions of peace negotiations.

27,632: The number of health facilities in Uganda plagued by some form of corruption and / or mismanagement according to an audit of the health sector.

7: The number of dollars spent on health, per person, per year, by Uganda.

10,583: The number of health centres across the country lacking essential drugs.

4,300,000: The number of dollars allocated to vaccines and medical drugs that the former Minister for Health and his two deputies are alleged to have misappropriated.

18,250: The number of prisoners in Uganda's prisons.

8,731: The capacity of Uganda's prisons.

28,796: The estimated number of prisoners in Uganda's prisons by 2010.

Economic prescription for Uganda

Museveni, at the African Forum 2007:

“Too much aid is not good for our economies. This aid in my view should be targeted: aid for trade, aid in order to trade...Where we need assistance now, or at least no obstruction, is on cheap electricity - hydro, geothermal and nuclear power. Uganda and other parts of East Africa also urgently need railway infrastructure."

“Some of the G8 countries seem to think they should have a supervising role over Africa. I’d recommend we stimulate the bone marrow of Africa so we can generate our own red and white blood cells.”

More accounts of mob justice...

Kitgum IDPs vote, lynch three over witchcraft (The New Vision)

A mob in Okidi IDP camp in Chua county in Kitgum district lynched three women on Sunday after suspecting them of witchcraft. The ghastly incident occurred after 6:00pm at a primary school in the camp. The villagers voted for the suspected witches in a secret ballot after they were nominated.

The District Police Commander, Charles Oumo, said the villagers claimed the women had led to the death of a boda boda rider on Saturday. The villagers added that as Kenneth Akena rode his bicycle, his body started swelling and the skin peeled off before he collapsed and died, a clear sign of witchcraft.

He said following the death of Akena, the Okidi LC2 chairman, Y.Y. Obonyo and the camp commandant, Justine Okot, convened an emergency meeting on Sunday to identify and vote for the culprits. When the votes were counted, Paska Agal polled 89 votes, followed by Mary Amoo with 21 votes, while Carolyn Angee got nine votes.

Oumo said the mob used stones, sticks and pick axes to kill the women, before setting their bodies on fire. Amoo was reportedly called from Kitgum Hospital, where she was attending to her sick child. She arrived at the meeting when the crowd was beating up her fellow suspects. The Police have arrested Obonyo and other villagers over the murder.

The murders come two weeks after a village court in Karamoja condemned to death three men and hanged one of them, Mariko Lokiru, before the UPDF intervened and rescued the others. The three had been accused of murdering a man who had beaten them in a cards game. The LC2 court of Omorimor village, Kaiku parish, first condemned Lokiru to death and proceeded to hang him. The UPDF rescued the other two suspects before the mob got them.

The forgotten abductees...

The Acholi parliamentary Group is to release a dossier on the atrocities committed by the LRA and the government since 1986, the acting chairperson, Reagan Okumu has said.

Addressing journalists at Parliament yesterday, Okumu said the dossier, compiled from both local and international organisations, revealed that from 1986 to 1991 the LRA were responsible for 17% and the Government to 83% of the atrocities. From 1992 to 2006, he said, the LRA was responsible for 81% of the atrocities and the Government 9%.

“Now that truth and reconciliation have been put on the agenda in the peace process in Juba, everybody should take responsibility for the atrocities committed,” Okumu declared.

He also challenged the Sudan government to take responsibility for accusations that most of the children abducted by the LRA were sold to Sudan as slaves.

Quote of the day

“They solicit for funds to help people in camps but instead spend the money building mansions and to start businesses.”

Reagan Okumu, Acting chairperson, The Acholi Parliamentary Group talking about some NGOs

The changing face of Pader

It is almost a year since the first NGO set up an office in Pader Town. Their office was a shipping container. Since then some things haven't changed much. The shipping container is still the NGO's office. Fuel is still pumped by hand. We still don't have electricity. Public transport in and out of Pader is still limited to perching precariously on the side of pick up or truck that has had as many lives as a cat. The roads are still riddled with enormous pot holes. I still can't get chocolate; the sale of Mars bars at the 'supermarket' was short lived.

But a lot else has changed in Pader. In the last 6-9 months there has been an influx of NGOs and what was once an IDP camp and very small trading centre is now growing into a small town. The restaurants are improving and the diversifying. I can get chicken and chips in one place, breakfast in another (if you like liver and potatoes for breakfast that is). Roadside stalls are appearing with pineapples, avocados, tomatoes, oranges and onions. Shops are popping up selling more than the local bare necessities of sodas, beer, cigarettes, soap, candles and glucose biscuits. The fascias of some buildings are being clad in white tiles or painted. Pigs are wallowing in the mud and puddles alongside ducks. Chickens and goats are wandering to and fro.

And I'm convinced the place feels more vibrant than it did a few months ago, though maybe that's just because I've settled in. With the exception of the noise from the discos and video halls, I will miss this place when I leave...

A Friday afternoon on Congolese Street

It’s a story of being sold a dream of streets paved with riches and finding instead yourself abandoned in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language, have no access to services and have to resort to desperate survival strategies… This is the story of the women living on Congolese Street.

When the Ugandan army launched operations in Eastern DRC, the opportunistic among them also decided to find a ‘wife’ they could return to Uganda with. Gullible, hopeful or desperate, it would seem literally thousands of Congolese women decided to leave their families and communities behind, take a Ugandan ‘husband’ and follow him back to Uganda.

Why? The soldiers had money; that seems to have been the bottom line. Yet again it raises the issue of the money and sex. Is the money an aphrodisiac; is selecting a relatively affluent partner simply a survival strategy; or is this simply a transaction, prostitution.

The women I talked to also told me of promises that electricity flowed freely in Uganda, everyone's homes were made of brick and concrete, people drove their cars to collect water from boreholes. When I shared this with local staff they were incredulous, how can fellow Africans across the border not know the reality of Uganda. Perhaps they didn’t, perhaps they believed what they wanted to believe, perhaps it was just masking the real reason.

Once in Uganda, they suffered a variety of misfortunes. Some were widowed, losing their husbands to conflict, AIDS or ill-health. Others were abandoned for a newer model. Others abandoned their husbands to free themselves from domestic servitude or domestic violence. A number still remain with their husbands in the army barracks though. Their circumstances are less clear; the barrack’s commander won’t permit anyone to talk with them.

With no money to return and no livelihood assets to make a living here, most of these women concede that they have resorted to "working at the disco". Some are more open than others. "We sell our bodies".

It raises another ethical dilemma. Looking around the room it is clear that ‘working at the disco’ is lucrative. Around the room there are 15 relatively well dressed, superficially healthy women. Equally concerning is the fact there is enough business for these 15 Congolese women and at least as many local women to make a good living from this in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere…

Most of the women have also borne children since arriving in Uganda. Either with their UPDF ‘husband’ or with a client. Most appear to be infants. When I ask about the impact of their circumstances on their children they talk of leaving their children behind unsupervised when they are with clients and dying of HIV before their children have grown up. For now, the children look well. Most are well dressed like their mothers, their skin is clear and they’re podgy with rather than swollen with malnutrition.

Fortunately, ‘working at the disco’ doesn’t bring these women into conflict with the law. Oddly, the police are more intent on arresting consenting teenagers for ‘playing sex’ as an Italian colleague amusing puts it. But ‘working at the disco’ does bring them into conflict with the community. Stigmatisation and marginalisation has become a daily experience. Beyond Congolese Street, the people holler at them, calling them prostitutes; Health centres turn them away as their physical appearance differentiates them as foreigners; The radios and disco play a derogatory song.

The song is entitled ‘Congole’. It’s the work of a local musician and encapsulates a lot of local beliefs and attitudes. The song is a defamatory attack on Congolese women living in Uganda. It describes their provocative skirts as ‘quick ambush’, implying men have no control over how they react when they see these women dressed this way. It describes them as ‘the end of the world’, meaning if you sleep with them you will die from contracting HIV. It warns local people to stay away from them and Congolese Street.

Despite this, or perhaps because of this, the Congolese women I met came across as vibrant, strong women with a real sense of community among themselves. If all goes to plan, in 5 months time they’ll all be home in DRC starting a new chapter in their lives courtesy of IOM.

I asked them what challenges they thought they would encounter returning home. Would their families and communities welcome them back? Would they accept their children, born of Ugandan fathers? Would they leave behind ‘working at the disco’ for a new livelihood? Promisingly they expected no challenges. They were convinced their families and communities would accept them back. Their children would actually facilitate the process of reintegration as they would be regarded as a source of pride and an asset by the family. They would resume their past livelihoods; most were educated and spoke French so they could return to or start teaching, working in offices and running small businesses.

I returned to the office and discuss my afternoon on Congolese Street with the local team. Sadly it revealed more prejudice and discrimination. And bizarre grievances like, “Ahh, they buy the shops whole stock of skin whitener and when I go there is none left”.

Thought provoking and challenges articles

White Toyota, white aid
http://www.alertnet.org/db/blogs/12926/2007/03/5-144255-1.htm

What happens to governments when aid agencies are around?
http://www.alertnet.org/db/blogs/12926/2007/03/12-124101-1.htm

Do aid agencies pull too many strings?
http://www.alertnet.org/db/blogs/12926/2007/03/20-135651-1.htm

Viewing the poor through Western eyes
http://www.alertnet.org/db/blogs/12926/2007/03/30-123048-1.htm

Humanitarian aid: weighed and found wanting
http://www.economist.com/world/international/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9228801

Happiness is...

...the adjacent video and music hall closing down and being dismantled.

Quote of the day

"You are innocent until proven bankrupt." (Research participant)

Worrying tendency...

Extract from The Monitor, 22 May 2007

Over 131 people have been murdered in Kampala city in the space of four and half months.

According to police records, majority of the dead were killed in mob action after being suspected of theft, house breaking and burglary.

Daily Monitor compilations from police states that out of 123 cases of murder reported between January and April, 108 were classified as murder other than shooting including mob action.

Police classifies murder into two; murder by shooting and murder other than shooting.

"The biggest number of the murders classified as murder other than shooting were killed in mob action after people are arrested on suspicion of theft and burglary. The mob uses tyres, stones and petrol," Kampala Extra police spokesman Simeo Nsubuga said on telephone last week.

"You will find that some of our people suspect a person to be a thief, they arrest him, beat him up and burn him. By the time we reach the scene the suspect has already been killed and is difficult to identity," Mr Nsubuga said. "People must understand that there are laws in the country."

Let's settle this like men...

Pader's woeful justice system took a turn for the worse recently.

It took a long time for Pader to get a Magistrate. It took a while longer to get him to visit Pader's dilapidated prison, which is an hour away from the court. However, it did not take long though for the Officer in Charge of the prison and the Magistrate, to fall out.

The Officer in Charge of the prison has been asking the Magistrate not to remand anyone in custody or sentence anyone else to imprisonment because the central government hasn't given him any food to feed the prisoners with.

The Magistrate's stance though is hardline. You are remanded in custody unless you can pay a substantial bail, regardless of the severity of the crime. Predictably, most can't pay this and more come knocking on the prison's door looking for a room.

This has all got a bit too much for the Officer in Charge of the prison recently. So he took his own hardline stance and refused to take any more prisoners. Instead he's released them into the community.

When the Magistrate and Officer in Charge next met, apparently they ended up in a scuffle with fists flying and shirts being ripped. The Officer in Charge came off the worst, while the Magistrate has been recalled to Gulu and the matter is apparently going before the courts.

The future is bright...

I've just spent 2 days attending a meeting with UNICEF who have been roaming the country introducing NGOs and local government to their new strategy.

After presenting, they invited participants to feedback on how feasible and relevant they felt this new strategy was. One of our District officials stood up and shared his views on what he thought should be done. These included:

• "You should launch a 'Keep Your Homes Clean' competition. Local people could be encouraged to keep their homes clean and you could give a prize to the best one."
• "You should send experts to sit with us at a District level otherwise we will misspend the money you give us."

Meanwhile, another District official sat next to me, spent most of the meeting reading his paper. After a while I asked him why he was there. He replied, "UNICEF have organised this meeting to explain their plans". I said, "I know, but why are you here, you are reading the newspaper." "Ahhh", he responded, "No one can concentrate 100% of the time".

UNICEF's new strategy includes channelling more of their funding through local government.

Intractable...

The Times (UK), Stuart Ramsay, "Lord's Army threatens war over court charges", 24 May 2007
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/africa/article1832264.ece

The military leadership of the Lord's Resistance Army is threatening to return to war and to "capture power and overthrow" President Museveni's government in Uganda if International Criminal Court indictments against four named leaders are not withdrawn.

"We cannot go back to Uganda without lifting these indictments. That is impossible. We cannot go and without our going none of the other soldiers can go. But we can fight," General Oti, who is also deputy chairman of the LRA's political movement, told me.

"If they refuse then the war will continue. I am prepared to do anything - even war. I am ready for war. If they don't drop the indictments you will see that we have enough to capture power. We were seven, now we are thousands. Everybody in Uganda wants change but they can't do anything without the barrel of a gun," he said....

For three days I stayed with the LRA in their camp, which is two days driving and walking from the nearest village, Naban-ga, in southern Sudan. I saw at least 100 heavily armed soldiers, some of them boys of about 14 or 15.... There are four or five camps of similar size in the area. The fighters carry their weapons at all times.... A member of the LRA's negotiating team at the peace talks, who asked to remain anonymous, says he believes the LRA numbers a few thousand but can still command support in northern Uganda.

The Nation (Kenya), Dean Diyan, "Africa's longest war dies out ever so slowly", 18 May 2007,
http://www.africafiles.org/article.aspID=15036&ThisURL=./index.asp&URLName=HOME

...The peace talks have marked the first time in the history of thiswar that the LRA has abandoned northern Uganda.... Some observers see the rebel trek into CAR as signaling the resumption of hostilities. Speaking on radio recently in Gulu, District Chairman Nobert Mao warned the internally displaced persons who are returning home hoping that the war was over, to do so at their own risk.... In the past year, more than 300,000 of the displaced have left the camps to return to their areas of origin in northern Uganda, and there have been no civilian abductions since the start of the talks. Children who daily travel long distances to escape a conflict have reduced....The rebels, too, nearly all of them former abducted soldiers with no sense of the comfort of a settled life, have lived a better life during the period of the peace talks. They have been fed in Owinyi Kibuland and now don't have to steal and travel freely. That is very different from their previous life: rape and murder.

Inspired educational material

Apparently, if you're a child, carrying rocks on your head is enjoyable so long as you're working with adults that you like. Far better than going to play football for example.

Just in case you thought torturing children was a morally grey area, we're told here that it "is very terrible to children's lives".

Apparently a typical dialogue between 'children soldiers' goes something like this:

Child 1: "Eh, poor old woman"

Child 2: "Shoot her dead"

Useful tips here for any parent: "When a child has been acting normally then he or she starts to think or do strange things, the child has developed strange behaviour."

No kidding, "orphaned children are often sad about the death of their parents", and they apparently express this grief by scratching their arm pits, turning up to the funeral in nappies, scratching their chin, and generally looking puzzled.

Political correctness...

Searching...

Akemkwene - Where should I face, which direction should I take?

(The door of a boy who has recently been released from prison and is trying to rebuild his life)

Latest LRA peace talk news...

PEACE TALKS DELAYED OVER ACCOUNTABILITY ISSUE

The peace talks which were set to resume on 11 May were delayed to allowfor further consultations on the third agenda item, accountability andreconciliation. Both the government and the LRA have reportedlypresented their position to the mediators. Government delegationspokesman Bahoku Barigye indicated that the Ugandan delegation wasseeking acceptance by the LRA that it had committed atrocities innorthern Uganda. Speaking to Voice of America, Major Felix Kulayigye,spokesman for Uganda's defense ministry, clarified that the LRA shouldinclude its admission and apology in its position paper.

http://www.voanews.com/english/Africa/2007-05-16-voa3.cfm

KONY PROMISES TO COMPLY WITH PEACE DEAL, STILL FEARS ICC

Joseph Kony has noted that he would not violate the recently-concludedagreement on Comprehensive Solutions to the Northern Uganda conflict.LRA delegate, Godfrey Ayoo, noted that, while Kony is ready to sign acomprehensive agreement with the government, he is still fearful of theICC arrest warrants.

http://allafrica.com/stories/200705141533.html

UNHCHR ARBOUR URGETS GOVERNMENT AND LRA TO REJECT IMPUNITY

United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights Louise Arbour hasurged the government and the LRA (to reject impunity and upholdinternational standards and appealed to the parties to commit to a"victim-centered consultative process".

http://allafrica.com/stories/200705141505.html

Supposing you had visitors coming...

2007 is an interesting year for Uganda. The Commonwealth Heads meeting in Uganda in November means for interest groups there's a window of opportunity to exploit, and for the government there's a huge public relations programme to put in place and a country to clean up.

First things first - when you're expecting visitors you need to fill in those pot holes (but only on the roads that matter - those between the airport and 5* hotels), put down kerb stones, plant some trees down the central divide and ban anything scruffy - small roadside shops, markets because they're dirty (even better replace them with a shiny new shopping mall), and of course street kids and beggars (that's right, round them up and ship them out, it doesn't matter where).

Next, sort out anything politically embarrassing. Like opposition parties who might go public with revelations of corruption and human rights abuses. This is not a time for democracy and freedom of speech to flourish - no, everyone must tow the line. And if they don't show a willingness to do so, well you need to make them. So lock up opposition MPs, fire tear gas on protestors, discredit anyone who disagrees.

Oh, and don't forget those NGOs who are trying to undermine you by delivering services to the people. It's no wonder the local people are frustrated with the government. No, the NGOs have far to much influence and power, they're a thorn in the side and need cracking down on. So, introduce more burdensome registration procedures and discredit them. That's right, claim they aren't accountable, they live grossly extravagant lifestyles, that "If you're working for the poor, you should live like the poor." That should do for starters...

And don't forgot those niggles further away from home, like civil strife and rebel groups in outlying Districts. These troubles used to be easily ignored yet also provided a convenient way of justifying a large military and keeping them busy, but now is the time to look like you're a peace maker. The visitors will be expecting this. So, hard as it may be, swallow your pride and give those peace negotiations a try, at least until the visitors have gone home.

What makes a good weekend in the middle of nowhere?

• When the born again Christians in town for three days of riotous non-stop day and night hollering, who for some reason chose to camp out next to your compound of all places, go home having given God and all around a headache.
• When you successfully negotiate your way through a river that used to be a road and 4 ft tall grasses to reach a resettlement site.
• When two or three hundreds children of all ages laugh, sing, dance and clap their way through 2 hours of games and sports you have organised for them.
• When they humour you when you introduce them to odd games like the three legged race and sack race that leave the entire community in stitches as the kids trip left, right and centre in pursuit of crossing the finishing line first.
• When after exhausting them, they still find the energy to sit down with you and participate in your research, sharing their views, laughing, debating, acting out dramas and drawing.
• When a dozen kids turn up to play ultimate frisbee with you on Sunday evening and end up running circles around you.
• When a complete rainbow appears over the horizon as a storm builds.
• When the restaurant bakes cup cakes, albeit plain and slightly dry cup cakes.
• When you stop long enough to lie in your hammock.

"Stop thief or I'll shoot!"

14th APR 07: A thief who climbed over the wall of an NGO office in Kitgum town and attempted to steal fuel from some parked motorcycles was shot an injured by a security guard using a bow and arrow. The thief was later discovered at the Kitgum government hospital by police in the morning of the 15th APR 07 while undergoing surgery to remove the arrow.

(Extract from daily UN security reports)

What is 'normal'?

When I collapse at the end of each day I’m usually thinking something along the lines of, “Well that was another odd day”. Odd is becoming the norm. Take today for example. This morning, over breakfast, the boys at the guesthouse locked the gates on a dog and stoned it to death despite my screaming protests. Shortly after arriving at the office an organisation we’ve been trying to join on a field trip for several weeks turned up at the door and indignantly said “Are you ready? We’re waiting for you.” Apparently I am expected to be a clairvoyant and have staff ready at the drop of a hat. The humanitarian coordination meeting, which is normally a fairly sedate affair, turned militant with the UN leading calls for all agencies to boycott meetings with the District “until they take their responsibilities seriously”. Then a deaf, mute and illiterate man appeared at the office collecting money for another deaf man who had a heart problem requiring treatment, and we tried for a good half hour to have a conversation in gestures and guesswork. Over lunch two staff from UNHCR, who I’m hosting at the moment because of the shortage of office space here, hunted down and killed a rat with a stick in the office. Then I spent an hour interviewing two policemen who I’m supposed to recruit as guards, one of whom only had one eye whilst the other one stank of alcohol. And when I sat down with my Programme Coordinator to discuss her day and ask her what a government counterpart she had met with was ‘like’ she responds saying, “Ah she is fat, very fat”, before I clarify that I was referring to her personality and competence.

Sunset over Pader's horizon.

AWOL

It’s a long time since I last wrote but you haven’t missed much. I finished my 8th week in Uganda, and my guesthouse room for that matter. I turned 31. The LRA has agreed to meet in Juba to discuss the resumption of peace talks, after there little rampage in Central African Republic. I got a generator. And a fridge. I discovered there is a dating website specifically for nomadic humanitarian and development workers like me called www.humanitariandating.com. I chickened out of trying it out. The only petrol pump in Pader broke and the attendants resorted to pumping it by hand and we started ordering it a day in advance. I managed to secure access to the District’s prison, which turned out to be a disappointing 1930 decrepit building, ridden with bullet holes and missing half of its roof and walls due to grenade attacks, with a wooden pallet across the entrance. I discovered most of the women in prison are there for beating up their co-wives. More buildings neared completion, including ours. The rains arrived, albeit in a fairly half hearted manner and several weeks late. The government announced that I need yet another two letters of recommendation before I could submit our application for registration, letters that according to them “could be from peasants, it doesn’t matter”, which begs the question, what is the point? The ‘supermarket’ started intermittently stocking Mars Bars, Bounty and Pringles. The humanitarian community in Pader grew to 41 international and local agencies. And the international agencies started talking about funding shortfalls and there being "only another year or two before the emergency funding dries up".

Body count of blatantly malevolent nasties

This week so far:

Scorpions: 1
Mice: 1
Big spiders: 3
Millipedes: 1
Crickets / grasshoppers (what's the difference?): 4
Flies: 7
Big ants: 11
Snakes: 0

Basically, anything that moves is interpreted as a threat in a similar style to American military engagement policies.

Doesn't bode well for my karma...

What am I doing?

Sometimes I have a sense of conviction and direction regarding work. This is not one of those times! Instead I feel uneasy that I don’t have everything mapped out. I’ve been telling myself that it’s natural; it’s the start of the programme. I’ve been telling myself I’m new to the context; it’ll take time before I have a sound understanding and I shouldn’t expect to know with certainty where the gaps are yet. I even sit in meetings and reflect that I seem to be holding my own and making contributions that others regard as valuable.

But still I’m uneasy. The way ahead just seems so less clear cut than elsewhere I’ve worked.

For instance, in Rwanda there were no organisations working with street children in the east. We went into the community and found a large group of children who’d been living on the street, overlooked by everyone, some for as long as 10 years. Sleeping on verandas, under market stalls, in the gaps between buildings. Surviving largely by stealing and inhaling substances to ease the hardship. No one had acted. No one was proposing to. The decision for us to set up a programme was clear cut. Similarly, in Iraq there was a dearth of child protection organisations responding to the humanitarian crisis. There was no risk of duplication because there weren’t enough actors. It was clear where the gaps were – it was the entirety of Southern Iraq. The only constraints were funding and security.

12-18 months ago the same could have been said of Pader. Barely anyone was operating here. It was off limits, inaccessible due to the acute insecurity and lack of infrastructure to support the humanitarian community. And yet it had been the worst affected by the LRA conflict.

But over the course of the last 9 months organisations have started flooding in. All far larger than us and with more resources at their disposal so able to hit the ground running. There remain gaps but there are a lot of organisations doing a little in a lot of places so these gaps are less clear cut and discrete. And numerous agencies say they are working in this camp and that camp, but it’s unclear what they actually do there.

So I’m confronted by two challenges. I’m finding it hard to identify these gaps, and I’m worrying that the gaps will disappear before I have completed the protracted registration process and secured institutional funding.

The petrol station

Anyone for food?

Earlier this week I witnessed a food distribution. My first. It’s an interesting spectacle. On the face of it, food distribution seems like one of the most straightforward of projects. You procure food aid, you deliver it, you distribute it. Clear cut and tangible. Everyone’s happy aren’t they?

Here are just a few ways that it can get complicated:

When the organisation allows male heads of households to instruct their wives, often with children on their backs, to unload the lorries while they sit in the shade and watch. Carrying a child on their back and 20kgs of maize or 24 litres of oil on their heads.

When it’s so badly organised that despite turning up at midday and unloading the lorries themselves, the beneficiaries are sent away at 5pm empty handed because the distribution is running so late the organisation doesn’t think they can complete the distribution before dark.

When you leave the tons of unloaded food on a playing field overnight and it rains.

When the organisations use food ‘aid’ from the United States rather than African sources, an arrangement which sustains the economically unviable production of oil and maize by heavily subsidised American farmers and floods the naturally competitive African markets, depressing local prices and undermining livelihoods.

When the food aid actually encourages people to remain in the camps rather than leave, or encourages them to split their families leaving their children behind, unsupervised, to ensure the family don’t loose their entitlement.

When the distribution of food in schools, used to incentivise school attendance, target children and raise performance levels, actually takes up so much of the school day children end up under-performing because they can’t get through the curriculum in time.

When men steal the food distributed to their household, in order to trade it in for alcohol.

At least there wasn’t a stampede I supposed, although reassuringly the distribution supervisors did tell that they have training in crowd control and have ‘big sticks to beat people with’ if things get heated.

Restaurant review: Eating out in Pader

Perched on the dusty crossroads in the centre of Pader town is Mego Bar, a quirky dining establishment offering a very traditional and reserved dining experience. The restaurant enjoys views over the main road and is an ideal location for people watching, particularly so in the evening when the road is usually lined with young children selling water.

The décor has a rustic feel to it, with locally crafted handmade furniture complemented by contemporary plastic chairs. The new blue and white patterned table cloths bring a touch of chic and a splash of colour to the subtle colour scheme.

The food is prepared by a team of child mothers, some of whom were previously abductees of the now world renowned Lord’s Resistance Army. It is speculated that this restaurant actually provided the inspiration for Jamie Oliver’s ‘17’ restaurant which is also staffed by underprivileged youth.

The head chef has conjured up a delectable set menu comprising rice, sweet potato, beans, a green leaf yellow sauce made with a secret recipe, and ‘not-fed chicken’, a genetically modified local breed of chicken that does not require regular feeding. This is followed by a plain and heavy cup cake which, in the style of a fortune cookie, occasionally has something buried inside. Careful you don’t chip a tooth!

Explaining this inspired but radical menu choice, the head chef said, "In the West you embrace diversity and change. Here, in the middle of a former conflict zone, we are tired of change and uncertainty. Instead we embrace predictability. Of course this has been controversial in restaurateur circles, but I like to challenge convention. People here have enough things to worry about without having to deliberate over menu choices. And you can see it is a winning formula – every other restaurant in Pader has copied me."

For diners used to the ‘All you can eat’ menu option at such revered establishments as Pizza Hut, be warned! You are only allowed one piece of not-fed chicken. Note too, that flirting with the waiting staff in an attempt to secure two pieces of not-fed chicken, appears to be fruitless.

Although this establishment does not have a wine list, rather surprisingly a select number of eccentric wines can be purchased from a nearby store which locals endearingly refer to as the ‘supermarket’. Be careful not to miss the ‘supermarket’ as it is only 2m x 4m and has no external signage. The wine should be easy to spot though as there are few other items on the shelves. Diners will be delighted to hear that the restaurant does not charge a corkage fee for drinking your own wine on the premises.

The self service arrangement, akin to a soup kitchen under Waterloo Bridge, complements the overall down to earth ambience. Our only grumble would be that the attentive and helpful waiting staff do appear to struggle with arithmetic.

The restaurant attracts a diverse array of diners, including locals and African and Western expatriates. The atmosphere created is refreshingly distinct from restaurants in the West where individuals rarely engage each other in conversation. Instead expect to be greeted by many a stranger. Note though, many will be looking for a job.

Our verdict: A must for any food lover!

Update

So, it’s 9 days since what, since I arrived. I’m carving marks into, into the wall… It’s not actually that, what, bad. Most people aren’t prepared to be in the back of beyond, but after VSO this is a breeze! I have my own transport, I have other people from similar backgrounds around, I have a proper salary so I can afford the odd luxury…

My days are spent:

• Sitting in what seems like an endless stream of what, meetings. Albeit useful meetings.
• In a haze of confusion over what our projects are going to look like.
• Getting frustrated waiting for what, for UNICEF to produce the mapping of areas and activities covered by existing agencies, which I am depending on to, to inform my decision making.
• Swatting insects.
• With a headache from what, from the constant din of generators.
• Eating rice, sweet potato, beans, bones that allegedly have meat on them, and a yellow sauce with green bits that looks a little like vomit. Every lunch and every night.
• Surprising myself, and my mum probably, by what, by getting excited at the sight of egg plant.
• Getting worried by people’s stories of what, of snakes coming out of toilets and scorpions in your rooms.
• Searching in vain for somewhere to live and put the what, the office.
• Adding another registration requirement to my list.
• Being endless caught off guard or amused by the prolific habit of Ugandans to segment every normal statement with what, with a question. Odd isn’t it?!

While my nights are spent:

• Sweating.
• Trying to outwit the mice in my room.
• Checking my mosi net is tucked in so there’s no risk of anything getting in and biting me.
• Waiting for the guesthouse staff, who evidently have hearing problems, to turn the booming TV off.
• And for the past two nights…being disturbed and bemused by last funeral rites of someone living nearby which sound more like a boozy nightclub competing with a sound track of high pitch wailing and whooping women.
• Occasionally sleeping.

Revelations for this week:

• Don’t expect a market with fresh food or animals in a ‘town’ that is predominantly an IDP camp in a region of displaced people because they don’t do what, a lot of farming or animal rearing.
• In fact, don’t expect anything.

Developments of the week:

• The ceasefire between the LRA and who, the UPDF, has expired and there seems no prospect of it being renewed in the near future
• The LRA have continued moving out of the assembly areas in Southern Sudan into Uganda, DRC and Central African Republic where they are fighting alongside another rebel group trying to depose the President.
  
  
  

Please find attached my covering letter and CV…

Applicants for the Programmes Assistant role we’re advertising at the moment…

Random insights from my first few days in Pader

Huts burning down seems to a common occurrence in Northern Uganda. The huts are so closely congested one small fire spreads quickly. During the conflict this was often blamed on the spirits that Kony summoned. I happened to be passing through one village when a fire had started. 69 huts were burn down. Some had saved what they could. Some had lost the few possessions they had. All had lost their roof over their head.






Ugandans seem to have a habit of starting a sentence, pausing mid-way, questioning 'what?', then continuing. So for instance, "The people are so vulnerable they need, what?, they need our help." It's bizarre, and it catches you off guard. Am I being tested?!


NGOs are described as ‘jiggers’ by local politicians. Jiggers being a horrible little insect found in the dust, that hops under your nails, buries itself, lays and egg sack and is really painful and difficult to get out!


Jesus has been spotted in Gulu. Apparently he was on top of an MTN (mobile) pylon.

Apparently no one senior comes to Pader. Not even the new High Commissioner for Refugees. And they certainly don't stay overnight. It's too grim.



The American army are here! You just can't go anywhere without the American army popping up. This time they're providing humanitarian and rehabilitation assistance in Lira and southern Pader. Urmmm...

Don't look skinny!!! Look good and presentable

First steps...

So I’ve packed up my life and hopped on a plane, armed with the stereotypical and obligatory – khaki outfits, over-priced The North Face goods, DVDs, hammock, bug killer, mosi net, and gloomy books on globalisation, development and American imperialism. After eight hours struggling to sleep as a delinquent toddler threw screaming and kicking tantrums behind me, we landed in Entebbe on the shores of Lake Victoria surrounded by Uganda’s lush green hills.

Over the course of the past five days I’ve had equally as little sleep due a bed as hard as the floor (in stark contrast to the usual horrendously saggy beds) and a head full of things that need organising, items that need purchasing to set up the office, decisions that need making, and uncertainty about what we’re doing and how we’re going to do it.

Imagine having a list of hundreds of items to find, get prices for and buy or rent. From a car to BIC biros, a safe to a gas stove, office space to candles, a generator to a driver. In a country that which doesn’t price items, has few of the brands we’re all familiar with back home, has few if any online retailers or one stop shops, and isn’t covered by Google, Which? or price comparison websites. And doing so as a white man whose skin colour to many a shopkeeper shouts, “Take me for a ride, I’ll be none the wiser and can probably afford it”. The games you go through just to get a realistic price; it’s tedious. And you just know that after agonising over which choice to make and taking the plunge, you’ll inadvertently find it significantly cheaper in the next shop you walk into. It all conspires to give you a headache.

By tomorrow most of the procurement will be done, and I’ll leave the relative comfort, tarmac roads, air conditioning, running water and electricity of Kampala, for the ‘bush’ of Pader. 8 hours and I’ll be in a world away, in a town that is predominantly an IDP camp, setting up an office and temporary home in a couple of sparse guesthouse rooms. Sparse meaning a concrete box with a foam mattress bed, a pit latrine, no running water and a generator in the evenings only. Back to basics.

After Iraq

I'm actually missing managing the Iraq Programme. Not just the people and the programme, but the context. On a day to day basis the context was overwhelmingly depressing. One report after another of death, despair, futility, hopelessness, and the American administration's arrogance and ignorance. This hasn't gone, but stepping away from Iraq and stepping into another conflict, you grow to miss the profile and significance of the conflict in Iraq.

Tragic as the conflict in Northern Uganda is, it's significance barely extends beyond the borders of Uganda and South Sudan, and it is the product of a rebel movement inspired by traditional beliefs and funded by the Government of Sudan. After the complexity of the Iraq conflict, it's national, regional and international causes and impacts, the bombardment of commentary on it, and the level of public outrage towards it, the context of Northern Uganda almost leaves you feeling a little underwhelmed.

It's hard to explain this feeling without sounding callous and implying that the Northern Uganda conflict is relatively less deserving of attention when our response to conflict should be absolute. Perhaps once I'm on the ground in Northern Uganda and the programme is up and running, I'll find the programme all absorbing and consuming too.

Herding delinquent sheep

I'm not sure who among the negotiating parties actually wants peace in Northern Uganda. It always struck me as odd that in November last year everyone in the humanitarian community appeared to be planning for one scenario - peace and return.

The only certainty seemed to be that the peace process was far from a pregone conclusion and had many a twist and turn to take. This is not a peace process that follows a military victory over a broken and beaten rebel group. This is not a peace process that the warring parties have called for. This is not a rebel group that has an end goal and exit strategy.

Not surprisingly, just as the parties were due to resume talks this week, another spanner was thrown in the works. Rather bizarrely the Government of Sudan, who not so long ago employed the LRA to fight their war in South Sudan, announced they wanted to rid Sudan of the LRA.

In response, the LRA leadership pulled out of the talks, reportedly announced that LRA members in the assembly areas in South Sudan should leave, demanded an apology from the Government of Sudan, accused Sudanese officials of embezzling peace talk funds, and refused to resume peace talks until they were relocated to Kenya or South Africa. Since then there have been several reports of LRA units moving in Northern Uganda and children being abducted, and local leaders in some areas have instructed people who have resettled to return to the main IDP camps. And finally the UPDF (Ugandan army) pitched in, saying that if the LRA returned to Uganda then they would consider it an act of war, which presumably means they would resume their military offensive.

Gloomy days...

A window into Northern Uganda

http://www.irinnews.org/film/video/The_Shadows_of_Peace.wmv

(Click on this link to watch a 15 minute film by the UN News Agency late last year)

The eyes deceive

On first seeing the camps, I confess I wasn’t shocked. They comprised mud brick and grass thatched circular homes that looked little different to those found across much of rural Africa. It was a long way from the makeshift shelters in many more new refugee and IDP camps you see in other emergencies, fragile structures made from branches, scraps of plastic and UN tarpaulins.

It's clear though that these structures are indicative of the permanence of the displacement. These camps have existed for years. Some were established spontaneously by the war-affected population seeking safety in numbers and proximity to urban centres where UPDF garrisons were based. Others were the creation of the UPDF's Operation Iron Fist military campaigns in which the population was forced from their homesteads and farmland into IDP camps in order to isolate the LRA and cut off their supplies of food and abductees.

A small segment of a horizon littered with the huts of a vast IDP camp.

Apart from cutting people off from their livelihoods and creating dependence on food aid, it is the scale and congestion of the camps that perhaps is most significant. These are not homesteads of 4 or 5 huts surrounded by farm land, where families bring up children in relatively sheltered environments, providing them with instruction on values and ways of life and supervising them. These are towns, 20,000, 40,000 strong. This congestion creates problems akin to urban slums - water, sanitation, health, breakdowns in the social fabric, erosion of traditional values, protection issues...

The fact the UPDF have forced them into these camps, and the rationale behind this, has meant that moving out of the camps 'safe zone' put you at risk not only of being abducted by the LRA but also being shot by the UPDF. The military presence has also been associated with rising prevalence of survival sex and temporary unions.

I sat down with a group of children and asked them what they liked about life in the camp. I got no response. I asked them what they don’t like about living here. "Sometimes we hear gun shots," one replied. More chipped in elaborating on this point. "What do hopes and ambitions do you have for the future?" A diverse range of answers were offered. "To return to our land and farm". "To study hard and become a nurse". "To be President one day". The diversity of answers was in stark contrast to the response to my next question. What fears do you have? ‘Too’ (pronounced ‘toor’) they echoed. Too means death.

It is no surprise therefore that people are desperate for peace and desperate to leave the camps. But for most it has to come in this order - peace first, then return. A formal cessation of hostilities has stood since August 2006 and the Juba peace talks stumble forward slowly. Some have interpreted this as promising enough to move to approved decongestion sites protected by UPDF detaches. Most though remain in the original IDP camps, less convinced and worn down by many a fruitless peace initiative.

Some households have started making mud bricks and collecting the grasses for new huts.

Returning in February will be fascinating. Now is the time to move. Soon bush fires will be spread across the north burning any grass remaining, the new school term will start, and the land will need to be prepared for planting season. So by February some resettlement trends should be clear. But as many people have warned, if the peace talks are derailed or LRA attacks resume, even if only isolated incidents, the resettlement could be reversed and the progress made lost.