From the field: The struggle to respect the humanity of displaced persons
Kenny Ferenchak, Resolve Uganda's field researcher in northern Uganda, reflects on the struggle to respect the humanity and dignity of people displaced by the conflict that partially rely on the international community for survival.
“They’re looking at me like I’m an animal.”
As mere observers to the ongoing food distribution at Pabbo internal displacement camp, my colleague and I were at a loss as to how to respond to the desperately pleading eyes of this elderly man. From what we could see, the staff of international NGO volunteers, consisting of nearly 100 highly-trained and experienced Ugandans, were performing a remarkable feat in orderly dispensing one-month rations to the 40,000 inhabitants of the camp. Surely, though, when dealing with needs at such a scale, a few problems here and there are bound to arise. This was made clear by the mass of IDPs surrounding the ‘complaint desk’—a table with a couple of representatives from the World Food Program set at the edge of the distribution area to determine whether or not complaint filers would receive their month’s ration. The man who had approached us in despair obviously was not satisfied with the answer he had received at the complaint desk. Unfortunately neither I nor anyone involved with the distribution that day was in any position to resolve his claim, but how can you explain to a starving elder that his and his family’s survival is dependent upon the budget allocations being drawn up by officials in New York or Geneva?
Even more tragically, how can you convince a man in such a situation that the world is not looking at him as if he were an animal?
Let me make clear that in the course of the entire day I did not witness even a single instance of any NGO or UN staffers mistreating any IDPs who had come to receive their rations. In fact, I was astounded at the handling of such a logistical nightmare—about five semi-trucks loaded to the brim with tons of grains and beans to travel about 25 miles over terrible roads to the site where the food must then be unloaded and portioned to reach the approximately 40,000 recipients in the camp, all in about an 8-hour timeframe! Though labeled ‘volunteers’, the humble wage and valuable experience that come with the job make it quite attractive given the job market around Gulu, so the highly capable staff was comprised of everyone from university students to former engineers. With some performing the duties for as long as seven years, the process had become quite routine and was a true model for organization and efficiency. And at the end of the day, the fact of the matter was that 40,000 people had received food on behalf of international donors.
In spite of all of this, it didn’t take long to become shocked at what was unfolding before me.
Officials told me that we were entering the seventh year of food distribution in northern Uganda. That means that for the past seven years, these 40,000 people (not to mention the hundreds of thousands like them across the region and the thousands more receiving aid when violence was at its peak) have depended on international donors simply to have enough to eat. I was amazed at how nonchalantly children passed by the huge trucks or even collected their family’s ration themselves—but then I realized that for many of them this has been a monthly occurrence for their entire lives. One has trouble grasping how the world can let such a man-made emergency continue for seven years, but the situation becomes downright revolting after realizing that the food aid only arrived after the war had been raging for fifteen years.
I was only troubled further after learning what the IDPs were actually receiving that day. Given the relative absence of violence across the region for the past year and a half and the understandable need to begin shifting relief responses to more of a recovery focus, WFP has decided to meet only 50% of the nutritional needs of those living in camps. While the intentions and logic behind such a strategy are clear, no one working that day could say that the meager amounts of grains and beans being distributed were enough to meet the need present. Yes, people have begun to rebuild their lives and work their way toward self-sufficiency, but a decade of displacement leaves an impact from which it will take more than a couple of years to recover. Nevertheless, the distributions are determined by the funds international donors make available, not by the needs of recipients. This reality was made clear when I was told that no one would be receiving their monthly ration of oil simply because the resources weren’t there.
Perhaps most discouraging of all, though, was the fact that the process did in fact go off so smoothly. Literally thousands of people knew exactly where to form lines, calmly filed through to receive their rations, and left the area to carry on with the business of the day. This is in no way an accusation that northern Ugandans accept their lives in the camps or lack any political will, but the fact of the matter is that these thousands are expected to collect a ration which they know is insufficient in an orderly fashion and be grateful for receiving anything at all from the good graces of the international community.
After being subjected to more than twenty years of violence which they opposed, herded into camps, and forced to survive on what little the international community decided to provide them, it’d be hard to convince that man in Pabbo that the world isn’t looking at him and the thousands of other IDPs across northern Uganda as something less than human. The moral and ethical problems with this are clear, but with a deal close on the horizon in Juba, it’s about time the world realized the practical implications of viewing these people merely as numbers flowing through food distribution lines.
On the one hand, any hopes for recovery depend on the capacities of individual northern Ugandans. Unless investment is made in human capital, no development project in the region will ever get off the ground; unless room is given for the voices of individuals, no justice or reconciliation mechanism will ever take root. One must also remember that while the current rebellion lost what popular support it had over a decade ago, continued neglect in the north could set the foundations for another armed conflict.
Popular view has it that the fate of the Juba peace process lies with two men—LRA leader Joseph Kony and Uganda President Yoweri Museveni. The world must realize, though, that the fate of lasting peace in Uganda lies with the over 2 million human individuals living across northern Uganda.
“They’re looking at me like I’m an animal.”
As mere observers to the ongoing food distribution at Pabbo internal displacement camp, my colleague and I were at a loss as to how to respond to the desperately pleading eyes of this elderly man. From what we could see, the staff of international NGO volunteers, consisting of nearly 100 highly-trained and experienced Ugandans, were performing a remarkable feat in orderly dispensing one-month rations to the 40,000 inhabitants of the camp. Surely, though, when dealing with needs at such a scale, a few problems here and there are bound to arise. This was made clear by the mass of IDPs surrounding the ‘complaint desk’—a table with a couple of representatives from the World Food Program set at the edge of the distribution area to determine whether or not complaint filers would receive their month’s ration. The man who had approached us in despair obviously was not satisfied with the answer he had received at the complaint desk. Unfortunately neither I nor anyone involved with the distribution that day was in any position to resolve his claim, but how can you explain to a starving elder that his and his family’s survival is dependent upon the budget allocations being drawn up by officials in New York or Geneva?
Even more tragically, how can you convince a man in such a situation that the world is not looking at him as if he were an animal?
Let me make clear that in the course of the entire day I did not witness even a single instance of any NGO or UN staffers mistreating any IDPs who had come to receive their rations. In fact, I was astounded at the handling of such a logistical nightmare—about five semi-trucks loaded to the brim with tons of grains and beans to travel about 25 miles over terrible roads to the site where the food must then be unloaded and portioned to reach the approximately 40,000 recipients in the camp, all in about an 8-hour timeframe! Though labeled ‘volunteers’, the humble wage and valuable experience that come with the job make it quite attractive given the job market around Gulu, so the highly capable staff was comprised of everyone from university students to former engineers. With some performing the duties for as long as seven years, the process had become quite routine and was a true model for organization and efficiency. And at the end of the day, the fact of the matter was that 40,000 people had received food on behalf of international donors.
In spite of all of this, it didn’t take long to become shocked at what was unfolding before me.
Officials told me that we were entering the seventh year of food distribution in northern Uganda. That means that for the past seven years, these 40,000 people (not to mention the hundreds of thousands like them across the region and the thousands more receiving aid when violence was at its peak) have depended on international donors simply to have enough to eat. I was amazed at how nonchalantly children passed by the huge trucks or even collected their family’s ration themselves—but then I realized that for many of them this has been a monthly occurrence for their entire lives. One has trouble grasping how the world can let such a man-made emergency continue for seven years, but the situation becomes downright revolting after realizing that the food aid only arrived after the war had been raging for fifteen years.
I was only troubled further after learning what the IDPs were actually receiving that day. Given the relative absence of violence across the region for the past year and a half and the understandable need to begin shifting relief responses to more of a recovery focus, WFP has decided to meet only 50% of the nutritional needs of those living in camps. While the intentions and logic behind such a strategy are clear, no one working that day could say that the meager amounts of grains and beans being distributed were enough to meet the need present. Yes, people have begun to rebuild their lives and work their way toward self-sufficiency, but a decade of displacement leaves an impact from which it will take more than a couple of years to recover. Nevertheless, the distributions are determined by the funds international donors make available, not by the needs of recipients. This reality was made clear when I was told that no one would be receiving their monthly ration of oil simply because the resources weren’t there.
Perhaps most discouraging of all, though, was the fact that the process did in fact go off so smoothly. Literally thousands of people knew exactly where to form lines, calmly filed through to receive their rations, and left the area to carry on with the business of the day. This is in no way an accusation that northern Ugandans accept their lives in the camps or lack any political will, but the fact of the matter is that these thousands are expected to collect a ration which they know is insufficient in an orderly fashion and be grateful for receiving anything at all from the good graces of the international community.
After being subjected to more than twenty years of violence which they opposed, herded into camps, and forced to survive on what little the international community decided to provide them, it’d be hard to convince that man in Pabbo that the world isn’t looking at him and the thousands of other IDPs across northern Uganda as something less than human. The moral and ethical problems with this are clear, but with a deal close on the horizon in Juba, it’s about time the world realized the practical implications of viewing these people merely as numbers flowing through food distribution lines.
On the one hand, any hopes for recovery depend on the capacities of individual northern Ugandans. Unless investment is made in human capital, no development project in the region will ever get off the ground; unless room is given for the voices of individuals, no justice or reconciliation mechanism will ever take root. One must also remember that while the current rebellion lost what popular support it had over a decade ago, continued neglect in the north could set the foundations for another armed conflict.
Popular view has it that the fate of the Juba peace process lies with two men—LRA leader Joseph Kony and Uganda President Yoweri Museveni. The world must realize, though, that the fate of lasting peace in Uganda lies with the over 2 million human individuals living across northern Uganda.