A Day to Celebrate

Thursday, March 8th was International Women’s Day. I’m not exactly sure what this day stands for or how people are to celebrate. I only became aware of its existence when I moved to Uganda, and even then, only because it is acknowledged as a public holiday. This year, some women from my church in Kampala took it as an opportunity to do some ministry to women police officers at a nearby police post. Activists for Change held a rally, and their women’s leader, Ingrid Turinawe, gave a passionate political speech, vowing to chase Museveni from office. For myself, I enjoyed having a day off and spent it relaxing in the sun and catching up on my reading.

On Friday, however, the holiday took on a whole new meaning. A student, Odoch Morris Ocibu, came to the Hope Alive! office to see the Site Assistant. While he waited for an opportunity to speak with her, we chatted a bit. He told me his reason for celebrating on Women’s Day.

“Every Women’s Day, on March 8th, I remember, that is the day I was rescued from the LRA.”

My mouth nearly dropped open in surprise. I knew that some Hope Alive! students had had experiences with the rebels of the Lord’s Resistance Army, led by Joseph Kony. Many of our students in Kampala fled to the capitol from the north to escape his terror. Our site in Gulu was formed in the midst of the Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camp of Koro Abili, where people gathered for protection. Nearly everyone up here has had friends and relatives who were attacked, kidnapped, or killed by the LRA. However, people don’t talk much about this time of conflict or their experiences. They want to look ahead, not behind; move forward, not back. So, I didn’t know that this student had been taken.

Carefully, I asked Morris to tell me his story.

He was living in an IDP camp with his grandfather. It was 2003 and he was in P.6 (sixth grade). At 4am the rebels attacked the camp. They either killed or immobilized the soldiers who had been posted to guard the people and began rounding up villagers. Morris was one they chose to take; the youngest of a group of about twenty.

Pulling him out of sleep, he was ordered to get up and move out. To disobey would mean death. From there, the rebels marched for several hours into the bush. They traveled for four days. Many encountered difficulties – swollen knees and joints, much pain – but they always had to keep moving. Morris was forced to carry sacks of food and some pots and pans as they marched. On the evening of the fourth day, the goat meat served to the group for dinner was so badly prepared that Morris only pretended to eat it. The next morning, the leader of this band of rebels commented on the terrible meal and decided to take time to try and cook a better breakfast. It was while they were cooking (at about 10am) that the Ugandan army found them and attacked.

The two rebels who were guarding the kidnapped boys were killed. Everyone then took this opportunity to run and escape. Morris stuck together with a few others, and together they were able to make their way home.

The day of his escape was March 8th. Definitely a day to celebrate.

Morris has grown up and is now studying Carpentry and Joinery at a nearby Technical Institute, and he is doing well. He is a member of the Leadership Team for Gulu site. He is humble and well-spoken, with dreams and plans for his future.

I think about the possibilities that Morris’s life holds: the things he may do, the family and children he may one day have, the impact he may make on his community, how God may use him. So now, each day on International Women’s Day, I too will remember his rescue and give thanks to God for His graciousness in sparing Morris’s life.