Uganda's Rebel Child Army (True Story)

We are not all boys. We are not all girls. We are not all 18 yet, nor are we all 10 yet. We are not all innocent, we are not all guilty. All different, yet, the same. We are soldiers, forced to fight a war against our country, our government, our communities, and even, our own families. We have been brutalized and terrorized. We have been forced to do unthinkable things, things that are inhumane, unimaginable. Unforgiveable.
Our story begins in the heart of our country, our tribe. We are the Acholi people of Uganda. Our people were once rich, with food, family and joy in plenty. We were all family, related or not. We were happy. However, one day, war ravaged our people. A war started by a man of our own tribe, Joseph Kony, leader of the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army), a man who would later cause the deaths of tens of thousands of people, and the abduction of over 30,000 Ugandan children.
Joseph Kony led war on our people; killing our families and abducting us, making us fight. He stole everything he could, including our innocence and even our own emotions. He made us do things that we cannot forgive ourselves for, even if others one day forgive us.
Some of us killed our government’s soldiers, others, innocent villagers, people we did not know. Some of us killed our neighbors, others even killed our own family. Held at gunpoint, we had no choice. It was kill or be killed in the LRA.
Once abducted we were often forced to walk, carrying heavy loads, for days in harsh land, without food or water. Many died, or were killed on the way, but once we got to the rebel camps life was worse.
Put through horrible ‘training’ drills we were forced to dodge live fire, watch people being murdered, and even kill others ourselves. Taught not to fear death, we became indestructible weapons used against our own tribe and country.
Death was not the same in the LRA. It was not a big event. It was not an event at all. There was more death than life in the LRA. Death did not even happen the same way, people were brutally murdered, often hacked to death or even set on fire, sometimes by children they once knew as siblings, friends or neighbors.
Self-escape was virtually impossible, and the risks were through the roof. If an escape failed, death would surely follow. Mutilated by other children, beaten to death with sticks and stones, or tied to a tree with severed limbs, left to bleed to death, the attempted escapee was brutally murdered.
Few escaped, others were rescued by the government during ambushes. However, for some of us, the part of escape in our story has not been written yet. We have not gotten away. We are still trapped, still fighting for reasons we do not understand. Still forced to do unthinkable things. Still forced to live through hell every day.

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