Dear Ugandan

By Opiyo Oloya I AM SITTING here, on this rock located on the western edge of Pincher Lake in the heart of Algonquin Provincial Park located about 200 kilometers north of Toronto. I arrived at this site early this morning after a sweaty three-hour hike through the forest from Islet Lake located north of here, and where we spent last night. Today is our third day in the park, though yesterday was the toughest of them all as we had to walk for eleven hours from Ramona Lake to Islet Lake. At the end of that marathon walk, I was exhausted, bruised but rewarded by the clean water of Islet Lake. We drank straight out of the lake, and also swam in it. As a matter of fact, I felt proud after arriving ahead of a group of French tourists who are canoeing in the park, and had planned to use the very same spot. They were forced to paddle their canoes to another spot, a-not-so-good nook to the left of us. Right this very moment, the sun has not quite set yet, thanks to the Canadian Daylight Saving Time which dictates that every June, clocks must be set one hour ahead, thus guaranteeing that there is a longer day to frolic in the summer sunshine (Of course, we have to reset our clocks one hour back in the Fall). I am mesmerized by the sheer serenity and beauty of Pincher Lake; one of many lakes dotting this huge park that is bigger than both Gulu and Kitgum districts combined. Just next to our campsite near those rocks over there, a dozen 12-year-old Canadian girls have set up camp. They are hiking alone in this huge forest to experience freedom and nature, they said, when I visited their campsite earlier in the day. They spent much of the afternoon whooping, splashing and diving into the nice cool lake. But, as I write this, everything is quiet and calm, even the water has turned into a smooth glass, creating mirror images for the trees at the edge of the lake. Given such calm, I find myself thinking about home, about the richness of nature in Uganda which is practically teeming with exotic plants, birds and animals one could never find in this park. It makes me wish that every Ugandan could experience this same complete peace-just being there to enjoy the beauty of Uganda and each other without the fear of sudden death and loss property. This, to a great extent, has been achieved in most part of the country where citizens can engage in productive long-term planning for the future. But the continuing violence in the north is a constant reminder that no citizen should feel smug until every citizen can sleep peacefully in the security of his or her own home. For instance, I doubt very much that a 12-year-old girl in any one of the many so-called protected villages feels the same kind of freedom from fear as this bunch of Canadian girls or, for that matter, girls of the same age who live in south-central Uganda. But, it need not be this way, and we must never accept as normal the insurgency and the insecurity it brings. For that matter, we must never accept the premise that the insurgency is an Acholi problem to be solved by the Acholi themselves-that would be the shirking of responsibility on the part of the Government toward its citizens. Instead, we must ask the tough questions. If faced with urban terrorism, would the people of Kampala be placed in protected villages? Are the so-called protected villages safer for the ordinary people than when they were in their own homes? The answer to each question is a resounding negative. No, the people of Kampala could never be put into protected villages. And no Ugandans living in protected villages feel any safer than when they were at home. The bottom line is that the 12-year-old sleeping in the protected village as I write this, should feel secure as her counter-part in Kampala or these carefree Canadian girls camping next to us. The time has surely come for the Government of Uganda to re-evaluate the policy of isolating citizens from their homes and properties just so that they can be protected from harm. The people must return home to pick up whatever remains of their shattered lives. Death or no, they are better off getting away from the restrictive environment of the camps where there are no meaningful economic and cultural activities. The job of the Government is to guarantee security of person and property — and if that means negotiating openly and without pre-conditions with rebels, so be it.