I was enslaved for 30 years

Distress does not begin to describe what Margaret Kajoina Kanyunyuzi has felt for more than 30 years. She has lived as a slave and with untold pain. What’s worse, she has not seen or heard from her family all this time.

At the age of 48, she can barely speak her mother tongue, Rutooro, but is fluent in Alur, Swahili and Lingala. She told Viqué-Ocean Kahinju her story

I was born in 1964 in Kasese, but my parents’ home is in a place called Harugongo in Fort Portal. My father, Paulo Byaruhanga, worked at Margarita Hotel in Kasese, but lived in Kilembe, while my mother, Cotiloda Kabanyomozi, who was born in Kasinde, Kabarole district, worked in Fort Portal as a nurse.

The other people I remember are my grandfather Doviko Kutambaki and siblings, Kasaija, Asiimwe and Kiiza.

Taken captive
My dilemma began in 1979 at the age of 13. It was about 10:00am when Amin’s soldiers surrounded Kilembe Mine Primary School. They captured a significant number of pupils, I inclusive. I was in P.4 at the time.

This was during the time Uganda and Tanzania were in conflict. From the little I understood about national affairs, the Tanzanian soldiers had advanced to Uganda and almost besieged the western region.

I was later told that Amin’s soldiers captured us for security reasons. They supposedly wanted to safeguard us from the dangers of war and take us to Sudan for refuge.

I vividly remember being put on a military truck and we sped off. Our parents or teachers were not notified. In fact, all the teachers escaped when they saw the military men. The younger children started crying.

Of course, I was terribly frightened. My heart hammered against my ribs; it bled for my family. Fortunately, the soldiers were not cruel to us, but as we reached West Nile, soldiers realised the Tanzanian military was advancing towards the same direction. We had reached Arua. At this point, we were let off the truck. We did not get to Sudan as planned.

The much younger children were taken to a missionary church known as Ediofe Diocese of Arua, while the rest of us were left in the taxi park. We had nowhere to go, sleep and nothing to eat, save wild mangoes.

Often, we slept in abandoned homes and during the day, we hang around the taxi park. One by one, we were picked up by people to take us to their homes to work.

False hope, married off
I was picked up by an Alur woman called Jose Primo. I almost declined because this meant I would not return to my homeland and reunite with my family. On the other hand, it meant I had a place I could call home.

I lived with Primo for one year in a place called Tanganyika. All this time, I slept on the floor and all I had for bedding was a worn out blanket. I barely slept and I worked like a beast all day.

Even though this seemed like the end of hope in my life, I refused to lose hope. Soon, the war reached Arua. This prompted my master and her Congolese husband to seek refuge in Parombo in Nebbi. They took me along with them.

When the couple split in 1982, Jose took me with her to Congo, where I spent one year working for her without pay. Money would not have been an issue, but she mistreated me. She later gave me away to live with Fraswazi, a Congolese woman I barely knew.

                                                                                  Kajoina with the Nebbi family

For one year, I lived with Fraswazi at a place called Mahagi in Congo. I thought this was my lucky break, but the worst was yet to come. Fraswazi was uncouth and scornful. Each time she returned home, a cold shiver ran down my spine. After a year of struggle, Fraswazi sent me to live with a 40-year-old relative.

Little did I know that she had married me off. This man had older children than me and he was a drunk. He beat me daily. His wild antics scared the hell out of me. He seemed to take pleasure in manifesting his fiendish barbarity.

Because of the brutality, I once had a miscarriage which damaged me permanently. I could not conceive anymore. This drove me crazy because I had always asked God to give me children to lean on as I was all alone.

I worked so hard in the field – from dawn to sunset– that people nicknamed me ‘tractor’. I planted yams, cassava, beans and greens both for home consumption and sale. Each time I made money; my husband took it from me for personal requirements or spent it on booze. Because I was young and naïve, I did not know how to hide money.

So I had no pocket money to facilitate my escape. But, amid all these tribulations, I stayed optimistic that one day I would be reunited with my family. I would think about who would bury me if I died in this foreign land. To console myself, I would sing Rutooro folk songs that I could remember.

They calmed my nerves, but at the same time, filled me with ineffable sadness. I constantly prayed to God and the Virgin Mary to give me strength to withstand all the problems I faced.

Breakthrough
True to His promise, God made it possible for me to meet a Ugandan woman who was transacting fish business at the market in Congo, where I sold foodstuff.

Paulina Elonyowegi hailed from Nebbi, in West Nile in Uganda, but lived with her
husband in Paidha, at the Uganda-Congo border. She was such a blessing to me. I unreservedly shared my sorrow with her; how all my dreams had been shattered.

I wanted to leave Congo. Abandon everyone. Never to return. I was tired of taking care of a brutal husband.
Elonyowegi promised to be my guardian. She told me about ActionAid’s Women
Won’t Wait project in Nebbi and asked me to visit her in Uganda whenever I could, so I could report my problems to their desk.

I trusted her because her husband, Cekecan Brown, is a member. However, every time I tried to leave, my husband followed me and threatened to kill me. At last, I managed to escape.

I ran away from his home in Mahagi late in the night, after he had mercilessly beaten me. Even though I never had a penny on me, enough was enough. I had to get away from this life of slavery.

Redemption
I began my long walk to freedom from Mahagi in DRC to Nebbi in the night. I walked for three days non-stop. Even with sore feet, I trudged on, determined to find freedom. My first stop was the Action Aid offices in Nebbi.

The team there received me warmly and gave me shelter. They promised to call my husband over to Uganda to counsel him and reconcile us. But I was adamant as I had passed through a lot already. In Nebbi, I decided to stay with Elonyowegi and since then, I have been staying at her home.

I am completely humbled by the love and care I received from Paulina and her husband and the entire family. Elonyowegi’s children, young as they are, opted to construct a hut for me using their own resources. What a great love gesture. They also call me mother. This has filled me with contentment and happiness.

I am at home, but I still long to see my family. Right now, I do not have money to take me to Fort Portal.