Ambushing Rebel Armies

Every once in a while there are moments that call out to us, moments that dare us to walk a wild and unknown way. There are moments that mobilize us in unexpected ways. We can listen or turn away. 

For me that day was the day I heard Marilyn Skinner speak about the child soldiers of Northern Uganda. It completely changed me. I listened with a growing sense of disbelief as she revealed the heartbreaking extent of the child soldier dilemma. Children, some only 8 - 10 years of age were being herded up in the dead of night from their villages and forcefully abducted. It was the first time I heard the name Joseph Kony, rebel leader and abductor of children. At that time hundreds of children from villages in remote parts of Uganda were walking for hours each morning and evening to the safety of small outposts to sleep safely and thus avoid being taken. They would leave their villages for the night to return the next day, and then repeat the exercise day after day. 

Marilyn's heart reached out and grabbed mine. I sat there with a mixture of emotions welling up, horror, anger, heartbreak and helplessness mixed together into a concoction of inexplicable sorrow. It was a moment that I allowed to fully take hold of me, to feel the horror and pain of a mother torn from her child, the devastation of not knowing where her heart and soul had gone. Her baby running scared, messed with me. It was completely unfathomable that this happened to not just one mother, but hundreds! I felt the whole weight of it, heavy in my soul. 

There is a hauntingly beautiful song by Brooke Fraser called 'Albertine', it is filled with aching feeling and was written after her visit to Rwanda. The first time I heard it, the words ricocheted imploringly across my soul, echoing some desperate finality that lodged deep. The passion in the song spoke to me, the words nudging my heart, 'Now that I have seen, I am responsible, faith without deeds is dead'. 

As I listened I felt kind of ensnared by this proclamation, responsible for something just because I was alive. Responsible because we ARE called to something bigger than ourselves. Yet, so often we see ourselves small in the scheme of things. I see MYSELF small. How do I appropriate my faith so that it holds substance or moves mountains? How do I make my deeds line up with that kind of faith? If my faith is lacking or flawed, what good are my actions then? Can I be sure of what I hope for or certain of what I cannot see? Why does faith need to be tested and how do I endure and persevere? Who am I to think that I might have a role to play? In the words of Marianne Williamson we ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous? 

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

 - Marianne Williamson

So, I planned a trip to Watoto and visited Marilyn's beloved babies and children's homes, and the Living Hope project in Uganda. I saw the incredible things being done at Watoto, saw how a little bit of hope can light an unquenchable fire. I saw lives healed, restored and hope filled. I left inspired and also a little overcome. I wondered where this hold was taking me, wondered what I had to bring? I saw amazing things, but still felt like a bystander on the sidelines. 

I came home and devoured Sam Childers book 'Another Mans War', the true story of one mans battle to save the children in Northern Uganda and Southern Sudan. I met this 'Machine Gun Preacher' and heard his story. Sat in awe of a mission to take back what the enemy stole. Felt goose bumps prickle my skin as he retold stories of ambushing rebel armies to snatch back abducted children.  I had one question ... How the heck could I ever do anything remotely helpful? 

Continued tomorrow
Read Child Soldiers - They fight like men, they die like children.

Child Soldier - They fight like soldiers, they die like children.

Is a child still a child when pressing the barrel of a gun to your chest? 

These words stand out in the first few pages of Romeo Dallaire's book 'They fight like soldiers, they die like children'. I am currently reading this book and it is hard to imagine this distressing reality.

Dallaire was commissioned with the task of bringing peace to the Rwandan conflict in 1994 as commander of a UN operation. What he found there was beyond comprehension. Confronted by child soldiers intent upon a deadly mission, he takes the reader on a horrifying journey through a ghastly civil conflict in the pages of this eye opening book. Transported to the land of a thousand hills, we learn how he heroically faces the devastating and heartbreaking dilemma of the child soldier catastrophe and the far reaching global consequences of this particular mission. In 2004 he appeared at the 'International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda' to testify against the atrocities witnessed in the Rwandan genocide. The movie 'Hotel Rwanda' was based on the role of a Canadian Forces colonel, the role he was commissioned for as Major-General of UNAMIR. This book outlines his personal response as a campaigner of human rights to stop the use of child soldiers in armed conflict. It is both gut wrenching and heartbreaking, yet is a completely passionate and enlightening read. 

I first became aware of the use of 'child soldiers' in armed conflict in 2008 while listening to Marilyn Skinner speak on the 'Watoto' project in Sydney as she explained how they rescue, raise and rebuild the lives of the orphaned, abandoned and rejected children of a rebel war. I remember being completely shocked, mostly because this unbelievable scenario was an ongoing and real crisis in our day and age. How was this possible? Cocooned in my first world complexities, I had never considered the harrowing reality of child soldiers in other parts of the globe, really? It seemed inconceivable that this could happen in far flung countries of the world. I listened to this woman pour out her heart and soul as mine began to tilt in response. I listened intently as she passionately implored us to take note and not turn away. Here was a woman fighting the injustices of the world deep in the heart of Uganda. Her story was riveting. I felt a fissure open up within me, some unexplainable crack of deep compassion cut across my soul. As a mother of two young children on my own, I connected with this story wholeheartedly. I suddenly went there in my mind and couldn't imagine the loss to mother and child as I heard her retell the scenario again and again of children being taken in the dead of night, forced from families, forced to live a life of unimaginable proportions. I felt the welling up of horror, the over spilling of tears. There are moments in life that are defining, this was one of them. 

Right now Rwanda is remembering the pain of the past. This country torn apart by hate, impacted tragically and unbelievably by one of the worst genocidal massacres we have ever known, is today continuing to rebuild itself twenty years on. Forgiveness in the face of overwhelming devastation is changing the face of Rwanda. This past week Rwanda has embraced the annual memorial of that story, and because of it, a celebration of the breathtaking triumph of the human spirit over the most deplorable and tragic of circumstances. Rwanda has risen from the ashes.

Dallaire's book, 'Shake hands with the devil' became an international best seller, outlining the heartbreaking atrocities of the Rwandan genocide and exposing the unbelievable carnage of genocidal mania - the horror of over 800 000 Rwandans being slaughtered in a mere one hundred days. I have yet to read this book.

Linking up with Casey Leigh