Last year I dedicated my research to Uganda and the conflict which has swept the northern section of the country. Traveling hours on dirt road, being bumped up and down, right and left, feeling every muscle and fat particle in my body receiving a massage, a friend of mine and I arrived to Kalongo, a very beautiful village on the north east side of Uganda. This spot of earth, despite of all the devastation and war, seems so peaceful, as if untouched by the cruelties of the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA). 20+ years ago, an Italian doctor came to this village and fell in love with the people, and the simplicity of life. So he stayed. Built a mission, a hospital, and in a way covered the village with an invisible cloak of safety and protection.
Walking with a local friend one day down the main road to visit a young man, who was a child soldier and now was reintegrated and had his own shop, my friend pointed to a particular spot. He drew imaginary line from left to right, and then looked at me with a big smile on his face. It was not a happy smile, rather a wise smile, as he was to depart some wisdom onto me, the silly Mzungu. "The rebels came all the way till here. Not a step further."
We continued on, visited the young man. The sentence did not leave me the entire visit. An alarming feeling of being so close to the spot where rebels came made me shiver with cold sweat. Listening to the young man, talking to him, in the back of my mind, I constantly kept hearing, the rebels came all the way till here...not a step futher...I kept wondering why they did not advance. If they made it to that point in the street, it meant they came all the way through the village. The only territory that was behind the imaginary line, that remained untouched was the mission and the hospital. Then, on the way back to the mission, to the small house where I was staying, I observed. I looked at the things which made this part of the village different. The mission was peaceful, none of the sisters, the doctors, nor villagers working there were kind of people that could hurt a fly, let alone stand up to the rebels, fuming with rage, holding guns and shooting around them wit mad frenzy. I passed all the houses many times during that week, and did not notice anything special...
The night shelters were on the right, houses with four walls, but no windows, and a wired fence around them. These shelters were mainly for the night commuters- children and youth, who marched for hours from their homes to this place every evening after school and chores, to spend the night there and then walk back home for hours in the early morning to go to school and do chores, only to repeat the ordeal in the evening. All in hopes to stay away from rebels and not get abducted and carried into the bush to uncertain, but definitely cruel life. If rebels were up for a real treasure, these shelters were it - coming here and dragging the children from here at night would not have been too difficult. But they didn't.
My head was throbbing while thinking of all this. Why did they not? They surely thought of it! They must have...And then, I noticed something I never noticed before. As we walked pass the line where LRA was stopped, I noticed a brick wall. The wall was hidden well in the growth of trees and flowers, but it was there, and it stretched all around the mission, the hospital, the church, and all the transit centres, training centres and buildings which once were used for night commuters and now housed the ex-child soldier centres. It was a long wall. While looking at the wall on the right, I glanced to the ground. Hidden in all the dirt and earth, there was a line, a metal line. Upon closer observation, I noticed that this line ran from one side of the wall to the other. I cleaned the dirt off the line with my foot a bit and a big AHA formed in my head. A line was not a line, but rather a guide rail for a gate. In my head, I imagined how this must have looked a few months ago. A closed metal gate and a long wall which stretched to the left and to the right at the end of the village...and all villagers crowded in that section of the village, hidden and frightened as the gun shots came closer and closer...then silence. Rebels at the gate. Villagers and night commuters behind the gate. 
That was it? All it needed to stop the rebels was a wall and a gate? That was too simple of a solution. But, then I turned around and looked at the rest of the village. Little round mud huts, everywhere your eye could reach. A few buildings down the main road, no doors, no glass windows. The wall and the gate stood as an immense contrast, almost as standing at a fortress, looking up and wondering how you would get in. Hah! Funny...Sad.
Sure, some days UN peacekeeprs were present, but their presence never stopped rebels in this region before...Actually, they were on the other side of the gate themselves. The gate and the wall stood as unreal giants in this village and protected hundreds at time. How simple yet brilliant, and how good that an Italian doctor thought of putting up the wall some 20+ year ago. He probably never gave it a second thought, but since then, that wall has saved many lives. Like an invisible giant, vowen into the trees and flowers.
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