Moroto - into the unknown

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Since I started my new job I have tried to find an excuse to ‘engineer’ an opportunity to travel up to Karamoja and visit our field office there. The slight obsession is perhaps due to the opportunity to travel to somewhere fascinating that I would never go if not for work. As a monitoring and evaluation person working from head office I would read these amazing stories from our work there about cattle raiding, warriors, reformed rapists and a land that seemed a fantasy from the comforts of Jinja let alone the UK. Admittedly, there was probably something of the thrill-seeking in me that wanted to experience somewhere deemed ‘dangerous’.

As much as I knew there was a lot of hyperbole about the danger of going up there, as the time approached I did find myself feeling a bit uneasy. As I waited by the highway for the coach at 6am I was pleased I had also recommend that a colleague accompany me. I had thought that he would be good as, though not a Karamajong, he was an Iteso (a neighbouring tribe with similar language) and, coincidentally, was very big. As I travelled with him I learnt that he had lived in Karamoja until he was 15 as his father was an accountant. He left when his father was killed, “you know when someone does quite well for himself the community becomes jealous. I did…and I didn’t. It didn’t make me feel any less uneasy.

The journey is 250 miles and takes 12 hours on public transport if everything goes well. Thankfully everything went well. The first 90 miles took an hour and a half. Our one delay came when crossing the bridge. After a long drought there had been flooding and as my colleague excitedly showed me the water was quite high and moving quite fast. We waited for an hour or so whilst the passengers all gawped at the high waters. There seemed to be some engineering work going on and I felt that being British I was quite experienced in seeing water. It was only as we moved again that I realised the ‘engineers’ had been making some emergency repairs to the brige to allow us to cross. The alternative would have been a hour detour. It was washed away the next day.

As we crossed over the border into Karamoja the difference was startling. There was no food. Everywhere I have been in Uganda, regardless of the poverty, food grows like weeds. A large amount of rain and sunshine means good growing conditions and a lush green countryside. Suddenly I felt like I had been transported to the Wild West. There was miles and miles of flat, dusty land broken by single small rocky mountains and very few villages.

The isolation means Moroto stands out as you approach. It is how I imagine Las Vegas with no electricity and NGOs rather than casinos. The scale startled me. I have seen thousands of NGOs since I have been in Uganda but mainly small community organisations run from someone’s front room or a small shed-like office. Walking around town was like a who’s who of the development world with representation from every major ‘donor country’. All have big 4x4s and imposing offices with big compounds.

I have not really encountered ‘relief’ work before but it is probably the stereotype of charity work I had before I came out here. While the alternative is letting people starve, my experience was quite depressing up close. When I was asking about the lack of crops around and what people eat the reply was, ‘a little bit of millet and UN food handouts’.

At times it seemed like a sickening experiment by someone in charge. Group people together in an area where they have little access to the resources needed to survive (food and water) and then see what happens when you throw these resources in the middle. Taken from this perspective the conflict is perhaps not surprising. The traditional method of survival being pastoralist thus cattles are the main source of conflict. According to our staff, communities will get knowledge of the UN World Food Programme’s timetable for providing outreach food handouts to different areas and raid to get the essential commodity.

Perhaps the attraction for NGOs is this situation makes the rewards of success greater. We recruited a research team of ex-volunteers, young people from the communities that had been trained and then carried out civic participation, peace building, sexual reproductive health and livelihoods activities in their communities. I asked one of the research team how the programme had been for him. Alongside the usual enthusiasm and eagerness to please, one thing also stuck out, “you know now we have some vegetables growing in my village, I have never seen these foods before. People have become really excited.”

One of the most startling things whilst I was there was the isolation of the region, logistically and culturally. The scarcity of resources and lack of income make most things twice the price of the rest of Uganda. The town runs on one huge generator which had run out of petrol when I visited (they wait two or three weeks for fuel to be transported from Kampala) so the hum of NGO generators provided background for the day’s work.

It is a shame, as it is one of the most spectacular places I have visited. The contrast of the flat, dusty plains and the magnificent Moroto Mountain give the town a wonderful backdrop. Add the fascinating culture, economics and politics and it makes a fine place to visit.

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