*additional photo credit: Marianne Bach

Helen knew what the mountains above Nakayot would look like long before she ever saw them. Before that village in northeastern Uganda even existed, Helen had dreamt about it.

“I gasped when I first saw this place,” Helen says, looking around at green mountains that stretch up above the village she now calls home. “Because these mountains and this place, I had already seen them over and over in my dreams. When I came here I suddenly felt God giving me a peace of mind.”

Peace is something that Helen and countless others of the Karamojong region of Uganda have always longed for, but rarely found. For hundreds of years, bloody rivalries between sub-clans in Karamoja locked the region in a vicious cycle of raids, revenge, and bitterness with tragic results. Cattle raiding has always been the most common form of violence, given the Karamojong’s pastoral nature and each clan’s belief in a divine right to the herds. But the collateral in terms of land, animals, and human lives reaches far beyond the cow pasture.

Helen remembers those days of conflict all too vividly. “I would often have sleepless nights because enemies were always near. Even going out to collect firewood was dangerous.” With evident sadness, Helen recounts the day her good friend was killed by a band of passing soldiers while the two women simply tended their gardens.

“This place was a battlefield,” says one local from the region. “Five years ago this was no man’s land. Even if you just passed by here on foot you would be sure to lose your life.”

But now, the growing village of Nakayot stands where that battlefield once was. Five years ago, the concept of a peace village was proposed in order to bring together members of three warring sub-clans. No cattle were allowed and in exchange for resettling, the village inhabitants would be given land to farm and seeds to plant. Many were skeptical and thought it best to separate the clans as far as possible, but a few believed the opposite. Perhaps real peace might just be possible.

Helen was among the first forty individuals who volunteered to help found the peace village of Nakayot in 2008. “When we first came, there was nothing,” she remembers. “They just told us to bring a hoe and a machete to begin working the land.” Things remained tense in those early days as members of different clans lived side-by-side. “I was fearful sometimes,” Helen says with a laugh. “But in order to survive we had to work together. Eating together helped pave the way to peace I think.”

Over the past several years, International Teams has committed to walking alongside those like Helen in the village of Nakayot and to working with other NGO partners in order to see peace spread. In its simplest form, that means building relationships, discipling believers, and encouraging a new local village church. International Teams is also working in a new clinic nearby to help provide basic healthcare for the people of Nakayot.

“My life has changed so much since coming here,” Helen says, surrounded by friends as she tells her story. As they listen and talk together, there are no clan lines or rivalries to be seen. In that place they are neighbors.

“Whoever comes here doesn’t feel like leaving,” Helen says as her friends laugh and nod. “The peace that started here is spreading. I think many beyond this place are beginning to open their minds to working together.”

If you ask Helen whether she misses her life before Nakayot, she will merely chuckle. “Oh no, I am happy here,” she says. “This place is home.”

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Please pray for Helen and those like her living in the village of Nakayot. Pray that the Lord would continue to spread peace over that land and that he would strengthen and encourage his believers and his church there. And pray for workers with International Teams and other NGO’s that seek to facilitate peace and positive development across the region.

Francis and his family

For three years, Francis lived as a captive. At just twelve years old, his quiet life in the village of Achele, Uganda was ripped out at the root and replaced with the tumultuous and vicious life of a child soldier. But one night, by nothing short of a miracle, Francis escaped and made his way back toward home. One might expect such an unexpected homecoming to be a joyous occasion for an entire community. But it wasn’t.

“There was so much stigma,” Francis says, recollecting the response of many neighbors in Achele. “It was difficult to have real fellowship with people back at home because they knew what children like me had done.”

Even eight years later, pieces of that stigma still linger in communities like Achele, and Francis’s response is the same as it has always been: “Look at me,” he says. “I am no rebel, I am a human being.”

When asked how many children were abducted from Achele back in 2003, Francis simply begins listing names. Without stopping he can list twenty, although he knows there were more. “The rebels rushed into the village and started taking children as they went,” he recalls. “All I could think as I ran was, ‘What is happening here?’”

The LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army) insurgency of the mid 2000’s left countless communities like Achele in its stormy wake.  Beyond a devastating loss of life, property, and livelihoods, those years also left a trail of deep tears in the social fabric of communities that are still being repaired today.

For Francis, that healing process begins in his life and family. “I have to trust God,” Francis says about his personal recovery. “I had to ask God to forgive me for all that I did, all those people I killed.”

Francis carries his daughter through the same fields where he was kidnapped years ago

Perhaps the greatest joy in Francis’s life is the opportunity to walk that difficult road alongside someone who completely understands. In 2011, Francis married a young woman named Josephine who was also abducted by the LRA the same year as Francis. Today, Francis, Josephine, and their one-year-old daughter, Tophie, are truly a picture of healing and redemption.

In 2008, International Teams hosted a weeklong retreat for former child soldiers called Freedom Camps, which Francis and Josephine both attended. Francis says that week was an important point in each of their lives. “It has really helped us in our lives as we continue learning about forgiveness and healing our hearts.”

But Francis is not only interested in seeing God’s transformation in his own life, he is eager to see it cover the community of Achele as well. Each Friday, Francis meets with other young men who were abducted by the LRA and together they discuss ways they can touch their community. The group is currently working with International Teams to start volleyball clubs and a choir group as avenues of investment in the lives of young people around the community. Francis also partners with the team as they visit families around Achele and conduct assessments to see how they might better work with those in the community.

Francis’s prayer for Achele is a simple one: to see the deep scars and wounds of the past become testimonies defined by grace and opportunity. “We never give up in our faith,” he says. “Come what may, we never give up.”

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Please pray for Francis and Achele, that the Lord would continue to heal Francis and Josephine’s hearts and that the Lord would bring hope from tragedy in Achele as the community becomes more and more defined as a place of love, acceptance, and peace.

Jennifer’s voice was almost as small as her stature that morning as she stood in front of the group. Surrounded by her friends and mentors of the past month, she laughed and smiled shyly as her soft voice slowly rose with confidence.

“I thank God that I came here to Mto Moyoni,” she said, looking back at some 50 pairs of loving eyes. “Because I am coming away from here changed.”

There was a gentleness and joy about Jennifer that day as she shared her story, a healing glow that wasn’t there when she first came to Mto Moyoni spiritual retreat center one month earlier. But only once you know her story can you understand the miracle therein.

The realities of Jennifer’s past are never easy for her to face, much less move beyond. How does one merely dismiss two years of hell? It’s a question every other former child soldier in Uganda understands.

There is a deep scar on Jennifer’s right arm that serves as a constant reminder of those two years in the bush with the LRA (Lord’s Resistance Army). In the time between her fourteenth and sixteenth birthday, Jennifer was shot, stabbed, beaten, abused, and burned by her brutal captors. “It was terrible,” she says with downcast eyes. “I thought I was going to die.”

But physical scars heal faster than emotional ones and perhaps the deepest of all Jennifer’s wounds during those two years were the ones carved by bitterness, anger, and the loss of self worth.

It’s been nearly 10 years since Jennifer escaped from the LRA in the midst of a battle and fled to the Ugandan military. After three months in a rehabilitation center, Jennifer was able to return home to her grateful family near Achele. But returning home is rarely the last battle for those who have been through all that Jennifer has.

In some ways, it wasn’t until her month at Mto Moyoni that Jennifer truly faced the scars and callouses built around her heart. Over the past six years, International Teams has been able to come alongside many young people like Jennifer by offering sponsorship for a month of discipleship and learning about God’s father heart at the scenic retreat center on the banks of the Nile.

There is a quiet bravery now in the way Jennifer tells her story. Before that month at Mto Moyoni, Jennifer was never able to talk about those dark years of her life without crying. But now, there is an unmistakable difference. “What I have learned, it really changed my heart,” she says as she finishes her testimony with a full voice and a warm smile. “I learned to forgive those who hurt me so badly. I want to continue with that heart and help others too.”

It is freedom that defines Jennifer today, not the scars of her past, and that reality, both physical and spiritual, has given Jennifer a new life and a new hope. “I know now that I’m not rejected,” she says. “I’m a daughter to God.”

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Please pray for Jennifer and thousands of other former child soldiers like her in Uganda that continue to look for healing from their traumatic past. Pray that they would know stability and the love of an accepting family and community. And most of all, pray that they would find the healing touch of Jesus in their lives.

Pastor Francis plows his fields in a village outside Soroti in preparation for the planting season

People in the community of Pamba call Francis Osire “pastor,” a perfectly normal denomination for someone who leads a local church. But once you know Francis’s story, the fact that he is called “pastor” becomes something altogether remarkable.

In some ways, Francis’s story is a bit like that of Jonah in the Bible: a runaway that God refused to let go.

Back in 1978, the young, newly married Francis would have laughed at the suggestion of being a pastor. In fact, he doubted whether he would even survive one day to the next. That was the year of the Teso insurgency in north-eastern Uganda, a violent uprising of rebels that pitted themselves against the government. During that conflict, few families in the region were left untouched by the crossfire.

“Life was difficult,” Francis remembers all too vividly. “People were dying and being killed in the streets every day. Thousands of them died during that rebellion.”

But the rebellion became personal for Francis the day his family was attacked by rebels and his father shot. Although his father survived, that bitter night haunted Francis and left him bent on revenge. Only days later he joined the Ugandan military with just one aim in mind.

“My intention was to kill those people who had attacked us,” Francis explains. After a pause and a grin he adds, “But I suppose it was not God’s will that I become a soldier.”

Just one day before the end of his training, Francis became terribly ill, which kept him from being deployed. Ironically, the sickness saved his life, and in more ways than one. “As I recovered, I spent a lot of time thinking about my life,” he says. “I began getting a lot of convictions because I was still very uncertain about my life. There was so much violence and instability around me and I began realizing that my life is not certain.”

Francis wrestled with such thoughts all throughout his lengthy recovery, until one day, he learned of a Baptist church nearby. In the midst of his questions and confusion, he decided to visit the pastor in the hope that he might find answers. As it turns out, that was the day Francis chose to give his life to Christ.

As if that wasn’t enough transformation in the life of a man who had been filled with bitterness and revenge, the Lord also laid the call of full time ministry on Francis’s heart. And, for a time, Francis listened. After completing Bible college, Francis moved his family to the far eastern Karamoja region of Uganda where they were missionaries for ten years. But through lack of funding and complications in ministry, the Lord eventually brought Francis and his family back to the Teso region, ultimately to the community of Pamba, just outside of Soroti.

“When I returned here, I came back frustrated because of how I had been let down in the ministry,” Francis remembers. “I came with much bitterness in my heart. I said to my wife, ‘Lets get back and leave the ministry. Let someone else pastor.’”

Once again, Francis chuckles as he thinks back to the times he tried his best to run. “We decided we should start a business selling produce. But again, that idea was our plan, not God’s.”

Francis and Janet’s entrepreneurial dreams came to a screeching halt almost as soon as they began when a man cheated them out of all their initial investments. “There was a very big battle in my heart at that time,” says Francis. “We had nearly nothing for our family.  But that’s when the Lord began speaking to us through our situation.”

Like Jonah’s prayer from the belly of the whale, Francis chose accept this blow as a renewed calling from the Lord. And with that, Francis and Janet restarted their ministry as simply as anyone can: door-to-door evangelism in their own community. But perhaps that simple, unglamorous work was exactly where God wanted them. “People all over Pamba knew there was a tall man and a short wife who walked with a Bible, going door to door,” Francis says with a laugh. “But that’s when we truly saw God start working in our ministry.”

It has now been over eight years since those early days, and Francis and his family remain in Pamba, right where they are supposed to be. Seven years ago, Francis planted Zion Community Baptist Church in Pamba and the fruit he sees continues to confirm the Lord’s calling in his life.

“I have seen people changing and growing so much in Pamba,” says Francis. “So much related to the families and the lifestyles they live. People here are mending broken relationships.”

In many ways, the redemption Francis sees happening in Pamba today is a reflection of God’s redemption in his own life. Though the road has been long and his attempts to run many, Francis knows now why the Lord never let him go. It’s why Francis loves to be called “pastor” in Pamba, and until the Lord calls him elsewhere, that’s exactly where he will be.

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Please pray for pastor Francis, that the Lord would continue to encourage and strengthen him in his calling to the community of Pamba. And pray that the love God has shown to Francis would pour into that town as the Lord raises up disciples that truly and deeply reflect Jesus.

Olinga was just 13 years old when he ended up on the streets of Soroti. Like so many kids who call those streets home, Olinga was raised by just one parent, a harsh father with a penchant for beating his son with a cane. Under such circumstances, it’s little wonder that Olinga ran away. But it wasn’t long until the youngster discovered that life on the streets is no less cruel.  For most children, it is a life of constant scavenging, sniffing glue to stay warm, and avoiding policemen who frequently beat small street dwellers. And like any boy would, Olinga did what he must to survive with no light at the end of his tunnel.

That is, until 2009 when he met Martin and Denis under the mango tree. In fact, Olinga is just one of many boys from around the streets of Soroti who slowly but surely found a place to belong under that tree thanks to two men who realized the desperate situation of so many youngsters.

“That was the year we decided to open an ‘office’ under the tree next to the field,” says Martin with a laugh, only half joking as he thinks back to those early days when he felt the Lord’s call to do something about the many boys he saw on the streets of Soroti. “It was a gradual process for sure. We just started by searching them out, making ourselves available, asking questions, and building trust.”

Those were the simple beginnings of what has since become the Freedom Boys ministry in Soroti town, started by Martin and Denis some five years ago. The truth is that it would be difficult to find two men better suited for such a job, because in their own way, both truly understand what it means to be a troubled youth. For Martin, it was the hardship of single parentage and the neglect of a father. For Denis it was the trauma of being abducted by rebels and forced to serve as a soldier. But ultimately, it is Denis and Martin’s love for the Lord and evidence of His redemption that truly marks their lives and ministry.

From the beginning, the Freedom Boys ministry has always been about helping Soroti’s street kids find a place to belong. For some, that means reconciling broken relationships so that a child like Olinga can return home. For others it means helping pay school fees. But for all of them, it simply means being that which perhaps a kid needs most: a listening and loving friend. “When a new boy comes to the streets, the other boys come right away and tell us about him,” Martin explains. “We handle the issue immediately, hopefully before it is out of hand. We talk to them, ask them questions, and encourage them to find a better way to live than on the streets.”

For most of the past five years, International Teams has been walking alongside Martin and Denis in their calling to help Soroti’s street kids, most recently helping them fund an actual office and drop-in center where the boys can congregate during the day. The team in Soroti also helped organize a citywide youth football (soccer) tournament in which the street boys were able to compete. “Football has truly been a unifying factor for the boys and anyone who wishes to help,” says Martin. And Olinga would be the first to agree. He captained the Freedom Boys team that won the championship two years ago.

In the years to come, Martin and Denis dream of expanding the Freedom Boys ministry in a number of ways. Just recently they purchased a nearby plot of land in which to train boys in agricultural work and equip them with practical vocational skills. They also hope to open an official rehabilitation center some day where boys can receive counseling and guidance while they transition off of the streets.

Today, Martin and Denis estimate that no more than 60 boys live on the streets of Soroti, less than half the number they found when they started in 2008. “I feel so excited when I see that impact,” says Martin wearing an ear-to-ear grin. “And most of them that we work with really want to go to school or to learn vocational skills, which is very possible.”

Olinga is one of them. For the past three years, he has been going to school thanks to sponsorship and excels in his studies. In 2012 he graduated from primary school, the equivalent of 8^th grade, and will begin his secondary education in 2013. “I really like school a lot,” he says. “I want be a doctor when I get older.” Three years ago, that dream would have seemed utter fancy. But today, there is all the reason in the world to hope.

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Please pray for the street kids of Soroti, that they would find hope in the midst of their difficult situation and that the Lord would use people like Martin and Denis to truly touch the heart’s of youth across Soroti.

In some sense, Denis’s ministry began when he was just 12 years old. It began the day he was kidnapped from his homeland in northern Uganda and given the uniform of a rebel. That was the day his small hands were forced to hold a gun in a war that would never be his, compelled to kill in order to survive.

Twelve-year-old Denis never could have dreamt that the seeds of a beautiful ministry were being planted on the day he became a child soldier. But now he knows.

It seems absurd to still refer to Denis as a “former child solider,” as if that sad reality of thirteen years ago still describes him today. Once you meet this tall twenty-five-year-old Ugandan, you realize that old scars and bitterness are the last things that define him. Instead, what you will see today is a wide smile, a gentle disposition, and a heart for serving the Lord in the town of Soroti, Uganda.

In some ways, Denis still wishes he could forget his past. “It can be hard, having your mind flash back to it all,” Denis says in a soft voice as he dredges his memory. “Because for me, I know what I’ve done.”

It was a school day like any other in 1998 when Joseph Kony’s band of rebels, known as the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), suddenly attacked Denis’s school and kidnapped the children. As with all their new “recruits,” the LRA took Denis into the bush of northern Uganda for training. “Imagine you are shown a room of twenty people and someone says, ‘Come, kill them all.’ They would make the kids do the most awful things. And if you didn’t they would kill you.” The words alone seem to bring a bitter taste to Denis’s mouth. “And you do it because you are young and you want to survive.”

After one year of that hell, Denis managed to escape the LRA’s clutches and fled to the Ugandan military, who in turn deposited the thirteen-year-old at a nearby rehabilitation center. For three months Denis lived there, receiving counseling from Christians that helped shed light on the darkness he had witnessed. “That was the first time I really started learning who Jesus is,” Denis remembers. One year later, after he returned home again, those seeds of belief sprouted when Denis decided to give his life to Christ. And while he prayed on that day, Denis felt a release from his past, almost as if shedding a heavy burden. “I found myself forgetting the past, and finally, believing came.”

What makes Denis’s story remarkable isn’t the pain he endured. The extraordinary thing is something else entirely: beautiful redemption. If you look for Denis today, you will find him in Soroti, most likely surrounded by a group of eager boys from the streets. Five years ago, Denis felt a clear call from the Lord to serve those that resemble the boy he used to be: young and vulnerable. “I couldn’t help but notice the suffering of so many kids I saw on the streets of Soroti.” Denis remembers. “And there was no one else caring for them or reaching out to them.”

You need only spend a few minutes around Denis and the street boys he mentors to see the impact he has made in their lives. “I sit them down sometimes and say, ‘Look, I came to work with you because I understand.’ And when they hear my story I think they understand too.”

Today, twenty-five-year-old Denis knows what twelve-year-old Denis never could have. “I don’t regret having been abducted,” he says today, the beautiful reality of which is staggering. “Because now I can see God’s hand at work through it all.”

Denis sits with a boy from the streets of Soroti

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Please pray for Dennis, that the Lord would continue to strengthen and encourage his faith and ministry. And also that the Lord would continue to use the pain of Denis’s past to be the light of redemption in the lives of many street boys in Soroti.