Gulu, Uganda — The small, dirty hands obsessively fold and refold a wrinkled shirt on the long conference table, as if checking to make sure it's still there, and this isn't a dream.
It's Christmas in Gulu in northern Uganda's war zone, and about 20 street children have gathered in the local government's department of social welfare for the lure of free used clothing. The shirt or pants - both shirt and pants for a few lucky ones - will be the only gift they'll get this year.
Joseph Kilama, a social worker in the department, has met increasingly with this group of boys, trying to win their trust and get them off Gulu's dusty, littered streets. He first became aware of the magnitude of the problem when a few were arrested for stealing in the market and thrown into a jail for adults. Most of the boys are 12-14 years old.
"Many of them lost their parents because of the war," Kilama said. "Besides that, this war has brought a lot of poverty, so many of their relatives are not able to care for them."
Northern Uganda's 18-year-old conflict has targeted children in particular. An estimated 23,000-25,000 children have been abducted by the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) and transformed into terrified and terrifying child soldiers, often tortured, raped and given the choice to kill or be killed.
More than one million people - about 80 percent of the region's population - have been forced to flee their homes for safety. But that safety is marginal - the camps for internally displaced people (called IDPs) are still attacked periodically by the LRA, and children are kidnapped as new recruits.
In the past, children orphaned by the war would be absorbed into the extended family, Kilama said, but the persisting conflict and the added burden of the HIV/Aids epidemic has resulted in an erosion of the social fabric. The dual catastrophes have strained families' willingness and ability to care for orphaned children. Gulu has one of the highest HIV prevalence rates in the country, according to national surveillance surveys.
If an adult in the extended family falls sick with an Aids-related illness, Kilama said, the orphan will be pulled out of school to provide care. If there isn't enough food to go around, the orphan will get less.
Kilama said the boys living on Gulu's streets bear the scars of beatings so severe that he calls it "torture." He says it is little wonder many of them have run away, some of them from as far as Kitgum and Lira. Some of the boys have been living on their own for as many as six years.
The focus by international and local organizations on former LRA abductees, who have escaped or been freed in military actions, as well as on the "night commuters" - children who live in the vulnerable IDP camps but walk miles into town each night to sleep in greater safety - is justified, Kilama said. But it ignores children like Edison and his companions, who don't fit into either category.
"They have broken relationships with their families," Kilama said. He said he is not sure why there aren't any girls living on Gulu's streets, but guesses that perhaps the families keep a tighter rein on the girls, expecting them to work in the home.
Each morning, Kilama or one of his colleagues checks the cells at the local jail. There is a building that has been designated for a juvenile center, but not enough funds to renovate it, so boys are thrown into the adult prison. Kilama secures the the boys' release, but with no juvenile center or families to contact, he has little choice but to take them back to the streets.
"I think it is the hardship which makes them commit crimes," Kilama said, noting that the boys usually steal food.
When asked if they want to return to school, all of the boys raise their hands and clamor that they would, but don't have money for school fees. Sam Thabo said that after the Christmas period, he plans to go back to his family and try again.
Many of the boys sleep in the night commuter shelters each night, too afraid of the cold to stay on the streets. But others prefer to sleep outdoors, so they can more easily gather the discarded bottles and tins that litter Gulu's roads. They can sell these for a few hundred shillings - about 10 cents - enough to buy a meal. Mostly, though, the boys eat out of the garbage.
Sitting here in the conference room, the boys loudly joke with each other, but each grows silent as his name is called by Kilama. In turn, each goes to the front, sits next to Kilama, who smiles at them reassuringly, and begins to answer a series of questions about his whereabouts for the last several weeks.
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Edison has just found out on the streets that his mother has died.
Another boy says through Kilama that his idea of a good Christmas is "when he eats good food, his body is clean, and he's also happy."
The regular meetings with Kilama brought a dividend for little Sam Thabo. When a Ugandan journalist recorded messages from the boys for Christmas and put them on the radio, Sam's relatives heard and came to Gulu to collect him. Kilama said he plans to follow up to see that Sam is adjusting well to life with his family.
What he really wants, Kilama said, are the resources to track down the families of all the boys who live on Gulu's streets and return them to their homes. He said with just three people in his department, and the responsibility of coordinating all programs targeting children in Gulu district, this is a tall order.
"What I don't see very well is the future of these children if they are left in the town," Kilama said. "Every child has equal rights, even these children."
