As I reflect on my journey, I see the change

Nighty Ajok is 62 years old with seven children, she is a peasant farmer. She was abducted by the Lord’s Resistance Army rebels in Northern Uganda together with her husband at their home. She screamed at the scene as she watched her husband being killed. Her reaction, got her a beating with a sharp panga. A week later she again witnessed another horrifying incident when the same group of rebels torched a woman in their grass-thatched house with eleven members of her family. Considering to escape from the hands of the rebels, she fell and broke her leg. Here Nighty Ajok tells her testimony.

It was a day like any other—until the sound of hurried footsteps and panicked screams shattered the quiet. I had no time to react before rebels stormed my home. In an instant, my world turned upside down on that sun blazed afternoon. This was in 2003 in Agwayugi parish, Amuru district, Uganda.

They dragged my husband outside, and I watched as they beat him mercilessly. I pleading for his life, but my cries only angered them. The last thing I remember was the sharp, searing pain of a machete striking my body before everything went dark.

When I finally regained consciousness, the sun had dipped below the horizon. My body throbbed with pain, and the air was thick with the steel scent of blood. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw him—my husband—lifeless, his body sprawled in the same place where he had fallen. Fear coursed through my veins. My child’s whimper beside me jolted me. Holding my little one close, I stumbled away from the horror, seeking refuge in the shadows of the night. The village was unusually silent—huts that once held laughter and warmth were now engulfed in flames. Neighbours who could have helped had fled for their lives. I was alone, carrying nothing but grief and fear.

The next day, we laid my husband to rest even if it wasn’t the farewell he deserved—there were no ceremonies, no mourning rituals, just a hurried grave dug in fear that the rebels would return. I felt shocked. The nightmares began soon after. I could no longer sleep without seeing the terror of that day replaying in my mind. My body weakened—I could not even carry a 20-liter jerrycan of water. Life lost its meaning.

With time, loneliness wrapped around me like a heavy cloak. Some women in the village whispered about me, accusing me of trying to steal their husbands simply because I was a widow. The isolation deepened my wounds, and my grief turned into anger. I became short-tempered, aggressive—someone I no longer recognized.

Years passed, and I remarried, hoping to rebuild my life. I was blessed with four more children, but fate was unkind again—I lost my second husband to illness. Loss, it seemed, was a constant companion. Then, in 2024, AVSI Foundation came to our community. I was hesitant at first, reluctant to revisit the past, but the women encouraged me to join the sessions for war victims. It was the turning point I never knew I needed. Through counselling, I learnt to release the pain that had chained me for so long. AVSI lifted me to light.

From 2019 until December 2024, the Trust Fund for Victims Assistance Project partnered with AVSI Foundation, and reached 6,275 (3,600 female; 2,675 male) war victims directly with physical rehabilitation, psychological counselling services, financial literacy trainings, and livelihood improvements through businesses such as selling of produce, beekeeping, poultry keeping, groceries, and farming as a business; and another 25,100 (14,400 female; 10,700 male) participants indirectly.