Early on when my brothers and I were captured, the LRA explained to us that all five brothers couldn’t serve in the LRA because we would not perform well. So they tied up my two younger brothers and invited us to watch. Then they beat them with sticks until the two of them died. They told us it would give us strength to fight. My youngest brother was nine years old.

I was scared. There were many bullets fired. I dropped down for safety, but could see the tree leaves falling from the bullets. . . . I didn’t shoot, but six rebel soldiers and many abducted children were killed. Over twenty children died. I was running for safety and had to jump over many of the bodies. The youngest was about twelve.

One eighteen-year-old male tried to escape but was soon captured. Soldiers laid him on the ground and told us to step on him. All the new recruits participated-we trampled him to death. During my time with the LRA, there were other children who escaped and seven of these were caught. Of them, two were hacked to death with machetes and five were clubbed or trampled. We were either made to participate or watch the killings. The youngest recruit killed was maybe nine or ten years old.

As we moved from place to place, we would have to sleep on the grass, under trees, or in the sand. I had to fetch water, wash clothes, and cook the meals. The wives would sometimes beat me or make me carry heavy loads. If I walked slowly, I was beaten. I was beaten practically every day.

I’m not happy at all because they ruined me. I had to cut short my studies. I have no hope that I will one day be somebody. I gave birth to two children and was not prepared. I have two children and no means of survival. I worry about what will happen next.

I did not kill anyone for the first four days of my captivity and then, on the fifth day, they said I had to prove I wasn’t scared, they took me back to my village and ordered me to kill my father. At first, I said no, I can’t kill my father, but then they said they’d kill us all and started beating me with a panga [machete]. I took the panga and cut him up. I then saw them do it to my mother. The first night, I was haunted by visions of my father as I tried to sleep. I could only cry silent tears as the rebels could not know that I regretted what I had done. They do it so that you can’t go back home.”