“Peace from Food” from the tables of ARI’s graduates Vol. 3

August 1, 2025
Makiko Abe

Healing from the Soil

Have you ever thought about what it is like to be a refugee? Much to my surprise I found it can be sheer boredom. I learned this from ARI graduates in Sri Lanka, who, during their civil war, had to flee their homes and lived in refugee camps for some time. At breakfast, they lined up for food. At supper they lined up for food. The rest of the day they just sat. No work. No TV or radio. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing to do. The days dragged on, one after another.

Of course, it doesn’t start out that way. No, in the beginning there is terror and panic when people find themselves in a situation so life threatening, there is nothing to do but grab a few things and run. One ARI graduate of 2004, Jean Pierre, from The Democratic Republic of the Congo described how rebels suddenly entered his village and started killing people with guns and knives. He and his family ran as fast as they could into the forest.

Several hours later, when things had quieted down, they went back. The place had been ransacked and many people killed. Among the dead bodies, he saw a woman with a baby on her back. She was not alive, but the baby was, so he picked it up. Then he started walking east, with his family, and his neighbors. In the morning, they reached the border of Uganda.

Luckily, they were met by the Red Cross and taken to the Kyangwali Refugee Settlement, where they were given medical treatment and provided with emergency food and supplies. Then came the time to wait. Just like the Sri Lankans described, there was nothing to do but sit. And though the body is still, the mind races and all the horrors of what just happened come flooding in. Where are my other friends and family members? What has become of my village? My home? How long will I be here? What will I do? The worry and anxiety eats at them, drains them of life. They feel helpless and at the mercy of the world.

So, Fr. Kizito gives them a hoe, along with some seeds. Kyangwali is not a refugee camp as you might imagine it, with thousands of people living in tents. It is a settlement, spanning a vast area. People live in simple houses and are provided plots of land to farm. Currently, it is holding over 130,000 refugees, mostly from The DRC and South Sudan. Some have been there for years. Many of the children you see were born there.

Fr. Kizito is a Catholic priest and an ARI graduate of 2000. He wanted to do something for the refugees so he started an organization called St. Patrick’s Centre for Integral Development (SPACID), just outside the settlement in an area where many humanitarian agencies operate. When Fr. Kizito gives a refugee seeds and a hoe, it is about much more than farming. It is the starting point for healing. Taking that hoe in hand, digging the soil – these familiar actions of the body begin to calm the mind. Tilling the soil, with its promise of food in the near future gives them a small feeling of control over their own destiny, a sense of hope, of peace of mind.

Working at SPACID is another graduate, Richard, who attended ARI in 2023. He manages the SPACID farms and gives training and assistance to the refugees. Currently he is doing a project together with a youth group in his church of raising black soldier flies. It may sound odd to purposefully grow flies, but their larvae are excellent food for fish, pigs, and poultry. It really helps the refugees.

Speaking of poultry, I have to tell you about SPACID’s large aviary, in which they raise all sorts of different birds – local chickens, ducks, guinea fowl, geese, turkeys and more. Fr. Kizito likes to show it to the new refugees, pointing out that although they are all different, they live together peacefully, even laying on each other’s eggs. You too are from different countries and tribes, with different languages and customs, he tells them, but here in this settlement we must learn from these birds and help each other. By working together and caring for each other, we can all thrive. Then he points to the sign hanging over the front door where ARI’s motto is written: That We May Live Together.

And that baby Jean Pierre picked up? She was reunited with her father about a month later and given the name Uwimana, meaning “with God.”