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Alfred Orono 00:00

If I have regrets, then I should be dead because I think so far things have been okay. And I don't know where I'm going. But I don't think it¡¯s as bad as where I have come from. So, I have no regrets.

Melissa Fleming 00:21

No regrets. It¡¯s a powerful thing to say. Especially when you¡¯ve experienced as much as my colleague Alfred Orono. He became a child soldier when Tanzanian forces invaded his home country of Uganda in 1979 to oust the dictator Idi Amin. Now he is the Chief of Child Protection at the United Nations Mission in South Sudan working to help child soldiers there.  From the United Nations, I'm Melissa Fleming and this is Awake at Night. Can you tell me Alfred where were you when the conflict engulfed you? How old were you?

Alfred Orono 01:10

That was in 1979. I was 11 years old. I was in school, in a school called Moroto High School. Moroto High School is in the northeastern part of Uganda. And the fighting started from the southern part of Uganda and kept moving, pushing Amin from Kampala, pushing the soldiers up north until they some of them escaped into present day South Sudan and northwestern Uganda.

Melissa Fleming 01:44

You¡¯re an 11-year-old. You're at a safe, what you thought was a safe boarding school, what your parents thought was a safe boarding school.

Alfred Orono 01:52

Yeah. It was safe until that time before the war. Everything was okay. But if you look at the map of Uganda, the war started from the south bordering Tanzania. And they captured town by town. And whenever they captured a town, I mean, soldiers would flee and move to the next town. They captured Kampala. They moved to Jinja. They captured Jinja. They moved to Tororo and Mbale. They captured Mbale. They moved to Soroti. And then they kept fleeing further north, north of Uganda.

Melissa Fleming 02:23

Just trying to picture the scene. I mean, you're at this boarding school. How did you first become aware and what was it like when you started hearing that things were becoming dangerous and that your safe life as a boarding school student was going to be upended?

Alfred Orono 02:42

We were following events on the radio. By six o'clock, five o'clock, everybody was sitting around the radio trying to find out what was happening. The school shut down. And they told the students to find their way home. And the only means was by walking. Because the vehicles that tried to move from Moroto going southwards were captured by the [inaudible] soldiers and hijacked. So, the best means of transport was on foot at that time.

Melissa Fleming 03:16

Can you remember how you were feeling at the time? And were you able to make a call to your parents? And what were they telling you?

Alfred Orono 03:25

Well, I wouldn't make a call to them because they didn¡¯t have a phone to respond to my call even if I called them. So, there's no way I would have done anything. But how did I feel? I wanted to get out of Moroto to go home. And that's it. As a kid you really think about going home. You don't have all these other estimations or planning. All you want is to get home. Yeah.

Melissa Fleming 03:50

So, you were feeling that your life was in danger at that point?

Alfred Orono 03:55

Well, feeling my life was in danger. But you know, as you're growing up as a kid, we don't have all these other calculations. You know that danger, but you know that you have to get out of it. I don't know how to explain. I didn't have any calculation trying to say, ¡®Okay, well, this is what I should do.¡¯ I didn't have other alternatives. The only choice I had was to go home. How I got there? I don't know. We just started walking. Left everything else.

Melissa Fleming 04:26

Did you know how far the walk¡­? How far was the walk?

Alfred Orono 04:28

The closest place we wanted to go to was about 102 kilometres.

Melissa Fleming 04:37

102 kilometres.

Alfred Orono 04:38

Yeah.

Melissa Fleming 04:39

And you knew that you were going to be walking into fighting?

Alfred Orono 04:45

Yes, we won¡¯t walk into fighting. But what we'll do is that we see the vehicles that are coming. And we knew that those are vehicles of forces that have been defeated. So, when you hear a vehicle coming you rush into the bush, and you hide until that vehicle has passed. Then you come back again to the main road because we couldn't afford walking in the bush. It was safer to walk on the main road than in the bush.

Melissa Fleming 05:12

So how many of you? Was it all fellow students or did you have any adults with you?

Alfred Orono 05:17

No. Mostly kids from school. We had other older boys and young ones. And we moved in groups of maybe 10-20 each. Just like that. There was not any organization on how we moved, but we just moved as a group. We had safety numbers. That¡¯s how¡­.

Melissa Fleming 05:39

What did you have with you?

Alfred Orono 05:41

Have with me. If I remember correctly, I had a small bag and a few books in my bag and had short pants and two shirts. That's all I had in my bag. No food.

Melissa Fleming 05:59

No food.

Alfred Orono 06:00

The good thing was that it was rainy season. So, there was water on the way. We don't go to taps to get water. We just drank the water we found on the way and that's it.

Melissa Fleming 06:09

So, tell me how long you were walking before you first encountered Tanzanian soldiers. And then what happened?

Alfred Orono 06:20

We walked halfway. We were about 50 kilometres or 60 kilometres. Halfway. And that's when we saw now a different convoy of vehicles coming. They were no longer shooting at anyone because there were many soldiers. When they were fleeing, they were shooting at random. We had a lot of dead bodies along the way, burned-down vehicles. But then in that area, you could see up in the hill, a convoy of vehicles coming. They were more organized. Nobody was shooting at anything. And that's when we knew that this was a different group of people. So, we went and hid in the bush. But I had this feeling that this is different. So, when they approached, they came closer to us. I ran into the road. And my friends were quite afraid that I ran into the road. But something told me that these are different people this time. So, I went, and I stood in the middle of the road. And then the whole convoy stopped. And then this very tall Tanzanian soldier came and talked to me.

Melissa Fleming 07:30

What did he say?

Alfred Orono 07:31

He asked what I was doing there. I told him we were walking back home from Moroto High School. And he said, ¡®We? How many are you?¡¯ I said, ¡®Some of my friends are in the bush.¡¯ And then he told me, ¡®Can you call them.¡¯ So, I told them to come. And some of them were already urinating on themselves because they were quite afraid of this. And they came. Six of them came there, as I ran farther away in the bush. And they asked me where I was going. I told him I was going to Soroti where my family was. I said I believed they were still in Soroti. And what I did in school. I told them I was in school and studying. And they asked me if I'd seen soldiers fleeing and driving on that route. I told them, ¡®Yeah¡¯. I told him I had counted about 15 to 16 vehicles that had passed. And they asked me to estimate the number of people on it. I told him, ¡®Maybe in a vehicle there are about 50 or 60 people full.¡¯ So, I think they had an idea. I think they realized that I had quite a good understanding of what I was talking about. A little bit smarter than the average kid at that time. And so, this officer took me at the back to where their commanding officer was. And then he also asked me the same question. They spoke in Swahili. I could understand Swahili and that really¡­ They appreciated that so much. So, we started talking in Swahili. And then after that they gave us some food to eat. We were quite hungry. And you can imagine how we enjoyed the beef and the bread, and they had oranges. They were well organized. And so that was the start of a new life. And they asked me if I wanted to continue with them. And before they even finished the question I said, ¡®Yeah, I want to be to be with you.¡¯ So, we started moving with them.

Melissa Fleming 09:42

What was it that attracted you to joining their force and their cause?

Alfred Orono 09:48

Well, one, Idi Amin was not¡­ I don't know how you should put it. He was not the leader that anybody wanted to be the president of the country at that time. I had lost relatives. I lost my dad, my stepdad. He was a politician that time, but he had been taking care of us. And so many other relatives had been killed during this time. Some of them disappeared. Up to today we don't know where their bodies are. And we had been listening to the radios, and we knew that the Tanzanians were coming to liberate us. And I wanted to be part of the liberation. I didn't want to be left behind. And so, people were very kind. They had given us food. We had not eaten for so many days. And these guys were just so kind and talking to us very nicely. So, I thought, this is the best part for me. I didn't know what was at home. I didn't know whether I would find my family there. So, for now, I had a way to survive. And these guys were kind, and they were very nice.

Melissa Fleming 11:04

So, you were an 11-year-old that was much older than your time. I mean, you were already aware of the killings of people very close to you. The disappearances.

Alfred Orono 11:17

Yeah. I¡¯d witnessed firing squads. That time, we had firing squads in every district in Uganda. So, I'd seen people shot. People were called to go and watch a firing squad. And I saw three of them that time.

Melissa Fleming 11:33

So, you were required to go out and watch people be executed?

Alfred Orono 11:41

Yes. That happened. Anybody who was in Uganda from 1971-1979 will tell you that yeah, we had live firing squads where people were told to go and watch.

Melissa Fleming 11:55

How old were you when you saw that?

Alfred Orono 11:59

From 8 to 11.

Melissa Fleming 12:04

And how did that affect you to see those firing squads?  I mean, I'm sure that they wanted you to witness it for a reason. But it seems like it turned you against the regime.

Alfred Orono 12:16

And that time it didn't make a lot of sense to me. It really didn't make a lot of sense to me. But I think the target was the adults to know that if anybody joined the rebels that time, that¡¯s how they're going to end up. And I don't think it made a very big impression on me at that time when I was young. It's later on now, when I became big, when I knew, ¡®Okay, wow, that was terrible.¡¯ That was terrible. You call people, the whole village, the whole town, to witness people being shot. And amazingly, some people were happy when this was happening. Human beings, we are quite complicated. Because I don't remember people shuddering or being unhappy when this was being done. I can imagine how their families were thinking and what was going through their minds looking at their relatives being shot. Because even the family members were brought to watch the executions. It was announced that they are bringing the people from this area and with their names. Bring them for a firing squad at two o'clock or 1 pm in broad daylight. Yeah.

Melissa Fleming 13:30

What happened to your¡­? You said your father was also¡­

Alfred Orono 13:34

Yeah, him he was killed in Mbale town. I remember the date. It was August 26, 1976. He was provincial commissioner for information that time in Mbale. And for him, they just chopped him, and they cut him into¡­. Really cut with the machetes. And I remember getting the news of his death. And then they brought his body for burial. And even the government officials attended his burial. But up to today no one has ever been caught. But everybody knew because he was a member of the opposition. So, you wouldn't say about it at that time. It was now after the liberation when his friends came to pay respects that it was clear to us that, okay, he was killed because he was a member of the opposition.

Melissa Fleming 14:32

That must have been absolutely devastating for you.

Alfred Orono 14:38

Mostly my sisters and my brother because they were older. And I know it's so difficult to explain these things when you¡¯re young. It¡¯s when you grow up, that's when you understand. I could see for my sisters and my brother that they were terribly shaken and very sad. It¡¯s actually in my memory and I still remember the whole¡­like it was yesterday. It¡¯s a long time but doesn't feel like a long time. I remember completely.

Melissa Fleming 15:17

So, in a way did joining the Tanzanian soldiers that you encountered on the road that day, did it feel like you were maybe even avenging your father's death?

Alfred Orono 15:31

I'm sure it was subconsciously. It was there because I don't regret a single day joining the Tanzania People's Defence Force. I don't see it as anything terrible. I felt it was a route to growing up, a route to understanding what was happening. And it's just a stage in the development. And I liked the protection that I had being with these people. They were very nice. They never introduced me to drugs or anything. They were a professional army that time. And I think they liked the fact that they had someone whom they could trust, could send somewhere and come up with credible information, and loyal to them. And I spoke so many languages, different dialects in Uganda. And wherever we go, they knew that I would be able to interpret for them and tell them the exact thing without any exaggeration. They had trust in me. And being with the people who trust you, who value you, I think that was really the kicker for me.

Melissa Fleming 16:48

Must have made you feel very grown up and having a huge responsibility.

Alfred Orono 16:55

And useful. Yeah. Really useful.

Melissa Fleming 16:58

You also carried a gun?

Alfred Orono 17:02

Yeah.

Melissa Fleming 17:04

So, they trained you on how to use it.

Alfred Orono 17:07

Yeah, because there is no way you can move with a civilian in the army when he doesn't know how to use a gun. If you fell in ambush, which we did a few times, you had to be able to defend yourself. So that's compulsory.

Melissa Fleming 17:25

What were your living conditions like and what was kind of a day in the life of being part of the liberating army of Tanzania?

Alfred Orono 17:34

It is usually a very busy day. Mostly patrols. Going to places outside your area to gather information and to understand the situation, the location of the enemy, and their strengths. And mostly patrols. So, it was day and night work all the time. There is no resting.

Melissa Fleming 18:03

Did at that time any of your family get any news of you? They must have been very worried.

Alfred Orono 18:11

No, they didn't get to see me until before Christmas 1979.

Melissa Fleming 18:23

That was how many months after?

Alfred Orono 18:25

From March, April, May June. About 7-8 months before I get to see them. And at that time when we're on our way to Kampala. And I convinced my colleagues. I call them my colleagues. Let's pass home and go and check on my family. So, we went there. We found my mother. She couldn't recognize me at first. And I told her I was on my way. She said, ¡®Where are you going?¡¯ I said, ¡®I don't know where I'm going next.¡¯ And that was it.

Melissa Fleming 18:58

What was it about you that she couldn't recognize?

Alfred Orono 19:00

I was now in uniform, and I had a gun. So, that was not her son.

Melissa Fleming 19:05

How did she react to that?

Alfred Orono 19:08

No, she just looked at me. She passed away in 2020. I¡¯ve never had a chance to just ask her what happened. Because I was barely with her. Because after liberation war, I went back to school. And I stayed at school until 1985 then I left again. So, I didn't see her until 2002 again. So, yeah.

Melissa Fleming 19:34

It's quite a childhood of extremes. Everything that you witnessed, everything that you went through. I mean, there were only very short periods of normalcy. So maybe just describe the transition when it was possible for you to take off the uniform, get rid of the AK-47 and go back into I assume a school uniform and pick up the books again.

Alfred Orono 20:01

As you say it, it's quite unusual. At that time, I didn't understand it. But now as a father with two girls, I just can't imagine anguish that my mother went through with a son who just kept coming and disappearing for years and months and not knowing where I was. I wonder how many sleepless nights she had that time. But in 1980 my commanders decided that I had to go back to school. Because the Tanzanians were now leaving to go back to Tanzania. Now they had a dilemma because I was not the only kid. There were so many kids who had joined the Tanzania People's Defense Force, and not by force. Voluntarily, because that was a family to us at that time. So, they encouraged me to go back to school. And I went back to school in 1980. School was not very easy. I had developed a habit of smoking. And you know, in schools, you are not allowed to smoke. I also enjoyed my drinks. It was normal. I didn't see anything wrong with it. I saw the world differently. And I think they also thought I was different. I was not like them. I liked to associate more with the teachers. I felt like I was an equal to the teachers. By then for them, they still wanted to treat me like a small child. I had all this military structure in me. Respect for authority and all the things that you do as a soldier. So, I can imagine how difficult it was for them to relate to me, the teachers, and the students. And I found it a little bit difficult.

I led a strike. I think twice in the school. I think that was my reaction to their rules because I thought their rules were unfair. And I wanted to show them that they were not as powerful as they thought. I could mobilize the whole school against them, which I did actually to rebel against the bad food. It was so easy. For me I to found it so easy to mobilize people against a rule or an idea. So, I think that made the teachers understand that I was a little bit dangerous. And for them, the only way to deal with me was by expelling me. But expelling me, I would always have a reason why they couldn't expel me. So, it became difficult. But that time, they were still very powerful. So, I was expelled, and I went to another school. Suspended, I came back, and then expelled. And then I went to another school. Even that school, again led another rebellion. But I was smart in class. I chose what I wanted to study. But in the end, I would always pass, and they did not understand how I was able to pass those subjects when I was not the normal kind of student that they were used to. So yeah, I have, in my record about three expulsions and two suspensions in school. I thought a very stellar record. Talked to the world about it. But that was my growing up. It wasn't my fault. I understand it. But I came out of it eventually.

Melissa Fleming 23:24

They didn't understand you. But it did show that you had a quest for rights. Is that how you saw yourself? Maybe was there a bit of a spark to pursue law later?

Alfred Orono 23:36

I think some of the rules were very draconian. They were oppressive. And listen, I've just fought a war on liberation. And I needed people to be liberated.

Melissa Fleming 23:47

You became, I believe, a supporter of President Milton Obote. But when you were 18, he was overthrown. What happened then?

Alfred Orono 23:58

Before he was overthrown, we were avid supporters of the Uganda People's Congress. I was Secretary General of the National Union of Students of Uganda in my school. And then, of course, with my stint in the army when Obote was overthrown, the people who came to power did not trust people like me at that time. They started arresting people who may know, people who are close to us. And then our people who had gone to Kenya said, ¡®No, you guys have to come otherwise they're going to kill you.¡¯ And they killed a lot of my colleagues who had been with me together. And I took off. I went to Kenya. And then from Kenya, there was an arrangement to move us to Ethiopia. And from Ethiopia to South Sudan.

Melissa Fleming 24:48

What were conditions like for you there?

Alfred Orono 24:54

Conditions were¡­ I don't even know how to start it. But remember we were refugees, but also there's a political aspect to it. Because we had a force, Ugandan force, about 800 people with 64 officers. And then there's was confusion amongst ourselves from the leadership. And then we ended up being put into detention that time. And it took the late John Garang to intervene to have the issue resolved. And after so many months of torture and starvation. I can't even explain to you. Then I was able to escape back into Kenya.

Melissa Fleming 25:46

So, you were put¡­ Just to go back there, you were taken into custody. You were put into prison. Just describe what you faced there. What was your day-to-day situation?

Alfred Orono 26:02

The day-to-day situation is one of, I would call it terror. Hunger, starvation, beatings, maybe three or four times a day. And I don't even know how to start putting it. The human body has a way of deteriorating under conditions of hunger and under conditions of torture. What you're only left with is hope. Because at that time death is probably the preferred option. But I think even death refuses to come when you need it. And when death refuses to come when you need it, then you know that you're not going to die at that time. There is hope because there are a lot of opportunities for your life to end on its own. I can never explain to you. I don't think anyone has an explanation as to what happens to the body when it doesn't want to die. Not a disease, not anything. Even malaria doesn't touch you anymore. Pain is no longer painful. And then one day, I don't know what happens. The body starts recovering. Because I remember to sit on the ground, we had to make cushions, because you are sitting on the bones. Your bones are directly sitting on the ground. So, you had to make a cushion. And my skin was yellow, my hair was soft as your hair probably. And you can't explain that. But I recovered. My colleagues recovered. Many of them recovered. Some died. But I think most of the people who we lost - it was because I think they were HIV positive. For that time, we did not understand they had no medication. So, for us who survived, the body maintained itself.

So yeah, I recovered. They started giving us food, medicine and treatment and everything. And our bodies came back so quickly. And we looked at each other comparing. We became big and bigger. Bigger than I've ever been in my life. And they say that that was just like fat forming up around the flesh. I had swollen cheeks. But we were happy to be round and alive. And that's when I made a decision that I had to escape. I wasn't going to allow myself to get in that situation again because I don't think I would have survived again. So, and then I decided to escape. I went alone because my friends who had tried to escape in a group, either they were caught, or they got lost. They had started disagreeing on their own. And then they got lost in the wilderness and eaten by animals. Or thirst, died by thirst.

Melissa Fleming 29:08

I mean, how did you get out? It must have been protected by fences or walls.

Alfred Orono 29:13

It was protected by fences, but it was not self-contained. So, you had to go to another place to go to the toilet. And that's where I took off from. Escaping from that place, going to Kenya, you had to be very lucky. A lot of people had attempted, died on the way. I think the mistake they made that they went through the bush to try to avoid everything. Me, I decided to walk on the main road. And I gathered information from the people who had been arrested on the way, so I knew where every army post is along the road. Around 3 am, believe me, I walked into - because I was sleeping as I was walking - I woke up, I found I was in the middle of the detachment. Everybody was sleeping. So, I went on the ground, and I crawled thanks to the military training. I crawled until I came out. Unfortunately, you know, around the camp, they had mined as their protection. And believe me, I walked through a minefield, and nothing exploded.

So, I walked back to the main road. And then I came, and then I saw Kenya. And then I went, and I saw the Ãå±±½ûµØflag. And then I knew that I reached the safe place. So UNHCR sent a vehicle around two o'clock to pick me up. And then they took me to Kakuma refugee camp. And they took me to the clinic for medical check-up. So, they checked my blood, they checked my everything, and they told me I was healthy. I say, ¡®Are you kidding me? I've been drinking all this dirty water for all those years and you're telling me that health is fine.¡¯ So, I said, ¡®Okay, good. That's okay.¡¯ So, they organized to take me to Nairobi. They took me to Nairobi. And then from Nairobi, they took me to my refugee camp in northeastern Kenya. So that's how I made it. The first job was pushing these big concrete covers for the toilets in the refugee camp. You pushed maybe two or three of them in a day. You get money for food. I did that until my hands became like concrete itself. And then because I spoke Swahili, good English, the company they recommended I work inside the store. Now what helped me most is my organization, military organization. So, everything was scattered in the store. But I requested for ten people to help me to pack everything neatly into the store.

And then this Belgian guy, you can ask him. He¡¯s Mr. Lieven Desomer. He works for UNICEF. Nutrition. I think he is in New York right now. He drove in one day. He came to the store. He found me in the store. He found the store had changed. Everything was in order. Then he asked me who I am. I told him, ¡®I'm a refugee.¡¯ And asked me if I wanted a job. I said, ¡®What job?¡¯ He said, ¡®In the pharmacy.¡¯ I said, ¡®But I don't know anything about medicine.¡¯ He said, ¡®No, no, no. It's just like a storekeeper, like this one.¡¯ I said, ¡®Really?¡¯ So, I quit. I went to MSF Belgium. In the pharmacy, I met this lady, Marlene Durres [sic]. That was a girlfriend to Lieven. Now she has a son named after me. I'm the godfather of that kid, the Belgian kid in Belgium. At the beginning, I was quite shy. I did not know what to do. I did not know medicine, and she thought I was useless at that time. But then Levin and told him [sic], ¡®No, no, no. Give him time and teach him.¡¯ Believe me, within three months¡¯ time I became indispensable. And then they recommended me to UNHCR in Nairobi. That's when there's a lady called Annette L¨¹deking [sic]. She's a Danish lady. Still alive. She even came to Juba here one time. She's like my big sister. So, she worked with this programme called World University Service of Canada and then they were able to get me a scholarship to go and study in Canada in 1995. So, I went to Canada to school now totally changed. So, we can talk and talk until the end.

Melissa Fleming 33:31

That's amazing. You know, I've been to Kakuma many times and also to Dadaab. And I just feel so moved by your story because it's also very rare. It seems that there must be something in you that at this time - unlike when you return to the school - here in the camp, they recognize something very special in you. Because there are so many people who unfortunately never get the chance to get out, who've been languishing there, and are just stuck. So, tell me about what happened next. You ended up going from this really, really, difficult life to a new life in Canada, where you studied.

Alfred Orono 34:23

Yeah, before I went to Canada, they took me from Dadaab to Nairobi to study English as a foreign language to be admitted to university in Canada. Then I met I think, another two special people. That is Mr. Robert Vandenberg, who was the country director for Care International in Kenya. And then another lady was with the Mennonite Central Committee. And then Bob asked me, ¡®What do you want to do in Canada?¡¯ I told him, ¡®I don't know. I'm just going to Canada.¡¯ He said, ¡®If you go to school, do you know how to type?¡¯ I said, ¡®I don't.¡¯ ¡®Do you know how to use a computer?¡¯ I asked him, ¡®What is a computer?¡¯ Because I had never seen a computer in my life. He paid for my classes to learn how to use a computer and to type. And then he said, ¡®When you go to Canada you have to learn French.¡¯ So, I said, ¡®How do I do that?¡¯ So, I told Annette. Annette talked to her friend from the Mennonite Central Committee. They paid for my French classes. The time went so fast [inaudible]. So, I went to Canada now. I was admitted to the University of Alberta. I decided I wanted to study criminology. Then I got admitted to law school.

Melissa Fleming 35:41

Amazing.

Alfred Orono 35:43

So, and I had very good people, a very good support system. And the World University Service of Canada, they paid my school fees. And then I got jobs. And I became a [inaudible] inspector and I worked the [inaudible] when I graduated. And very nice. I made a lot of great friends. I still consider Edmonton my home. My friends for life are there. I met my wife at the University of Alberta. And yeah, Canada was very¡­

Melissa Fleming 36:14

She's Canadian.

Alfred Orono 36:17

Yes, I am a Canadian citizen.

Melissa Fleming 36:19

You're a Canadian citizen and your wife is Canadian too.

Alfred Orono 36:23

Yes, born and raised in Canada.

Melissa Fleming 36:27

You graduated from law school. You decided you didn't want to just stay in Canada and practice criminal law there. You wanted to do something bigger. And so, you went to the International Criminal Tribunal for the Rwanda Genocide.

Alfred Orono 36:42

Before that I was a prosecutor at the Canadian Department of Justice for two years. I was doing extraditions and mutual legal assistance in criminal matters for two years there. Yeah. And then from there, that's when I went to Tanzania. I said, ¡®Listen, we have bigger problems in Africa than in Canada.¡¯ Here you are extraditing people for drugs, that kind of stuff. Yeah. We have bad people here, who have killed people outside and put people in briefcases and that kind of stuff. Yeah. But I think where I came from needed more attention. And I got that opportunity.

Melissa Fleming 37:20

What was it about the Rwanda genocide that you felt particularly drawn to working on the justice around?

Alfred Orono 37:30

It was similar to what Amin had done at home, killing people like [inaudible] people and I never got a chance to prosecute him because he died when I just joined the Department of Justice in Canada, in 2003. I did it for eight years. And I thought it was enough.

Melissa Fleming 37:50

So, you are working in South Sudan in the Ãå±±½ûµØpeacekeeping mission¡¯s Child Protection Unit. Just tell me what that entails. Because I believe you also work to help former child soldiers or maybe children who you might recognize a bit in yourself.

Alfred Orono 38:12

Oh, absolutely. I think this is one of my dream jobs. I have a lot of them. But I think I've settled on this one right now. It is fantastic. I work with the people whom I understand. One, I work with the military, some of them I trained with in South Sudan. And I work with children, who when I look at them, I know exactly what's going on in their minds. And I know how they feel. And I'm part of the solution to their problems.

Melissa Fleming 38:44

What keeps you awake at night?

Alfred Orono 38:48

I think what most people don't realize is that in a peacekeeping mission like ours, we come here because there's a problem. The United Nations has established a mission when they know that there is a problem. They prescribe the solution for us in the mandate, that this is what you are going to do to help these people come out of it. So, every day in my life, when I go to sleep, I'm thinking, ¡®Okay, how am I going to be useful? How am I going to be part of the solution?¡¯ Because if I'm not part of the solution, I become the problem. And if I'm the problem, then the people of this country will not accept. So, I have to make sure that every day when I go to bed, I'm fine. I'm trying to make myself relevant. And in my case, it's the children. I have to see how do I work together with others to ensure that the children do not get recruited into the armed forces? And if the children already in the army, how do I get them out of the army? Which commander should I talk to? How am I going to get there safely? So that my colleagues are not killed, so that they go back home to meet their children, their wives, their parents. So those are the things that I have to do. And how about those ones once I get them released? How do I ensure that they're integrated properly in the community? How do I support them to be like me, get out of the situation and be like me? And how do I ensure that they do not go back to the life they were living?

Melissa Fleming 40:50

Alfred, thank you so much for joining us on Awake at Night.

Alfred Orono 40:54

Most welcome.

Melissa Fleming 40:55

It's been really, really inspiring and moving to talk to you. I wonder if you have any last thoughts for maybe what you wish for all children in our world?

Alfred Orono 41:09

Well, I wish for all children to be free, to be allowed to think freely. When they make mistakes, they are forgiven. Because they are just growing, and they look at the world in a different way from us the adults. And it doesn't mean that they are stupid. They're just experimenting with the world. And maybe through whatever they're doing, they are learning the world better than us. Because you have to learn by mistakes. Children should be free and supported, where they want to, but not forced to do things that they don't want to.

Melissa Fleming 41:50

Just the last thing, I wonder if you have any regrets?

Alfred Orono 41:54

No. If I have regrets, then I should be dead because I think so far things have been okay. And I don't know where I'm going. But I don't think it¡¯s as bad as where I have come from. So, I have no regrets.

Melissa Fleming 42:09

Thank you for listening to Awake at Night. We'll be back soon with more incredible and inspiring stories from people working to do some good in this world at a time of global crisis.

To find out more about the series and the extraordinary people featured, do visit un.org/awake-at-night. On Twitter, we¡¯re and I'm . Subscribe wherever you get your podcasts and please do take the time to review us. It helps more people find the show.

Thanks to my editor Bethany Bell, to Jen Thomas, Adam Paylor and the team at Purpose and to my colleagues at the UN: Roberta Politi, Katerina Kitidi, Geneva Damayanti, Tulin Battikhi, Bissera Kostova and the team at the Ãå±±½ûµØstudio. The original music for this podcast was written and performed by Nadine Shah and produced by Ben Hillier.