Fred (back row, in white) stands with his wife and family alongside members of the Justice and Peace team from Gulu, Maryknoll lay missioners Marj Humphrey and Joanne Blaney. The gathering marked a moment of remembrance and resilience in Atiak, three decades after the village’s tragedy.

ATIAK, UGANDA—On April 21, 1995, I was traveling from my mission in Nimule, Southern Sudan into Northern Uganda. I do not recall the reason for the trip—all I remember is passing through the border post town of Atiak, Uganda. The vision of the remains of that village have always remained seared into my memory. It was, quite literally, a ghost town. All homes had been torn apart or burned to the ground. There was not a soul to be seen.

The day before, the Lord’s Resistance Army had ravaged the entire village, hacking people to death, gunning people down, burning some alive in their homes. Those who survived were rounded up and taken to the banks of the Nile where they were either abducted or summarily shot to death.

A survivor of the Atiak massacre.

We had just heard of this atrocity, and now, a day later, we were seeing the eerie remains.  One of the things that stood out in my mind was that this occurred the same day as the Oklahoma City bombing in the United States.  A horrendous massacre in itself.  But one of the things I will never forget is that the Oklahoma City bombing made headlines all over the world; Atiak received no attention. And yet, the same number of people were killed; the devastation and shock the same in both places.

Now, 30 years later, on April 21, 2025, I found myself back in Atiak.  This time, as part of a follow-up visit to the parish participants in our Trauma Healing and Restorative Justice courses in Northern Uganda. When I heard that two of our course participants were from Atiak, my heart had pounded, memories surged.

I quickly looked up that long ago event, to see what history may have been written, and found that our upcoming visit to Atiak would be 30 years to the day that I had passed through that devastated village!

Deep in my heart I knew this was no coincidence. It was a gift of providence.

I resolved to see what the village now looked like, what memories remained, how life was now for that village some 30 years later, and to pay respect to both the dead and those who may have survived.

I found a thriving, bustling village, with a small town center and shops; trees had grown back, schools and homes rebuilt.

Along the way, we passed several stone markers, each indicating the site of a mass grave, with fading painted names on the stone.

I told my story to the catechist of Atiak parish when we arrived. Thirty years ago, exactly, I told her. She set a network in motion, contacting an older man who had survived the massacre, and still lived on his piece of land.

He had been a school teacher and was several miles away at the school where he taught when the attack occurred. He returned home that afternoon to find most of his family dead, bodies scattered over the ground of his homestead.

I fought back tears when I met him. He seemed so happy that someone from the outside “remembered” and came to pay respects and honor to the victims and survivors of the site.

“Fred” was there with his wife, and their front yard was literally a cemetery.  He had, over time, erected a marker for each of the 19 members of his family and neighbors that he had found there that day. He seemed genuinely touched that I had come, after 30 years, and we spoke quietly together for about half an hour.

“Thank you for remembering us and coming back,” he said.

“I have never forgotten you,” I told him.

He took me to the town center, where a monument had been erected with the names of the victims of that day. We found the grounds, and a moderate-sized monument with names chiseled into the stone.

We were met by the town clerk who had undertaken, several years ago, to exhume the bodies in many of the huge mass graves. With more modern methods now, she began to identify the victims and return them to their families for burial.

She was passionate about this labor of love, and to this day continues to retrieve and identify remains—her gift to their families.

When I told her I had passed through the day after the massacre, she became silent. Then said, “I cannot believe someone from 30 years ago still remembers us. Thank you so much for coming. And she repeated, over and over again, “Really? You were here 30 years ago and you still remember us and came back?…….”

Before departing, Fred said to me, “We are moving on. We have to stop grieving, stop looking back, and move forward now. We are doing it.”

A thriving village, full grown trees now, fields full of crops, and a bustling town square are living testament to the human spirit.

And I drove away feeling that my heart, so wounded those many years ago, was beginning to heal and feel hope that no matter how much people have suffered, the human spirit is resilient and able to live and love again.

Simple stone markers in Fred’s yard honor the 19 family members and neighbors he lost in the 1995 Atiak massacre. Over the years, Fred carefully placed each marker as a quiet testament to their memory.