Sister Specioza (28) loves to sing. In her hometown of Opit, in northern Uganda, she leads the choir at her parish. She knows everyone who sings. So when someone’s place is suddenly empty during rehearsal or on a Sunday, she often already understands: something is wrong.
In the Acholi region, where Opit is located, many people are still living with the consequences of the civil war that raged here for years. Although the conflict officially ended almost twenty years ago, its trauma is still felt everywhere. Many people have never had the space to process what they went through. The pain they carry inside often remains unspoken.
Specioza recognises that pain quickly. “I can see when someone is not doing well,” she explains. “If someone stays away, I go to visit them. I listen. Some people were involved in the violence as children and experienced terrible things. That leaves deep scars. Alongside worries about income and daily life, trauma is one of the biggest challenges here. It puts pressure on relationships and creates tensions within families and communities.”
Trauma lingers
The war in northern Uganda may be over, but its effects are still present every day. Old wounds can give rise to new conflict. Trauma often reveals itself through anger, arguments and violence.
Sister Specioza works for the Justice and Peace Department Gulu, a partner of Mensen met een Missie. There, she supports people who feel stuck in their relationships or within themselves. “Trauma often comes out as aggression,” she says. “We see a lot of tension in families, conflicts between partners and disputes within communities. We try to mediate, above all by listening carefully.”
She shares how she works with couples. “First, I speak to them separately, so each person can talk freely. Then we come together. Sometimes I give them each a sheet of paper. On one side, they write what they appreciate about the other person. On the other, they honestly write where they themselves fall short. Then they exchange the papers. That is often the beginning of reconciliation. Recently, a man told me he had never realised how much his wife loved him.”
Recognition and compassion
Specioza’s work is not only shaped by her role, but also by her own experience. She grew up in difficult circumstances and often felt unwanted as a child. “I learned from a young age to take care of myself,” she says. “But inside, I carried a lot of pain. I was often angry and felt that everyone was against me. If someone said something that touched a nerve, I would react aggressively.”
Because of this, she feels a strong connection with the people she supports. “When I see others suffering, I feel their pain. I want to be with them, to listen, and to show that something else is possible. I used to think I was the only one with these feelings. But through guidance and the people around me, I have changed and grown.”
She pauses for a moment, then adds: “That is why this work means so much to me. By helping others to heal, I am also healing myself. That matters, because if I am not whole, how can I help someone else? You cannot drink from an empty cup.”
Local leaders make the difference
Sister Specioza’s story shows why trauma healing is so important in places affected by violence. Conflict does not end when the guns fall silent. War leaves deep marks on people and communities. Without attention to that pain, tensions remain and new conflicts can emerge.
That is why trauma healing is a key part of The Peace Project by Mensen met een Missie in Africa. In countries such as Uganda, Burundi, South Sudan and the Democratic Republic of Congo, we work with local partners to support recovery, dialogue and reconciliation.
People like Sister Specioza play a vital role. Because they are part of the community, they understand the people, the history and the pain at close hand. This makes them trusted guides. They recognise problems early, listen without judgement and help people find their way back into dialogue. When needed, they also refer people to professional support.
For Specioza, her faith is a source of strength. But at its heart, her work is something deeply human: being present in the face of pain, listening, and helping people reconnect.
