How dialogue finally ended a decades-long conflict

When Acayo Esther (54) and Auma Dorine (52) found themselves facing each other on the same piece of land, more than just soil was at stake. In northern Uganda, where the civil war ended over twenty years ago but its scars remain, land disputes can quickly turn dangerous. What began as a disagreement between two women grew into a conflict that affected the entire community. Their story shows just how quickly tensions can escalate – and why dialogue in post-conflict areas is not a luxury, but a necessity.

There are no gunshots in northern Uganda today. No soldiers in sight. And yet, the war lives on – in people, in behaviour and in relationships. Between 1987 and 2006, entire communities were torn apart. Millions of people spent years in displacement camps, cut off from their land and often from their families.

When they returned after the war, nothing was the same. Land that had been used for generations without question was suddenly disputed. Boundaries that had once been passed on verbally had disappeared. And there was little attention for what people had endured. In that vacuum, they were left to find their own way.

Acayo Esther and Auma Dorine were both teenagers when the war broke out. Acayo lost her father and uncle to the violence; Auma was twelve when rebels abducted her. She spent more than two years in captivity. “I was still a child. A child forced to watch people being killed.”

After the war, they both returned to their home village: Opit. Now grown women, both single mothers, searching for ways to feed their children and send them to school. Land was their only hope. It was in this context that their paths crossed.

Two lives, one piece of land

When Acayo returned and went to her land, she found another woman already there, planting crops. Auma explains: “After the war, I found this piece of land abandoned. It was free. I urgently needed money for my family, so I decided to cultivate it.” Acayo was convinced the land had belonged to her family, but with older generations gone and no clear boundaries left, she could not prove it. “Auma refused to leave, no matter what I tried.”

A fierce argument followed. And it did not stop there; the confrontations kept escalating. Every time Acayo went to the land, Auma was already there. “Whenever we met on the land, it would turn into a major fight.” The conflict spiralled, eventually affecting the entire community. Auma: “I forbade my children from playing with Acayo’s children. I didn’t trust her at all.”

Neighbours took sides, and community members got involved. Local leaders and authorities tried to resolve the dispute. Without success. In fact, tensions only worsened. The conflict even became physical. Every attempt at reconciliation seemed to make things worse. Old wounds, distrust and fear were always just beneath the surface. “I preferred to avoid her completely,” says Auma. Acayo nods. “We were afraid someone would eventually be killed.” For twenty years, the conflict fuelled division and the threat of violence in the village.

The man who kept coming back

Religious leader Omona Richard knew about the conflict between Acayo and Auma. He saw its impact on the village and how no one had managed to bring the two women closer together. After receiving training in conflict mediation, he decided to try. He visited Acayo, and then Auma. At first, neither woman was open to his help; he was often met with anger and insults. “I thought he wanted to take my land,” Auma explains. But Omona did not give up. He kept returning, kept talking. “I had committed myself to bringing peace. I put all my time and effort into it.”

Not an exception, but a pattern

The conflict between Acayo and Auma is far from unique. According to Okot Denis Michael, a project officer at the Acholi Religious Leaders Peace Initiative (ARLPI), such disputes have been common since the end of the war. “People returned without clear boundaries, which created a lot of confusion,” he says. “Legal cases can take years and cost money that people simply don’t have. So, conflicts remain unresolved and become personal. There have even been killings over land disputes.”

That is why ARLPI works together with Mensen met een Missie as part of The Peace Project, a multi-year programme focused on dialogue and mediation in communities affected by war trauma. A key part of this approach is strengthening local leaders so they can mediate conflicts within their own communities. According to Okot, this is essential because land disputes are rarely just about land. “They are deeply intertwined with war experiences, loss and years of uncertainty.” Old wounds and distrust can quickly resurface and escalate.

Religious and community leaders like Omona are trained to guide these conflicts through dialogue. This requires long-term commitment. Okot emphasises that mediation is not an endpoint. “Conflicts can return,” he says. That is why local leaders remain involved with families and communities even after agreements are made. It is this continued presence that makes the difference in a region where people have experienced unimaginable hardship.

What changes when people start talking

After so many years of conflict, the breakthrough between Acayo and Auma did not come easily. But eventually, it came. Omona’s goal was not to determine who was right. It was about something deeper: how two people, who had seen each other only as enemies for years, could live side by side again without constant fear.

His approach led to a profound shift. Auma: “Omona spoke to us about forgiveness and compromise… slowly, my heart softened,” she says. “I now understand how important it is to talk.” Acayo experienced a similar shift. “I realised that holding on to bitterness gets you nowhere.”

As anger and distrust slowly gave way to conversation, practical agreements about the land became possible. Acayo and Auma now each use part of it. Acayo: “We made peace and decided to move forward with love and trust.” Their children play together again, and peace is gradually returning to the village. Auma: “We can look each other in the eye again.”

Peace requires staying

The story of Acayo and Auma shows how a war that ended twenty years ago continues to shape new conflicts. Without people who keep showing up and making dialogue possible, these conflicts persist – or escalate again. That is why Mensen met een Missie works alongside local partners and community leaders in northern Uganda to rebuild relationships in traumatised communities. Not quickly and not without risk, but step by step.

Because peace does not happen on its own. It takes time, presence and people who stay – especially when talking feels impossible.