In the afternoon, the kitchen crews in the camp are busy cooking. The children follow me around the camp site as I walk around curious about the living conditions of the camp. On several occasions I feel my hair being pulled and touched. They ask "the Muzungu" (foreigner) to have their pictures taken and are just exhilarated to see their pictures magically appear on the digital screen.
Some of the women build little cooking fires near their campsite and do their own cooking. A woman proudly shows me her tent and all that she owns.
Many more refugees arrive to be registered. A lone, petite woman and her three exhausted small ones are deposited by the entrance of the transit center with only a small bag of belongings by a hired boda boda. They must have just crossed the border a half hour ago from the DRC to Uganda.
Today we heard that new fighting erupts as the rebels are trying to get new recruits and they are looting. We are spotting more men in the transit camp. At the clinic I saw a family of five hiring a motor-cycle to help them escape the DRC but almost staring death in the face. There were a total of six people including the driver with two bags on a small vehicle. All passengers fell off and the driver scooted away. The family had to find another vehicle to transport them. All came away with friction burns except the baby who was tied up on his mother's back as the last passenger escaped with barely a scratch. The mother had an inch long gash above her eyebrow which required four stitches. A narrow escape indeed!
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