I’m 
... on Ellen Rose Lalam can’t remember the exact year her when her husband was hacked to death with a panga blade in a raid on her village.
“2001,” the group of villagers surrounding her murmurs when she can’t come up with the date.
“Eeeehhhhh,” Ellen says, tilting her chin towards the gray sky. She wears a strand of yellow, white and burnt orange beads. But, like most things in northern Uganda, there’s never enough to go around, leaving the threadbare string exposed where the beads are finished.
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