By Enock Wanderemal
“You people did not experience what was taking place in Northern Uganda during the Kony war,” quipped Denish Ojok, the late Maj. Gen. David Oyite-Ojok’s son, born a year after his father’s demise—an event that saw him grow up in the streets, victimised by the war, torn away from family, and travel to Kampala for greener pastures.
“Even soldiers ran away for their own lives,” he added. Similarly, in 2000, was separated from his maternal grandmother (Ventorina Anena), who had sneaked into the village for food because of the war lockdown that had been issued in Gulu town at the time. When she returned, it was unfortunate that in her absence, bombs had rained and everyone had run to safety, including young Denish Ojok and a cousin his grandmother had left with him as well.
These two ended up in an internally displaced person’s (IDP) camp. However, his cousin was taken by her parents, who had been looking for her, leaving young Ojok alone and nowhere to find his grandmother.
Survival of the fittest had become a reality for little Ojok. Here, he chose the streets, where he luckily managed to be employed as a garbage collector for several restaurants. “I was earning at least Ugx1000 a day,” said Ojok.
“As I was carrying garbage, I would meet pupils who were putting on their uniforms and moving along the streets in cheerful conversations; I wished to be like them,” noted the boy, hence his saving earnings for school.
A few months in, Ojok showed up at Holy Rosary Primary School. “I went straight to class, where I found a teacher, and told him I wanted to join,” said Ojok, who was then taken to the office and asked to bring his parents in order to be admitted. On top of that, he would pay Ugx 1500 per term and Ugx 3000 for a uniform.
The boy, who had saved a reasonable amount of money, just went back to the office and put tuition for a full year on the table, then added fees for uniform as well. “I don’t have parents, but here I am,” added the boy. He was asked which class, and he said Primary 4. “I was a big person; I could not go to primary school; I thought I would catch up really quick,” noted Ojok.
For the next two terms at school, the boy would juggle between studies and collecting garbage; however, his classmates would make fun of him. Instead of quitting, he decided to change schools to Laminluka Primary School, which is currently in Amuru District.
Ojok Denish with Rev. Canon. Eng. Paul after his graduation in July at UCU
Instead of finishing primary four, since he had only studied for two terms, Ojok at his new school went to primary six, studied there for a term, and changed to Cwero primary school, where he sat for primary seven.
It was now 2003, and rumors of how “one can pick trash and earn millions in Kampala” circulated among street children. Young Ojok and a few friends hatch plans to travel. After amassing sufficient funds, they lied to the Baby-Coach attendant, claiming that they were going to study after he repeatedly questioned their motivation for the journey.
They arrived in Kampala through Buganda Bus Park, only for his friends to disappear. Left alone, he went to the nearest constructed water channel for shelter but also to plan his next move. “I found a gang of street kids there as well; they beat me and stole from me,” said Ojok, who the perpetrators had thought was sent from another street kid camp to soy on them.
He was saved by a Langi guy who took him on and oriented him into the different gang camps; then, “I was asked to pay a membership fee, and I paid Ugx 20,000,” noted Ojok.
With the subscription fee, he had a home and protection from the street—kid camp leaders. He would go wherever he wished for food and get back to the camps for shelter. One evening, while sitting in the shade of Cham Tower, a kind man noticed his plight and offered to assist.
The good Samaritan, Moses Kayongo, took him to the police in order to legally own him. The process was lengthy, and they were only given a night for shelter but would return the following day to finish up Ojok’s adoption. The process got more demanding, which prompted Ojok to abandon the man and run back to the streets. “I don’t want to waste your time; you do your work; I will manage myself,” Ojok told the man.
He went back to the street camps and started doing odd jobs in Buganda Bus Park for survival; however, sometimes it went beyond carrying water for restaurants to how to steal from people.
“During riots, we would burn old car tires to make the situation worse so that people would run away from their property, and that was our looting opportunity,” said Ojok.
During such riots, police would be heavily deployed, with orders to shoot to kill. “A friend who we had gone with to throw burning tires in the road was shot on the spot; I don’t know how, but I last remembered entering a sewerage pipe and ending up at the Fang Fang hotel,” observed Ojok. “I thank God they hadn’t pumped water in the pipes; I wouldn’t have survived,” he added.
They asked what he was doing inside the hotel. As dirty as he was, he lied that he was looking for a job but was laughed at and told to leave the building. The interior design of the hotel was so beautiful that he did not know where the exit was.
Young Ojok rushed to a white lady who had much luggage and asked to give a helping hand. “My intention was to find an exit through the process,” stressed Ojok.
When the luggage had been put in the car and Ojok was about to leave, the white lady handed him $5. “She was surprised” and asked whether he was working with the hotel. Ojok told her that he had come looking for a job but did not succeed.
The lady asked whether Ojok was familiar with Jinja Town because that was where she was headed. The boy lied, seeing an opportunity in the white lady. It was until they had hit the road that Ojok narrated the whole story to the lady.
The two spent a week in Jinja and came back to Kampala, but with good news for Ojok, for the lady had offered to take him back to school.
Ojok chose Seroma Christian High School because “I always desired to be in a Christian institution,” he said, adding that associating himself with Christianity would change his past and identity.
Tuition was paid for a full year. He would only return to the white lady’s apartment in Kira during the holidays.By now he was in Senior One. Everything was going well until his third term, when his sponsor died in a plane crash.
Events had turned negative, especially when the school administration could not allow him to continue in the next class even when they knew what was going on in his life. “Feeling sorry for me, the headmaster gave me Ugx300,000 and told me to start from there,” Ojok said.
He went back to their apartment and sold all their valuables to the building custodian. He opened an account and banked the $Ugx6m. Here, he planned on changing schools in order to manage tuition. And he went to Apas Senior School, Nsambya.
They seemed to understand his situation at the new school; he lied about his class and went to Senior Four; Ojok displayed a catch amount of Ugx1.2m and was admitted. This would cover the whole year.
“All I prayed for was to get a certificate and go do technical training,” said Ojok. His prayers after struggling with class were answered when he got into the fourth grade. He inquired of his master whether he would continue to A-Level with such a degree.He was urged to go on.
For him to manage tuition, he had to mix posho for students, split firewood, and also clean toilets at school in order to earn his stay as half of his fees were waived off, but because of the overwhelming services he was giving, he later on did not need to pay a thing for studies.
Ojok worked as a cook at the school during his final exams; however, when students went home for the holidays, he was left with nothing to do, so he went to Mulagi referral hospital one evening.
What he observed that evening pushed him to come the following day. He had seen patients in a certain ward with yellow blankets branded “Government of Uganda” who seemed to have no caretakers.
Ojok went on to inquire about how things operate in the hospital; he could not believe why some were being prioritized over others. “Our role is to prescribe drugs and put them on their bedsides.” “Their caretakers will know what to do thereafter,” responded the doctor whom Ojok had asked.
It did not sit well with him as he observed that it was inhumane for doctors to turn a blind eye on these patients. Ojok decided to launch a personal campaign to assist some of the patients who, in his opinion, lacked caregivers. “It baffled me how people were left to die for a lack of funds,” Ojok said.
He would feed them with porridge, shower them, and also clean their beds and surroundings. Ojok would also get them medication if it were possible.
“As street kids, we had this lady who worked at the Infectious Disease Institute (IDI) and was really supportive with helping us whenever we were sick,” said Ojok, as he went back and narrated how he had changed and now was helping sick people in Mulagi who did not have caretakers.
The lady got so concerned that she started helping by providing them with drugs. As Ojok ensured that all five of his patients were well cared for, fed on time, and given the necessary drugs, rumors about his services began to circulate.
Donors started flooding in, now that there was someone trustworthy. Thus, Ojok asked a doctor who these people were: “They are well-wishers, and they say you are doing a good job in social work; that is why they are coming,” a doctor responded.
Ojok did not know what “social work” meant, so he pressed further by asking what it meant to be a social worker. “What you’re doing is voluntary, and you’re helping people be their best selves, so you are a social worker,” a doctor told him.
Ojok went to an internet cafe and did research on what “social worker” meant. He was inspired by the findings and therefore vowed to do social work if he ever got the chance to go back to school.
In the meantime, two of the five patients had succumbed to HIV/AIDS, but three had gotten better to the extent that they were discharged from the hospital, where Ojok made sure they located their families and delivered them safe and sound.
His good services were short-lived because the ward he was working in was being renovated in 2015, and he did not want to be in the shifting confusion that came with it, so he decided to travel to Kenya and study for a certificate in physical training.
It took him months to return to Uganda, and back here he was employed as a gym instructor at the Serena Hotel. The job was shortlived because the then-minister Hillary Onek handpicked him for a job back in Gulu, where Ojok would become a manager at the Boma Hotel.
“People would undermine me because I couldn’t speak the managerial industry language, so I quit,” noted Ojok.
As the 2016 elections were inching closer, Ojok picked candidates for the post of Northern Youth MP. He was nominated, but “the son of the then Brigadier Otema Awany had much influence and was backed up by NRM, yet I was coming as an independent, so I quit the race,” said Ojok.
He decided to continue with his studies, going for a diploma in Social Work and Social Administration at the East African Institute of Management Science, Gulu.
Graduating in 2019, Ojok decided to upgrade to a bachelor’s degree in the same field at Uganda Christian University. “Remember what I told you about associating with Christianity?” “UCU had to be my go-to in this case,” noted Ojok.
At this very time, Ojok opened up his own business, “Rock of Ages Fitness Gym Club Gulu and Food Processors,” where he would do gym instructing for people but also process juice and yoghurt for sale. This helped him employ others as he continued to earn money and pay for his education.
“I remember being very talkative in class, because every time a lecture would ask a question, I would explain too much with examples from my past,” noted Ojok, and “some students would laugh at my English, but I kept on because I love studies, yet I wouldn’t stop explaining myself to lectures as to why I was the way I was,” he added.
“Besides these small challenges,” I graduated in July 2022 with a second-class lower. “I was very happy; many did not even make it the way I did—I had achieved my life’s desire,” noted Ojok.
In an interview with an official in Gulu City, Mr. Oree Tom, Ojok is described as a physical replica of his father. “Very many people know him; go to amAcholi land, his maternal area, and they speak of him—he is a true son to the late Oyite Ojok,” observed Oree.
“Linda Agnes Auma, the MP, is my sister from another mother, even though we rarely talk because I don’t want to appear a beggar to people.””I have my life, and it is enough for me,” noted Ojok.
Ojok, who is 38 now, has spent almost his life without going back home. “I was pushed to go back in 2019 for my grandmother’s funeral,” noted Ojok. But a soldier who worked with my father encourages me to return home and be known: “Even when you say you want to be on your own and out of the spotlight, home is home,” the soldier tells Ojok repeatedly.
Yet to deny Ojok, “Education is everything; I would not be where I am if it wasn’t for the love of education. I actually plan on going for a Master’s degree—iif I get sponsorship,” noted the son to the late Major General David Oyite Ojok.
