Life in Congo

Here is a recitation of one of my collegues which I just translated from French. Unfortunately it is an accurate description of what life here is like.

« The displaced »
between wandering and aberration

The armed forces which we won’t identify (even if here they are freely installed within the civil population, named and designated), include at least 6 different groups fighting between each other. They fight under title of alliance, certain groups in coalition against “one” other, decreed as the official enemy of the moment, of the regular national army. That’s been the principle… for more that 12 years. And during the last 10 years 5,700,000 Congolese have died, mainly civilians… and the majority in the Kivu region.

Whatever the military strategy, the scene is identical. The soldiers encircle a zone where life plays out between towns and villages, work in the fields, small businesses of selling fruit… The targeted zone which fills up little by little with soldiers is surrounded by scrub forest in which the ambivalence is completely between danger and protection.

Then starts the sound of bullets, the robberies, the burning of houses and all the rest. The soldiers, gifted with the magical power of arms, take possession of everything. The territory is now their new camp. The inhabitants flee, taking with them whatever they can. And they walk.

They walk in groups which will lose a member from time to time – men, women, and children of whatever age. They walk for days without end on rocky and washed-out paths made of red earth; the babies snuggled up to their mother’s bodies, the bundles of simple cloth holding a few pots, a bit of “manioc” for survival. They know that they have lost everything, even if they return in a few weeks.

They walk in files, small children of 5 or 6 years old often carrying three times their weight on their heads. They are all exhausted, after 30, 40 and sometimes 100 kilometres or more. So the groups break off into smaller groups more and more scattered.

They walk, and they are tempted by the scrub forest to sleep a bit. The forest - dense, very attractive, very green with large banana leaves - seems the perfect shelter… but perfect for everyone!, militias and other undesirable partners included.

They walk and sometimes get lost, wandering aimlessly.

At 35 years old, F.Muk’s husband was killed and their house occupied by soldiers. Obliged under threat, she took to the road one night towards what she considered a safe place. Her children are young….., she is intercepted on the path by a few soldiers with undisguised desires…, she begs her children to continue walking under the guidance of the oldest who is 13 years old…..

Afterwards, she searched a long time for her children, finding them two days later but with one missing! The despair is immense when I meet with her several times. Hazard and solidarity joined forces allowing her to find the last child 20 days later.

R. and L. are both nurses and have 4 children. Soldiers arrived at their house, firing haphazardly without aiming at anything. It was an expressive announcement of what was to come. After being beaten, R. resisted no longer – his brother had been shot a few months before. This couple also took to the road. The soldiers had taken their oldest child of 11 years old as hostage, to carry their plunder. R. and L. had to save the other children. They also walked the 150 kilometres that separated them from the rest of their family.

Stories like this can be told without end… the list is long and the recitals are extended. We’ll stop here. Just be aware the even those who “walk” know that one day they can also become one of the unimaginable number of 5,700,000 deaths in Congo.

Maryvonne,
Psychiatriste in Kivu
February 2009

It's me again. I should be leaving Goma for Lubero next Saturday to help set up a new operation in that area, to provide primary health care for a newly displaced population of around 50,000 people in the same situation as those who's tale is told above. Our resources are becoming pretty extended right now, mainaining our existing programs and at the same time trying to alleviate the suffering of the new victims of this chronic situation. Fortunately, we have very good people working with us who are dedicated to this work.

Our work has become more complicated recently by the fact that bandits are now targeting aid worker's cars, forcefully taking money, phones, and pharmaceutics. Having a Kalichnikov pointed at you, along with verbal threats that you can't understand, is not a pleasant experience. The number of roads available is limited already. This new development hinders us even more in where we can go and how we can react.