Survivors at the forefront in a city under siege
In this edition I will update you about the ongoing violence in eastern Congo and the courage of women in Goma.
The speakers in the small terminal of Kinshasa Airport crackled. ‘All passengers proceed to the gate.’ Through a crack in the door I saw how the passengers picked their bags and moved towards the plane standing right in front of the terminal. Drops of sweat were running down my I head. I was supposed to get on that plane, yet I was - once again - stuck in a sloppy office of airport security.
I had a rough few weeks in Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo with an estimated population size of seventeen million - equal to the entire Dutch population. It’s a city that runs on a toxic cocktail of opportunism and corruption (more on that in another edition of this publication). Without a diplomatic stamp in my passport or the privileges of working for a western multinational, I was a sitting duck and feared every man in uniform. Similar to other African countries, I felt more safe around people wearing shorts and slippers, than those wearing three-piece suits and security uniforms.
I eagerly wanted to travel east, not just because of the visits I had scheduled, but also to escape from the constant nagging of security officials as was happening right now. On the other side of the desk, a security guard was silently watching me, pressing his fingertips together. He wore a blue uniform, a military beret and small reading glasses that rested on the tip of his nose. He looked exactly like Samuel L. Jackson and appeared to be very much aware that he could extract a reasonable amount of money from me. After he stripped me of most of my cash and ordered me to bring his colleagues in the east a brown envelope, he escorted me to the plane at the very last moment. Finally I was out of here.
From my airplane window I was looking down at the green waves of the Congo Basin, the world’s second-largest tropical forest. From above, Congo looked like a jungle archipelago, like an ocean of dark and dense forestation, wherein villages look like small islands. It was downright beautiful.
After a few hours we approached Goma, the capital of the eastern region situated on the border with Rwanda. The city - home to nearly two million people - is found hidden in the monumental Kivu relief. It looked like a fairytale world of lush mountains and bright blue lakes where one could bump into Adam and Eve at any moment. During our descent, skimming over the shaky rooftops of Goma, I finally saw the infamous Nyiragongo looming in the distance. The low cloud cover suggested that something was simmering in the crater, but the volcano was in deep hibernation. Yet, the year before my arrival, things were different and the fire-breathing mountain drove thousands of people from their homes.
After I delivered the envelope of Samuel L. Jackson to his sleeping colleague behind the security counter, I found myself a taxi, and caught the first glimpses of Lake Kivu. Winding over the hilly roads, the many wooden two-wheelers stood out. They appeared to be self-made scooters that men packed with cargo, whereafter they rushed down the hills as if they were tired of life. My taxi driver explained it are the famous Chukudus of Congo, makeshift vehicles that are used to speed up the transportation of goods.
On either side of the road sidewalks were occupied by market vendors. The streets were filled with mopeds, patrolling UN-peacekeepers and humanitarian trucks. Goma was a relatively safe bastion in a region that has been torn by violence for decades now.
Since the beginning of time Congo has served as the world’s warehouse, plundered time and time again by powerful companies, international profiteers and rebel groups. It has always had everything humanity needs, from enslaved people and rubber to gold and diamonds. These days cobalt is in demand. The metal can be found in everything that runs on batteries, from mobile phones to electric cars. And as the vast majority of cobalt supplies derives from this very region, there is a reasonable chance you are currently reading this story on a device that holds a piece of Congo. In that sense, this country isn’t just the beating heart of Africa, but of the entire world, and the Congolese population is paying a heavy price for it.
Due to its many resources, Congo has suffered from intense cruelty since 1996. The successive and ongoing conflicts in the country have already led to more than six million deaths. Another seven million people remain internally displaced in the eastern region. Currently the violence is flaring up again, causing thousands of people to fled, of which many seek refuge in Goma.
The conflict between the Congolese army and rebel group M23 - which is supported by neighboring country Rwanda - is escalating yet again in recent weeks. During my visit back in 2022, the rebel group already conquered large parts of North Kivu, after which the rebels moved on to Goma. By now, they have surrounded the metropolis.
Ever since I visited the eastern region of this troubled country, it has been dear to me. The people in Goma and beyond are close to my heart because of how they cope with their ordeal. Strangely enough, in the darkest depths of our planet, one can find the most beautiful parts of humanity. It’s in the places of death and despair, where I usually meet the bravest of people, and that definitely accounts for eastern Congo.
Mamy is a prime example of this. As a survivor of sexual violence she is one of the driving forces behind the Mouvement des Survivantes de Violences Sexuelles in Congo. The organization unites thousands of survivors (of sexual violence) in an attempt to put an end to the epidemic use of rape as a weapon of war. By speaking out about their traumatic experiences at government agencies and schoolyards, they put a face on the suffering and create awareness in society. At the same time, as M23-rebels were approaching back then, Mamy and her fellow survivors courageously led the way, in an attempt to broker peace and break the cycle of violence.
I met her at a restaurant, located at a beautiful spot overlooking Lake Kivu. She was wearing a beautiful purple dress with gold ornaments. Large earrings swung from her ears, jewelry rattled around her wrists. Next to our table, a loud revelry took place in order to celebrate International Women’s Day. Dozens of women in shiny Sunday dresses, swayed to the rhythm of cheerful music. Afrobeats was pumping from the speakers, a genre that originated in West-Africa and has stormed the worldwide charts ever since.
While the pounding music and frenzied crowd made our table vibrate incessantly and created shock waves in my glass of water, Mamy explained that she has learned to live with the trauma’s of her past. ‘Nowadays I’m able to transform them into strength and use my experiences as a means to stop the sexual violence against women.’
She said she’s had enough of the excessive violence against women and girls around the globe. ‘Who would have put you on the face of this earth if it wasn’t for us women?’ she asked me insistently. ‘Without us women, Congo wouldn’t exist. If it wasn’t for us, the world wouldn’t turn.’ Her firm words silenced the hustle and bustle around us for a moment. Then she rose, straightened her velvet dress, flattened the gold embellishments and held out her hand. ‘Share our story, because sexual violence isn’t a Congolese problem, it’s a universal problem.’
After I let her words sink in, I came to understand she was right to make that statement. When news from this corner of the world seeps into our cozy living rooms, it mostly discusses the use of this hideous weapon of war, while portraying the region as one of the most depraved parts of the world. Although it is understandable to a certain extent, there’s also danger lurking in it, because it results in prejudices that label all Congolese as indecent, criminal or barbaric. This while the vast majority of the population fights tirelessly against the depravity that criminals and rebels are unleashing on the region.
Additionally, we should talk about the defiance of unlikely heroes like Mamy, take her wisdom to heart and learn from her fight against sexual violence. The struggle of her and other survivors deserves as much attention as the violence it is directed against. It would give us a more balanced idea of the eastern region of Congo. Besides, it are such stories of hope and bravery that keep us going as humanity - or at least keep me going.
If you’d like to support the work of Mamy and the Mouvement des Survivantes de Violences Sexuelles, please tap the link.
That’s all for now folks. I hope you’ll stick around and it would be greatly appreciated if you tell people (to tell people) about this publication. Do feel free to drop me a line in case of any questions or suggestions and don’t forget to have a look at the amazing work of the African photographers I work with on Instagram.
Daaf