Displaced people in the DRC: a stolen youth

When mother and daughter arrived in Goma in February, they had no resources. So, Esther reluctantly returns to the forest to gather firewood to sell at the market. That’s when the second rape occurred. Esther never returned to the forest again. Invasive thoughts assail her. She dreams at night that her attackers are coming back to attack her. Encouraged by her mother, she decides to take part in Action contre la Faim’s emotional stabilization workshops. “I’ve learned to talk about my story. I’m fighting to reduce intrusive thoughts with the exercises I learned at ACF. I feel it calms me down. But every time my mother goes out to look for work and comes back with nothing, or when I look at my baby and think about the future, the thoughts come back.” In her arms, Esther holds her daughter, born a week ago. The baby sleeps peacefully, swaddled in a large orange sweatshirt. “When I gave birth, I felt joy, but now I’m wondering about her future. How will my child grow up? She only has clothes because people of good will give them to her. How will she survive? At just 17, Esther no longer has the concerns of teenagers her own age. In fact, some of her friends have turned their backs on her because, they say, “she’s no longer a young girl.”

THOUSANDS OF GENDER-BASED VIOLENCE VICTIMS

Like Esther, thousands of women and girls have been victims of gender-based violence in the camps for displaced persons in eastern DRC. Psychological, physical and sexual violence. “We have a very large population of survivors of this violence. From January to March 2024, we could estimate that 70,000 people are survivors of gender-based violence, which shows the scale of the situation and the need to set up a prevention and support plan for victims” explains Valdes Wamba Nguimabou, head of ACF’s Mental Health and Psychosocial Support department in the Democratic Republic of Congo. “These are people who show signs of great distress. They have trouble sleeping, suicidal thoughts and are unable to eat as they used to. In our activities, these people feel listened to and can put words to their suffering.” Since March, more than 20,000 displaced people have benefited from ACF’s psychosocial support activities in the camps around Goma.

Despite the trauma, Esther tenderly kisses and cradles her child, as her mother looks on. “I feel happy, because there are lots of people my age who don’t have grandchildren. But I have a granddaughter. Whatever God gives me, I’ll use to look after my children. I’ll go where I’m given work. If I get one in Goma, I’ll live in Goma, if it’s in Saké, I’ll live in Saké.”

BEING A TEENAGER IN A CAMP

In the alleys of the Lushagala 1 camp, we pass many schoolchildren in their little white and blue uniforms. Few teenagers are still on their way to school. But this morning at the ACF clinic, some of them are rediscovering some of their memories of school life. A notebook, a pencil and brand-new wooden benches. In the adolescent clinic, Dr Innocent Birindwa and Dr Anouarite Iranga train 50 volunteers, aged 16 to 22. They teach them about risky behavior, such as drug and alcohol abuse, gender-based violence and SRH (sexual and reproductive health). These teenagers are then asked to pass on the message to those around them. “If a parent speaks to the camp’s youngsters, they think it’s a threat and don’t listen. But it’s easier for young people to get along with each other” says Dr. Anouarite Iranga, SRH supervisor. “A teenage leader will see a youngster smoking hemp and say to him, ‘Brother, these are the consequences of smoking’, and he’ll understand. Whereas a parent will first scold before explaining the evils of smoking.”

Next to the ACF center, there’s a vacant lot where the youngsters like to hang out. On one side the little ones play marbles, on the other the older ones discuss the problems of camp life. Before joining ACF, Silas, 18, says he led a life he’s not proud of. “Before I was a bandit, before I was an alcoholic.” Two years ago, Silas left the town of Saké in a hurry during a bombing raid. In his flight, he was separated from his parents. Since then, he has been living in Lushagala 1 with 4 younger siblings. “My brothers and sisters could one day run into bandits or be raped. So, I thought that at least, if I became a teenage leader, I could gain knowledge and ideas on how to help them if such things happened.”

Today, Silas has stopped drinking, is no longer in a gang and would like to find a job to support his family. In the camp, many young people take refuge in drink. “These young people are going through a crucial period in their lives, the teenage crisis. They are confronted with identity issues, bodily changes and even psychological changes. Combined with these changes, which are normal, we have life in the camps and all the difficult situations they have been through, and it becomes complicated for them” explains Valdes Wamba Nguimabou, head of the Mental Health and Psychosocial Support Department.

At 16, Josline is one of the youngest participants in the training program. “As a teenage leader, my role is to raise awareness among the young people I meet, to encourage them to seek treatment. I’ve learned that the best way to protect yourself against STDs is to use a condom. And that if someone rapes you, you have to go and see the doctors so they can give you medicine.” It’s been 3 years since Josline left Masisi with her family. She, too, would like to find a small job so that she doesn’t have to go into the forest to gather firewood. “When I see a man in uniform, I get scared, because I remember that they were the ones who chased us out of our village. As I’m a girl, I’m also afraid of being raped.” Josline sees men in uniform every day, as the camp is close to conflict zones. Among the inhabitants of the site there are also many armed men. Their presence heightens the sense of fear and insecurity among the displaced population.

A CHILDHOOD MARKED BY MALNUTRITION

André fell asleep on his mother’s lap, exhausted. Both had come from the nearby Rusayo camp for a consultation at ACF’s mobile clinic in Lushagala 1. As the anthropometric tests were being carried out, the little boy began to scream and his mother let out a few tears. Like his older brother, André had suffered a relapse of severe acute malnutrition. “When I was in Rutshuru, my children were fine. I gave them good food. They ate normally and they weren’t in this state” explains Diane. The young woman decided to leave Rutshuru with her 4-year-old children when her husband, a teacher, was killed by a stray bullet on his way out of school. She first went to Masisi, to join her uncle, but there too the fighting caught up with them. The family fled again, heading for Goma. “We’ve been displaced for almost two and a half years now. I fled with my children with nothing and here I receive nothing. If I earn a little money washing dishes or collecting wood, I buy rice, dried fish and ugali.” The family of 5 lives in a cramped tent made of tarpaulins and sticks. Diane has placed a few large pieces of black rock at the foot of the shelter to protect it from the wind and rain. The fog is lifting and the Nyiragongo volcano, overlooking the displaced persons’ camps, is gradually coming into view. Diane sweeps conscientiously in front of her tent, with little André dozing at her back. “When I saw that his legs were starting to swell, I went to see a neighbor who told me that ACF treated children. I took him there, they treated him and he recovered. Once he was cured, he left the program and I saw that he was changing again. I took him for the second time. I’m very sad to see my children like this. It’s hard for me to be alone to look after them.”

Dr Aimé Mukunzi is in charge of the Nutrition and Health program in Goma. He regularly sees cases like André’s in ACF clinics. “Cases of malnutrition are increasing among children under 5, given the living conditions in the camps. People don’t have enough to eat and food is not distributed regularly. Some households have moved several times and are no longer able to stabilize their children’s diet. Hygiene conditions are unsatisfactory, leading to illnesses that worsen the nutritional situation of the children.”

HOSPITALIZATION OF CHILDREN UNDER 5

Every month, ACF registers an average of 400 new admissions of children under 5 suffering from severe acute malnutrition. Most cases are treated on an outpatient basis. Children showing signs of complications are referred to ACF’s partner health centers, such as the Mungano clinic, run by nuns. “ACF supports structures like the Mungano clinic, which has qualified staff to help children with complications. We supply them with inputs, medicines and medical equipment, and provide nutritional care for those accompanying the children” says Dr Aimé Mukunzi. Behind red brick walls, the intensive therapeutic nutrition unit has 9 beds. Precisely every 3 hours, the children receive a cup of therapeutic milk. “In the acute phase, we give milk 8 times a day” explains Ney Bahati Bujirir, nutritionist at the Mungano clinic. “Every morning we weigh the children to see if any have gained or lost weight. After 4 or 5 days, we do an appetite test, and if it’s positive, we prepare some enriched porridge for the children, using local foods.” As for the mothers, they take their meals in the refectory set up in the courtyard, to avoid sharing food unsuitable for their child’s treatment.

Noëlla is here with her daughter Amida, aged 2. She too has experienced multiple displacements. Originally from Ngungu, she fled first to Saké, then to Goma. “When we had been in Lushagala for two months, my daughter fell ill. I came here, she was treated and recovered. But 4 months later, she had a relapse and I was told to bring her back to resume treatment. The first week, she started to drink the milk, then she pushed it away. We’ve been here for two and a half weeks now.” You can see the fatigue on Noëlla’s face and those of the other mothers. There’s worry for the sick child, but also for those left behind in the camp or in the village. “I have 6 children, but only 4 of them are with us in Lushagala” says Noëlla. “I don’t know where the others are or how they’re doing.”

Clarisse, just 19, came to have her 2-year-old daughter Espérance treated. “We lived in Beni and my father was sent to Saké to fight. A bomb fell where he lived and he died. We went to Saké to bury him, then fled to Mugunga. We stayed in a church for a while and then we were told to go to the camp. It was hard to get food. After a while, I found myself with a sick child and ACF transferred us here to Mungano.” When her second baby was born, Clarisse realized that Espérance was again suffering from edema in her legs and returned to the ACF clinic. “Life in the camp doesn’t suit us. I don’t have a husband, I just live with my mom.  We don’t have jobs, we just sit there doing nothing. It’s hard to feed ourselves. Coming back here with my children is just a source of worry.”

Just this month, the Mungano Clinic received 40 requests for hospitalization. Ney Bahati Bujirir would like to see the department expanded, so that the clinic no longer turns away patients. Like everyone here, he would especially like the war to end. “All this is a consequence of the war. All these mothers lived quietly in the village, they farmed, they did their business. The first victims of the war are the children. It eats away at the heart. Our wish is for peace, so that all the mothers can return home. We’re going to do our job until we have peace.” Conflicts in the east of the Democratic Republic of Congo have been escalating since the beginning of the year, without a humanitarian response commensurate with the needs identified. Malnutrition and psychological distress are gaining ground in the camps for the displaced, with the attendant risk of long-term trauma for the children and adolescents who grow up there.

[1] Name has been changed
[2] Name has been changed