I never thought I would be so happy to leave the Congo. Goma never felt right to me; in fact, the more days I spent walking along the dark gray lava-covered ground, being stared at by suspicious and glaring eyes, the more tense and anxious I became. Like Will, I was relieved to return to the oasis of our hotel every night.
Others in the Congo do not have the choice to leave. I keep thinking of the camps I visited full of homeless people living in thatch-roof shacks. One camp is aptly nicknamed “misery camp”: Many have had family members raped and killed, they have no access to education, and they are completely dependent on outside assistance for food. These villagers cannot return home. They have no security anywhere. They are indefinitely stuck in these tiny camps, with uncertain futures and little hope.
“Misery camp” may well reflect the status of the Congo. It’s infinitely sad to me that such a beautiful country endowed with so many natural resources can have such a tortured past and present. I remember driving through a town in Rutshuru province that was absolutely breathtaking, with beautiful greenery and lush vegetation everywhere. No more than 5 km from that town, we came across another one where its crops were neglected and houses burned. Weeds were growing everywhere. This town had been attacked by soldiers, our guide explained. All the people have left and are now living in a displacement camp. Like its crops, the town is completely deserted.
What’s ironic is that the villagers who left are now dependent on the food provided by the World Food Program (WFP), whereas before the attack, the town used to produce food for the WFP. Who attacked the town remains unclear: one rebel fraction will always blame another, and all will say that whatever they did was justified to bring peace to the people. “I don’t think these soldiers understand,” said our guide, “They say they are fighting for the people, but they are actually shooting the people in the head and our country in the foot.”
Perhaps it is in part because of its abundant resources that the Congo has been embroiled in the downward cycle of conflict, poverty, and hopelessness. In his book, “The Bottom Billion,” Paul Collier discussed four traps leading to what he refers to as the poverty trap. These include the traps of conflict, bad governance, being land-locked with bad neighbors, and having abundant natural resources. Many countries have one trap; some have two. The Congo is particularly unfortunate to have suffered from all four traps.
Will the Congo ever break free of these traps? Almost every Congolese I spoke with had little hope for their country. “We just have bad leaders who kill,” said one man. “Good leaders don’t live long in the Congo.” Everyone talked about the erosion of human values. I really felt devoid of hope when a pastor told me, “Nobody here has human values any more. They think it is normal to rape and kill. God cannot even help because the people here no longer have faith in anything.”
Perhaps the most disturbing part of being in the Congo is that I feel myself becoming numb to the ongoing atrocities. I am no longer reacting with horror and shock upon hearing that this town has had 25 people massacred, or that this woman had been raped by five soldiers, or that all these thousands are barely surviving after being kicked out of their village. A week ago, I wouldn’t have thought that I could just shrug and think of deaths and rapes as a statistics.
I learned a great deal from visiting the Congo. particularly about the pervasive and damaging effects of conflict and insecurity. But it is time that I leave. I don’t want to become immune to human suffering, and I don’t want to lose hope for humanity.
