The most bizarre experience on this trip so far has been the visit to General Laurent Nkunda. It’s hardly an everyday occurrence to go to the military camp of an actual “warlord” who is accused of raping and massacring thousands. (He prefers to be referred to as “liberator of the people”, and denies all allegations against him.) That a journalist well known for opposing him had just been assassinated in the Congo, and that General Nkunda made several references to our security, made us apprehensive during the interview and cautious in subsequent reporting.
One of the most striking parts of the interview is the religious fervor with which General Nkunda led his troops. Apparently, he is very influenced by the evangelist movement, and as a pastor in the Pentecostal church, he helps to convert and baptize his troops. He proudly sported a pin, “Rebels for Christ.” Before each drink and meal, he and his faithful prayed. “We fight in the name of the Lord,” he told us. “That is what I tell all my troops. When they fight, they have God on their side.”
As a lapsed Christian, I have to admit that I don’t know much about Christianity. But something about Nkunda’s comments made me feel ill to my stomach. Was he really using God as a license to kill? Was it really his conviction that God was with him in battle, or was he using “the God card” as a way to manipulate and control his troops? It would not be the first time that the name of God has been used to consolidate power, and certainly not the first time religion has given hope and purpose to unemployed young men without good futures.
I spoke with another pastor in the Pentecostal church about my discomfort. This pastor lives quite a different life from Gen. Nkunda: Reverend Samuel Meyele is one of the pastors working for HEAL Africa hospital who counsels women victims of sexual violence. There are no international warrants out for his arrest, only international praise.
According to Pastor Samuel, Nkunda’s faith at one point seemed real. Pastor Samuel recalls when Nkunda first joined a neighboring Pentecostal church in Goma. He and Nkunda were even friends at one point. When Nkunda first started leading his troops into war, Pastor Samuel said that none of the local churches would believe it. They were finally convinced that he was the one leading the crimes and atrocities, and his own church ended up excommunicating him. “What he does now, it is not part of the church. It is not right. He can call himself Pastor and Pentecostal, but this is not what we believe.”
Pastor Samuel sees firsthand the spoils of Nkunda’s “religious” mission. So does Sister Dominique, a Polish nun who runs a feeding center and hospital in Rutshuru province. For seven years, she has seen children who are severely malnourished, mothers who are starving to death, and people of all ages displaced, injured, and despondent. We asked her to explain how it is possible for her and the soldiers working for General Nkunda to both be working for God. “All people fighting say that they do so for God,” she responded, with tears in her eyes. “But if they are stealing, raping, killing, they do not understand God. It is not God they work for.”
I lie awake at night thinking about our experiences in the Congo. Meeting this charismatic General who sounds like a preacher is superimposed with seeing the villages destroyed and hearing the stories of those who lives were cut short because of conflict. To be fair, other “warlords” and rebel groups are also implicated in the conflict. And I may not know much about Christianity, or God. But the basic values of humanity are such that killing and maiming innocent people—in anyone’s name—is just wrong. That General Nkunda is able to use religion as a rallying cry to the point of committing such atrocities is testament to the depth of the problems and the erosion of human values in the Congo.
