It seems that violence has touched everything in the eastern DRC. Between five and a half and seven million people are dead from the fighting. You have to go back to WWII to find that much death.
Bombs fall on homes, people, fields, and trees. Soldiers of different ethnicities, allegiances, and motivations rape, steal, burn, and kill with impunity. The resulting poverty and desperation leads people to cope as best they can, often through abuse of power and trust, as I saw repeatedly.
One of the first places Niyi and I visited in the DRC was a local college, which housed a shelter and training center for women victimized by the decades-long conflict in the region. Here we met former prostitutes, young women and girls, who found themselves forced into a life they never wanted. Many of the residents had been duped into becoming sex slaves. They had been promised employment but then forced to into selling their bodies by brothel owners and madams.
The madams themselves were victims of the conflict as well. They needed to eat, and they took advantage of other people in order to do so. The group of women here included former madams as well prostitutes, all of them seeing an opportunity for a better life. At this location women meet three times a week for counseling, learn different job skills, and most importantly, are taught to read and write. During the war, most of the schools were closed, or it was too dangerous to walk to them. Sixty percent of these women are illierate. They first go through adult aducation classes before learning a trade.
It is not just the brothel owners taking advantage of people. People employed by the government use their positions for financial gain. I met this reality shortly after arriving, when the small, plane I travelled in from the town of Bunia to Beni disembarked. I was forced to pay for the right to go on (and get my passport back) by local officials, even though I had already cleared customs and immigration in Bunia.
In a similar fashion, returning to the town of Beni from Mangango, we were detained at a checkpoint by police officers for 30 minutes. There was no reason for keeping us there except that they were looking for a bribe. I was told police officers are often not paid, or not paid enough, so they supplement their income by extortion. The chief of police is aware of this and makes sure to get his cut as well.
After the police finally allowed us to proceed, we visited one final center, on the grounds of the Oicha hospital. The building itself was constructed with funds donated by the nursing staff of the hospital. Clearly, they value the work of the ministry and named it the Dorcas center, after the Dorcas of Acts 9:36. Coincidentally the name of the ministry’s head is Dorcas Mudjengani.
Bombs fall on homes, people, fields, and trees. Soldiers of different ethnicities, allegiances, and motivations rape, steal, burn, and kill with impunity. The resulting poverty and desperation leads people to cope as best they can, often through abuse of power and trust, as I saw repeatedly.
One of the first places Niyi and I visited in the DRC was a local college, which housed a shelter and training center for women victimized by the decades-long conflict in the region. Here we met former prostitutes, young women and girls, who found themselves forced into a life they never wanted. Many of the residents had been duped into becoming sex slaves. They had been promised employment but then forced to into selling their bodies by brothel owners and madams. The madams themselves were victims of the conflict as well. They needed to eat, and they took advantage of other people in order to do so. The group of women here included former madams as well prostitutes, all of them seeing an opportunity for a better life. At this location women meet three times a week for counseling, learn different job skills, and most importantly, are taught to read and write. During the war, most of the schools were closed, or it was too dangerous to walk to them. Sixty percent of these women are illierate. They first go through adult aducation classes before learning a trade.
It is not just the brothel owners taking advantage of people. People employed by the government use their positions for financial gain. I met this reality shortly after arriving, when the small, plane I travelled in from the town of Bunia to Beni disembarked. I was forced to pay for the right to go on (and get my passport back) by local officials, even though I had already cleared customs and immigration in Bunia.
In a similar fashion, returning to the town of Beni from Mangango, we were detained at a checkpoint by police officers for 30 minutes. There was no reason for keeping us there except that they were looking for a bribe. I was told police officers are often not paid, or not paid enough, so they supplement their income by extortion. The chief of police is aware of this and makes sure to get his cut as well.After the police finally allowed us to proceed, we visited one final center, on the grounds of the Oicha hospital. The building itself was constructed with funds donated by the nursing staff of the hospital. Clearly, they value the work of the ministry and named it the Dorcas center, after the Dorcas of Acts 9:36. Coincidentally the name of the ministry’s head is Dorcas Mudjengani.
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