The brutal and systematic rape of thousands of women is destroying society in the east of the Democratic Republic of Congo, writes Brian O'Connellin Bukavu
Ombeni's home is a two-room mud shack, in a honeycomb-like complex of corrugated iron and twisted branches dug into the hills surrounding Bukavu, in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).
It's a half-hour walk from her front door to her son Daniel's school. There, she fixes his collar and kisses him. Ombeni continues her journey another half mile down the road, to her own classroom. This is her first year back at school, and her headmaster says she is a model pupil:.
Ombeni should be nearing the end of her college life now, perhaps fending off marriage requests or applying for teaching posts in the city. But her schooling, and her life's journey, were brutally interrupted almost five years ago, when she was 15. She was out working in the fields one evening when rebel forces captured her. For months she became their slave, both sexual and physical, as they lived in various wooded compounds along the Rwandan border. Heavily pregnant, and near death due to lack of food, the rebels decided to return her to her village so her parents could watch her die. She didn't.
Five years on, she is picking up the pieces of a fragmented life. It hasn't been easy. Locals are suspicious of her son Daniel, thinking he will grow up and assume the same characteristics as his father. Ombeni fears for his safety, but he is oblivious. Next year his mother will start training in a local university to be a teacher. Two years after that, she hopes to have money to leave the village and get a house somewhere safe. A fresh start.
Despite everything, she considers herself fortunate.
For an increasing population of silent victims though, life in the Democratic Republic of Congo has become a hellish pattern of sexual and physical torment. Along the eastern border region, a daily horror show is playing out, bolstered by the ambivalence of the international community and the political vacuum created by decades of regional conflict. The perpetrators include the Interahamwe, the Hutu fighters who fled neighbouring Rwanda in 1994 after committing genocide there; the Congolese army; a random assortment of armed civilians; even UN peacekeepers; and, increasingly, local civilians.
Christine Schuler Deschryver, who works for a German aid organisation and has been a staunch and stubborn advocate for victims, says the perpetrators are difficult to identify. "All of them are raping women," she says, "It is a country sport. Any person in uniform is an enemy to women."
The problems have their roots in the Rwandan genocide in 1994, when thousands of victims and perpetrators fled across the border. Upwards of 10,000 of the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR) remained in the Democratic Republic of Congo, living in forested areas and terrorising local populations. Rwanda doesn't want them back, and anyway many refuse to return. The Congolese army, it seems, has neither the collective heart nor the political will to forcibly remove them, and with many soldiers not receiving pay for months on end, they too are guilty of looting and pillaging. So the forces remain, intent on the sexual and social destruction of the local population. And so far they are succeeding on a spectacular scale. Those who are apprehended are rarely brought to justice, thanks to antiquated gender laws. The attacks grow more numerous and sadistic by the day and the normalisation of sexual violence continues largely unabated.
"Darfur is nothing compared to what's going on in the Congo," says Schuler Deschryver, who, despite constant death threats, continues to raise the plight of Congolese women. "My father was the founder of the National Park in Rwanda, which is home to rare silverback gorillas," she says. "During the war here, just one silverback was killed. And when it happened, within 48 hours millions in funding was sent to ensure the rest of the gorilla population was protected. Why isn't the same done with our women? I'll tell you why - because in the eyes of the international community animals have more value than humans in this part of the world."
Her anger is also felt a few miles away, on the outskirts of Bukavu, where Dr Mukwege, an obstetrician for more than 20 years, attempts to deal with the aftermath of sexual violence. He runs Panzi Hospital, which is situated on a large rambling site and houses more than 350 patients. Each day, 10 new patients are admitted, some as young as nine, so badly damaged that reconstructive surgery is often required. The victims sit on benches, alone and frightened. On eye contact, there is nothing. No expression, no acknowledgment, no smile.
Dr Mukwege can't say for certain if the attacks are on the increase. The hospital estimates that they see just 10 per cent of all sexual violence crimes, but certain patterns are developing. Attackers are now identifiable by their manner of attack - one group, after raping the woman or girl, inserts the barrel of a gun into her vagina and shoots, thus destroying her vagina, bladder, rectum and causing massive blood loss. Some force males at gunpoint to rape mothers or sisters, often in front of the whole community. A large percentage of the attackers are HIV-positive, and knowingly infect their victims, which can include young children, some as young as 10 months. These aren't random acts - what's happening in the east of the Democratic Republic of Congo is the systematic sexual and social destruction of whole populations.
And very little, it seems, is being done to stop it.
"I have seen men lost," says Dr Mukwege, from his offices at Panzi, "emotionally ruined and unable to go on after witnessing the destruction of their wives and the resulting destruction of their families. Some men flee and abandon their families. In cases where the perpetrators don't kill their victims outright, they kill them slowly and painfully, not just physically, but psychologically and emotionally. It is the destruction of society."
I'm not the first journalist to visit Panzi - CNN, the BBC and Oprah have all passed through in recent months - yet Dr Mukwege says nothing has changed. They still turn away patients on a daily basis, and those responsible are seldom brought to justice. "I have spoken to everyone from the international media who have visited, but still the rapes continue," he says. "I have to keep hope otherwise I'd take off my shirt and stop my work. I know the situation can be resolved if people really get involved and international political will is behind it. We cannot ignore what's happening here and portray it as barbaric African culture, as it is sometimes portrayed."
As DR Mukwege is called away, victims who have lined up outside hobble into the room to tell us their stories. Sixteen-year-old Chibalonza Nsinire was asleep in her house when the Interahamwe came. After tying her hands, they led her to a forest and, over the course of three days, took turns raping her and other women from her village. After being raped, the women were forced to prepare meals for the forces, using food pillaged from their own houses. Mugoli Muhamiri was expecting wedding guests when she answered a knock at her door six months ago. Instead of welcoming relatives, a group of men poured into her house and began a rampage. She was tied up so that her hands and legs were spread, and the men took turns raping her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her husband's throat being slit, and two of her children being mutilated. They were two years old. She says she counted seven men raping her, before she lost consciousness. Now she clings to her only surviving child, Stephen, who is unaware his mother has HIV. "I have been given great medical support here, but I know one day soon I have to die," she says. "I cannot keep the medicine for the HIV in my stomach because I have no food. I feel bad for my child who remains, because he will have no mother and no father. That brings great sorrow to my heart."
The final victim to speak to us is heavily pregnant 15-year-old Furaha Tajiri. The forces came for her at night, tied her hands and started beating her and her parents repeatedly. "I then saw them take my parents and kill them," she says. "After that they took me with them to the forest. They started raping me there - I counted 17 who attacked me. I stayed in the forest for six months and each day I was raped by two men." The next morning Furaha gave birth to a baby boy. When we visited, she was distraught, and in need of food.
My visit was assisted by Trócaire, who support 10 partner organisations in the region, and are currently expanding their programme on gender-based violence into Bukavu. Trócaire, like many others, believes the UN should deploy troops to patrol those areas that are particularly prone to attack. Night patrols, firewood patrols, and patrols of known market routes and other areas where women and girls are particularly vulnerable to attack are needed. The organisation also believes that the government of the Democratic Republic of Congo has a responsibility to seek a solution to the current conflict in eastern Congo, and to do so while respecting human rights. The international community has a responsibility to support the government of Congo in this.
For many working on the ground the destruction is total and the task often overwhelming. Efforts to deal with the problem are only grazing the surface, in a country rich on resources but poor on relief. Less than 50 NGOs ply their trade on the ground in eastern Congo, in contrast to Rwanda, which is something of an NGO haven. Some speak of greater advocacy and more lobbying, while the victims desperately need food, medicine, rehabilitation and reassurance.
In the genocide museum in the Rwandan capital of Kigali, Kofi Annan is quoted as feeling remorseful towards the atrocities committed in 1994, when one million Rwandans died on the UN's watch. The international community could have and should have done more, he infers. Yet 17,000 UN troops are stationed in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and within a stone's throw of their bases, the most vulnerable in that society are being routinely violated.
Last month UN humanitarian chief John Holmes was in Bukavu. He too called to Panzi Hospital, and expressed horror when he heard the stories and surveyed the conditions. He also met Christine Schuler Deschryver.
Normally an articulate and measured advocate, her diplomatic savvy deserted her. "I told him what is happening here is a holocaust. I was very aggressive. I said, you are in the Congo, so what are you doing? You came to the hospital and like everyone you cry. Like everyone you leave. And like everyone, we never hear from you again."
For information about Trócaire's work or to make a donation see www.trocaire.org or call 1850-408408
Sexual attacks, stigma and shame
A particularly brutal and disturbing element of the violence in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo is the prevalence of sexual attacks as a weapon. Gender-based violence is being used systematically to attack, destroy and humiliate women, their families and entire communities. This insidious crime is often surrounded by silence due to its sexual nature and the stigma and shame that it generates.
In the east, particularly in the province of South Kivu, sexual and gender-based violence is at extreme levels. In the first six months of 2007, 4,500 sexual attacks were recorded - widely believed to be only a snapshot of the true situation. According to the UNFPA, UN Population Fund, which carried out an assessment in September and October 2006 in the province, 22,160 cases of gender-based violence were identified. The perpetrators of these crimes include the Interahamwe militia groups who have been based in the country since 1994, the armed forces and the police.
