Democratic Republic of the Congo: Almost impossibly, the pilot found the runway. Deep inside the vast forest the plane plunged towards the dense canopy of trees. Suddenly a strip of tarmac loomed, and it skidded to a halt before a roadside hut.Startled villagers rushed out to greet the aid workers, among the first in years, who clambered out, writes Declan Walsh
So, too, did a clutch of scowling rebels. Wearing green wellington boots and swinging AK-47 guns, they emerged from the dark bushes, barking orders. The aid workers unloaded three motorbikes and roared towards the forgotten town.
This is the shaky dividend of Congo's fragile peace. Officially, the war is over. In the capital, Kinshasa, warlords, government ministers and rebels are forging a transitional government. But 1,000 miles to the east, in the crucible of the conflict, there are no certainties.
Walikale, a crossroads town far into the eastern forests, virtually disappeared from maps in recent years. Gangs of gunmen swarmed the surrounding forests, turning it into a jungle enclave. Sometimes they battled for the town, other times for the riches of the gold, coltan and cassiterite mines nearby.
Aid agencies and missionaries fled, abandoning those left behind to looting, mindless violence and the gnawing of continuous fear.
The siege has lifted somewhat, thanks to last July's peace deal, signed by President Laurent Kabila and four rebel factions. The skirmishes have ceased and foreign aid is slowly returning. A team of Médecins Sans Frontières medics have just arrived, and this week's reconnaissance team from the UN should bring more help.
But as throughout eastern Congo, chaos reigns. Unpaid soldiers pillage the innocent with lawless abandon. Farmers are afraid to till their fields for fear their harvest will be stolen at gunpoint. Their wives are afraid to help them, in case they are raped. And the forests are still home to the Interahamwe, a ruthless Rwandan Hutu militia, and local fighters known as the Mayi-Mayi.
"We want a government in Kinshasa, but the gun is still the authority here," said Rocky Kongolo. "So for now we have only a half hope."
In Walikale's empty market, child soldiers perched on the deserted stalls. A few miles away a group of malnourished children lingered outside a crumbling mud hut. Their stomachs were bloated; normally thick black hair had withered to wispy blonde strands.
Their mother, Yvonne Njiki, wearily explained why: "The soldiers come, they fight, we run. Every time." The last time the Mayi Mayi a local militia group attacked the RCD-Goma rebels, she fled to the forest with her nine children. For weeks they slept under banana trees, drank river water and survived on scavenged food.
One nine-year-old son died and was buried in the bush. Later she lost another baby through miscarriage. Even the most basic possessions were ruined. Tattered clothes with football-sized holes dried on the ground beside her. "The termites," she explained.
According to the World Food Programme, half a million displaced people across Congo face severe hunger due to continuing violence. "People have high expectations of the interim government," said Robert Dekker of WFP. "But so far, it hasn't meant a lot."
Success depends on all armed factions signing up to the new national army, but even that remains unsure. Several senior officers from RCD-Goma (see accompanying story) are hesitating about travelling to Kinshasa. And on the ground little has changed the same troops, same commanders and same criminal behaviour.
Cows, goats and bicycles have disappeared from the streets thanks to looting soldiers. Desperate townsfolk now bury their remaining possessions in the surrounding bush, waiting for a return to calm.
Detained civilians are jailed in waterlogged pits, sometimes for weeks on end, according to local human rights workers. Last month RCD-Goma soldiers dragged the town chief from his house, slit his mouth with a machete, then shot him.
They also seized Dorothea Kisa, but for a different reason. In July the 29-year-old woman was brought to the rebel headquarters a deserted Swedish Protestant mission where four soldiers thumped, kicked and gang-raped her for five hours. The abuse stopped only after her teeth broke and blood flowed from her ears.
"If you refuse to sleep with the soldiers, they accuse you of being either a Mayi-Mayi or a witch," she said. Other victims included a 63-year-old grandmother and an 11-year-old child, she added.
Inside his mud-walled office Philemon Mongi-Punzu, a courageous local human rights advocate brandished a copy of Congo's new constitution. It had been sent from Kinshasa, an entire time zone away. "The ideas in here are good," he said tapping the document. "But we have yet to taste them here."