Families are being torn apart as they run for their lives in the Democratic Republic of Congo and, as in so many African wars, it is the women who are suffering most, writes Rob Crillyin Goma
THE PRICE of safety seems pitifully small. But $10 was all the money Josephine had when the government soldiers came calling at her.
She had been raped once already when the Democratic Republic of Congo's messy eastern war flared earlier this year. This time, as soldiers looted, pillaged and raped their way around Goma, she knew what they wanted.
"There were five of them," she said quietly in Swahili, sitting in a gloomy women's refuge. "They were demanding money and I knew that if I didn't give them anything they would rape me so I gave them everything I had.
"The mum of the house gave them $20 but they said it wasn't enough for her daughters so they raped one of them."
More than a quarter of a million people have been displaced during the past three months of fighting as the Democratic Republic of Congo's messy, forgotten war erupts once again. Rebels loyal to renegade army general Laurent Nkunda have closed to within a few miles of Goma, the regional capital. Their frontline is now only about 600 yards from the closest government positions.
Few analysts believe Nkunda's claims that his National Congress for the Defence of People can take the city, much less hold it.
Yesterday rebels said they were pulling back from two fronts in North Kivu province to allow peacekeepers to police a separation zone between the two sides. The UN force in the DRC said it was trying to confirm the withdrawal.
"Separation of forces would be a good step in the right direction," said Lieut Col Jean-Paul Dietrich.
With each tiny shift of the frontline and with each claim and counterclaim of a military breakthrough, thousands more people are forced from their homes and into humanitarian statistics.
Families are being torn apart as sons and daughters run for their lives in different directions. And, as in so many miserable African wars, it is the women who are suffering most.
Ngiraganga was forced from her home in Rutshuru, 40 miles north of Goma, two weeks ago. With rebels closing rapidly on the town, government soldiers began withdrawing. Not before enjoying the last spoils of war.
She said they went door-to-door killing husbands and fathers then raping the women. "They beat me and raped me," she said. "They weren't drunk, just dirty from the fighting." Ngiraganga survived by hiding in the bush for two days before walking for four more.
Now she sleeps on the floor of a school and prays for the safety of the two sons and a daughter left behind in Rutshuru.
Goma is awash with similar stories. At night, the smoke from scores of cooking fires mingles with mist rolling in from the mountains. Pitted basketball courts, football pitches and churches have all been turned into makeshift camps. The start of the rainy season means there is no escape from the cold at night. By day, the thick stench of rotting sewage fills the air.
Kahindo Francoise, co-ordinator of Univie, a charity which tries to help victims of sexual violence, said it was impossible to gauge the extent of abuses. Many victims were hiding in the bush, she said, unable to reach Goma.
"Soldiers of the government are doing this. They are angry, they don't have enough food, or haven't been paid their salaries, and they are not educated," she added.
"They are taking out their anger on local people. They take what they can and often the victims are women." As so often in central Africa, the roots of misery can be traced to someone else's war: the Rwandan genocide of 1994.
Nkunda claims his soldiers are protecting ethnic Tutsis from Hutu militias who have lived deep in the Congolese jungle ever since fleeing Rwanda and the threat of reprisals for their role in the killings. Dozens more armed groups, each with an eye on the region's rich mineral resources, complicate the picture further.
With no prospect of peace any time soon, people are still arriving at the camp of Kibati barely a mile from the front line, even as the UN prepares to move them to a safer site.
Denise Katungu (20) fled from Kiwanja two weeks ago after villagers were attacked by one side and then the other. Mai Mai guerrillas, who support the government, launched an assault on Nkunda's soldiers before pulling back. The rebels then took revenge on the local population, hunting out suspected Mai Mai sympathisers or anyone else they could blame.
"No one really knew what was going on," said Denise, a baby daughter suckling hungrily at her breast. "It was like they were killing people randomly."
Human Rights Watch said 50 civilians were killed.
About 60,000 people are now crammed into Kibati. The camp's black volcanic soil has been squelched to stinking mud and aid workers are desperately trying to stop a few dozen cases of cholera turning into a deadly epidemic.
For Denise, it is home for the time being. She said she just wants an end to the Congo's chaos, confusion and killing. "I want someone to take the village and tell me to come back, everything is safe," she said. "I don't care who wins as long as we can go home."