Rebels Supported by Rwanda Announce One-Sided Ceasefire in Democratic Republic of Congo
GOMA, Democratic Republic of Congo — In a region teetering on the brink, uncertainty looms large as Rwanda-backed rebels, involved in a fierce struggle in the Democratic Republic of Congo’s illustrious east, have surprisingly declared a ceasefire. The city of Goma, an urban sprawl of over two million souls, stands at the center of this turmoil. With Monday’s declaration, the rebels surprisingly took a step back, professing humanitarian motives and responding to pleas for the creation of a safe corridor for displaced civilians and humanitarian aid. A retreat from ground recently engulfed by the smoldering remnants of conflict: who would have imagined?
The announcement, charged with a tinge of tentative hope, claimed the ceasefire would commence on Tuesday, barely a week after the U.N. health agency grimly reported nearly 900 individuals perished amid clashes between the M23 rebels and Congolese troops in Goma. Beneath the surface of strategic lines and military posturing lies a land imbued with opulent mineral wealth, now held tight in the icy grasp of rebel forces.
Adorned with ambition, the rebels initially eyed additional conquests in the expansive realms of eastern Congo, even hinting at further advances towards the provincial capital, Bukavu. However, a somewhat softened rhetoric emerged on Monday—M23’s spokesman, Lawrence Kanyuka, articulated a resolution to refrain from capturing Bukavu. “It must be made clear that we have no intention of capturing Bukavu or other areas,” he said. A curious declaration veiled with contradicting undertones, considering the past ambitions to march towards Kinshasa itself, a thousand miles away.
In stark silence, the Congolese government’s response was conspicuously absent, perhaps overshadowed by the anticipated regional summit. This upcoming assembly, orchestrated by southern and eastern African blocs, fervently aims for a lasting ceasefire. Kenya’s President William Ruto confirmed the participation of the presidents of both Congo and Rwanda. Is this the dawn of a transformative dialogue, or merely an ephemeral pause?
Internationally, anxiety brews as Foreign ministers from the G7—which seemed once abstracted—have vocalized a call for sanity. Urging all factions to return to the negotiating table, they appealed for a “rapid, safe and unimpeded passage of humanitarian relief for civilians.” But words, like winds, can swiftly lose their meaning amid the discord of unaddressed grievances.
Congo, for its part, has gestured an openness to dialogue, though insistence on recognizing earlier peace accords persists, creating a chasm between rhetoric and action. Simultaneously, Rwanda and M23 accuse Congolese authorities of reneging on past commitments. As known to U.N. experts, about 4,000 Rwandan troops clandestinely bolster the rebels—a daunting contrast to their initial 2012 escapade into Goma which ended under international tensions.
The macabre drama unfurls as this latest round of hostilities forces multitudes already scarred by protracted strife into desperate migration. Clusters of refugees trudge into compliant Rwanda, each step sullied by recollections of lost kin and crumbling homes. This is not just a territorial dispute. Deep-rooted ethnic schisms intertwine, knitting a web of complex narratives.
The M23’s ostensible crusade to shield the Tutsi ethnicity in Congo from persecution, counterclaimed by Rwanda against Hutus and former genocidal militias, adds a historical layer of trauma. After the horrifying 1994 Rwandan genocide, numerous Hutus fled, their presence morphing into the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda militia. This contemporary discord unveils a historic resonance entangling past atrocities with present aspirations. Rwanda persists in indicting the Congolese military of collaboration with these groups, charges that remain staunchly denied by Kinshasa.
Amidst this chaos, human cost reveals itself not only in figures but in the agonies etched on faces left behind. Morgues, overcrowded with bodies bereft of identities and dignity, incite poignant scenes: families engulfed by helplessness, frantically searching for familiarity among the deceased. Chiza Nyenyezi, teary-eyed and broken, spoke of her son—a victim to a violent gunshot. The visceral description of a life mercilessly ended stays haunting. “His entire chest was open,” she recounted with palpable sorrow.
In another cruel twist, Louise Shalukoma shared an ordeal—unable to retrieve her son’s lifeless body due to an unexpected bomb detonation. “My God, my fourth child, when I saw that he was dead, I said, ‘Lord, what am I going to do?’” she cried out, epitomizing the silent scream that now reverberates through Goma.
The ghosts of past conflicts linger. They whisper reminders of the fragility of peace, and the cost of forgetting. Can this ceasefire, yet another tentative step towards tranquility, truly usher this beleaguered region away from its weary dance with devastation?
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times International – Monitoring
