Refugees heading to the CBCA Mugunga Church, which sits within the expansive Mugunga IDP camp in Goma, offer a snapshot of resilience amidst adversity. (Photo Credit: Michel Lunanga/AFP)
Mary Ashuza, burdened by the enormity of circumstances beyond her control, walked westwards from Goma. In a scene far too common in the war-ravaged landscapes of the eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), she and her children clutched onto the remnants of their lives packed into bundles they could carry.
From the farmsteads of South Kivu to the chaos of North Kivu, Mary’s journey was fraught with peril. Fleeing her home at a moment’s notice, the 40-something mother of five found herself amid an exodus, her life upturned by the violent advances of the M23. “I watched a neighbor’s family get slaughtered after the DRC armed forces brought heavy artillery right into our village, Minova. That’s why we fled,” she confided to Al Jazeera with eyes that bore silent tales of trauma.
The swelling numbers of Goma’s IDP camps once offered a semblance of refuge until unrest reared its head yet again. The notorious March 23 Movement (M23), emboldened, flooded into Goma, leaving Mary and thousands reeling and in flight once more. Initially sheltered by the kindness of a host family, Mary’s resolve crumbled under the weight of absent aid and scarce resources, prompting her to leave Goma entirely.
With humanitarian efforts in disarray due to mounting violence, essential support systems in the DRC face near-impossible odds. Recent conflicts pushed scores of internally displaced persons towards uncertain futures in their places of origin; over 100,000 IDPs have departed Goma within days, leaving once-bustling camps eerily empty.
The chaos escalating in towns and villages forced inhabitants to flee. The looming threat of ill-treatment from rival factions made staying unbearable. Witnesses spoke hesitantly of ordeals encompassing looting, sexual violence, and executions.
Imagine, if you can, trying to find safety on streets that pulse with danger at every corner. Such was the plight of a soldier’s wife. Desperate to escape, she avoided M23 troops as her children and she ventured towards Goma’s port. “This place is perilous,” she admitted, echoing the fears of many.
Let’s consider a date etched into memory: January 26, 2025, when M23 forces infiltrated Goma under night’s shadow. This invasion unleashed mayhem that sites across the city captured in viral videos. Waves of soldiers, appearing bizarre and otherworldly, swiftly dominated the terrain. Discursive claims of ‘liberation’ aside, by midweek, M23’s grip was firm, pressing south towards Bukavu with ominous poise.
Behind the facade of ideological struggle lies a conundrum of geopolitics and mineral wealth. Reports by UN experts implicate Rwanda in sustaining M23 through military support—a claim met with categorical denial by Rwanda amidst accusations of vying for DRC’s rich resources.
The bloody conflict since the capture saw over 700 lives lost, and roughly 3,000 wounded—a grim statistic for a city where even the air hung heavy with despondency.
“Life’s at a standstill,” lamented Kubuya Chanceline, a resident, grasping at optimism amidst encroaching dread. Goma, encircled by uncertainty, remains as though suspended in a dark version of itself.
The city suffered deprivation as utilities were severed amidst clashes, leaving desperation in its wake. Looting became a reflex for survival as commodity prices soared and basic supplies vanished. Imagine needing to plunder to provision for hungry mouths—thus was the tale of Amuri Upendo. “This war drags us unfathomably,” he said, defending actions rooted in despair.
With M23’s authority established, fragmented services slowly crawled toward reconstruction. Electricity flickered back, and the chorus of reconnecting commerce hummed its tentative tune. Shelves, though onerous in cost, once again held produce, presenting hope among escalating living costs.
A local market visitor, Julienne Anifa, entreated Goma’s new masters to steady the economy. Her daily bargains had never weighed heavier, her family stretched thin over a cover-ready to snap.
In a fitful address, Corneille Nangaa of the Alliance Fleuve Congo sought to reassure Goma’s residents. But in their hearts lay visible scars adapting to the tides of uncertainty and fear.
Families mourned their lost, fielding grief and honor in equal measure during the sifting aftermath of upheaval.
Despite military remissions and war’s slackening grasp, Goma’s dwellers diverged in their responses. Some welcomed solace in M23’s presence, relieved by muted militarism. Others deemed acquiescence to occupation inevitable and pragmatic. Yet, others still harbored deeper fears, questioning strategies that might rekindle fighting, like a wound reopening lacerations too fresh to heal.
For Goma’s citizens, wellness now hinges on tranquility and hope, favoring life beyond control’s battleground. “Safety and a semblance of stability—those are paramount,” said Faraja Joseph, upstream in conviction yet wrestling with internal turmoil.
As the Congolese government pledges retribution, Goma faces the constraints of its geography—a city hemmed by tempestuous nature and geopolitical fracas. Those observing globally denounce alleged complicities, urging negotiations to curtail devastation, echoing warnings of a mounting humanitarian and human rights crisis.
Caught in matters global and local, the common denizens of eastern DRC yearn for a lost sense of peace, casting nostalgia toward weary roads trailing back to forsaken homes.
Returning to their roots offers solace for many, like Mary Ashuza, who hopes to find sanctity among family and land. Her forward march, resolute despite barefooted innocence and unsettling echoes, charts a path away from Goma, with footsteps treading longing and defiance en route to Masisi.
“Better a familiar hearth in risk’s shadow than estrangement’s cold embrace,” she declared, her heartset strain forging ahead–a story yet unfinished.
Edited By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring
