In Goma and Bukavu, once vibrant centers of trade and community, life has been stripped down to survival.
War has made a home here — not a sudden invasion, but a grinding, persistent presence that refuses to leave. Armed groups roam the forests and villages, bringing with them fear, destruction, and death. In the markets of Goma, people speak in whispers, eyes darting constantly to the roads, listening for the sound of gunfire or boots. The air is thick with tension. No one feels safe, not even in their own homes.
In Bukavu, families sleep in shifts — while one person watches, the others rest. Doors are barricaded with furniture, and mothers teach their children to hide at the first hint of danger. The fear is not only of bullets or bombs, but of what comes in the night — raids, looting, kidnappings, and rape.
Sexual violence has become a terrifying weapon of war. Women and girls are the most vulnerable, targeted in acts meant to humiliate and destroy. Survivors walk through the streets, silent, broken, with nowhere to turn. Many receive no medical help, no counseling. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced. Doctors try their best, but supplies are few and shrinking every day. Painkillers, antibiotics, even clean water — all are luxuries. In some places, childbirth is a death sentence.
Food is another battlefield. Entire communities are starving. Crops cannot grow on land soaked in blood and fire. Roads are too dangerous to travel, and humanitarian aid is often blocked or stolen by militias. Children with sunken eyes and swollen bellies sit silently in refugee camps, their laughter stolen by hunger. A single meal a day, if that, is all many can hope for.
People talk of the future like it’s a dream from long ago. “We used to believe in tomorrow,” says Mama Chantal, a teacher turned aid volunteer. “Now we just try to get through today.”
Despite the chaos, a quiet resilience endures. Community leaders, faith groups, and youth organizers still try to hold their people together. But hope is fading fast, and the world seems to look the other way.
Eastern DR Congo bleeds while the world sleeps. Goma and Bukavu cry out for peace, for help, for recognition. But in the dust and smoke of war, their voices grow faint.
The land is devastated. The people live in fear. And for many, the future feels like a story that will never be written.
