Trip to Fizi Territory : Anthony (Tony) Bloomberg

 

Shortly after my arrival in Congo in late 2005, I took the plane from the capital Kinshasa to the city of Goma over 1,000 miles away on the eastern edge of the country. Flying over the vast Congo rain forest I gazed out of the window onto what looked like an endless carpet of broccoli. Landing in Goma, the plane stopped just short of a wall of lava that had flowed across the runway a few years before when Mount Nyiragongo volcano had last erupted. Johannes Wedenig, Chief UNICEF East DRC, was awaiting my arrival. He had suggested we make an assessment of the recently pacified Fizi Territory of South Kivu Province. Next stop was the city of Bukavu, a few hours by speedboat down beautiful Lake Kivu. This is one of a chain of lakes running north to south along the western rift valley system. After a night at the Orchid Hotel in Bukavu, UNICEF local head of office Matteo Frantini picked us up in a Toyota Landcruiser and we headed south. 

After a journey along twisting mountain roads – only passable in dry weather conditions – we arrived at Uvira at the top of Lake Tanganyika, the deepest rift valley lake and the second deepest in the world after the Siberian Lake Baikal. We checked in with the Italian NGO, who was our ‘partner’ in that area. We met a group of women survivors of sexual violence supported with counselling and micro-credits through our collaboration with the NGO; the results seemed very positive. My colleagues declared it was time for a drink and we strolled down to the shores of the lake. At a nearby house, women were busy cooking food over charcoal fires in the courtyard. A plastic white round table with matching chairs were produced and placed right by the lakeshore. The house had been some sort of ecological research centre for the Lake funded by the EU until the civil war made such activities impossible. Now some enterprising ladies used the house to provide much needed refreshment to hungry and thirsty aid workers. My companions simply wished me “Happy Birthday” - it was my 57th birthday and I had thought no one knew. Food soon materialized and bottles of fine Italian wine miraculously appeared. I sat back listening to the waves quietly lapping against the shore of the Lake and gazed out at the twinkling lights of Bujumbura – the capital of Burundi – on the far shore.

Talking to survivors of sexual violence

UNICEF in DRC organizes an annual distribution of basic education kits for primary school children in a massive logistical undertaking partnering with all NGOs and Government bodies. Everywhere we went in Fizi Territory we saw children clutching their UNICEF education bags. Visiting some schools we found the known problem of exclusion of some children unable to afford school fees that teachers demanded, since they were not sufficiently and reliably paid by the State. We visited several UNICEF supported Water and Sanitation sites, Johannes taught me the French word ‘debit’ ([water] flow). 

UNICEF supported water & sanitation project. The 'debit' was discussed & debated

In the most remote areas the ubiquitous UNICEF education kits

It was late afternoon when we finally arrived at Fizi town, the administrative centre of the Territory. Fizi was the sanctuary of Laurent Kabila during his time as an insurgent leader against Mobutu. President Joseph Kabila was born and went to primary school in Fizi. We checked in with the Territory Administrator in his small office where he graciously gave me permission to visit all corners of his territory. I solemnly thanked him, though we had been in his territory two days already and I didn’t think he was actually in control of much beyond his small office. The Banyamulenge lived inland in the high plateau protected by their militia, and the Mai-Mai leader ‘General’ Dunia controlled the area adjacent to Lake Tanganyika. 

With Johannes and Matteo and Fizi Administrator

We moved on to the Fizi Hospital, which was practically deserted. The only sign of life was the children’s therapeutic feeding centre, run by ACF (Action Contre La Faim) and supported by UNICEF with therapeutic milk and other materials.  I saw one of our donated vaccine fridges was unused due to lack of a generator and fuel.

No cold chain! Make a note.

In Baraka, we met with the MSF (Medecins Sans Frontieres) medical team, which was our partner doing health interventions in the area. We discussed solutions for immunization at Fizi hospital until a generator could be secured with a reliable fuel supply. MSF agreed to drop off vaccines in cold boxes on prescribed days of the week so that newborns could be vaccinated. A Congolese MSF doctor then reported on the accelerated vaccine outreach campaign that they managed on our behalf. He mentioned that he had led the team to Masisi, a gold mining town south of Fizi, which was very difficult to access due to very bad dirt roads and insecurity. I noted that most of the malnourished children in the therapeutic feeding centre in Fizi Hospital were from the Masisi area. “Yes”, said the Congolese doctor, “The children are in very bad condition there and in fact it was I who referred those malnourished children to Fizi whilst I was on my vaccination mission to Masisi”. We agreed that we would need to increase our attention to that area, though it was difficult to access and the ‘wild west’ atmosphere surrounding the gold mining activities presented its own risks since where there was gold mining there were sure to be armed militias taxing the miners. “There are children working the mines”, said the Congolese doctor. So we agreed to organize a multi-sectoral mission to Masisi to get a total appreciation of the situation and what could be done in response.

We stayed the night in Baraka, by the shore of Lake Tanganyika, with the ‘fathers’. During my time in DRC I liked to say that I slept a lot with the ‘fathers’ and the ‘sisters’. In remote locations they were usually the only viable lodging for traveling aid workers. I awoke early and went to the room where a simple breakfast was laid out and sat next to a priest, who reported to me about events of the previous day. “The Mai-Mai[footnote1] General Dunia tortured a RCD[footnote 2] soldier on the beach in full view of the local people. He had the poor man  roped face down to a wooden frame so his face was in the water of Lake Tanganyika and his back exposed to the sun - only the gentle lapping of the waters near the shore prevented the man from drowning. General Dunia was personally whipping the man’s burned back to pieces. After a while, a UN Peacekeeping soldier – who was summoned by one of the people - came to ask General Dunia to stop this torture. The general simply said, ‘ … keep out of this, it’s none of your business’, and the UN soldier went away”. In the recent civil war, the Mai-Mai were formed as local civil militia to counter the presence of rwandaphone forces supported by Rwanda and Burundi. After the peace agreement, all armed groups were supposed to disarm or integrate into a single national army. In fact each faction was keeping its militias more or less intact awaiting the outcome of the transition process towards democratic elections scheduled for early 2006. So called ‘General’ Dunia had concentrated over 500 of his followers on a strategically placed peninsular jutting into Lake Tanganyika from where he taxed the important commercial lake traffic between Tanzania and the Congo. Each Friday his forces abducted fresh girls from the local villages for the weekend’s entertainment.

Back in Bukavu, the capital of South Kivu Province, the Governor had invited us to dinner and we presented ourselves at his official residence at the appointed time. A long driveway led to the entrance of a grand ‘Chateau’ with a magnificent conical tower. The Governor was not yet in, but Madame, the Governor’s wife, ushered us through huge rooms and out onto the terrace at the back of the house with a magnificent view over Lake Kivu. The chateau was apparently built for the Prince of Belgium in the 1930s. Whilst I sipped a Martini Rosso, Madame explained that her husband had only just been appointed Governor. Although they lived in Kinshasa for many years they were both originally from South Kivu. I noted that all the furniture in the house looked brand new. “Yes”, said Madame, “we had to completely refurnish the house since there was nothing in it when we arrived. The custom is for outgoing senior officials to take with them all the transportable accoutrements of office – including cars and furnishings”. We moved into the huge lounge and Madame switched on the radio just in time for us to hear her husband the Governor giving a radio address to the people of South Kivu that the President would visit Bukavu the next day. A few minutes later the Governor entered. “I am so sorry to keep you waiting”, he said. “At 2pm this afternoon I was told that the President is visiting tomorrow and his security advance guard arrived a few hours later. I have been completely tied up dealing with all the arrangements”. At a previous courtesy call on the Governor in his office in the city he had explained that until becoming Governor he had been a manager in the private sector. “I feel that it was God who asked me to serve my people in this way”, he had explained. I heard that he was a deeply religious man and very unusually had an impeccable reputation for honesty and competence. We soon moved to the dinner table where we were served a four-course meal with waiters hovering to recharge our wine glasses. I raised the case of the provincial medical officer who could not account for the funds that we had provided for immunization activities. The Governor listened attentively and declared that in his administration people would learn the understanding of proper custody of public funds. He whisked out a smartphone and made a quick note with an electronic stylus. He selected another phone and calmly ordered his ‘chef de cabinet’ (chief of staff) to arrange a security meeting in his residence with the local and presidential security officials for 23:00 (it was then 22:30). The second issue I raised had to do with the poor performance of the provincial division of planning that is supposed to coordinate monitoring of our assistance across different sectors. The Governor again whisked out his smartphone and made a note. “That man is my nephew”, he murmured, “But I didn’t appoint him. This will require some tact ”. The Governor picked up one of the three cellphones by his plate, which was ringing, “Yes, precisely at 23:00”, he calmly repeated into the telephone. “It will take some time for people here to learn what punctuality means”, he said, “It is not our African way you know”. I raised the issue of widespread rape of women and the impunity to justice of perpetrators. Could the Governor use his many speaking occasions to sensitize the public and officials against such unacceptable conduct and make more efforts to bring perpetrators to justice. This time the Governor didn’t whisk out his smartphone but asked that we send him an e-mail with all these points and he promised to act upon them. The doors of the dining room burst open and eight big beefy men in uniform made straight for the long sideboard and heaped food onto plates and, joining us at the big table, started wolfing down their supper with great gusto and smacking of lips. The Governor introduced us to the ‘security committee’, which comprised local commanders as well as the President’s Security detail, one of whom was the infamous chief of the GSSP (Presidential Guard) – effectively President Kabila’s personal militia, which had a reputation for extreme arrogance and ruthlessness. As we said our goodbyes I asked the Governor one last question, “What do you use the conical tower for?” “Oh!” he answered, “It’s for drying the laundry”. I hoped that the God who had asked the Governor to serve would continue to keep an eye on him; he was now in the midst of a pack of wolves.

At a time before dawn I am waiting in the parking lot of Stella’s Hotel in Goma. A soldier guard shuffles towards me with a simple greeting “Mondele” (white man). “Bonjour,” I respond. “Mondele, je manque de la cuirasse!” (I lack boot polish). The soldiers in Congo are not paid, are unprofessional and undisciplined, are more a menace to the population than their protectors, but evidently go to a lot of trouble to keep their boots well polished. Of course the man is asking me for money. He stands before me with a pathetic expression on his face, which is bent sideways for effect, and the outstretched palm of one hand is balanced by the other gripping his AK47. “Moi aussi”, I respond pointing in the dark to my dusty boots. After a few moments the soldier shuffles away and as I continue to wait for my ride, the birds began to chirp and the sun comes up from beneath Lake Kivu heralding a fresh day on the eastern fringes of the Congo.

 [1] Mai Mai is a generic term for indigenous militia force. Most started out as genuine community based self defense forces but often evolved into larger warlord led bands that roamed extended territory to control mineral resources and prey upon captive populations.

[2] Rassemblement Congolais pour la Démocratie (RCD) was an Eastern Congo militia group, comprising Rwandaphones and supported by Rwanda.  Their leader Azarias Ruberwa was one of the four Vice Presidents in the Transitional Government.

Tony Bloomberg may be reached at :anthonybloomberg@yahoo.com

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