A celebrity photographer turns his lens on survivors of the eastern Congo conflict, now living in refugee camps.
In the Democratic Republic of Congo five million people have died despite an official end to the country’s latest war five years ago. In the eastern part of the country alone one million people have been forced from their homes by a systematic campaign of murder and rape as tactics of war. Soldiers commit much of the bloodshed: either rebel groups or government soldiers.
Four camps on the outskirts of Goma provide refuge for 400 000 people who have fled their homes over the past year. More than 50 000 have arrived in these camps over the past few months alone, and each week, hundreds more arrive, all burdened with the same stories of brutal attacks, murder, looting and rape.
It the deadliest conflict in the world today — with a much higher civilian death rate than Afghanistan, Darfur or Iraq.
This week, amid heavy fighting, the rebels advanced on Goma threatening to overwhelm the 17 000-strong United Nations peacekeeping force fighting alongside Congolese government troops. An additional 100 000 people have been displaced in just a few days.
Earlier this year celebrity portrait photographer Rankin travelled to the DRC with Oxfam to give this conflict a human face. Its work is designed to go beyond the harrowing statistics and get to the heart of Congo’s tragedy — that the people caught up in this conflict are people just like us. Shot on a white backdrop, the power of the images lies in the juxtaposition between their beauty and the first person testimonies collected to go with them — they hauntingly confirm that old adage that the luck of your birth makes all the difference.
Banza Masamba (47), hairdresser
The worst moment in my life is right now. We want peace. That’s all. Peace so that we can go back home. We want you people to talk to the politicians and ask them to stop this war.
Tumanini (38), tailor
This sewing machine is my life. I brought it with me when I had to run in the middle of the night. It’s heavy and was difficult to carry but I managed. I couldn’t leave it behind. It is this sewing machine that feeds my family. I have eight children. If someone were to take this from me, they would be taking my life. Our village is called Karuba. We were forced to run in the middle of the night. We heard gunshots outside, very close to our homes, and we decided it was time to go. The whole village decided to leave together. We had no time to take food, we had to run for our lives. We were all running. I remember many people running, many, many people. I fell and broke my leg but I managed to keep going. Many of the people were shot and killed as they were running away: old people, adults, children, people I knew.
Alexis Ruangu (29), hunter
I know someone from my village who was castrated by the rebels. This war has scared us a lot — it has really affected us. I can’t say if we will ever return home. We are afraid that if we go back we will be killed. [We are] Pygmies [who] move around the forest. We hunt, and look for honey and potatoes. My family’s not used to staying in one place, living among so many people.
Jean Mbehere (30)
We came here from Kinchanga. Almost every night people were coming, shooting and killing. We had to go hide in the bush often. My elder brother and my uncle were killed. One time when we ran into the bushes my brother didn’t run. He was sitting under a tree and a bullet hit him in the head. The only thing I want is for these people to leave the area so we can go home. We are suffering here. I only have enough for one person but I have five children to feed. All I want is peace so we can go back.
Seraphine (42), entrepreneur
My husband and I were farmers and traders. We produced maize and beans and used to trade them. My own husband was killed in front of my eyes. I was really afraid that they would kill my children and me. We were all scattered, all running in different directions. We had to just keep running.
I had to leave my husband’s body where he fell. I had to leave my village without burying my husband. I didn’t even have time to bury my own husband. Since that night my life has completely changed. I had a big house in Rutshuru. Now I am living under plastic sheeting. There is not enough room for me and my children in the shelter. I am not able to give them what they need. We have no peace.