Review | Living and dying in the Congo

After another M23 invasion, a bit of normality has returned to this part of Goma near the border with Rwanda. Photo: AFP/JOSPIN MWISHA “On est là” is a common greeting in the Democratic Republic (DR) of Congo when you ask someone how they are. It is not a given that we are still here, that we are still alive.

This is particularly true for the megacity of Goma in the very east of the huge Central African country. Idyllically located on the shores of Lake Kivu, not far from the Virunga National Park and at the foot of the Nyiragongo volcano, the residents are exposed to practically all of humanity's scourges: bitter poverty and unemployment are combined with recurring civil wars, gang attacks, attacks by government authorities, police and administrative corruption, devastating volcanic eruptions and all imaginable fatal diseases with only rudimentary or overly expensive health care. The whole thing is overshadowed by the wealth of raw materials that finances countless militias, the legacy of the Belgian colonial era and the ruinous rule of dictator Mobutu, who ultimately recommended that all his subjects enrich themselves by force in view of the ruined economy.

Judith Raupp impressively and movingly describes what everyday life and the fight for survival looks like here today in her recently published book "Tomorrow I'll go shopping, if the market is still open." The journalist, who is known to nd readers through numerous reports and reports, moved to the DR Congo in 2010 to set up a press office for a women's organization. She also teaches journalism at various universities and trains trainers for the Association of Municipal Radios in Goma.

The secret recipe in the Congo is “Article 15,” as she writes. He's on everyone's lips, even if you look for him in vain in the constitution. Basically it says that you have to make your way through somehow. Many people succeed in doing this - if they also retain their dignity, it is nothing short of a miracle under the given circumstances. The rumba star Pépé Kallé, who died early, dedicated a song to the imaginary article about day laborers and single mothers.

"I haven't encountered the tenacity that I saw in the Congo anywhere else."

“In many poorer countries, people are struggling,” writes Judith Raupp. "But I haven't encountered the toughness that I saw in the Congo anywhere else." The author doesn't sugarcoat anything; poverty is not romanticized. She takes the local reader into everyday life and also makes it clear that her experiences in prosperous Germany always push her to her limits.

For example, when an entire annual income is required as the bride price (because it is an important source of income for the bride's family and extended families have to replace the non-existent welfare state). When caught pickpockets are beaten half to death on the street (because the police wouldn't do anything against them). When aid supplies for refugee camps are sold off (in order to pay school fees for the children). Or when villagers in a nature reserve continue to cut down trees and make charcoal or consume wild meat because they receive nothing from the large amount of aid money for the project.

Judith Raupp takes her readers into a world in which the deaths of young people are part of everyday life. Remote villages are always being plundered by one of the countless militias, residents are being massacred, women are being raped; The survivors end up in one of the many refugee camps, some of which lack basic necessities. Psychological help to process the traumatic experiences is virtually non-existent. The fact that the incompetent or helpless UN protection force never intervenes also causes a lot of trouble.

One legacy of the genocide in Rwanda is the conflict with the small neighboring country, which supports the rebel group M23, which carries out conquests every few years and spreads fear and terror even in Goma. In times of peace, armed gangs or government troops also loot here. During checks, police officers sometimes kill passersby who do not want to pay the protection money demanded. Human rights activists repeatedly end up in prison at random, and they don't always leave alive. Small children die from malaria because their parents cannot pay for treatment or the medicine they bought turns out to be counterfeit. Therefore, Ebola outbreaks or the Covid-19 pandemic - in contrast to the perspective of the WHO and the European press - were not a big drama, on the contrary: in such situations, the large aid organizations come and create many new, well-paid jobs locally. During Corona, the Congolese felt sorry for the Europeans, who suddenly died in large numbers, or lacked understanding about some of the measures.

The good thing about Judith Raupp's book is that she doesn't judge herself and doesn't try to give good advice from an outside perspective. It certainly doesn't take the perspective of the well-paid development workers from the global north who keep coming in, who usually stay in isolated wealthy areas and invest a lot of money in sometimes questionable projects.

When the author takes sides, she does so for the tireless survivors she constantly encounters: the single mother whose meager income goes to pay the ridiculous rent for a shack; the human rights activist who, despite all the repression, does not lose her courage to fight; the old man who, after wars, looting and volcanic eruptions, always had to start from scratch, but still developed new business ideas and looked after a flock of chickens at the end of his life. And for those who don't lose their sense of humor even in the most difficult times. When she brought an Advent calendar with her after a visit to Germany, which was emptied early, a colleague said: “You have to eat if you find something to eat. You never know what tomorrow will bring.”

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