Living Under Fire in War-torn Eastern Congo

[Note: I generally write a little more dry and scientific; with this piece my aim is to convey my working experience through a more personal lens instead of a technical report from a professional standpoint. Any views expressed are my own. A version of this article appears in the 2018 MEG Newsletter.] #Firefighting #FireManagement #DRC

I grew up in California, started working as a wildland firefighter after High School, and throughout 4 years of college. Two years later, I was still firefighting, married with a daughter – but I missed the intellectual challenge of academia. So, I moved to Germany with my family – my wife then pregnant with our son – and embarked on the journey of getting my masters degree in Environmental Governance at the University of Freiburg.

After 2 years of studies, I was ready again to roll up my sleeves and work full time. Angling originally for climate policy, I somehow landed back in the world of fire – and halfway through my studies began working for the Global Fire Monitoring Center. I quickly dove into projects and fire management work in Southeast Asia, frequenting Indonesia after the devastating fire and smoke episode of 2015. I also became engaged across a half-dozen countries and by early 2017 was planning my first visit to Central Africa – a region totally unknown to me.

The months leading up to my planned mission were hectic – two trips to Indonesia, several engagements across Germany and France, family vacation in Croatia, and two days later I was embarking on a near-3-day journey via Rwanda to my first destination village in South Kivu: An active conflict zone on the Eastern border of the D.R. Congo. I had no idea what to expect.

Having been a firefighter, I’ve had my share of unsettling experiences but I must say, the bus ride across Rwanda left me entirely surprised I was still alive by the end of it. It made a bumpy helicopter deployment seem innocent. Half a day later, walking across the border into the DRC, the difference between the two countries was striking. They offered opposite outcomes achieved by authoritarian regimes: Rwanda presenting the public order, well-groomed countryside, neat infrastructure – the highlights of what state-control can achieve. Meanwhile, crossing into Bukavu, DRC, the surroundings became chaotic and disheveled – a mix of shacks and mansions, blanketed with the red dust that envelopes populated areas sin pavement; public utilities like water and electricity were left behind. With a corrupt centralized government seated some 3000km away, the impacts on a region gripped by one of the worst and most protracted humanitarian crises of the modern era, were suddenly tangible. After the Rwandan genocide and throughout the Congo wars, this region was held together by a mix of international and church organizations and UN Peacekeepers, still evident today by the constant flow of Toyotas insigniated with the logos of UN (MONUSCO), Red Cross, etc. 

[Top: Curious boys peer through the window while we meet with the village elders. Bottom: Two women listen intently as we discuss community-led fire management. Women often use fire to burn crop residue and for cooking. Unfortunately, no women were selected to receive my training despite being arguably more hard-working and physically fit than most men in the village. Rural population demographics also disproportionately favored women. Photos: L. Pronto]

After passing through Bukavu, the patchy pavement gave way to an infinite quantity of pot holes and red dust. Our driver drifted the Land Rover at top speeds around cliffy blind corners as I regarded the wrecked and abandoned vehicles of past commuters, questioning my judgement in volunteering for this assignment. My first impression of a rural Kivu village was happening across a smashed blood-spattered semi-truck which lost its brakes and racing backwards downhill, crashed through huts and into a market, killing 17 – mostly children. What stunned me the most was the numbed normality with which observers regarded the scene.

Welcome to the Congo.

Over the course of the next couple weeks, I saw and experienced many things that I would best describe as inflicting discomfort on me. After all, I was just a brief witness, visitor, a guest in a world that was largely unrelatable to my own. My own discomfort – logically and emotionally trying to reconcile the abominable inequality and injustice within the human race – was my greatest hardship. This hardly registered on the scale these people experienced. 

[Young cattle herders framed by a completely deforested landscape, once tropical forest. Behind them, a fire-blackened mountain side lit to more quickly regenerate grass for their cows. Photo: L. Pronto]

Every day we hiked for miles through steep terrain, convened town hall meetings, met with village chiefs and local leaders – often all in the same day. As security concerns barred most aid organizations from operating here, my colleague and I were the only foreigners for hours in any direction; by the end of each day, I felt the expectations of villagers weighing heavily on me. The experience was physically, mentally and emotionally depleting – a personal struggle that deepened when returning to my ‘privileged’ life in Germany. We live in a world of extremes and while the region may be partially known for the most heinous acts humans are capable of, I was deeply moved by humanity, humility, and generosity that connected others through hardship. I encountered immediate friendships, affection and a lot of laughs along the journey.

A year later when I next returned, Ebola and Cholera outbreaks were underway, there were still thousands of child soldiers, over 40 armed militias; the UN had elevated the crisis to level three on par with Yemen, Syria and Iraq; 13.2 million people faced starvation, it was still sexual violence capital of the world: A region where 2 in 3 women, 1 in 3 men and 1 in 10 children under the age of ten were raped and brutalized. Of course, I never ‘saw’ this; what I experienced was a hodgepodge of hopeful, desperate, inspirational and broken individuals – all showing their own brand of remarkable survivalist determination. So, what did these depressing facts have to do with my assignment? In retrospect, it was likely the invisible traumas of these broader conditions that I most underestimated while conveying a work ethic, orientation and value system imported from vastly different socio-economic contexts and working environments. 

[Newly trained firefighters proudly present their training certificates. Photo: L. Pronto]

I was tasked by a German-based NGO to conduct an assessment of fire management capacities and needs for five rural parishes in South Kivu (2017). The objective for my follow-up mission (2018) would be conducting a week-long training course and equipping villagers to defend themselves against wildfires. Extreme poverty and lack of capacity limits prevention and response to wildfires which are increasingly threatening the livelihoods of the local population. No fire management system exists; fire prevention and suppression capacity development had to be designed on the basis of no political, financial or administrative support, outside the few thousand euros’ project money.

To oversimplify the situation, farmers and the tree plantation owners are in conflict with the cattle herders (more often young children) who frequently ignite the steep mountain sides to regenerate green grass which is preferred by the cows. Any given area may burn multiple times a year – on the one hand further degrading a collapsed tropical ecosystem – but also fires are uncontrolled often barreling right into agricultural crops or through young plantation forests. Imagine painstakingly nurturing a forest plot for years, counting on its harvest income to feed a family for several years to come – and in a matter of minutes a herdsboy’s fire decimates this vital source of income.

[During a prescribed ‘practice’ fire, trainees ensure the fire intensity does not damage plantation trees. Photo: L. Pronto]

I was of course powerless to change cultural burning practices or desperate acts – but I hope I was in some small way successful in teaching a handful of newly formed volunteer fire brigades – the first in the eastern DRC – how to defend their communities against fire with community-led fire management, and provide them with basic training and equipment for firefighting. In the end, I percieved the most significant challenge as an instructor was navigating the damage wrought on the individual by poverty and conflict which manifested as barriers to developing trust and camaraderie, teamwork and an awareness of a jointly shared mission -- all critical components of fire prevention work and necessary for ensuring safety during firefighting. I was training a group of men born into brutal conditions, a mostly fatherless generation and who learned early on they were on their own in this world. The challenge then was teaching them fire cannot be fought alone, but one must depend on each other, work as one, communicate, and develop an awareness of the struggle of the man on their right and their left: Perhaps a tall order for anyone who’s chief concern is just surviving another season. 

[The following links to local radio station segment with more information about the training that took place: Interview with Nyangezi Radio Communautaire]