Nigeria's National Peace Policy is a framework intended to bring greater coordination to conflict prevention and peacebuilding Originally published on Global Voices ACC. H. O. Idoko, Nigeria Security and Civil Defense Corps (NSCDC) representative, speaking at the National Peace Policy review in Abuja, 4-6 August, 2026. Photo by Triple Peace Africa. Used with permission. The world is spending more on war and defense than ever before. Global military expenditure reached a record USD 2.7 trillion in 2024, according to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) , as governments increased spending amid wars in Europe and Western Asia and growing security tensions elsewhere. Africa is part of that trend. Military expenditure on the continent rose by 8.5 percent in 2025 to USD 58.2 billion. Nigeria’s spending rose even more sharply, increasing by 55 percent to USD 2.1 billion, according to SIPRI. Yet for Nigeria, a bigger defense budget has not resolved a problem that has become increasingly dire. The country is confronting insurgency, banditry, mass kidnapping, communal violence, and rising organized crime, with the nature varying significantly from one region to another. Between July 2025 and June 2026, at least 7,825 people were abducted in 1,713 kidnapping-related incidents nationwide, and at least 1,142 people were killed. In July, President Bola Tinubu approved the recruitment of 28,000 additional soldiers and the creation of new army divisions, the latest in a series of moves to expand the country’s security forces. This situation is driving lawmakers to review the country’s National Peace Policy, a framework intended to bring greater coordination to conflict prevention and peacebuilding while addressing some of the conditions that allow violence to take root and recur. Dr. Sanda Julie, Director-General, Plateau State Peacebuilding Agency, speaking at the National Peace Policy review meeting held in Abuja, Nigeria, August 4-6, 2026. Photo by Triple Peace Africa. Used with permission. Rethinking Nigeria's approach to peace Nigeria’s first attempt at a National Peace Policy dates to 2012 , when the Institute for Peace and Conflict Resolution (IPCR) led the process and produced a draft. That policy was never formally adopted or operationalized. With a population of more than 240 million people and hundreds of ethnic and linguistic groups, Nigeria is one of the world’s most diverse societies . That diversity is in itself not a source of conflict. But political competition, disputes over land and resources, communal tensions, weak institutions and perceptions of exclusion often interact in the country, turning local grievances into violence. Through August, government agencies, peacebuilding organizations, development partners and technical experts met in Abuja and in three geopolitical zones — Kano , Enugu and Lagos — to review the old policy and shape a new one that would connect federal, state and local actors. Chris Ngwodo , director-general of Nigeria's Office for Strategic Preparedness and Resilience (OSPRE), speaking with Global Voices in Abuja, Nigeria, says the goal is to fold conflict prevention into the country’s broader security architecture and look beyond the visible violence of armed confrontation toward the conditions that produce it. “There are many forms of violence that are not overt violence,” he said, citing structural inequality, failures in the justice system, government neglect and a lack of opportunity as quieter but no less corrosive drivers of conflict. Ngwodo frames the policy around a familiar idea that peace is not merely the absence of conflict but the presence of justice. “Structural violence is invisible. Nobody can see it, but it’s present,” he said. “Subjective violence is what happens when people start fighting.” The new policy, he explained, is meant to address both by anchoring itself in restorative, retributive, and distributive justice and in equalizing opportunity. Asked whether a new policy would solve Nigeria's security problems, Ngwodo didn't hesitate: “It will not.” What the document can do, he argued, is shift the country’s position from reactive firefighting toward predictive architecture by asking not just how to respond to violence, but why certain places are predisposed to it and why it keeps coming back. “People are not fighting because they are inherently violent,” he said. The real drivers, in his account, are usually governance failures, lapses in justice administration, long-standing grievances, neglect, and limited opportunity. Since the last policy attempt, Nigeria’s peacebuilding landscape has grown considerably. OSPRE itself didn’t exist in 2012, nor did the state peace commissions that now operate across the country. The task now, Ngwodo said, is aligning that infrastructure and scaling it up. L-R: Director General, Institute of Peace and Conflict Resolution (IPCR), Dr Joseph Ochogwu, Chairman, House Committee on peacebuilding and social cohesion, Sadiq Tafida, Special Adviser to the Nigerian president on Homeland security, Maj Gen Adeyinka Famadewa (Rt), and Director-General, Office for Strategic Preparedness and Resilience, Chris Ngwodo at the National Peace Policy review stakeholders meeting in Abuja, Nigeria. Photo by Triple Peace Africa. Used with permission. Beyond the military response Nigeria has long contributed to regional peacekeeping through the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and via troops and diplomats deployed to Liberia, Sierra Leone, Guinea-Bissau, Sudan and Côte d’Ivoire. At home, however, the government’s response to insecurity has leaned heavily on the military. At the Abuja meeting, the presidential adviser on homeland security, Maj General Adeyinka Famadewa (Rt), said Nigeria could not “shoot its way out” of its security problem. He added that while military operations can disrupt armed groups and retake territory, they’re poorly suited to resolving the political, economic, and social conditions that let violence return once an operation winds down. A representative of Germany’s development agency, GIZ African Union Office, Chijioke Iwuamadi , made a similar case for prevention, arguing that investing in prevention and long-term peacebuilding could be more effective and less costly than repeatedly responding to crises after they erupt. Can Nigeria afford to prevent violence? Nigeria does not have a single conflict. It has many overlapping and regionally distinct ones. An insurgency in the northeast has run for more than a decade while banditry and mass kidnapping have destabilized rural communities in the northwest and elsewhere. Communal violence and organized crime follow their own logic. These fault lines interact. Religion intersects with ethnicity. Land disputes become communal conflicts. Political competition deepens existing grievances , while migration, demographic change and social media, with its capacity to spread misinformation and inflammatory narratives , add further strain. That regional variation is why the policy review followed zonal consultations in an attempt to reflect local differences while still producing something that can operate nationally. According to the Director General of the Institute of Peace and Conflict Resolution (IPCR), Joseph Ochogwu, institutionalized coordination and a clearly mapped roadmap for the implementation of peace efforts across the country’s geopolitical zones would help avoid duplication, resource wastage, institutional rivalry, and communities falling through the cracks . Can Nigeria afford to prevent violence? Nigeria is already spending heavily to respond to insecurity. Military spending rose sharply through 2025, with no inherent contradiction between building military capacity and investing in prevention. But the two operate at different points in the cycle of violence. One responds to threats, the other tries to reduce the conditions that generate them, and Nigeria has to decide how to divide its attention and resources between them. More than a decade after the first policy attempt, the country’s security landscape has changed. It faces more varied forms of insecurity, with a wider range of responses from government institutions, peace commissions, and civil society organizations. Whether that coordination can translate into fewer conflicts and prevent existing ones from returning will depend on what happens after the consultations end. Written by Adesewa Olofinko

About 60 to 70 percent of the Ghanaian population depends on the traditional medicine market for their medical care, according to a 2023 study in Frontiers in Pharmacology.

People in rural Ghana rely on traditional plant knowledge for three reasons: Accessibility, cost, and familiarity Originally published on Global Voices Vendor Yaa Akpe sells a branch of African Rosewood (Latin name Dalbergia Saxatilis) at her stall in Accra, Ghana. Photo by Jeslyn Lemke. Used with permission. This post is part of Global Voices’ August 2026 Spotlight series, “ Indigenous Rights .” This series offers insight into the lives and experiences of Indigenous peoples to build connections across regions, center Indigenous experiences, and share the stories of leaders, activists, community members, and more. You can support this coverage by donating here . T he traditional medicine market in Ghana, West Africa, is thriving, offering countless cures passed down by generations of Indigenous Ga and Twi tribes. As prices for Western pharmaceuticals and Western medical care rise, Ghanaians are relying on the medical remedies they have always turned to: plants. Dr. Kofi Donkor , deputy director of the Center for Plant Medicine Research, and an expert on the medical benefits of many traditional Ghanaian plants, noted: The traditional medicine practitioners themselves, for them, it is a profession. It is something that has been passed down from generation to generation to them. So they know how to use plants properly. Indeed, let me admit that for us in research, our primary source of knowledge, and in botanical research is from the traditional medicine practitioners. It is the knowledge from the practitioners that we try to validate using scientific methods. What we are doing in research is basically trying to validate the traditional knowledge that we get. Plant-based medicine is a big business in Ghana In rural Ghana, women start picking medicinal herbs from both the bush and cultivated plots early in the morning to sell fresh in the capital city of Accra. By mid-morning, they’ve set up their booths piled high with fresh vines, leaves, stems, and bark to sell to customers. Plant-based medicine is a big business in Ghana. The Center for Plant Medicine Research , created by the Ghanaian government in 1976, works with raw plant material to create natural products and treat patients. Their outpatient clinic sees roughly 16,000 patients a month. About 60 to 70 percent of the Ghanaian population depends on traditional medicine markets for their medical care, according to a 2023 study in Frontiers in Pharmacology . Donkor says many people in rural Ghana rely on traditional plant knowledge for three reasons: Accessibility, cost, and familiarity. In an interview with Global Voices, he explained: Indeed the data shows that in most developing countries, in rural communities, traditional medicine forms 80 percent of primary health care… It actually contributes largely to us trying to meet the goals of universal health care. The deep green forests and meadows of rural Ghana have been home to rural villagers for many years, so many villagers are already familiar with the various plants that can heal a disease. Living near these forests makes plant-based medicine an easy, cheaper option for treating disease in rural Ghana, when Western pharmacies are too expensive or far away. Donkor said many rural Ghanaians already know the right plants to treat a problem, and may only visit an herbal practitioner when a more complicated disease is present. He said: So sometimes when you are sick you don’t necessarily have to go to the traditional medicine practitioner in the community to get medication. You just go to your backyard and you know this herb is for malaria, this herb is for typhoid, this herb improves your hemoglobin levels, and you just pluck some, you boil, and you drink. Ongoing research on West African plants Botanical researchers at the Center for Plant Medicine Research are currently studying a full panel of West African plants for their ability to cure diseases, including a green shrub that has shown promising treatment against prostate cancer ( croton membranaceous ). When asked whether consumers can trust the plants sold in Accra’s open-air markets, Donkor cautioned that though vendors are probably selling the right plants, the dosage is really important. If a practitioner knows what they are doing and prescribes the right amount of a plant, it can be a powerful cure for the client. Featured in the above video is Patience, a plant healer who lives in Accra and regularly treats friends and family with traditional plants for many illnesses, including malaria, yeast infections, and colds. Patience shows how the common mother-in-law tongue plant ( Dracaena trifasciata ) can be prepared as a cold bath. She advises users to make a tea bath from the plant’s leaves, and then let it soak into the skin without drying oneself. She says the botanical brew calms anxiety and helps with good sleep. Spiritually, Patience says this plant can keep bad people away from one’s home if you keep it by the door. The scientific research at the Center for Plant Medicine Research, which draws on traditional medicine knowledge, adds legitimacy and international attention to the deep Indigenous knowledge of these plants. As Western drug costs and gas prices continue to rise in Ghana and across West Africa, the traditional medicine market can provide a sustainable source of natural healing for the population. Written by Jeslyn Lemke

If Dambe becomes increasingly commercialised, who establishes the policies governing it? Originally published on Global Voices Dambe fighters at the National Open of the Traditional Sports Tournament in Nigeria. Photo by Nshua Cali-Dibang, used with permission. By Nshua Cali-Dibang This post is part of Global Voices’ August 2026 Spotlight series, “ Indigenous Rights .” This series offers insight into the lives and experiences of Indigenous peoples to build connections across regions, center Indigenous experiences, and share the stories of leaders, activists, community members, and more. You can support this coverage by donating here . As Dambe fighters gather for a contest, the scene can look like a simple fight. Two opponents face one another, surrounded by drums, chants and spectators waiting for the first strike. Yet behind the spectacle is a tradition deeply associated with the Hausa people of Nigeria and West Africa . Dambe is a traditional combat sport historically practised by Hausa communities, particularly among butchers and tradesmen. According to BBC Sport , the sport was associated with festivals and harvest periods and was regarded as a test of bravery. Its history has also been connected to preparing men for warfare and, in some communities, rites of passage. Dambe is going global For generations, therefore, Dambe has existed within particular communities and social relationships. But today, the sport is moving beyond those traditional settings. Its appearance on social media has introduced it to audiences far beyond Nigeria. Dambe Warriors , for example, used YouTube to transform local competitions into content for a global audience, with millions of views coming from outside Nigeria. This visibility presents an important opportunity. Greater exposure can create new audiences, income and recognition for fighters. BBC Sport reported that Dambe's online popularity had grown dramatically, while promoters hoped the sport could move beyond its local origins and become internationally recognised . But visibility also raises a question about who gets to define Dambe as it enters the mainstream. Connected beliefs and traditions One of the clearest examples is the spiritual dimension surrounding some Dambe fighters. Reporting by Al Jazeera documented fighters wearing amulets, undertaking fortification rituals and using herbal preparations before competitions. These practices demonstrate that, for some practitioners, Dambe is connected to beliefs and traditions that extend beyond the physical contest. This raises an important question about how Indigenous cultural practices are interpreted. An object that may appear to an outside observer as decoration can carry a completely different meaning for the person who wears it. Rather than deciding what these practices mean from outside, their meaning should be understood through the voices of the people and communities who practise them. Influence of professional sporting structures Dambe is also changing structurally. Modern organisers are introducing rules intended to make competitions safer and easier to follow. According to BBC Sport , African Warriors introduced three three-minute rounds, a points system, and clearer definitions of knockdowns as part of efforts to make the sport safer and fairer. These changes are not necessarily a threat to tradition. Professionalisation can bring better opportunities, safety measures, sponsorship and income for fighters. The same BBC report documented fighters earning prize money and organisers attracting international interest. Yet modernisation raises another question: what should be preserved, and who decides? The question of preservation If Dambe becomes increasingly commercialised, who establishes the policies governing it? Should decisions come primarily from government and sports administrators, private promoters, cultural institutions, traditional authorities, or the communities that have historically practised the sport? There may not be a simple answer. Regulation can provide structure and safety, while professionalisation can create opportunities that traditional competitions may not have been able to offer. But if decisions about the future of Dambe are made without meaningful participation from its communities, there is a risk that the sport's cultural context becomes secondary to its commercial value. This is where Dambe becomes relevant to Indigenous rights. Dambe’s future Cultural heritage is not simply something to be displayed during festivals or packaged for outside audiences. It can be living knowledge, practised by communities and adapted by each generation. The question is therefore not whether Dambe should remain exactly as it was in the past. Communities themselves may want the sport to change. The more important question is whether they have a meaningful voice in deciding how it changes. As Dambe moves from community arenas to YouTube channels, organised championships and professional sporting structures, its future should involve the people who have carried the tradition forward. Fighters, elders, organisers, cultural practitioners and community members should be part of conversations about its regulation, representation, commercialisation and preservation. The future of Dambe does not have to be a choice between tradition and modernity. The sport can grow while remaining connected to its cultural roots. But growth should not mean that the communities that gave Dambe its meaning become spectators in the story of its future. The question is no longer simply how far Dambe can go. It is who gets to decide where it goes. Written by Guest Contributor

Almost 98 percent of the study’s hourly measurements exceed the WHO safety thresholds Originally published on Global Voices A residential area beside a large industrial mining site. Photo by Afrewatch. Used with permission. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), about 1,500 students and 68 staff members at the Galaxy School in Kolwezi breathe in some of the most polluted air ever recorded in this region. Their school sits less than 500 meters away from a mining waste disposal site. Almost 98 percent of the hourly fine-particle levels exceed World Health Organization safety thresholds . This figure alone confirms what the latest scientific studies conducted in the Lualaba mining area have revealed. The DRC is often hailed as a key player in the green energy transition, largely because the mineral resources within its borders are essential to producing batteries, solar panels, and other green tech. However, independent scientific studies on the scale of the contamination paint an alarming picture of the environmental cost in the Lualaba mining areas. Using independent methodologies in separate laboratories, studies conducted by Source International (a specialist Italian environmental sciences organization), Rights and Accountability in Development ( RAID) , and AfreWatch , in collaboration with Professors Célestin Banza Lubaba Nkulu and Arthur Kaniki Tshamala from the University of Lubumbashi ( UNILU ), all reached similar conclusions. Research published in June 2026 found widespread air and water pollution, as well as contaminated sediments surrounding the major copper and cobalt mines. This has serious health consequences for residents, especially children. These studies support the complaints and allegations that communities impacted by mining companies in southeastern DRC have made for several years. The DRC produces competitive quantities of copper and accounts for three-quarters of global cobalt production , an essential mineral for electric vehicle battery manufacturing and many energy transition technologies. These studies were conducted near the Tenke Fungurume Mining ( CMOC ), COMMUS ( Zijin Mining ), and Mutanda Mining ( Glencore ) industrial sites. Meanwhile, the Initiative for Good Governance and Human Rights ( IBGDH ASBL ) questioned the DR Congolese state’s inability to protect people from the country’s copper and cobalt mining giants, arguing that the human rights violations were committed with total impunity. The organization criticized: Les revenus miniers justifient-ils le sacrifice d'une génération ? À Kolwezi , les vies humaines sont en danger de mort… Le silence des autorités ne serait plus une simple lenteur administrative, mais une complicité tragique. Does mining revenue justify sacrificing an entire generation ? In Kolwezi , human lives are in imminent danger. The authorities’ silence would no longer be a mere administrative delay, but a tragic complicity. Deadly chemical footprints In their report , researchers found that fine-particle concentrations (PM2.5 and PM10) routinely exceeded WHO guidelines. At some sites, these levels reached up to six times the acceptable threshold. Almost 98 percent of the study’s hourly measurements exceeded the safety limits, indicating ongoing, rather than occasional, exposure to potentially toxic air. One of the most concerning examples involves the Galaxy School in Kolwezi, less than 500 meters from a mining waste disposal site. Here, researchers recorded some of the study’s highest air pollution levels. About 1,500 students and 68 staff members attend this school every day. Studies show that these particles have a chemical footprint characteristic of industrial mining residue, ruling out road traffic, domestic combustion, and artisanal mining as primary sources. According to Nathan Nkulu , a community leader and Musonoi district resident, the findings are alarming. He told Global Voices: Nous vivons dans une situation très difficile du fait de notre proximité avec les installations et les remblais des entreprises KCC et COMMUS , qui nous entourent. Surtout pendant la saison sèche, la poussière toxique envahit nos maisons ; parfois, un véritable nuage de poussière recouvre tout le quartier. Due to our proximity to waste rock from the KCC and COMMUS mines, we are experiencing an extremely challenging situation. During the dry season in particular, toxic dust invades our homes, sometimes clouding the entire district. For Flaviano Bianchini , executive director of the environmental NGO Source International , this is a case of severe pollution. In his report, he stated: Au cours de nos nombreuses années de surveillance de la pollution sur des sitesminiers industriels à travers le monde, ces résultats comptent parmi les plus préoccupants que nous ayons jamais documentés en matière de qualité de l'air. In all our years of pollution monitoring at industrial mining sites worldwide, these results are among the most concerning we’ve ever recorded . Heavy metal water contamination Beyond air quality, researchers have also highlighted concerning water resource contamination, detecting high concentrations of copper, cobalt, manganese, arsenic, lead, and even uranium in several rivers, lakes, and community wells. A community well in Kolwezi, just 200 meters from a tailings pond, was found to be 100 times more acidic than recommended levels, with manganese concentrations reaching up to 14 times the health limit. At such levels, manganese is toxic to the central nervous system. Lacking in drinking water, residents of the Kolwezi district use the water discharged from mining companies. Photo by Simplice Bambe. Used with permission. Professor Célestin Banza describes the contaminated sediments accumulating in the waterways as a “ chemical time bomb .” According to him, the local residents’ chronic exposure is likely to pose serious health risks, such as neurological disorders, renal diseases, chronic poisoning, and developmental disorders in children. Downside to the green energy transition DRC is often hailed as a solution country to the energy transition. However, people living near mining companies often find themselves caught in the grips of industrial copper and cobalt mining, overwhelmed by the intensity of activity in Kolwezi and the surrounding areas. According to the IBGDH , vegetation is dying, making the pollution obvious to the naked eye. Gardens and crops are withering away, depriving families of their resources. The organization has pointed the finger at Ruashi Mining , a company belonging to the Chinese Jinchuan group, holding it responsible for the air pollution that has gotten so bad as to cause chronic nosebleeds in the surrounding districts. Mines are not only expanding, but they are also encroaching upon communities that ultimately bear the brunt of the energy transition’s mineral race. Some districts are buckling under the burden of the mining expansion and its operations. Other communities are simply disappearing. As the state looks to clear land for mining operations, they forcibly evict residents, displacing many and causing some to become homeless. Some at-risk populations The region’s health professionals have reported an increase in persistent coughs, nosebleeds (epistaxis), eye irritation, and breathing difficulties. The reproductive health of women living near these mining sites has also raised serious concerns. Communities have reported cases of miscarriages, menstrual problems, and congenital disorders, which they attribute to the pollution. These testimonies, which align across districts, are not yet supported by an epidemiological investigation establishing a direct causal link. However, scientists say this is the next crucial step. For Emmanuel Umpula , AfreWatch Executive Director, we already have all the evidence we need to take action: Les communautés vivant aux abords de ces mines paient de leur santé, de leurs récoltes et de leurs rivières le prix des ambitions énergétiques mondiales. Elles nous le disent depuis des années, et la science confirme aujourd'hui ce qu'elles affirmaient. Il est temps que les entreprises agissent, et que le gouvernement de la RDC renforce l'application de ses lois environnementales. Communities living around these mines pay for the global energy ambitions with their lives, harvests, and rivers. They have been telling us for years what scientists now confirm. It’s time these companies acted, and the DRC government enforced its environmental laws more strictly. Meanwhile, to sustain the energy transition, global demand for copper and cobalt continues to rise. New scientific data have reignited the debate on mining operators’ environmental and social responsibilities in the DRC. For now, the “polluter-pays” principle remains a commitment that communities impacted by copper and cobalt mining are still waiting to see enforced. Written (Français) by Simplice Bambe Translated (English) by Laura View original post (Français)

Capulanas, protests, and social media reveal new forms of women's resistance and digital activism in Mozambique. Originally published on Global Voices A stack of capulanas. Photo taken by Wyte Shot. Accra, Ghana. Via Pexels . Pexels license . Days before April 7 , Mozambican Women’s Day, women protestors took to the streets of Nampula city protesting over Mozambiquan first lady Gueta Chapo’s failure to deliver on promises to give out capulanas (colorful dresses popular in Mozambique) in celebration of the date. This is reminiscent of political protests following the 2024 general elections , when demonstrators took to the streets and women — many wearing capulanas — visibly stood out amid intensifying confrontations with police and roadblocks. Similar demonstrations occurred in Anchilo after the first lady announced she had no capulanas to offer . Two people were wounded by bullets during the confrontation. Capulana: From cultural symbol to tool of resistance The capulana is central to Mozambiquan cultural identity and is a staple for many women. However, this garment gained new significance amid the protests in Nampula. Beyond mere clothing, protesters used it as improvised protection against tear gas, and it became a visual symbol of unity and resistance, building on its earlier association with women’s participation in the national liberation struggle and, in turn, with the image of independence activist Josina Machel . The use of culturally significant objects in protests is not new. Studies in African contexts show how traditional fabrics and symbols can take on political importance during crises and demonstrations. The growing number of women protesters reflects an upward trend of female participation in civic life in Mozambique. Organizations such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have documented risks faced by protesters, including excessive use of force, arbitrary arrests, and intimidation — with varying impacts on women and young people. An activist who asked not to be identified told Global Voices, “ Women are no longer just observers. They are part of the movement.” Tension at a national level The recent events in Nampula are linked to a broader instability that has followed the 2024 general election, during which, according to the platform Decide , thousands of people were arrested, and hundreds died in related events. In addition, organizations such as the Center for Public Integrity are alerted to election irregularities and breaches of transparency. Digital space and protest visibility Much of the documentation of the protests in Nampula was shared online. This shows how social media has become a central tool for reporting abuse, mobilizing citizens, and sharing evidence in real time. However, organizations such as Access Now and CIPESA (The Collaboration on International Policy for East and Southern Africa) have warned of the risks of restricting internet access during times of political upheaval. While Mozambique has not restricted internet access thus far, with the approval of Decree No. 48/2025 on December 16, 2025 , officials established control mechanisms that would allow them to block access to the country’s telecommunications networks. Officials have also proposed a new Highway Code that penalizes those who block public roads during protests. The draft was made available to the public for comment. This situation raises lines of analysis and questions, such as: How is the use of social media redefining digital activism and citizen documentation in Mozambique, especially in contexts of protest and political tension? What is the possibility of growth for alternative forms of digital mobilization, decentralization of information, and use of encrypted platforms in contexts of greater state control, and what comparisons can be made with other African countries, where internet blocks have been used during protests, elections, or political crises? Written (Português) by Tirso Sitoe Translated (English) by Liam Anderson View original post (Português)

While Mozambique has a better LGBTQ+ track record than some in the region, tolerance that doesn’t eliminate exclusion Originally published on Global Voices Photo taken by LGBTQIA+ activists. Maputo, Mozambique: 2024. Used with permission. In Mozambique , the lack of laws criminalizing LGBTQ+ identities is often taken as a sign of tolerance. However, for many transgender people and LBQ (lesbian, bisexual, and queer) women, their everyday reality tells a different story. In schools, health facilities, workplaces, religious spaces, and on digital platforms, discrimination continues to affect access to rights, opportunities, and social participation. Although legal persecution is less obvious than in some countries in the region, such as Nigeria , activists say exclusion often works through silence, invisibility, and institutional neglect. “As nobody writes about us, we become invisible,” said Pepetsa Fumo, a Trans activist with Transform , an organization working for the recognition and inclusion of trans people in Mozambique . Schools as spaces of exclusion For many activists, exclusion begins in the education system, where school curricula are profoundly heteronormative, leaving little room for discussions about sexual orientation, gender identity, or diversity. One example of this institutional resistance to inclusion is that officials have withdrawn any references to sexual orientation from Mozambiquan school materials . According to activists, this environment contributes to bullying, psychological violence, and a high dropout rate among LGBTQ+ students. Many teachers receive little or no training on diversity, human rights, and inclusion, limiting their ability to create safe learning environments, as Pepetsa noted in an interview with GV. “The challenge begins in the ministry itself, and in the way teachers are trained to not respect diversity.” These educational inequalities often continue into adulthood, affecting employment opportunities, economic security, and social mobility. Economic survival beyond recognition Economic vulnerability has become one of LGBTQ+ activists’ most persistent worries. Many Trans people and LBQ women face difficulties in accessing formal employment, professional training, and alternative income-generating opportunities. While various community initiatives aim to support people economically, they face significant structural barriers, including limited funding, a lack of management training, and dependence on external support. “Today you have work, tomorrow it’s over. Then you’re back to taking a break in the shade again,” Pepetsa observed. Organizations such as Por Ela (By Her) try to address these challenges by prioritizing LBQ women-led businesses and promoting community leadership and entrepreneurship initiatives. But for activists, economic empowerment cannot be separated from wider struggles for dignity, recognition, and citizenship. Health and the limits of visibility Healthcare is another area where both advances and exclusion coexist. Years of campaigning have developed for greater recognition of Trans communities in response to HIV and AIDS , but still, activists often question the language used in public policy. “I am not a ‘key population.’ I'm Darius. Don’t confuse me with this category,” said one interviewee in an interview with GV. Although trans people have gained greater visibility within some institutions, LBQ women remain largely absent from debates and health programs. Many health professionals are trained in analyzing LGBT key populations and communities, but they rarely receive training about the specific needs of LBQ women. According to activists, this invisibility has real consequences. Cases of violence against lesbian women, for example, are often recorded only as gender-based violence, without considering if their sexual orientation motivated the attack. Digital spaces: Between empowerment and vulnerability For many LGBTQ+ communities in Mozambique, digital platforms have become essential tools for organizing, mobilizing, and raising awareness. Social media allows queer communities to share experiences, publicly document respect for rights in practice, build networks of solidarity, and amplify community voices. However, the same spaces also expose activists and human rights defenders to online harassment, surveillance, and violence . Queer activists, t rans people, and women human rights defenders recount experiences of hate speech, intimidation, disinformation campaigns, and public exposure that reproduce wider patterns of social exclusion. These issues are arising at a time when debates on digital governance and cybersecurity are becoming more prominent in Mozambique. While officially politicians focus on technological development and digital security, activists argue that the discussion should also include freedom of expression, privacy, and civic participation. Beyond the paradox The experiences of t rans people and LBQ women in Mozambique demonstrate that exclusion is rarely limited to only one sphere of social life. Educational barriers, economic precariousness, inequalities in access to healthcare, and digital violence reinforce each other, creating cycles of vulnerability that go far beyond identity issues. For activists, this is above all a discussion about citizenship, participation, and democratic inclusion. Recognition is important, but it is not enough. Real inclusion requires access to rights, economic opportunities, security, and representation — in both financial spaces and in digital environments. In a global context characterized by the advance of anti-rights movements and the expansion of digital surveillance, the experiences of LGBTQ+ communities in Mozambique highlight the importance of bringing debates on gender, diversity, and digital justice closer to the lived realities of communities in the Global South . Written (Português) by Tirso Sitoe Translated (English) by Liam Anderson View original post (Português)

In the eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), an armed group known as the M23 imposes its authority on local communities. But what is the history behind this movement?

Instability in North Kivu, DRC, has significant impacts on the country’s political future Originally published on Global Voices M23 rebels during the Kibumba withdrawal. Screenshot the video “M23 Rebels Withdraw from Kibumba” on the TV5Monde YouTube Channel. Editor’s note: Since Jean Sovon first published this article on November 24, 2023, incumbent President Félix Tshisekedi was re-elected with 73 percent of the vote in the December 20, 2023 elections. The conflict has also worsened. In early 2025, M23 rebels launched new offensives, taking complete control of Goma and Bukavu, the capitals of North and South Kivu, pushing the number of internally displaced persons above 7 million. In the eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), an armed group known as the March 23 Movement (M23) imposes its authority on local communities through violence, sexual assault , and terror. But what is the history behind this movement? And what impact did its offensives have on the December 2023 general elections? What is the M23? The M23 emerged from renewed tensions following the Kivu Conflict . This localized conflict in the eastern DRC, along the border with Rwanda, began in 2004. The Armed Forces of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (FARDC) faced opposition from several armed groups. These groups included the National Congress for the Defense of the People (CNDP), founded in 2006 by the politician and Tutsi militia leader Laurent Nkunda. The DRC is a multi-ethnic country , and the Tutsis are an ethnic group primarily living in the Kivu region. After five years of conflict, the DR Congolese state and the CNDP signed a peace agreement on March 23, 2009. Under the agreement, the rebel group agreed to transform into a political party in exchange for the release of its imprisoned members, improved living conditions for Tutsi communities, and three ministerial posts in government after the 2011 presidential election . The DRC authorities’ failure to comply with the agreement terms led former CNDP rebels, who had integrated into the national Congolese army under the peace agreement, to revolt. In April 2012, they consequently formed the M23 to mark the agreement signing date, March 23, 2009 . This TV5Monde report explains the origins of this movement: The rebel movement thereby resumed its armed campaign. According to officials in Kinshasa, the DRC capital, both Rwanda and Uganda supported the M23. Both countries, however, denied any involvement. An anonymous DR Congolese officer, who was involved in the 2013 conflict, explained further in this article by online media outlet Afrique XXI : Kigali niait, mais nous,au front, il nous arrivait de capturer des combattants rwandais ou des soldats du M23 qui étaient passés par le Rwanda, explique, sous le couvert de l’anonymat, un gradé congolais ayant pris part au conflit en 2013. Le message, c’était d’anéantir le M23, point! Il ne s’agissait absolument pas de mener la guerre jusqu’au Rwanda, même si, avec les informations qu’on avait, on savait parfaitement d’où et de qui venait cette guerre. Le Rwanda est dirigé par des Tutsi, le M23 est une mutinerie de soldats congolais tutsi, ils sont frères et parlent la même langue, ils avaient même souvent des liens familiaux au Rwanda. Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, denied everything, but on the frontline, we would often capture Rwandan fighters or M23 soldiers who had passed through Rwanda. Our orders were to wipe out the M23, period! Although we knew perfectly well who was behind this war and where it came from, based on the information we had, taking the war to Rwanda was never our intention. Tutsis lead Rwanda, and the M23 is a mutiny of Congolese Tutsi soldiers. They are brothers who speak the same language and often have family connections in Rwanda. Four years after signing the peace agreement, the M23 rebellion appeared to end. Backed by UN peacekeepers, on November 5, 2013, the FARDC won a historic victory against M23 troops. Silenced, they fled to neighboring countries, such as Uganda and Rwanda . This video provides a detailed overview of the FARDC victory: M23 makes a comeback However, in March 2022, almost a decade after its defeat, the M23 made a military comeback. According to UN experts , with Rwanda’s ongoing support, the movement took up arms once again in the region, launching offensives against the DR Congolese army’s strategic positions. The motivation behind this resurgence remained unchanged: The DRC authorities’ failure to comply with the 2009 peace agreement. On March 25, 2022, Bertrand Bisimwa , the current M23 leader, explained his desire to avoid another war on X: Nous avons tout fait pour éviter une nouvelle guerre dans ce pays. Cependant le gouvernement congolais a fait ses choix. pic.twitter.com/LoKwZYSaPM — Bertrand Bisimwa (@bbisimwa) March 25, 2022 We have done everything to avoid another war in this country. However, the DR Congolese government has made its choices. pic.twitter.com/LoKwZYSaPM — Bertrand Bisimwa (@bbisimwa) March 25, 2022 The text in the picture reads: The violence currently inflicted upon us by the Congolese army (FARDC) in the Rutshuru territory is a deliberate choice by the government. The state has chosen to wage war against citizens who surrendered unconditionally. We did this in response to the President’s appeal at the start of his term [DRC President Félix Tshisekedi’s January 2019 inaguration address], calling on the country’s sons and daughters to unite and rebuild the nation. In response, our organization sent several letters to the President of the Republic and the Coordinator of the National Monitoring Mechanism of the Addis Ababa Framework Agreement (MNS). In these documents, we offered our unconditional surrender and put ourselves at the Head of State’s service. Subsequently, on our own initiative, we sent delegates to Kinshasa to speed up this surrender. Copies of these letters are attached to this press release: Letter from January 26, 2019: Sent to the President, congratulating him on taking office. Our movement offered its full support, backing his national reconciliation program and helping bring peace to eastern DRC. Explanatory Note from March 9, 2019: Sent to the President regarding the peace process stemming from the Nairobi Declarations of December 12, 2013. Letter from June 15, 2019: Sent to the newly appointed Coordinator of the National Monitoring Mechanism of the Addis Ababa Framework Agreement (MNS), Mr. Claude Ibalanky Ekolomba, requesting updates on the 2013 peace declarations signed between the DRC government and the M23. Letter from July 12, 2019: Sent to the Coordinator of the National Monitoring Mechanism of the Addis Ababa Framework Agreement (MNS), expressing our full support for the 2017 Brazzaville regional agreement, specifically regarding plans to return M23 fighters home unconditionally. Letter from September 21, 2020: Sent to the President to once again confirm ou surrender and verify that all M23 political and military personnel were following his orders. Mission Order from September 30, 2020: After receiving no response to our letters, our movement sent a delegation to Kinshasa to speed up the surrender process. Our delegates remained in Kinshasa for 14 months. They held multiple working sessions with state authorities, who eventually told them to return to their base and wait for the surrender operations to begin. Much to our surprise, just two weeks later, the FARDC launched an offensive, putting our fighters on the defensive. Official Record from October 24, 2020: Documenting the formal recognition of the General Staff of the Congolese Revolutionary Army. Letter from February 12, 2021: Following the Kinshasa meetings, the Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of the Interior, Mr. Gilbert Kankonde, wrote to the President, informing him of a complete M23 stand-down. He requested funds to execute the disarmament operation, but to no avail. The military operations that the national army has launched against our fighters clearly show that the government has chosen to fight the M23 rather than accept our unconditional surrender. Our organization has been tirelessly awaiting the implementation of the peace process for nine years. We deeply deplore this choice of violence, whose hidden objective is to maintain instability and underdevelopment in eastern DRC. Signed in Sarambwe on March 25, 2022 By the March 23 Movement Willy NGOMA Spokesperson for the Congolese Revolutionary Army Interviewed by TV5Monde in April 2022, Pierre Boisselet , Violence Research Director at Ebuteli, a Congolese research institute , elaborated further on the M23 comeback: Far from weakened, the M23 gained territory and expanded its influence in North Kivu a year after the renewed hostilities. This was a major setback for the Kinshasa government, which sought to regain and secure these territories ahead of the upcoming general elections. Instability risks during elections In late December 2023, as the DRC prepared to hold its general elections, the electoral roll revision process went smoothly throughout the country. However, voter enrollment was extremely challenging in the east, prompting some political figures and civil society organizations to request an extension in these areas. Read more: General election preparations continue despite growing insecurity in DRC. During the electoral process, the M23 comeback had a major impact, including increasing insecurity in the province with the second-largest voter count. Forced to flee, the number of internally displaced persons continues to increase in the DRC. Quoted in a TV5Monde article on November 19, 2023, the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) reported: La reprise des combats début octobre a déjà fait plus de 450 000 déplacés supplémentaire. Les provinces du Nord-Kivu, du Sud-Kivu et de l’Ituri abritent à elles seules plus de 5,5 millions de personnes déplacées. The renewed hostilities, beginning in October, have already displaced an additional 450,000 people. The North Kivu, South Kivu, and Ituri provinces alone host more than 5.5 million displaced persons. In addition to the M23, other rebel groups also operate in the same region. These include the Allied Democratic Forces (ADF), a predominantly Muslim group affiliated with the Islamic State, which often attacks civilians. Another is the Cooperative for the Development of Congo (CODECO), a group committed to protecting the Lendu community from the Hema ethnic group and FARDC in the northeastern Ituri Province . Lastly is the rebel branch of the Burundian National Forces of Liberation (FNL), based in the Mwenga Territory , South Kivu Province . These groups, therefore, pose a security challenge for the Kinshasa government, which has yet to find a solution to the M23 rebellion. The general elections on December 20, 2023, were ultimately held amid high tensions and escalating violence throughout the region. According to Bob Kabamba, Professor of Political Sciences at the University of Liège, the risk of spillover effects was not limited to the DRC’s borders . In a TV5Monde interview, he warned: Il faut souligner l’inquiétude de toute la région : l’est de la RDC, l’Afrique centrale, la Communauté de développement d'Afrique australe… tous tirent la sonnette d’alarme sur la situation au Congo, sur la persistance d’une insécurité qui pourrait impacter d’autres pays comme le Congo Brazzaville, la République centrafricaine et le Sud Soudan si le Congo se trouvait déstabilisé. We must highlight the concerns felt across the region. For eastern DRC, Central Africa, and the Southern African Development Community (SADC), alarm bells are ringing about the situation in the Congo and its ongoing insecurity. If the Congo were to become destabilized, this could ultimately impact other countries, such as Congo-Brazzaville, the Central African Republic, and South Sudan. Written (Français) by Jean Sovon Translated (English) by Laura View original post (Français)

African governments can lead by requiring environmental and social impact assessments for AI infrastructure Originally published on Global Voices Ibrahim says AI has the potential to support, rather than replace, Indigenous peoples’ knowledge. She gives a positive example in Chad, where participatory mapping, satellite data and predictive AI tools have helped anticipate drought and protect herders’ migration routes. Image: Chadpix / Alamy via Dialogue Earth. Used with permission. This article by Brian Obara was originally published by Dialogue Earth on August 13, 2026 . It is republished on Global Voices as part of a content partnership agreement. It is also part of Global Voices’ August 2026 Spotlight series, “ Indigenous Rights .” You can support this coverage by donating here . Dialogue Earth speaks with the Chadian environmental activist Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim about Indigenous perspectives on AI. As African governments develop national artificial intelligence strategies, questions of safety, economic competition and employment have dominated the policy debate. Less attention has been paid to how AI expansion may affect environments, water and biodiversity, or the rights of communities whose territories and knowledge are being encroached upon. These concerns arise at several points in the AI value chain. The associated data centres require energy, water and land, while their hardware depends on mineral supply chains. AI systems may collect and reproduce cultural, linguistic and environmental knowledge without recognising that such information is often held collectively by a community, rather than by an individual. This is important because conventional data protection frameworks tend to focus on individual data privacy and ownership, making them poorly equipped to protect collectively held information. In July, the UN held its first-ever Global Dialogue on AI Governance , in Geneva, Switzerland. Among those in attendance was Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim. She is president of the Association for Indigenous Women and Peoples of Chad , and a former chair of the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues. While there, she took part in discussions on advancing environmentally sustainable AI governance that also respects the rights of Indigenous peoples. Here, Ibrahim tells Dialogue Earth about the importance of bringing Indigenous perspectives to Africa’s AI governance debate. She explains why African governments should incorporate biodiversity, land rights and collectively owned data considerations into their AI policies. She says Indigenous peoples must be recognised as rights holders and decision-makers – especially when newfangled technology has implications for their lands or intellectual heritage. The interview has been edited for length and clarity. Dialogue Earth: As African countries develop national AI strategies, what opportunities do governments have to reflect the continent’s environmental realities and cultural diversity? Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, 2023. Image by Boris Baldinger / World Economic Forum , CC BY-NC . Hindou Oumarou Ibrahim : Africa is home to extraordinary biological and cultural diversity, but it also faces significant pressures from climate change, mineral extraction, land degradation and infrastructure expansion. National AI strategies should therefore connect technological development with biodiversity protection, climate resilience, land rights and the responsible management of natural resources. African governments can lead by requiring environmental and social impact assessments for AI infrastructure. This would help protect water and land from unsustainable data centre development, and ensure that mineral demand does not drive ecosystem destruction or dispossession. They can also make Indigenous peoples formal participants in AI governance and protect collective rights over our rich and diverse cultural, linguistic and environmental data. There is also an opportunity to invest in African and community-controlled AI capacity: local research institutions, Indigenous peoples’ innovation centres, African language and culture models, and technologies designed for African and community needs, rather than external markets. What are current AI governance debates missing by leaving biodiversity and Indigenous rights at the margins? AI governance has largely been built around a western, human-centred understanding of risk. Policymakers are rightly concerned about issues such as misinformation, employment, discrimination and security. But they have paid far less attention to the natural systems that make economies and societies possible. As a result, biodiversity loss, ecosystem damage and Indigenous peoples’ rights are rarely treated as core AI governance issues. There is also a wider risk. Without ecological guardrails, AI could accelerate extraction, consumption and infrastructure development in ways that place even greater pressure on ecosystems and Indigenous peoples. Many of the lands under pressure from the mineral, energy and infrastructure sectors are Indigenous peoples’ territories and biodiversity-rich areas. AI governance cannot be described as responsible if it does not protect the ecosystems and cultures on which communities depend. What should meaningful Indigenous participation in AI governance involve? Indigenous peoples should help shape the safeguards that protect their rights, knowledge and territories. They should participate in decisions about how systems affecting them are deployed. This must be done with respect for free, prior and informed consent. Participation is not only about consultation. Indigenous peoples must be recognised as decision-makers and rights holders, particularly when AI policies, infrastructure projects or data practices affect their land, knowledge or cultural heritage. How are existing data protection systems failing to protect knowledge and data held collectively by communities, rather than individuals? Conventional data protection systems tend to focus on individual privacy. They do not adequately protect a community’s collective rights over its language, cultural heritage, traditional knowledge or territorial information. Indigenous peoples must retain control over whether and how their knowledge and data are used. Governments and companies should recognise that Indigenous peoples’ data is often collective and develop consultation frameworks that reflect this. AI companies should also audit their models for linguistic and cultural bias, include Indigenous leaders and experts throughout the process, and create mechanisms that allow communities to challenge or remove inaccurate or harmful representations. Can AI support Indigenous knowledge and conservation without replacing community expertise? There are encouraging examples in which AI is supporting, rather than replacing, Indigenous peoples’ knowledge. Some examples are outlined in a recent report to the UN Economic and Social Council on Indigenous peoples and AI. In the Amazon, Indigenous communities have worked with NGOs and researchers to use AI-supported satellite monitoring to detect illegal deforestation and mining. In Chad, participatory mapping and predictive analysis have been combined with pastoral knowledge to anticipate drought and protect herder’s migration routes. In the Arctic, Sámi and Inuit communities have integrated traditional knowledge with predictive models to monitor changes in sea ice, wildlife movements and the impacts of extractive industries. The important point is that the technology should strengthen existing knowledge rather than replace it. Indigenous peoples bring detailed, place-based understanding accumulated over generations. AI can help analyse information and identify patterns, but it cannot substitute for the cultural context, relationships and judgement that make that knowledge meaningful. AI can also help communities and conservation organisations process large volumes of information more quickly. It can support the detection of deforestation and illegal extraction, identify changes in ecosystems, analyse satellite or acoustic data, predict environmental threats and improve monitoring in places that have historically lacked resources. The strongest opportunities are those in which AI supports priorities defined by communities themselves and strengthens the capacity of people already protecting nature. But these benefits are not automatic. Technology can reinforce inequality when tools are designed without community participation, when data is extracted without consent, or when communities lack the infrastructure and funding needed to use the systems themselves. Using AI to monitor forest loss does not compensate for an AI growth model that drives greater energy use, mineral extraction, water consumption or habitat destruction. What is one AI governance recommendation you would make to world leaders? Leaders must ensure that no AI system, policy or infrastructure project affecting Indigenous peoples, their data or their territories proceeds without their free, prior and informed consent. That principle should apply across the entire AI value chain: from the extraction of minerals and construction of data centres to the collection of Indigenous peoples’ knowledge, and the deployment of AI tools in communities. This is not only about preventing harm. It is about recognising Indigenous peoples as decision-makers and rights holders. World leaders should embed Indigenous peoples’ participation and data sovereignty directly into national and international AI governance frameworks, rather than treating them as optional social safeguards. Written by Dialogue Earth

Most rape victims stay silent Originally published on Global Voices Image of a woman displaced by war at the Don Bosco camp in Nyiragongo in North Kivu, eastern DRC. Photo by Katembo Mbuto Victoire. Used with permission. This article by Katembo Mbuto Victoire was originally published on Icicongo on December 12, 2024. It has been republished on Global Voices as part of a content partnership agreement. Since the 1990s, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) has been rocked by continuous armed conflicts stemming from various factors, including internal tensions, regional instability, and a legacy of colonialism. Today, more than 100 active armed groups operate in this country. The conflict currently marring eastern DRC first began in 2012. Rebels from the March 23 Movement (M23) took up arms in the North Kivu Province, claiming that the central DRC government had failed to honor the 2009 peace agreement it had signed with the M23 predecessor, the National Congress for the Defense of the People (CNDP). Read more: Who are the M23 rebels in eastern DRC? In areas gripped by armed conflict, sexual violence against women is prevalent. However, the perpetrators are not only soldiers or armed rebels. Civilians also take this opportunity to abuse and rape women seeking domestic work in their homes. This is precisely what happened to Charline, a young woman in her twenties. Staring blankly ahead as tears streamed down her face, her sadness was evident. She recalled: C’était un mercredi. Pendant que je faisais le tour des parcelles à la recherche de l’emploi, une maman m’avait demandé de lessiver les habits de ses enfants pour me payer 5000 franc congolais, puis elle est partie au bouloPendant que je lessivais, un de ses fils, un peu costaud, m’avait appelée dans la maison. Je croyais que c’était pour me donner d’autres habits à laver. Quand suis entrée, comme on était seulement deux dans la parcelle, il m’a plaqué sur le sol et m’a violé. J’avais peur de le dire à sa mère. Les images de cette scène me reviennent souvent. It was a Wednesday. As I went around the neighborhoods looking for work, a mother asked me to wash her children’s clothes for 5,000 Congolese francs (USD 2.19), and then she left for work. As I washed, one of her sons, who was a bit stocky, called me into the house. I presumed it was to give me more clothes to wash. However, when I went inside, as we were the only two people on the property, he pinned me down on the floor and raped me. I was scared to tell his mother. Images of this incident frequently come to mind. Like Charline, many women displaced by war also fall victim to sexual violence when looking for odd jobs to support their families. They are easy targets for predators who exploit their vulnerability. A mother of two, interviewed at the Don Bosco refugee camp in Ngangi , DRC, explains: Nous vivons la misère au camp. On n’arrive pas à survivre. Chaque jour, je me réveille pour aller en ville afin de chercher où travailler. Mais certains profitent de ce temps pour abuser de nous. Nous avons du mal à dénoncer vu que nous cherchons les moyens pour nourrir nos familles et répondre à nos besoins vitaux. At the camp, we live in squalor and struggle to survive. Every morning, I set off into town, looking for work. However, some men take advantage of this to abuse us. As we are constantly looking for the means to feed our families and meet our basic needs, we find it difficult to report these incidents. According to Semu Sikulimwenge, Clinical Psychologist at the HEAL Africa Hospital in Goma, the capital of the North Kivu Province, DRC, sexual violence reinforces skewed power dynamics between survivors and perpetrators. He explains: Il est essentiel de développer des moyens de subsistance, notamment par des activités génératrices de revenus, afin de favoriser l’autonomie économique des victimes et de renforcer la résilience des communautés affectées. Developing means of survival, especially through income-generating activities, is essential for fostering the victims’ economic independence and the affected communities’ resilience. Fear of reprisals In response to the rising tide of rape cases involving displaced persons, Attorney Patrick Musambali stresses that such acts of sexual violence are gross violations of Article 170 of the Congolese Penal Code . This article stipulates: Est puni d'une servitude pénale de cinq à vingt ans celui qui aura commis un viol, soit à l'aide de violences ou menaces graves, soit par ruse, soit en abusant d'une personne qui, par l'effet d'une maladie, par l'altération de ses facultés ou par toute autre cause accidentelle, aurait perdu l'usage de ses sens ou en aurait été privée par quelque artifice. A person who commits rape, either through serious violence, threats, deception, or by abusing a person who, as a result of an illness, impaired faculties, or any other accidental cause, has lost the use of their senses or had them stripped by deceptive means, shall be punished with 5 to 20 years of penal servitude . Most rape victims fail to report their abuse out of fear of reprisal from the perpetrators. However, through awareness-raising campaigns, some now want to see their perpetrators behind bars. Eugénie Wimana, a leader at the Don Bosco displaced persons camp, stated: Nous sensibilisons des femmes et des jeunes filles d’avoir une conscience collective pour arriver à lutter contre les violences sexuelles. Grâce aux soutiens de quelques organisations humanitaires, certains déplacés entreprennent des petites activités génératrices de revenus. We raise collective awareness among women and young girls to effectively combat sexual violence. With the support of humanitarian organizations, some displaced persons have begun small-scale income-generating activities. What’s more, Sikulimwenge highlighted: Le soutien psychosocial est crucial pour créer un espace sécurisé où les victimes peuvent exprimer leurs émotions Psychosocial support is vital for creating a safe space where victims can express their feelings. The women’s rights organization Women Power also offers its assistance. As part of its “Emergency Response to Gender-Based Violence and Sexual and Reproductive Health” project, the NGO raises awareness about respect for human dignity and advocates to ensure the perpetrators are punished by law. Small businesses for survival According to Aurélie Maliro, Women Power Communications Assistant, around 70 percent of women from the Kashaka Shabindu refugee camp in northern Goma are at risk of various forms of violence. This results in unwanted pregnancies, unsafe abortions, and sexually transmitted infections (STIs). Nous intervenons dans la prise en charge psycho médicale pour apporter de l’espoir aux victimes. Nous demandons à notre gouvernement de soutenir ces femmes victimes de violences sexuelles car leurs vies socioéconomiques chutent après ces abus. We provide psychological and medical care, offering the victims hope. As their socioeconomic lives collapse around them following this abuse, we call on our government to support female victims of sexual violence. Some displaced persons set up small businesses to survive. Photo by Victoire Katembo Mbuto. Used with permission To avoid sexual abuse, some displaced women, who are also survivors of sexual violence, rape, and other types of violence, gradually start small businesses. One displaced woman from the Don Bosco camp anonymously explained: Je fais le commerce. Je prends de produits vivriers chez une vendeuse qui vit aux alentours du camp pour les revendre ici. De cette manière je gagne mon pain et je subviens à d’autres besoins. I run a small business. I buy food products from a vendor who lives near the camp to resell here. This way, I can make a living and meet other needs. To see lasting change, officials and advocates must foster an environment where survivors can speak out and report their abusers. If these perpetrators go unpunished, they will only continue to commit these heinous crimes. Read more: IciCongo: Portrait of a young online channel that wants to “Tell the story of Congo differently” Written (Français) by IciCongo Translated (English) by Laura View original post (Français)